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Day 32

Sometimes, it’s stark the clear difference between what is imagined and what is reality.

I dreamed of sitting curled up in my new reading chair (aka, Lucy’s chair), sipping a hot beverage, reading my book as the snow gently fell all afternoon.  I thought maybe I would write a little because the mood just seemed as though it would be conducive.

I *am* curled up on my reading chair, I *have* read some of my book.  But it’s been another strange day — even the snow has been strange.  Sometimes clattering against the windows, sometimes so fine it’s barely visible.  Sometimes swirling and dipping as if a squall has taken hold.  I haven’t been able to settle my mind, my thoughts, my self.  I’ve been intermittently hungry, thirsty, cold, uncomfortable and needing the use the bathroom.  There has been no rhythm.

I feel beaten up with no discernible reason to feel so; raw and skittish and afraid.

Once, a long time ago, I sat on a park bench on a cool summer evening.  The trees were green and the sky was clear, the stars twinkling.  My friend and I had gone to dinner and were just sitting there for more time to talk before the evening eventually ended.  He and I had recently graduated from high school and I thought we’d be friends forever.

We talked about many things that night, but there are two that still linger in my brain, twenty odd years later.  He said character was who we are in the dark.  And then he said, the only that that is constant is change.

We aren’t still friends, which makes me feel a touch sad at times.  He went on to become a professor of philosophy and has published several books.  He seems happy — what I can tell from the distance with which I now see his life.

But he profoundly changed how my mind worked that night.

And as I sit here today, the weather unpredictable, John’s schedule unpredictable, my legs … unpredictable.  I think about those two things … character is who I am in the dark.  Or perhaps, just alone, without any witness.  And even though I cling to routine with an iron grip, the truth is that life will keep changing and morphing.  And what is up will one day be down.  John will change and evolve and I will change and evolve and we will grow and change together.

The more I fight the change, the harder I make it for myself.  I need to just breath deep, and enjoy the ride.

Xox, g

Day 31

At times, January felt like it might never end.  And yet, here we are because time keeps marching on without care or worry to the contents or the state of the world.

John began the second half of his fiscal year this past Monday and everything in our house has felt crammed and stressed and stretched and pressed and intense since.  Even this weekend felt upside down and strangely not relaxing because the shadow of what’s happening at his company is just lingering in the background of everything.

We were supposed to have brunch with my Dad and Aunt this morning but it was cancelled due to weather.  Snow began midday and hasn’t really stopped, although the accumulations seem small compared to how long it’s been consistently falling.  We shoveled tonight, took Lucy for a walk.  Came back inside, and prepared to start all over again tomorrow.

The snow isn’t supposed to stop until Tuesday morning but weather forecasts are fickle so we’ll see how tomorrow plays out.  John will begin his day at a dead sprint again and has already prepared us both for another intense week.

I’m not sure what I’ll do tomorrow (outside of my usual).  I’ll do a Sculpt class and some Peloton classes.  I’ll do laundry and wash sheets.  I’ll balance our checkbook.  I’ll eat oatmeal.  If I’m very lucky, I’ll get to read some of my book (Why Buddhism is True which I am very much enjoying).  And then we’ll have scallops for dinner (because that’s our last Home Chef meal in the fridge).  And we’ll go to bed and begin all over again on Tuesday.

I wanted the snow to feel magical today.  I wanted to feel … something, anything.  But it was a strange day, filled with low level anxiety and dissatisfaction. We both felt it.

Maybe the start of a new month, a new week, will help freshen up the current vibe.  Who knows?

I know we have successfully survived January.  And right now, that feels like something.

Xoxo, g

Day 30

As the month winds down, I find myself losing track of my resolutions.  As though I’ve reached the finish line.

I have to keep reminding myself that the end of this month means nothing, really, in terms of the promises I’ve made to myself.  Just days, preceded by days, followed by days.  It’s anti-climactic.

***

Today was a weird day.  We had plans … which we should have known would change and morph so many times that the day would end up looking completely different than we’d imagined.

But once again, we didn’t realize it and it was a frustrating exercise in lack of communication and two types of polar opposite people — those who plan and follow through, and those who live a little bit more … spontaneously?  Yeah.  We’ll say that.

Anyway.  I ended up spending some unplanned time reading this morning as John made flies (Santa brought him all the fixings for Christmas, but he hasn’t been able to find time to pursue it until today).  Nearly a year ago my yoga teacher recommended a book called Why Buddhism is True and while I purchased it at the time, I hadn’t sat down to read it with any degree of focus until now.

It blew my mind.  It’s fascinating and terrifying and pushes the boundaries of the mind (I’m assuming for anyone who has not extensively studied Buddhism before endeavoring to read it). I’m loving the added perspectives it has contributed to my always-evolving life view.

I am also loving the conversations it has inspired between John and I, as I attempt to explain what I’ve just read (I learned that I understood more of it than I initially thought -which pleased me very much).  It’s fun to have big conversations about ideas and theories every once in awhile — it breaks up the usual talk  of work, Peloton rides and Marvel movies/shows.   (Although, side note, WandaVision is everything I hoped it would be, and more!).

I like reading because even if it’s “just” fiction, it changes and expands my mind and I like the feeling of learning and growing.  I read A Man Called Ove last summer and the themes and story of it still haunt my thoughts sometimes.  It was incredible.

I’m such a book nerd.  Haha!  Happy Saturday, friends.  I hope yours is a good one!

Xoxo, g

 

Day 28

Before I begin rambling about something else, I’d like to edit my post from yesterday.  Far From Home is the best live-action Spiderman.  But Into the Spiderverse is currently the best Spiderman movie that has been released.  We watched it again tonight .. just effing brilliant.

Brilliant.

Anyway, moving right along– I got my laptop out for the first time in ages and let me say, typing on my laptop is vastly superior to typing on my iPad.  I *do* keep touching the screen and getting frustrated when nothing happens (I’m special okay?) but otherwise, it’s really nice to type on a full-sized keyboard.

I finished reading American Buffalo  today.  I don’t know why it took me so long to read it because I loved every minute of it.  It filled my brain full of curiosity and questions and awe for the history of an animal I knew very little about.

I have a million things I want to say and yet, I can’t find a good place to start.

It feels like Steven Rinella has always been a part of John + my life but in reality, John probably only discovered him and his TV show and podcast (of the same name  — Meateater) about two plus years ago.  It has profoundly influenced our lives (moreso John’s than mine but by extension).  And when John ordered some of Steve’s books from the website (signed copies!!) I idly picked one up and then … never fully set it back down.

I haven’t watched a single TV episode and have only listened to a handful of podcasts.  But the book captured my imagination almost instantly.  It wove its way through a myriad of things I knew very little about, and because of that I was fascinated. I felt like I was truly learning something new for the first time in a very long time.  When I closed it for the last time today, it stayed with me, a shadow of every thought in my brain.

It wasn’t just the history of bison bison across hundreds of thousands of years or the complicated relationship of humans and buffalos.  It wasn’t just his quest to hunt and kill a buffalo in Alaska in 2005 after miraculously pulling one of only 24 licenses issued.  It wasn’t the archaeology or the anthropology or sociology or economic history.  It wasn’t Steve’s personal story, of his love of hunting, his brothers, his discovery of a buffalo skull that triggered the whole thing.  It was *all* of it.

It helped me understand an entirely new dimension of my husband.  It educated me on the complexities of the European expansion across the United States, the misconceptions of many different factions of people regarding Native American history, buffalo history, hunting history.

I really, really loved it.  Read it.

xox, g

Day 27

I’m a very competitive person.

Sometimes this plays in my favor.  Other times … it does not.

Recently I’ve become preoccupied with challenges on the Peloton and in doing so, have so fully exhausted myself that I had to take a time out.  Recognizing that need was difficult; actually doing it was nearly impossible.  I will push myself past all my limits in a fruitless attempt to prove that I can do anything I want.  But the truth is, if I do anything I want, there will be consequences, a balancing out.  My body can’t sustain hours of cardio and strength workouts every day indefinitely.  It just isn’t equipped to do that.  And even if it was, it means I can’t do anything else with any degree of efficiency (& this, I have learned clearly over the past few weeks).

So today, the third day that I struggled to get out of bed, I decided to rest.  And I spent the day on the couch watching Marvel movies.

Recently, John + I decided to purchase all the Spider-Man movies in a bundle pack, because even though we own the two newest (of the MCU) we didn’t have either Tobey Maguire or Andrew Garfield’s movies.  And we like binge-watching so this seemed as good a thing to binge as anything, considering that characters from both those franchises are rumored to be featured in the newest MCU installment (tentatively scheduled for release in December of this year).

We weren’t always MCU nuts, but once we went down the rabbit hole, we really committed.  So this newest purchase wasn’t outside the realm of things we would do.

Having now watched all seven movies (recently) I can understand why the MCU might have picked the villains they picked to re-introduce.  And seeing the different iterations of Peter Parker is fascinating in the progression of the character.  Could Tom Holland’s Spidey be as good as he is had Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield not preceded him?  I’m not sure.  I like how each Spidey is his own unique interpretation of the character.  But there are also so many similarities in the interpretations that are kind of fascinating.

To begin, I loved the Tobey Maguire movies when they came out.  Revisiting them was nostalgic, but it also highlighted to me how weak he was as an actor, and certain compromises that seem to be made in Spidey to accommodate for that.  Andrew Garfield, a much stronger actor, made Spidey funnier, more nuanced, and altogether more Marvel (for lack of a better descriptive word).  The second “Amazing Spider-Man” (which suffered a little from the same disease as the third Tobey Maguire Spidey … aka, too many stories happening to do them all justice) was actually pretty powerful in its portrayal of Electro, the love story of Gwen and Peter and Gwen’s ultimate demise.  My heart still stopped watching her fall and that final moment when Peter’s web caught her but she was too close to the ground.  Oof.  I loved the humanity of Sally Field’s Aunt May (and Martin Sheen’s Uncle Ben) and all in all, I much preferred those two movies to the first three.

And that brings us to Tom Holland and the behemoth that is MCU.

Do I think Spider-Man: Homecoming is the best movie ever?  No.  It’s not even the best Spidey movie (I reserve that for Far From Home).  But it so significantly improves upon all that came before it that it’s hard to compare.  To begin, the ages of the main characters are much more realistic than 27-year-old Tobey Maguire playing a high schooler.  Tom Holland is a delightful blend of funny, insecure, intelligent and awkward that makes his portrayal of Spider-Man utterly enjoyable.  And the supporting cast —- Flash and Aunt May (who doesn’t love Marisa Tomei?!?) and Ned and MJ ….  all brilliant.  Jake Gyllenhall’s Mysterio is amazing — a crazy blend of mentor and villain and mastermind and insecure megalomaniac.  And Michael Keaton as Vulture in Homecoming?  Loved it.  Loved it even more re-watching it.  They just elevated the game to a whole new level.

Anyway.  That’s what I was up to today.  That, and discussing with John the pitfalls of my Peloton obsession.  Oh well.  I guess I just have to keep learning the same lessons over and over until I get it.  Life, right?

Xoxo, g

Day 26

My brother-in-law Alan was born 41 years ago today.

I loved Alan.  He could make anyone smile, his laugh was infectious and earning an air-kiss a special privilege.

We lost him nearly a year ago.  It was devastating.

I think about him a lot.  We didn’t see him enough while he was alive, but the times we did see him lifted my soul up.  He was the most joyous human I’ve ever met.

Alan had cerebral palsy so we could never talk to him — we could talk *at* him and hope we understood his response.  We could laugh and tell him stories and hope that we understood his reactions.  We could hypothesize what he might have said had he been able to tell us what he really thought.  But we never knew.  And that … that was awful.

What was never in doubt – not ever – was how much he loved John.  His whole being lit up when his brother arrived to see him and his devastation when we left was real.  He stared at John, rapt with love and so many words unsaid.  He laughed and swung his arms in excitement; he withheld kisses until John had sufficiently apologized for our long absence (yet again).

The world is certainly a darker place without Alan in it.  My heart hurts thinking about it.

Xox, g

Day 25

Today was the first day of the second half of John’s fiscal year.

I don’t know much about corporate norms other than what I have learned vicariously through John, but today began a new weekly series of calls that he must be on every week.  And they begin at 8am.

He doesn’t mind (and I certainly don’t … it doesn’t really affect me at all) but I am always intrigued by such early, mandatory team meetings on a Monday (or a Friday, when John has his other big round of calls).  I mean, yes, in terms of the work week, it definitely makes sense.  Start the week and end the week prepping/recapping business.  But whew, 8am.  That’s an early start for corporate America (based on John’s prior company policies).  When I was gainfully employed I held our manager’s meeting on Tuesday at 10a (which I know was a struggle for some of my employees because … well … they either didn’t get there in time or didn’t get there at all…).  However, that was the restaurant industry.  For me to be prepared by 8a on a Monday would either require prep work on Sunday or getting up *very* early on Monday morning.  John does the latter, because he refuses to work on weekends unless it’s *absolutely* necessary.  It isn’t so bad (I guess) as it jump starts his week … but what a way to begin!  There’s no easing into work with that call schedule!

As non-drinkers and early to bed people, early on a Monday (or a Friday) isn’t wildly challenging for him.  I mean, the man wakes up at 3am voluntarily to fish and hunt, so he’s not unfamiliar with the morning.  But I wonder about all those people who might have stayed up too late or had one two many cocktails … and I feel hungover just contemplating it.  I have flashback memories …. ugh.  Woof!

Anyway.  He’s been busy all day and that’s a pretty regular Monday for us.  I have a policy of never missing a Monday workout, and I made a schedule for housework when COVID began because time can be tricky (and also it’s easy to forget!).  So Mondays are go go go for us.  Coming off another headache week I was pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t as behind with all my chores as I’d dreaded.  I dragged my feet with workouts but I got them done, so that’s what really counts and now, after blogging, I’ll head downstairs to figure out dinner and read a little while John hits the gym.  I might even make some cookie dough batter for ginger cookies …. We’ll see.

Today falls into the column of “I had a lot of thoughts this morning but by the afternoon the fatigue has erased them all” blog post.  Maybe tomorrow will be better.

At least the laundry and the banking are done.

Xox, g

 

Day 23

I try to write before the end of the day because by now, I’m tired and all I want to do is go to bed.  But I made this promise to myself, this New Year’s Resolution.  And I’m not ready to give up just yet.

So here I am.

Last night we wrapped our evening at 8pm because I was just emerging from headache hell and I couldn’t keep my eyes open.  I slept for nearly eleven hours.  My body was wiped.

This morning we lounged around the house, reading books, listening to vinyl, talking about life and philosophy and the “Big Questions.”  I feel immense gratitude that J+I have these kinds of conversations regularly because if he wasn’t here to talk to, I don’t know what I’d do.  I thought, while we talked, what great seeds of ideas it all was for a blog post.  But now, tonight, as I sit here, my mind is blank.

Being ‘sick’ is exhausting.  It’s unrelenting.  It sneaks up on you when you let your guard down.  It’s tiring — which is a completely different thing than being exhausting.  It’s … it’s just really hard.  And it never stops.  And that wears a person down.

Sometimes I’m at a loss as to how to rest enough to feel recuperated.

But I’m here and I’m typing and I’m editing sentences as I go.  So, there’s something in that.  I didn’t miss another day because I got distracted by lethargy.

Xox, g

Day 20/5

Today, Joe Biden from Delaware (Scranton) became President of the United States Joseph R. Biden, the forty-sixth man to hold the office in the nearly two hundred and fifty year history of America.

It has been a strange day in our house.  Yesterday evening, we found out our neighbors have both tested positive for COVID with no clear idea how or when they were exposed.  Making it even more troubling/puzzling is that one of them had already begun the vaccine process.

Anyway, now, nearly twenty-four hours after receiving the news, I feel less anxious and scared; instead I feel resolute, determined and stoic.  We decided to self-quarantine (JIC) which has been something of a challenge and strangely exhausting.  My question for the universe … who exactly is following COVID protocol and guidelines?

I ask because both my doctors offices were unsettling blasé about the news, making rescheduling challenging and frustrating.  (Not to mention strangely shaming me for my hyphenated last name?! …) Our families reacted with various levels of concern and care, even stating at one point that we were probably fine.  (Thank you Doctor Family Member).

It isn’t that I wonder if we’ve been exposed or are sick — both are possibilities.   What weighs on my mind is the fact that our neighbors have no idea how they came to get it.  And they are diligent about isolating and staying home; they have been since early last year.  So … that’s … worrying.

Anyway, between phone battles with schedulers, I sat down and watched the first woman elected to high office sworn in as the Vice President of the country.  I cried.  Even if I hadn’t wanted to I would have because it was profoundly moving.  I wished my mother was there to see it, but I also knew that she was and she was proud.  Funnily, Judge Sotomayor mispronounced Kamala and I felt a surge of understanding and recognition as Ms. Harris didn’t get phased at all, but rather took her oath of office with poise and aplomb.

We are in dark days as a country.  Today marks a change in leadership but I can’t say for certain if it marks a change in the momentum of the divide growing larger and louder among our citizens.  All I can have is hope in the ideals of America.

It was a strange day today.  I can’t focus my mind, I drifted through the day.  I am tired and simultaneously wired.

Strange day.

Xox, g

 

 

Day 19 /4

It’s an interesting phenomenon, leaving social media after spending so many years affected by its ebb and flow, its plethora of messages and guidance on how to be the best version of myself (according – oftentimes – to  people I don’t know). Social media created an entire world where some people have bigger voices that reach farther, that carry more heft.  It is a world, an environment, that has a different set of rules than other, more personal arenas.   It empowers some while silencing others; it manipulates reality with algorithms and targeted marketing.  It is a sub-culture of reality.  It is simultaneously trivial and powerful beyond measure.

The weight of the civil rights movement in America in mid-2020 felt heavier every time I scrolled Instagram, every time I was ‘reprimanded’ for not doing it right, for being too privileged, too white.  There were lessons in that that I could not have learned any other way while being confined to my home in my safe, affluent, white corner of the world.  Uncomfortable, essential lessons about perspective, about power, about motivation and greed.

But other movements, other ‘lessons’ felt less significant and yet equally powerful.  And that is the rub of social media.  Did I post the right photo of Dr. King and say the right thing about his messages (particularly as a middle class white woman … ).  Did I acknowledge whatever is happening in the world with due respect?  Did I state my position and take a  side?

Should I have to?

I didn’t think about it until my meditation this morning (a special meditation by  Chelsea Jackson Roberts on Peloton in honor of MLK Day yesterday).  But instead of spending time agonizing over being ‘correct’ all I did yesterday was acknowledge and think about Dr. King and his influence and impact on civil rights in America.  And that was freeing.

I won’t lie, I miss Instagram.  I miss my friends and I miss posting pictures about the mundane details of my life.  Even if no one actually cares.  Haha!  I miss documenting my Peloton and Sculpt journeys.  I miss having conversations and messaging with people every day.

But I don’t miss the peer pressure.  I don’t miss the angst and the controversy.  I don’t miss the comparisons and the judgement.

Will I go back?  Probably.  When?  I’m not sure.  I have a date marked that I want to get to and after that I’ll reevaluate.  But it is funny how the further away from something you get, the less powerful its pull to return.

Xox, g