Showing up

Today I'm just showing up. If my outlook calendar hadn't popped up saying "write in summer journal" I would have absolutely been AWOL. But I have nothing special to say.

Should I comment on the Democratic primary? I find the disarray in the Democratic party amusing. I think Obama might be smart, and a nice guy, but I'm pretty sure there's a consensus opinion that he's a socialist, ergo not fit for the presidency of the United States. I loathe Hillary. Who doesn't? Even the people who like her don't really seem to like her. I think I remember from Freakonomics, or the Tipping Point, or one of those books I heard on tape, that studies of past elections prove people vote for candidates they like. That's why John Kerry lost. Was he smart? Sure. Did he and his wife Ther-AY-zah irritate people? Uh, yeah. Will the likeable candidate always be the best candidate? Doubtful.

What about McCain, you ask? There is little question that I'll be stuck voting for him, given the alternatives. Oh Rudy, Rudy, why did you let us down? Here's McCain: "We came to change Washington and Washington changed us." That's a poor excuse for behaving like a garden variety tax and spend liberal in Republican clothing. Here's another one: "I don't really understand economics." That's comforting. And how about McCain-Feingold? Is there anyone who believes that is not an undue infringement on free speech? Besides the Supreme Court, I mean.

I have a McCain lapel pin sitting on my kitchen shelf. Someone gave it to me. I just can't bring myself to wearing it. Someone offered me a McCain bumper sticker. No, not on my car. I have to really love a candidate to put their name on my car. What is up with those people who still drive around with Kerry/Edwards bumper stickers? Are they trying to say I told you so to other drivers, or are they just too lazy to remove them?

What would really entertain me is if Al Gore came riding in on a white horse to rescue his homies. Since leaving office, he's taken off his "new Democrat" cloak so everyone knows what a flaming liberal he really is. And I would enjoy seeing him lose another election.

That's all I have to say. Now I have 180 little impatiens to plant.

Inertia in May

Today it’s not so easy. Inertia weighs me down. I can’t blame the weather. It’s a relatively perfect spring afternoon, the skies are blue, the garden is popping with all sorts of greenery, though my azaleas have never looked worse. I have one scrawny one that’s glowing with bright pink blossoms, and one old one that’s giving it the old college try but has managed only a single flower. The others are mostly sticks, with a few sprouting leaves near the bottom. Two are absolutely dead as doornails. I'm ignoring them.

And here I sit, indoors. The windows aren’t even open. The outside world is screaming at me, “Get out here you lazy slug! Don’t you know it’s going to rain tomorrow? Enjoy it while it’s hot!”

If I might venture a guess, I’d say the fact that it’s Friday just has me plain tired. I’m kind of stuck between the busy week and the approaching weekend. I need coffee but when I went to pour a cup from this morning’s pot, it was bone dry. Bummer. Wait. I did buy some New Guinea whole beans from Costco yesterday. I think I’ll rally now, find the coffee grinder, and inject some java directly into my veins.

There is a bright side to my doldrums. Sam is coming home tonight for the weekend, and he casts a bright light wherever he goes. That should wake me up. Plus, I’m here blogging away about nothing relevant but I’m still batting a thousand.

Is this Heaven?

I am thwarted.

See, I wrote this lovely article about my favorite park that allows dogs off-leash. We love going there, and there are all these interesting facts about the place. I called the resident park naturalist to fill in a few facts before submitting it to the paper, and she BEGGED me not to write it. It seems at times they are overrun with dogs and people making a mess of the place. She said they’ve even found bagged doggie doo in trees!! (Is it any wonder I don’t like people?) So it’s a huge controversy right now, to the extent they are reconsidering the off-leash policy. Basically, publicity would hurt the park by attracting even more people.

I’m like Sally Field in Absence of Malice. I don’t want Paul Newman coming after me. So I’m tucking the piece away in my file and moving on.

Nonetheless, I can’t complain because it is a flawless day in May that also happens to be my 20th wedding anniversary. I love my husband as much as ever, despite his increasingly balding pate, and my four sons deliver joy, joy, joy, 24/7.

I’m like John Kinsella in Field of Dreams.

“Can I ask you something? Is this heaven?”

“It's Iowa.”

“Iowa?”

“Yeah.”

“I could have sworn it was heaven.”

“Is there a heaven?”

“Oh, yeah. It's the place where dreams come true.”

“Maybe this is heaven.”

Hineni! or, Here I Am

I'm kind of liking this obligation I've imposed on myself, to write something every day in this so-called summer journal. I feel like I've made myself accountable somehow, and the productivity is flowing. It's day 3 and here I am! Or, Hineni! you could say. "Hineni" is what Abraham replied when God called him in Genesis Chapter 22: "He said to him, 'Abraham,' and he answered 'Here I am.'" I believe the hebrew spelling is Hay-Nun-Final Nun. You know, I just googled that and there is actually a website called hineni.org. How obscure.

Anyway, today I've already been to my exercise class, dealt with the insurance company over Noah's fender bender (not his fault...some teenage girl hit him from behind in the school parking lot), scanned and emailed some photos to a photographer who's taking professional shots of Noah next week, paid some bills, AND worked on my article about the Sewickley Heights Borough Park. This is the first time I've ever called a person, a source, if you will, concerning an informational article I hope to see published in one of our venerable local papers. To you, gentle reader, this may be a minor mundane event, but to me it is a milestone.

I know this is short and perhaps somewhat lame, but it counts. I'm off to the middle school library for my weekly volunteer gig.

New Habits

I read recently that developing new habits actually leads to the creation of new synapses in the brain, even in adults. The idea is to stave off the seemingly inevitable decline in brain function that most people experience by the mere fact of living long enough.

Sounds good to me. I need all the help I can get. So new synapses, that's my mantra with this summer journal. The new habit I'm developing is writing every day, here, if no place else. I showed up today, so that is most definitely a step in the right direction.

My friend told me it takes 30 days of doing something every day for it to become a habit. I'm on Day 2. I'm 2 for 2. I'm batting a thousand. I'll revisit the matter on Day 30 and we'll analyze whether I've formed a new habit or been a pathetic failure. I should be able to tell immediately by all the new synapses firing away in my head like so much electrical current coursing through the innards of my house.

My goal really is just to be more productive and efficient with my time. Not just with the written output but with my whole manner of living. For example, I really do not enjoy driving to Cranberry (3 miles) five times a week for milk, dinner, greeting cards, toiletries, haircuts, or whatever other little needs might be compelling me. Can't I reduce that to one weekly trip?

Also I'm very put out (a la Humperdink in the Princess Bride) because my doctor says I have high cholesterol. I find this incredibly annoying because I have always been and expect to remain, a picture of absurdly good health. I was one of those kids who never missed a day of school.

So as I seek to improve my outer life by managing the household better and writing more, I also strive to improve my inner life by eater better and exercising more.

I'll be honest with you. I am extremely proud of myself today. Because I woke up and had egg beaters with spinach and feta cheese for breakfast, when I much prefer a nice onion bagel with cream cheese. But no, I'm saving that for the weekend. I walked Josh to school. I helped a neighbor walk 2 bikes that she was retrieving from someone else's trash to her house (she's donating them to a charity that repairs bikes for needy children). I rode my own bike to the health club. It's only one and a half miles away but there are hills, and hey, I didn't drive. That's something. I took my yoga/pilates class for an hour, then rode home. God my legs are tired. I worked on a project for my mother-in-law's upcoming birthday. Did dishes and laundry. Then I relented a little and had leftover barbeque ribs and pasta salad for lunch. What can I say, I'm the mother around here and eating leftovers is part of my job description. I made potato salad to go with the chicken I'm making for dinner. And I read a fascinating article in an old New York Times Sunday magazine about kidney transplantation issues.

So as I see it, I've improved my body, my mind, and the environment by all of the above, and if that becomes a habit I shall be content indeed.

Summer Journal

It's Memorial Day, and here I sit on a lounge chair at Windwood Pool. My skin is pale white--not the smooth alabaster white of a Botticelli painting, but more along the lines of pasty white. Elmer's paste, that is. My appearance, however, is not totally without merit, as I am clad in my new faux tankini from L.L. Bean. I like this bathing suit because it looks like a flirty two-piece, with sleak black bottoms and a fusia-red-pink-white riot of flowers on top. Very cute. But appearances deceive, in this case to my favor. My ensemble is actually a sensible one-piece, the top and bottom being sewn together so it holds any muffintop-like tendencies at bay. You can even lift the top from my belly, like a real tankini, but all you'll be treated to is flesh-colored fabric. Genius!

Jon, Noah and Phil were in the hot tub a minute ago, but Noah and Phil just got busted by the lifeguard for flouting the 18-year and older rule. Phil was quick to comply with the cute blonde teenage girl's request that he vacate pronto. But Noah. "How do you know I'm not 18?" he queried, all innocence. To which she replied, "Noah, I know you're not 18." So she knows him. A shy smile. He stayed in and she abandoned her effort for the more urgent call of the lifeguard chair.

Josh is the only one in the pool. It's 75 degrees out today but the pool is a ludicrously cold 58 for godsake. Still, he's making a valient effort, walking back and forth, back and forth, wet from his little butt on down. Not so much as a drop above the waist.

And me? Well, the sky is clouding up, it's getting a little breezy, and there is no freaking way I'm putting so much as a toe in that water until it hits 65 and/or the mercury hits 80.

I do have a purpose here though. And that is, if I write nothing else, I will write in this, my summer journal 2008, each and every day until Labor Day. Wish me luck, and a good tan!