Happy Spring

This has been a March unlike any in memory. More May or June than March, with record breaking temperatures in the 80's for two weeks now - balmy glorious days, even several without the gusty winds that usually hasten in Illinois Spring.

Yesterday I saw 3 butterflies. This weekend 5 varieties of moths. In Mid March. I look around in wonder and confusion - magnolias and daffodils in full bloom, with April weeks away. Cruel April, what will she have in store for us?

I soak up the sun, I marvel at every blossom I see, most arriving almost a month ahead of schedule, and I try not to worry about a big freeze ruining all this tender growth. Worry just comes natural to me. I worry about the bees missing the blooms on the pachysandra for their honey, I worry about the plants going unpollinated because the bees aren't awake yet, I worry about the fruit tree blossoms freezing, I worry about tornadoes and flooding and on and on and on. The only cure for all this worry is to put on my shoes and hike a trail or ride my bike or till my garden or pull some weeds. Worry is such a waste, and yet I can't train my brain to stop. It mimics Pavlov's dog, conditioned by any happy thought to counter with a dire possibility that might ruin what is good. I think I need a shock collar for myself. Yep, that just might work.

Last night my daughter and I stood outside barefoot in our shorts and tank tops at 10 pm, and listened to the sound of thousands of dormant woodland plants springing to life beneath the brown dead leaves of fall. It was wondrous and kind of creepy, since it sounded like an army of lizards and worms and snakes and beetles crawling beneath the leaves. But I checked, like I always do, and it was just the earth blossoming with greenery - trilliums and ferns and mayapples and creeper and solomon's seal and probably some damn poison ivy too. The poison ivy I will hunt down and pull with a vengeance, the rest I will watch and adore for another season, like I always do.

Happy Solstice and Strangely Early Spring from the heartland. It is a year for the record books.

Guts and Gratitude

I had a long talk with myself this weekend, (and a short, supportive chat with my husband) about where I am in my life right now, and how to find the right path to walk. I've struggled with going back to work, wondering how to stay at a frustrating job that makes me wish I were doing something that I either enjoyed, or felt better about doing. It turns out I do not find fulfillment administering GED placement tests to the minions of high school dropouts who wander in daily. I thought I could focus on the "helping people better their lives" part, but I can't, really, given that they just keep coming in ever increasing numbers. Even if they manage to stay with the program and pass all the tests (and the odds are terrible) what awaits them out there? Armed with hope and a shiny new GED, they will be competing with unemployed and underemployed bachelors and master's degrees. Like mine. It's scary, but I don't want to be motivated by fear.

I'd gotten pretty twisted up in my head lately, between loathing coming to work, feeling torn about less time with my family and fretting about my marketability, being over 50 and a relic from an industry that barely exists anymore. I had almost convinced myself I had no options. Silly goose. It took a lovely weekend getaway with the husband and daughter, to a volleyball tournament in the tackiest place on earth, the Wisconsin Dells, for me to finally realize that I didn't have to stay on this path just because I chose it. That I didn't have to be a square peg in a round hole. That sometimes it's OK to quit something when it's not working. That I will figure this out, and that I'd rather be broke trying to find something that's a better fit for me and my skills than to stay where I am overqualified and under-appreciated. Not to mention completely frustrated with the bizarre management and miscommunication and inefficiency that comes with the public sector. And then there's the long commute and the rigid inflexibility with time off, which really tore me apart this week, when my daughter spent four days home alone sick because I can't take time off. Then there's the fact that when I finally do earn time off, the only way to take it is to beg someone who has to beg for permission to cover for me. I thought about all these things this weekend, given the luxury of perspective, and realized that I was making myself feel trapped, and without options, and that is not how I need to live my life, and not who I am. I may not really know who I am anymore, this older version of me, but I know who I am not.

I decided to move on, because I realized I have skills, and I'll find somewhere to use them. I told my boss yesterday that I was just too old to work somewhere this stupid. That the job wasn't what it was supposed to be, and that I was as wrong for them as they were for me. She took the news like she'd heard it a dozen times before, at least, and she probably has. I don't know when exactly I'm finished, because I won't leave until the new girl is up to speed. But I feel like a huge weight has been lifted, like I am no longer trapped by my stubbornness into staying where I can't be fulfilled in any way except monetarily. We've struggled before, we may struggle again. I'll land on my feet, I always have. And I may have to work a few more jobs that suck until I find the right one, but that's OK. I'll find one closer to home, closer to school, closer to my heart. Or I'll die trying, because settling will only kill me quicker.

So today I am grateful for being honest with myself, and for having the guts to follow the voice in my heart, not the logic in my head. Life is too short to be in the wrong place 5 days a week. And to paraphrase a quote I collected years ago, it takes guts to be happy.

Here's a little gift of gratitude from the world of YouTube and TED conferences. I hope it makes you as happy as it made me to watch the beauty unfold, and to listen to the words of wonder and gratitude.




I heard this in the car today and had to add it to this post. Do what you love, and the world will follow. Indeed.

Old Dog, New Trick

We don't do Valentine's Day, not really. Anniversaries, yes. Valentines Day, Sweetest Day, Hallmark Holidays, No.  So imagine my surprise coming home to this:

My husband of 25 years had to go out of town unexpectedly last week, during the Valentine's Day hoopla. I didn't mind, because, like I said, we don't do this holiday, plus I had to work until 9 anyway. I had to work late the next night too, and he got home before me and left me this very big box of candy on the counter, so it was the first thing I saw when I walked in the door.

Of course I cried. Because, it was unexpected, and I didn't reciprocate, because, like I said, we don't do this holiday, and mostly because, I have a major thing for DeBrand chocolates, hand made with love in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I almost asked him to bring me home some, because I covet them and it's been years since I splurged, but I didn't, mostly because I don't need candy at all in my life right now. I need salad. And a treadmill.

But these candies. Oh my. The PB and J or the strawberry rhubarb cream, the maple cream, or the caramel apple, I can't decide which one is my favorite. They are indescribably unique and yummy.

Of course, it was the day after Valentine's when he was there, so they were buy one get one. This is what's left of the second box. I forgive him, I have to, right? Especially since he bought the ones that nobody really likes but me, so guess who's eaten way too much chocolate this week?

It's nice to be surprised after all these years, and to realize the guy still has some tricks up his sleeve. Sad to learn I can be had for a box or two of chocolates, but hey, at least they were expensive ones, right?

Hope yours was surprisingly sweet too.

Unbroken is Unbelievable

I can't come up with enough superlatives to  describe how much I love this book, it's subject, Louie Zamperini, and the author, Laura Hillenbrand.  Here's the review I posted on Amazon and Librarything, which doesn't begin to do justice. If you've read Unbroken, you know what I mean. If you haven't, trust me, you should.

Unbroken is an amazing work of narrative fiction, and Louis Zamperini's life story is phenomenal and inspirational. From his misspent youth to his Olympic feats, from his World War II service to his survival against all odds adrift at sea, then enslaved and brutalized in POW camps, Louie's spirit, endurance and courage embody the Greatest Generation at its finest. I raced through this book in two days and was amazed that I had never heard of this wonderful man, whose life deserves acknowledgement and celebration.

Laura Hillenbrand writes extremely well, deftly weaving historical facts and figures into the carefully researched and compelling narrative. It is not just the story of one man's journey and survival, it is a fascinating overview of the War effort on the home front and the Pacific theater, as well as a sobering look at the unimaginable plight of prisoners of war. I was moved to chills, tears and cheers repeatedly throughout this book, which I consider one of the best I have read in years. Very highly recommended.

A Small Curse to the Universe

So.

This is my cousin Lee, a photo from childhood that captures everything amazing about her, especially her love of the water. She's pretty amazing in every way and her accomplishments humble me - she's smart, wicked funny, well traveled, bilingual, she's a boat captain, a harbor master, restaurant owner, swimming instructor, women's fire arms safety instructor, a wife, mom, and grandmom. She's 54.

She has early onset Alzheimer's.

Just like our Grandmother. Only sooner.

So.

I said some awful things to the Universe when I got the news yesterday, cursed a little, cried a little. I'm going to be pissed for a very long time, quite likely forever. I'm not going to handle this with the grace Lee has, I just don't have it in me. It's just so fucking unfair.

So.

.