Listeme

This is the third (or fourth or tenth) November in a row that I have wandered through in a fog. I pooh-pooh things like “seasonal affective disorder” but… it is definitely true that fall can be a challenge for me. Less sunlight = bad. The older I get, the more the cold affects me. Sometime around now (the week before Thanksgiving), I start to perk up. “What is that I smell?” Autumn leaves and pumpkin pie, that’s what. And I do so very much love Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is not about gifts or dressing up or impressing people. It is about sharing and loving. Oh, yeah, I’m definitely perking up. I’m getting downright sappy. Of course, there IS an awful lot to do in the next week… We’re renting a house/cottage/charming-sounding place in New York, approximately halfway between here and there, and our kids are ALL joining us. I think it will be great and noisy and chaotic and a little scary and great. I am starting the pies today.

Today I hung out with my nieces , Julianna and Sophia. I have evidence. One large glass vase full of “perfect” autumn leaves and four pinecones with “lots of sap! They need lots of sap!” I have no idea what made her think sap was a plus. I will be looking for tips in about a week; how does one best get sap off of glass? Nine apples, each with exactly one bite out of them. Nine. One bite each. Two index cards covered with glitter crayon portraits. Lower drawers of my office furniture… rearranged. A Dora the Explorer book and three others that I’m not sure I recognize. Cute ponies. Pastels. Sort of a small bruise-type thing under my left eye. That Sophie doesn’t know her own strength. What a great day!

Cape Cod Scrabble Tournament, 2005. Have I mentioned I love this game? I went 6-6 this tournament, and that says so very little about how the games actually went. Sometimes, just like in many other pursuits, I feel off or sluggish or just out of it. This weekend, I felt on. On on on. I felt fierce and smooth and sharp-edged. So take the six losses and feel that rush. Things just keep falling into place. My ex-mother-in-law, a woman I have always admired and always will, asked me how I was doing yesterday, and I said immediately that I am coming to a place of equilibrium and peace. Pretty amazing to feel this way; to an outsider, it must look very different. I’m heading into my forties, newly divorced, rather job-free (ha ha), living too far away from John… but we have the beginnings of plans and a base so solid you wouldn’t believe it even if I rambled on for hours, so I won’t! What is the next step? The question came from an unlikely source, but honestly, it is a great ques...

Sometimes life is exhausting . Even when it is good, it is exhausting. Some new additions: a super-duper mega-great zoom lens for my camera. I’m thinking of taking photography classes. You know, in my spare time. Sagan.

So tomorrow is a special day. It is John’s birthday. It will be the first time I get to be with him on his birthday, the first of many. It is probably no surprise that I think John is wonderful. He is very smart and funny and a tiny bit crazy -- crazy enough to think I’m great, for instance. He is a fellow magpie, pockets and shelves full of shiny finds. He plays with puns and poetry. He explains things better than anyone I have ever known. He is fun to be with on a rainy day, on a hike up a mountain in too much sun, in a shopping mall, on a long car ride. He has great ideas. Happy birthday, John. Thank you for sharing it with me.

Greg is getting married on Saturday. We are all still learning our roles in this new family situation. After some trial and error, Tina and I have discovered that talking through the blended children issues is best done by the two of us. We are both able to be direct, to put our vulnerabilities on the table, and just talk. We can do that. Mother to mother to stepmother. My respect for her grows. Our parenting styles are nearly opposite, but she is willing to listen, to remember that my role is vital, that I may be different, but different isn’t wrong. And I’m willing to do the same. She loves my children. She doesn’t always understand them. Well, neither do I. So the future is hard to make out, but it seems as though we are on the right path. Congrats, Greg and Tina. I wish you much joy and fun and love in your life together.

Daniel is living alone for the first time in his life. So I’m compiling some advice to him. Take care of yourself. This means more than just pampering yourself. Make sure you eat healthily. Buy fresh vegetables. Eat them. Clean sometimes. This is not for your guests, although they will appreciate it. This is for you. You deserve a nice environment. Cook a nice dinner for yourself once in a while. Eat it not in front of the computer. Pretend you are trying to impress someone. Make it tasty and beautiful. Don’t forget multivitamins. Enjoy time by yourself, but don’t forget other people -- for their sake and your own. Even hermits need human contact. Fresh air. Fresh air. Fresh air. Do something you love every day. Keep up with world events. Read a newspaper or check cnn every day. Seriously. I’m not sure if the Daily Show counts, but I won’t quibble. Hm. These are pretty good. I should make sure I’m following them all myself.

So I can finally talk about this without shuddering… much. There I was, innocently minding my own business, reading “Freakonomics” in the bathroom, and out of the corner of my eye I saw something run by. Curie and Sagan were both napping, so I was immediately alarmed. I thought maybe it was a mouse. (This should give you an idea of the size of the thing.) It was not a mouse. It was a centipede. It dashed into the laundry nook. “Aahh!” I said and looked around for help. No help was in sight. I believe in being prepared. I also believe in keeping an eye on my enemy. This presented a dilemma. I had to go find weapons without taking my eye off the creature. So I would run out of the bathroom, look around for something, anything -- where is a bazooka when I need one? -- and then race back in to see if he was still there. I did this several times. Finally, armed with a long piece of, well, bamboo (to poke with, of course), a bottle of bathroom cleaner, and a big cup, I advanced ...

Back in the old days , when Chris was learning to talk, I was still figuring out how to be a parent. I was really young, for one thing, and he was my third baby in 3 years. I suppose it is natural that at first I didn’t notice that he wasn’t talking much. Not much English, anyway. When the next baby came along, Chris was two years old. He spoke two English words, Mama and hi. By this point, I was quite aware that something was … different. This was a kid who was obviously bright. He could make complicated lego structures, inventions of his own and duplicates of ones he saw. He could take anything apart. But he didn’t speak our language. He did speak! It just wasn’t English or any other human language. He started small. He named the guys (his brothers and dad) variations of the word Ganh. It was pronounced in the back of his throat and sounded kind of primitive. Aaron was Green Ganh. Daniel was Brown Ganh. (Now, he didn’t use the color words at all when asked “what color...

A few weeks ago , Greg asked the kids three questions over dinner: Do you believe in God? Do you believe Jesus Christ was more than a man? Have you had an experience at any time in your life that made you realize God was real? So there they all were. Greg and Tina and the five ‘his and hers’ kids. Greg and Tina believe. At least one of Tina’s boys believes. My three are at various stages of figuring out what they believe -- but they know that Greg wants them to believe. They knew that after Greg gave his answers in the affirmative, after hearing Tina and Christopher give their answers in the affirmative, that Greg would be hoping that they would say yes, as well. They did not want to disappoint him. After a few minutes of silence -- a rather awkward silence, I’ve been told -- they answered truthfully. No. I’m proud of them -- not because of their answers, but because they told the truth even though they feared their dad’s reaction. And Greg was probably disappointed, but he d...

What should I pack in my evacuation kit? Assuming a disaster would allow me to pack my car, I have room for the animals. A duffle bag could hold: First aid kit (I keep a pretty decent one in the car anyway) Water Cash (paper and coin) Power bars and other concentrated food Animal food (check on concentrated forms) Cell phone and charger Knife Maps Change of clothes I’m trying to keep the above bag carryable. Not sure if that is feasible when dealing with animals. I will think about the animal plan. I generally keep a 24 pack of liters of water in the back of the car, which is not very carryable, either. With a little more time and space: Photo album Laptop (with manuscripts) (Actually this should just be a backup on CD, I guess) I like to be prepared.

Last night was the first meeting of the writing group. It is a quirky group. The other Odyssey grad seems like a good contact to have. He told me about a group led by Ted White near here. I’m thinking about looking into that one, too. I suppose I can’t be gone every evening. Anyway, this group (the one from last night) will force me to produce at least two pieces a month. That alone is worth the price of admission. Well, the price of gasoline, anyway.

This summer feels like a whirlwind even on days like today when I have not much more to do than recover from root canals and watch Scrabble nationals coverage online. (Yes, I said root canalS. I’m looking for sympathy! I am a major scaredy-cat when it comes to going to the dentist.) I’m getting ready to work hard in September. I’ve joined a new writing group, with at least one other Odyssey graduate, which I will begin on September 6. I have a lot of optimism. (I know, I keep saying I’m optimistic. Well, I am.)

What I Did On My Summer Vacation Picked berries. Went to a birthday party on a boat. Attended a nature conservation dedication. Tried to identify the birds of prey seen from the top of Mt. Lookout. (We think they were red-tailed hawks. Their scream was marvelous. I can still hear it.) Played clarinet duets! Picked berries. Snuck into Canada a couple of times. (This is a fairly verbatim transcript: Border official/guard/booth person: Where are you from? Us: Massachusetts, Virginia Border official/guard/booth person: Do you have anything like guns? Us: No. Border official/guard/booth person: Have a nice visit!) Ate. A. Ton. Waded to a little higher than my knees in that icy lake. Next visit I’ll go deeper. Came in second in the official sunset rock skipping competition. Took goofy pictures from the moving car. Picked berries. I had a wonderful time.

Heading to Michigan! Back on or around August 8.

Confessions of various inadequacies: I’m afraid of bees. (Afraid enough that I always vaguely worried about driving the convertible; would I panic if one “attacked” me while I drove and swerve off the road?) I’ve never parallel parked, not the correct, official way. The driving test did not require it. Bookstores are sucking creatures that settle on my neck and shoulder and draw out my blood and money. I like the Dairy Queen strawberry shortcake blizzard. Sorry. My dog gets away with stuff she shouldn’t because I think she’s adorable. “Now, Curie, you shouldn’t eat someone’s shoe… but, awww, sweetie, come here. You want that shoe? They won’t mind giving it to such a cute little girl!” Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but not much of one. I prefer the sheets untucked at the foot of the bed. If they’re tucked, I untuck them before getting in. Feet should be able to move in the night. You know, so you can run away from dream monsters. I write down my middle-of-the-night musings an...

Golly . Busy days. Greg is engaged. He seems very happy. I am happy for him, for them. The kids are all learning how to interact with one another and with Greg and Tina. They’re doing great*. As part of the divorce agreement, I gave up ownership of the house (in exchange for cash, of course.) This was relatively hard for me. That house was the first house I owned. I moved a lot as a kid, and I had a lot of emotional energy poured into that house. Home. I am working pretty hard. My Scrabble rating is now 1783. Daniel moved in with me. His girlfriend Christina from Scotland also is staying with me. They are wonderful to have around. Christina is great (and her accent is, okay, just absolutely adorable.) Curie is thrilled to have them here, too. She yodels at them. My writing fever is still not as consistent as I would like, but I have some plans. *Great = griping and complaining. But in a cooperative way!

Things I think versus things I say: I’m somewhat less confrontational than most people. (I can hear the guffaws from my family and friends from here. Less confrontational? She thinks she’s less confrontational? She’s a wuss. She rolls over and plays dead.) Okay, whatever. It’s just a matter of translating. Owner of UgliestPuppyEverBorn: Wow, look at that; all the hair on your dog’s back is standing up! Me: (nervous chuckle) Yeah, look at that! Translation: Yes, you cretin, that’s because your dog is being very aggressive and leaping on MY legs and barking profanities in my dog’s face. Why don’t you and your inebriated “date” take your dog to obedience classes? Also: And don’t turn your back on me when I’m trying to fend off your dog. It is dangerous and rude. Even later: And, by the way, your dog is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. What the HECK is that breed? How can it breathe with that squashed nose? Even later: Hmph.

Tuesday afternoon at 2:30, I watched my son Aaron march out of high school and into the world. What will he do? Who will he be? He is a man already. He drives. He works. He decides. There are few people as honest as he is, whether the question is “did you spill this soda on the carpet?” or “does this dress look good on me?” He says what he really thinks, even if it is not a popular opinion. He commits. He keeps his word. He looks out for his family and friends. Okay, so sometimes he doesn’t notice things. (We all still tease him about the fact that he didn’t notice that his aunt was going to have a baby even when she was 9 months along and wider than she was tall.) He focuses on other things. When he was younger, cousins and family friends and even sometimes his siblings would bicker over who got to sit next to him. I can see why.

Stamford tomorrow. My rating going in is 1713, near the middle of my field. The last two tournaments in Stamford have not been my best efforts. I hope to play at least reasonably well. I want to make sure I sleep enough and eat healthy food. Modest goals, but those two factors are more than half the battle. My study recently has been haphazard at best: flashcards in the bathroom, at red lights, in odd minutes waiting in lines. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get back to a regular study schedule. I like the way my life is going, though. So I’ll accept the random flashcard study for now.