Back in the Saddle Again

Today was the first day back.

After sleeping nearly 'round the clock last night, ZBoy returned to school today. He was actually looking forward to it, even though he was making protesting noises. That's all they were. Noises. I think he was beginning to get a little bored with all that free time.

I drove to work through the fog, practically bouncing in my seat in anticipation of walking through those doors again. I too, would make protesting noises but it would all be noise. In reality, I love my job and nearly two weeks off gave me just the break I needed to come back refreshed and raring to go. I banged out logs, began gathering information for various reports due at the end of the week, filled out timesheets and retrieved an armload of mail and videotapes from the mailroom. My office is my home away from home and the one place that is truly MINE. I was happy to see it again.

All of this had me ruminating on routine.

From babyhood, routine is very important. It sets up your expectations about how your life is going to go and helps you feel safe because you know what happens next. That doesn't rule out surprises or vacations, but on the whole, a routine life is necessary to happiness, health, and well-being.

Going to bed and getting up at a certain time. Drinking enough water. Getting exercise on a regular basis. Using your mind everyday. Keeping your environment clean and comfortable.

Necessary.

Sometimes, there is comfort and joy in setting up new routines or returning to old ones.

Monday, I went for a bike ride. My last day of "freedom" and I went for a ride. I EXERCISED. I loaded up my bike and drove down to the bike trail. It's the first time I've actually ridden on my own in a few years (and not dragging some cement child while saying "Wow, this is fun! Aren't you having a good time?").

I unloaded the bike, got on and started pedaling. Sheer heaven - for five minutes. Then my muscles started complaining. I'd gone 1.5 miles. I persisted until I got to the Little League Park where I stopped, got off, stretched my legs and raised my seat about 3/4 of an inch. Then I got back on and started riding back towards my car.

Raising the seat made a huge difference. On the way back, I felt like I was flying - a very familiar feeling on the seat of a bike for me. I arrived back at the trailhead slightlly sweaty and out of breath but feeling wonderful and a bit abashed.

You see, I rode maybe 6 miles total. If you're not used to riding, that may seem like a lot, but for me - who used to bike commute 30 miles in a day, it was a wimpy showing. I was quite dismayed that I had gotten so far out of shape (the holidays did NOT help). However, I was satisfied that I'd done as much as I needed to do that day and the next time I might make it as far as Woodville-proper. And later, as far as my old neighborhood, then finally making the trip all the way to St. Marks and back. I won't manage that in a week or possibly even a month - but I will manage it again. I WANT to manage that again. And in order to do what I want, I need to make myself a routine that regularly includes riding my bike for some distance.

See, routines don't just get you what you need. Sometimes they show you the way to your heart's desire.

Fun Monday - Always on My Mind

Faye over at Summit Musings is our host for this week's Fun Monday, and her devious mind has come up with this challenge:

"What's on your mind as we close out 2008 and begin 2009? Large and small. What are often your first thoughts the minute you wake up? When you're alone and unguarded? Working? Stuck in traffic? Playing with the children? Walking the dogs? When you can't sleep?"

Oh, boy.... Faye, you may be sorry you asked because my answers may make me sound a little crazy. Well, maybe I am, but it's been this way for me for most of my life.

These days, the first thoughts of my day are often "@#$%^ CAT!" There is a reason! Darling Man is a very early riser. When he gets up, he makes coffee and goes out to get the newspaper and when he comes back in, French, who rarely spends the night inside comes in with him. French is as close to a wild cat as we have. He comes home to eat and if it's really cold, to sleep curled up next to someone's feet but otherwise, we don't see much of him. DM then feeds the cats, drinks his coffee, showers and heads out for work or running or some such thing. Leaving all munching animals inside and the dogs outside. French is rarely finished by the time DM leaves, but shortly thereafter (which is around 5:30am), he comes upstairs and starts yowling to be let out. I awaken from a sound sleep with the aforementioned thought screaming through my brain as I grab my robe, stomp down the stairs and put the darned cat OUT. Then I either stagger to the coffee maker or back up to bed.

The thought can also be "@#$%^ DOG!" Revan barks. At everything. I do wonder if his eyesight is very good because some of what he barks at doesn't make much sense. Kida never barked until Revan came along, so our neighbors were used to a nice quiet dog. They go out in the morning when DM gets up, and he leaves them out when he leaves. And sometimes, Revan goes off. He likes to do it between our house and the next door neighbor's house so it's really loud and echo-y. I get up, stomp downstairs, go in the garage, open the door. Revan already knows he's in deep shit when I fling that door open, so he sidles inside and hits the floor, making himself as small as possible. I close the door, go back in the house and leave him in the garage alone until it's time to feed him - which is usually about two and a half hours later.

Thankfully, the Revan thing doesn't happen that often. The French one happens nearly daily.

As for the other categories, well, that's when the voices in my head have free rein. They have whole conversations or tell stories. They argue the other side of whatever else I'm thinking of. Their presence for most of my life is what makes me think that I should be a writer - because my imagination just doesn't ever seem to stop. If, for instance, I have an argument with ZBoy before school, my drive to work consists of internal discussion of how I could have handled that better, how wrong it could have gone, and also how well I handled whatever it was. The dialogue covers the entire spectrum of points of view. It's rather bizarre, actually.

I rarely remember dreams, which you might think would spark some of this. No, it all comes at the moment, spontaneously out of whatever is going on. I try to comfort myself with the thought that I have truly mastered "living in the moment", but perhaps I really just need medication... I don't spend much time worrying about anything but right now. Future plans are somewhat vague. When I'm at work, I'm working and doing all that needs to be done. When I'm home cooking, I'm cooking - when I'm cleaning, I'm cleaning and I am always THERE in whatever I'm doing, with the commentary going on in the background of my mind. It's a bit like living your life as golf coverage.

The problem with those voices (thoughts) is that they tend to crowd each other out, so I don't always remember what it was they said. Perhaps I should start carrying around a little dictaphone so I can say whatever they're saying. I bet the dialogue sections of my writing would improve tremendously if I could manage that!!!

The Bloom is Off the Rose

Winter vacation is almost over. For most of that time, ZBoy has been home with me playing computer games or video games and don't worry, he spends at least an hour doing some kind of physical exercise before he's allowed to play.

His friends Ben and Jesse have been out of town visiting family, so his usual playmates haven't been available.

Jesse got back into town yesterday and they weren't home an hour before Jesse was on the phone to ZBoy asking him if he could come over to spend the night and try out his new Wii. With great glee, he disappeared over to Jesse's house and if I hadn't called him before I went to bed last night, I doubt that I would have heard from him.

The phone silence continued through most of today. Darling Man was working, Z was gone and I spend the day doing absolutely nothing. After days of intense activity, I needed that downtime.

Finally, around 3:30, the phone rang. It was Z saying he was ready to come home and could Jesse spend the night... I agreed and went to pick them up.

As soon as they walked in the door, the video games came on again. We don't have a Wii - ours are the old fashioned kind where you sit on your butt and your thumbs do all the work. But Z really didn't want to play what Jesse wanted to play, so after a brief time playing together, Jesse was playing alone and Z was lobbying to get on the computer.

I told him no. If he wanted company, he wasn't going to get lost in cyber-world, he would be available to his guest. Then I went to the kitchen to make meatloaf.

I was pushing the meat-mixture into the loaf pan when ZBoy silently appeared next to me. I put my arm around him and he looked up at me and said, "Sometimes I think Jesse only likes me for what I have. That he doesn't really like me."

Well, there are a lot of things ZBoy has that Jesse doesn't. He has his own home. He has a father. He has two parents who love him and no siblings he has to share that love with. He has involved and interested parents who talk to him and do things with him and don't just put him in front of the tv to get him out of the way. So yes. I can see where Jesse might like what ZBoy has.

But Jesse has something very worthwhile too - ZBoy as a friend. Someone who cares if he's lonely or bored.

I hugged him and we went upstairs to watch some of "Sky High" together. And then Jesse came in looking for Z. And said he was lonely.

ZBoy immediately jumped up and they went off in search of light sabers together.

It's a tough lesson to learn sometimes. People don't always like you for who you are, but for what you have or what you can do for them. You can be the most wonderful person in the world and still have that happen.

The thought crossed ZBoy's mind, but I don't think it's actually happened to him - at least not yet.

How to cure flappy arms

My "vacation" has been quite productive, thank you very much! As you may recall, I bought a couple of gallons of blue paint for the stairwell and upstairs hall which were the last vestiges of the hideous green/gray color in the house. I painted the stairway and the hall and was so thrilled with the color that I kept going.

Over the course of three days, I painted the stairway, the hall, the livingroom and the diningroom. I also moved the piano twice (once out from the wall and once most of the way back). By the time New Year's Day night rolled around, I could barely lift my arms and I'd managed to also stretch the tendons that run up my left ankle from going up and down the stairs and ladders so much.

However, I believe the aches, pains, and tightened arms were well worth the results.

You wouldn't think so, but the blue is so much brighter and lighter than the crescent moon yellow that was in here before. The whole downstairs looks so much happier! I still need to do woodwork in white and repaint the ceiling, but I can wait a little bit for that. I also want to repaint the family room and kitchen over in crescent moon again, but with semi-gloss this time hoping for a slightly more durable and reflective surface. It's starting to look like a cave in there with all the handprints on the wall.

When I wasn't painting, I was redecorating the master bedroom. In the year and a half that we've lived here, I hadn't managed to get the curtains up in there. Now there are curtains and a matching comforter and sheet set. I also cleaned the carpet (it smelled a bit too much like dog) and dusted everything. It's a much more pleasant room to be in now.

And just for the heck of it, my two brother cats French (white paws) and Yoda snuggled up together on the couch. Aren't they cute?

I go back to work on Tuesday (same day as school gets back in) and I feel like this was a most satisfactory time off. I still have three days off to go. I wonder what I can accomplish next?

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What is up with this new year already? Not one but TWO children of celebrities died today. The first one was the 16 year old son of John Travolta and Kelly Preston. The second was the 35 year old daughter of Mia Farrow and Andre Previn. And today isn't over yet.

I feel so sorry for the families of these two. It's never easy to lose a child, but to do so with publicity must be really, really awful. Say a little prayer for their families tonight as you go to sleep.

I love you more...

2008 has officially retired into the annals of history with only one major mishap - lighting sparklers last night, Z was nervous and pushed his sparkler at Darling Man, delivering a rather severe burn to his thumb. Lots of ice, aloe and a burn patch later, he was finally able to go to sleep.

We don't stay up late to ring in the new year. We don't party. Last night, we hoisted a cup of cocoa, watched Twilight Zone and thankfully watched 2008 winding down.

Not that it was a particularly bad year. We have a new president and new hope for our staggering country. Bush didn't actually drive us to our knees, but we're definitely unsteady on our feet. DM and I both have jobs and as far as we know aren't in danger of losing them. ZBoy is happy and healthy and learning everyday. There were no major catastrophes with our house or our pets or our relatives. There have been deaths, which are a normal part of life, but no maiming. We aren't rich enough to worry about the stock market (in that we have no stocks and our retirements aren't stock-based), but it's affected parents on both sides. Still, no one is homeless or doesn't have enough to eat.

And all in all, there's not much I would change personally from what I was doing in 2008.

My health has improved dramatically and continues to do so. I will continue that trend in 2009. I still have plenty of weight to lose but the bloodwork numbers are in very good shape. Now it's time to get REALLY serious about my outside shape.

I've done quite a bit of work on the house, finally finishing the downstairs bathroom, getting the plumbing fixed in the upstairs bathrooms. Illness slowed me down, but in the last couple of days of the year, I finally painted the stairwell and hallway upstairs, eliminating the ugly, depressing gray green color that was the whole house when we moved in. I also repainted the livingroom yesterday and will do the diningroom today. Future projects include both upstairs bathrooms and re-working the kitchen so that it functions better and looks better. Perhaps there will be new furniture, perhaps not.

But my real resolution was inspired on a couple of fronts.

I have never been a very touchy-feely person. The sphere of my personal space seems to be bigger than other people's and I get very uncomfortable when it's invaded. I don't spontaneously touch people, hug or kiss them - even my own family. I am uncomfortable when other people do it to me. My husband, on the other hand, is very "hands-on" (how in the world do we make this work???). The other night we were snuggling a bit and as usual, after a certain amount of time my body was making "move away" fidgets. DM needed a little more cuddle and asked that I not leave, so I stayed, but I guess my body started getting... rigid. It can only handle so much. OF course, DM noticed, sighed and released me. Which made me feel bad. I want to work on feeling comfortable with my loved ones touching me, holding me and not making them feel rejected when I can't take it anymore. It's a way to say, "I love you."

And this morning, my son was bouncing around the family room the way boys do sometimes, and he flung himself down on the couch and exclaimed, "I LOVE YOU, MAMA!"

I replied, "I love you, too!" And stopped mid-flip on the pancakes. It occurred to me that I am always saying, "I love you, too." That I rarely initiate that particular exchange. With my husband, my son, my parents, my brothers or my friends.

And I do. I love all of those people. Desperately. In their own ways, they move me to tears and laughter and thoughfulness and I love them. But I almost never tell them that. I never tell them just how much having them in my life means to me. How much it enriches the essence of my very being. How empty my life would be if they weren't there, if they didn't love me too.

So my biggest resolution for 2009? To say I LOVE YOU more.