Forty-five years later ...

Jason’s baby blanket is finished!

Giving thanks

Jason:

• Health
• Family
• Good job
• Router customer service lines that are open on Thanksgiving
• Low low gas prices, all for just ignoring the murder of one journalist

Gretchen:

• Smith Island Cake
• Not getting shot while walking
• The Big Crossword Puzzle in the paper
• OMG I JUST LEARNED FROM LIZA THAT SHAKING MY PHONE IS THE WAY TO UNDO TYPING AND IT IS SO AWESOME I TOOK “BACON” OFF MY LIST SO I COULD ADD THIS INSTEAD
• Sleeping in

Liza:

• Term limits
• Global warming won’t kill us for 15-20 years
• Copic markers
• Discovery of chocolate
• Lintbaby

My MIL Susie:

• Family visiting
• Hearing from absent family
• Jason set up my WiFi router
• I don’t have to cook the turkey
• We get to visit more family this evening

It is still all about choices

And that is why, when faced with the decision between lunch at McDonald’s or lunch at a local BBQ place, we ended up here:

And I have no regrets whatsoever, not even for ordering the sweet potato casserole (which contains about three days’ worth of carbs for me). It will be a long time until I get brisket that tender again.

It’s all about choices

“I didn’t have time” may be the lamest excuse in the book. There are very few situations in which it is true. Most of the time it actually means “I chose not to use my time for that.” Conscious choice or unconscious avoidance, decisions are made all the time, every day. Can I fit in a trip to the grocery before picking up my daughter at school? What if there’s a line? Is it worth the hassle of potentially freaking her out by being late? Can I do anything to make sure I am still on time, or, barring that, that she doesn’t freak out?

I’m thinking about this today because I went through that calculus and computation this morning, trying to fit all the puzzle pieces of my day into a frame that seemed too small. So many things to do for the holiday! Errands Jason asked me to run, ones I need to do, and an appointment with my doctor that is awkwardly placed smack in the middle of the day. My brain has a map, a clock, and a list all open, shuffling tasks around like some sort of bad movie animation.

 If I exercise, I have to drive back to the house to shower and change, which means no time to return the boots, and all of my exercise stuff will be soggy when I try to pack. Oh, shit, the wet laundry from last night is still in the washer. Add that to the list. This would all be so much easier if I just skipped the gym. But I have a streak going, and I know I’m going to be slacking later this week. Not the way to kick off a holiday devoted to sloth and food.

I made a choice. I could have said my day was too busy, I don’t have time to hit the gym, and no one other than me would have known.

But I do have time, if it’s important to me.

I can return the boots next week, and Jason’s errand is on the way home from my doctor. And exercise doesn’t have to be performed in sweaty Lycra to count. It won’t be a full-on workout, and I’ll be drinking my tea and writing this post while I walk, but I can make it work, because it’s important to me.

So if you saw me at the gym this morning in my jeans and sweater, now you know why. A brisk walk in street clothes keeps up my streak and cuts 45 min of cleanup out of my schedule, or at least pushes it back to when it’s convenient for the rest of my errands. It’s not perfect, but compromise never is, and besides, I have the rest of the month to do “perfect” gym visits. This will do for today.

Actual quote from tonight

“So how did the meeting go, other than the unexpected exsanguination?”

I’m a little tired

Ten thousand steps, which for me is about 4.6 miles
Twenty-eight flights of stairs
An hour of yoga
Ab exercises and arm exercises and pushups

All done with a nausea-inducing headache, mind you, and all since 4pm. I’m All Done With Today.

Corteo

Ok, I have to admit, parts of it were really pretty ...

But using a little person as a human mosh-pit-beach-ball is pretty tacky.

 

10K, every day

At what point does stubbornness turn into a streak? And when does it turn back into stubbornness?

Pretty sure I’ve hit one of those cusps...

I get extra points for walking when it’s below freezing outside, right?

After a stressful morning of watching my child get braces put on, some nature therapy was in order.

I’m sure I’ll feel much better (once I can feel my face again).

Proud writer mom

I just got to say to my kid, “Don’t stay up too late - your characters will still be there in the morning.”

They won’t all be long posts

Sometimes I’m just going to post pithy literary criticism:

Screw you, French performance artist

So my daughter’s orchestra is playing several pieces this cycle that have next to no percussion in them, and the conductor decided to add in a percussion ensemble piece so the drummers would stay out of trouble. The percussion instructor gave them a choice between two pieces that were written for the number of people they have. One was 3 people playing on one marimba, complete with swapping places and mallets and stuff. The other was, well, this:

Now, faced with that choice, which one are the teenagers going to pick? The one that involves marimba (which none of them are great at) and is written in regular musical notation, or the one that looks super cool but was written in batshit crazy semi-musical semi-choreographical bullshit notation  by a French performance artist?

Yeah.

So far with this piece I’ve gotten to usher my child through two full-on, the world is ending, I’m going to die crying jags related to this piece. We called her percussion teacher in ON A SUNDAY for an emergency lesson.

We have watched the video dozens of times with the music (and it’s SIX PAGE KEY OF NOTATIONS) in front of us, trying to get to the point where we can read it. And by “we” I mean “we,” because apparently she is unable to cope with this piece if I am more than 40 feet away. Forget going to the gym - I can’t even go upstairs. If I am not within sight (or sometimes hearing) of her, she loses all ability to try to figure it out.

Yes, it’s true - I have become my daughter’s Emotional Support Animal. Give me a fucking vest and a seat on the plane.

And you know what? I can do this. It’s not quite what I signed on for, but I’ll do it. If it ends up with her performing this piece of ... Er, this PIECE at the concert, up in front of an audience of hundreds with only two teenage boys to protect her from the everlasting shame of failure, then I will sit within 40 feet of her, half an hour a day, until she knows she’s got this. Because she does.

Cockatiel in alcohol ink on marker paper

I mentioned my kid was a good artist, right?

No bake peanut butter coconut fat bomb cookie things

I’ve been eating low carb/kinda keto for months now, but just recently have I gotten serious about tracking my macros, which is keto shorthand for “tracking your fat and protein and net carb intake.” “Macros” are why fat bombs exist, because getting enough fat in your diet without blowing past your carb goal can be tough. I’ve tried a few recipes for fat bombs, and they’re not bad, but so far all have contained artificial sweetener.

When you’re using large amounts of sweetener, you have to be VERY aware that some of them can cause unpleasant side effects. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say that eating too much sugar alcohol (like maltitol, which is used in a lot of sugar-free candy) can be a disaster. It’s not too bad for me, since I’m by myself most of the day, but I don’t let my family eat anything sweetened with the White time bomb, because no one needs those side effects when they’re trapped at school or in a meeting.

Even the erythritol based sweeteners “may cause discomfort,” and it seems like I’m one of the lucky saps who are sensitive to it. So I’m trying to find fat bomb recipes where I don’t need sweetener, but they’re few and far between, especially the ones that aren’t one step away from eating straight coconut oil.

Today, though, it occurred to me that no-bake cookies might be a good jumping off point for a fat bomb, and I was glad to find lots of people had done the recipe testing (and macro calculating) for me. I am pretty happy with how this recipe turned out, even if I did cheat by using regular peanut butter and leaving out the artificial sweetener. It’s got good flavor, it’s got something to chew (the creamy ones kind of squick me out), and there’s nothing in them my family can’t eat. Give them a try if you’ve got any low carb people on your holiday invite list - they’ll be glad to have something they can eat at dessert!

There’s the bright spot I needed to find

Haiku

A front coming through

Pushes rain and clouds ahead.

Christ, is it windy!

Talented

Both of my parents were artists, whether they got paid for it or not. My dad earned extra money doing lettering and pinstriping on boat transoms, and he was an avid carver when he was retired. My mom taught watercolor classes and could have sold her own work, if she had the interest. Dad could build furniture; Mom could make kick-ass Halloween costumes.

I inherited the interest, but not the grit required to practice something until I was really good at it. I can’t draw or paint, and my furniture-building skills only look good if the furniture in question is on a stage and the audience is pretty far away. I’m good at copying things, and I’m good at following directions, which is why the needle arts have always come easily to me. My knitting and crochet may not always be beautiful, but it’s generally RIGHT, even if I had to fudge a few things to get there.

When Liza started showing interest in art, I did everything I could to support her. Supplies, lessons, attention, dedicated space for her to work ... look back through the blog, it’s all there. And to my surprise, she’s kept at it, even when things weren’t working out to her satisfaction. She’s putting in the hours, and it shows.

My dad passed away before he really had a chance to see Liza’s talent bloom, but my mother stuck around long enough to see the first flowers. She was always so proud of Liza’s work, always happy to have her art on the fridge or in a frame. They did some projects together, back before Mom got sick, and I wish they had been able to do a lot more. My mom would have been so proud to see how much Liza has improved in the last year.

Today has been a challenge

I was finishing clearing my breakfast dishes when I heard Liza laughing in her room. Only ... maybe not laughing. I stopped to listen, and it was probably not laughing. Damn it. I go up to her room, bracing myself as I knock on the door. She’s full-on wailing now, and I just know that one of her friends is in the hospital or someone revealed Avengers spoilers. You know, something must be majorly wrong.

Turns out, nobody’s dead, nothing has been spoiled, my daughter is just a dumbass who didn’t bother to actually read the email she got from her orchestra last week. She skimmed the message, saw the links to the new music, opened one and decided it was impossible, and forgot about it. Today - the first day of practice - she opened the email and actually read it and found out she was supposed to have the first 90 measures of the impossible song practiced and pretty much ready to go by the start of practice ... in six hours.

I swung into Crisis Management Mom Mode, and we got the music printed out and her into some clothes so she could practice. We watched the video, looked at the music, looked at the six-page key to the musical notations, and both were like WTF KIND OF BULLSHIT IS THIS?? French performance art, that’s what. Freaking French.

So while she continued to sob herself into dehydration, I watched the video a half dozen times and finally got the hang of following along with Liza’s part. Ish. Sorta. Because, let me tell you, that notation is some bullshit right there. It’s closer to choreography or tap dancing than it is to percussion (freaking French performance artist bullshit), so parts of it are more logical than others, and the whole thing requires liberal use of the key and the video to figure out.

That’s some bullshit right there, even sideways

I sent the music to Liza’s instructor to warn him that we would be living in Table Music Hell for all future lessons until this got figured out, and he happened to be nearby and offered to stop by. I traded pizza and soda for Emergency Percussion Assistance, and 45 minutes later Liza was mostly finished crying and actually had a handle on a few parts of the piece. Not enough that she felt sure she wasn’t going to make an ass of herself during rehearsal, but enough that she was willing to go to rehearsal in the first place. So, you know, progress. Thank you, Emergency Percussion Instructor!

The Great French Performance Artist Fiasco had taken up all of the time I had intended to use to exercise, so I brought my shoes to rehearsal so I could at least walk a bit. But, of course, the clocks changed last night, so now it gets dark extra early. Between the time change and the clouds, I didn’t have a ton of time to walk, and the photos I wanted to take of Tappan Square turned out less than fantastic. Still, I got most of my steps in, and I decided to treat myself with something from the bakery.

I made it two-thirds of the way through my SEVEN DOLLAR piece of cake before the sugar caught up with me and I had to put the fork down. Meanwhile, Liza was having her sectional, and declared afterward that her instructor had been “totally wrong” and everything was awful and the whole concert is going to rely on counting and it’s going to suck. That may have contributed to my loss in appetite, too. I set the cake aside (who knows, I might want a half-gnawed baked good later today if this keeps up) and went inside to get a Diet Coke from the vending machine near the practice hall. Which, of course, only sells Pepsi products, and it’s sold out of diet products. So now I’m stuck for the next two hours with Super Sweet Frosting Taste in my mouth, which I ceased enjoying before I started typing this up, and that was a while ago. And no, the water fountains aren’t cutting it.

And now I get to look forward to Liza bitching about orchestra practice, Jason not understanding why Liza is freaking out about it so much, and probably Liza realizing later tonight that she forgot some homework assignment. I’m just going to sit here and stare at my pretty leaf photo and try not to dread the rest of my day.

Still Life with Real Life

Part of what I’m doing for the Create30 challenge is trying to post more intentional photos on Instagram, rather than just random shots that happened to turn out cute. Because I live a boring life, two out of the three so far this month have been exercise-related, which believe me does not reflect how I spend the majority of my day.

I’m getting new eyes on my account since I have the Create30 tags on my shots, and I wonder a little what their impression is of me. It’s definitely an eye-opening case of curation bias. I choose what I post, and I think a lot about what image it projects. I’m not posting anything that isn’t true or real, but it certainly isn’t complete.

So, in the interest of keeping things closer to real, here is a still life of my afternoon sitting at PlayCLE killing time while my daughter hangs out with a classmate.

Note that real life includes sock knitting, uncomfortable chairs, Diet Pepsi, a pilled sweatshirt and phone left for me to guard, and a purse bulging with coupons. Not shown: the huge bruise on my knee from banging it on my bed frame this morning while doing my exercises for today, hair that’s still wet and messy from my post-yoga shower, and the “Evit Mom” shirt I’m wearing under my hoodie. I have to keep some mystique, after all.

I haven't even printed out a paper calendar to start the planning yet

You know, for some reason it never occurred to me that trying to make our family's summer schedule was going to get harder once Liza got to high school.  After all, most of the cool summer camps are for younger kids, and since she's older she can stay home by herself some days if I have commitments I need to keep.  And yet here I am trying to juggle about 15 different activities I need to slot into this summer ... and it's barely even November.  Since dates haven't been announced for some of the activities we might want to do, it's all a bit theoretical at this point.  Here are some of the things we're trying to squeeze in:

• Art classes at the Cleveland Institute of Art.  Liza took a jewelry class last summer, and she really enjoyed it (and I enjoyed the chance to wander around University Circle while she was in class).
• Origins.  We've gone every year for a while now, and while Jason still enjoys it, Liza and I are running out of games we want to try.  She and I may skip it this year, even if Jason goes.
• Two weeks at Camp Fitch.  Liza did two weeks back-to-back last year, and she wants to do it again this year if she can.  I've reserved two weeks we hope will work, but I may have to move them based on other programs she wants to do, and the slots fill up fast.
• CTY summer program.  This would be Liza's first go at CTY, and she's still on the fence about whether it's worth committing a third of her summer (and which program would be a good fit for her).  But the applications start in December, and it's the most expensive activity with the fewest slots available, so we have to nail this one down soon.
• French Creek Theater rehearsals and performances. Into the Woods is in June, Tuck Everlasting is in July, and As You Like It comes in August.  Assuming I'm still interested in volunteering with the group, that could keep me pretty busy for the whole dang summer.
• Jason is still interested in long-distance hiking, although I'm pretty sure doing the Appalachian Trail has been put on hold for a while.  But he still is probably going to want to schedule a couple longer hiking trips while the weather is nice.
• Visiting family.  Because apparently Liza's grandmother would like to see her more than once a year.  Sheesh! :)
• Oh, and we would like to do a vacation while the kid's out of school.  No idea where, or when, or for how long.  Probably need to figure that out soon, too, if we want to not have to pay through the nose for airfare.
• Theater tickets, which we have in June (Dear Evan Hansen), July (Come From Away), and possibly August (Lion King, for which we haven't bought tickets yet).

It's a few things, like I said.  And that's just what I know about now, and the list doesn't include things like birthday parties, getting together with friends, or anything school-related like band camp (not that Liza wants to do marching band) or getting her summer assignments finished.

Yeah, this was totally easier when she was a toddler and we could spend the summer watering flowers and going to the park.

Life in the (walking) fast lane

I’m writing a blog post while walking laps at the gym. Must be November.

Since NaBloPoMo seems to not be a thing anymore, I’m trying something new this year: #Create30. It’s not blog-specific; instead, it suggests trying to do something creative every day, no matter what that means to you. So if I want to write a blog post, awesome. If I want to post a photo on Instagram, more power to me. Twitter haiku? Totally counts, as long as I tag it.

Since we all know I’m an overachiever, I’m hoping to do at least two things each day, but we’ll see how that goes - I do have a life to live, you know. Gotta get the blog fodder somehow!

Interested in joining me? Check out the organizer’s site for more details: https://www.blissfullemon.com/create30-november-2018/ And thanks, Aimee, for the idea and the gumption to start this up! I’m looking forward to seeing what other people do for their daily posts.