January Book Report: Emma

In preparation for the February release of a new Emma movie, I got out my copy of the Jane Austen classic this month.  

This book is a delicious treat, as is the case with all things Jane Austen (I’m watching Sanditon on Masterpiece Theater this month and it’s been pleasing).  In Emma, the dialogue is clever and witty.  The characters are an assortment of Austen’s carefully drawn quirky townspeople, at least a few of whom are especially tiresome and somehow still quite charming.  In short, the book is delightful and the story pops right along.  I’ve read Emma so many times that I can anticipate my favorite scenes.  For me, a committed re-reader, this is especially pleasing.

Every re-read finds me aware of something new in the novel.  This time around, it was a reminder about the limited world of educated women in the 1800s.  Emma, who works as a matchmaker for the women around her, resists marriage for most of the novel, preferring to stay home and care for her charming (but hypochondriac) father.  Her resistance to marriage is about her father but it’s also about having the chance to shape her life for herself.

In the end, of course, Emma does choose marriage.  In her case, it’s without giving up her sense of self.  As is the case with all Austen novels, the reader gets her happy ending.  But this is no saccharine event, accompanied as it is by the voice of an all-seeing honest narrator.  Emma was a cozy pleasure in January.  Plus, I’m ready for the movie next month!

Your Weekly Amaryllis - Week 4

Most years, the week four amaryllis report is filled with despair that the bulb may never bloom.  This year, T confessed that she read the instructions on the box and stored the bulb in a cool place in advance of Christmas day.  As I am known for my unwillingness to turn up the furnace, she claims that cool place was underneath the Christmas tree.  One thing is clear, it wasn’t next to the area heater in her Africa-hot home office.  Here at week four, the very start of a flower can be seen.

Tucked in the greenhouse corner, the tall stalk gets plenty of inspiration from the southern sunlight and neighboring plants. In the next few weeks, we’ll see a flower.  That’s happy!

Tiger the Tub Cat

I am not writing of a heretofore unknown Dr. Suess title but rather of my weirdo cat, Tiger.  In his most natural state, Tiger is committed to a life of restful leisure.

I think he’s quite charming in this state because it is me that he loves best.  Together, we share a commitment to soft blankets, naps on the sofa, and vanilla ice cream.  Sometimes, we allow Lucy to join us.

But Tiger has another side and it’s weird: he likes to get in the shower.  Usually, he reserves his shower sojourns for the moment when someone has just completed a shower.  Then, while the bather seeks to extract themselves from the tub, he hops in and licks up the water in the corner near the faucet (this despite the fact that he has his own generous bowl of water refreshed daily). However, the temporary shower plastic to-prevent-further-leaking has cramped his style.  Now he waits on the edge of the shower while I shower, meowing his dissatisfaction with the current inadequate accommodations.

Imagine his response when this entire shower is torn out.  No doubt he’ll file a complaint with the ASPCA.  I am in the process of seeking legal representation.

The Framers Can’t Protect Us from Ourselves

As the farce that is the Republican-controlled Senate impeachment trial of Donald Trump unfolds, I find myself turning toward the coming Democratic primary elections as a sort of tonic against the madness that is this trial.  It’s not that I don’t support the impeachment: I emphatically do and could happily add a half dozen more charges to the list.  But I can already see the writing on the wall:  the Republican Senators plan to carry water for their president and this entire process is going to be play acting of the very worst sort.

It’s not that the players lack seriousness.  The Democratic House managers believe the president should convicted and removed.  The Republican Senators are determined to protect their man.  And so we all go through the motions, in the process making a sham of the Constitution.

The resilience of the American experiment is thus being tested.  Watching that process unfold is disturbing and scary.  In his closing remarks on Thursday evening, House impeachment manager Adam Schiff’s emotional conclusion pointed out the fact that the Constitution demands we make decisions between right and wrong.  Then he made the most important point: “The Framers can’t protect us from ourselves.”

It boils down to just that.  We have our republic.  Can we protect and keep it?

Your Weekly Amaryllis - Week Three

This little stem is really getting after the work of blooming into a flower.  Winter sunlight is my ally in this task and it’s been a fairly sunny Winter so far.

By the time a flower appears, February will be underway and I will have started plotting my transition to Spring.  For me, Winter’s chill feels anticipatory: a chance to tuck under a cozy blanket and  daydream about the blooming seasons to come.  The amaryllis is my ally in this expectant season, a reminder of the warmth and light that is steadily making its way forward.

Real Life Texts with T: Water edition

The backstory:  Between the broken dishwasher (the water pump failed) and the kitchen leak from the upstairs shower, water and I have been struggling in 2020.  I came to school today and was here less than an hour when a student reported water leaking in the girls bathroom.  This led to a text exchange with T.

Me:  There is a toilet leaking in the girl’s bathroom.  Pretty much everywhere I go there is a water problem.  WTF?

T:  Water always wins - ask the Grand Canyon.

Truth.

Home Improvement: 2020 Shower edition

The morning after our new dishwasher made its triumphant way into the kitchen, T was taking a shower before work and I was helping myself to an extra cup of coffee when I felt a drip from the kitchen ceiling.  Unexpected water is never good.  A glance overhead confirmed that initial reaction.  There was a leak from the shower overhead.

The upstairs bathroom is directly above the kitchen and I am sorry to report that water in this location isn’t new.  The last time it leaked, in 2010, a whole new bathroom was installed.  

A plumber and tile installer confirm the problem: some loose tiles in the upstairs shower.  They’ve been re-grouted before but that repair is term-limited and it’s likely a new tile job is in our future.  In the meantime, T engineered a temporary hold to prevent continued dripping: a shower curtain against the wall, held in place by some duct tape.

This will get us through the next few weeks and buy some time for big decisions.  It’s not elegant but it will do the trick.  Stay tuned, because 2020 is looking like another year in my home improvement saga.

The Courage to Live in My Own Body

Though I can’t remember a time when I felt as if it was acceptable to like my body, I can remember the moment that I first began to dislike my body.  

I was 9.  

It seems especially fitting that I can’t really remember liking my body.  For a long, long time, that is where things stood: I didn’t like my body, assumed others felt the same, and actively worked to get to a place where my body was worthy of being liked, or at least that is what I told myself.  Honestly, it was just a series of attempts to change my body so that I could hate it less.

But hate it less was the goal; liking my body seemed downright impossible.

I know the origins of the dislike and they are deep-seated.  Of greater importance to me is the way the dislike played out.  For most of my life, I’ve seen everything via an internal lens of weight.  To the outside world I present a picture of confidence and sass.  It is my protective armor; a fake-it-til-you-make-it strategy that helped me to step forward in the world.  At various times, that outside attitude did reflect my internal landscape.  But never for very long.

Internally, the dialogue was often painfully critical.  I avoided mirrors and photos; I assumed that entire categories of clothing were off-limits for me because of my body.  I could (and can!) look at other people and see a whole person whom I value and see as beautiful because they are human and I value them as a person.  But that was rarely the case when I looked at myself.  Then, all I could see was a catalog of disappointments.  

Pregnancy, and healthcare by an amazing midwife, did help me for a while.  I delivered a healthy baby and vowed to make sure I didn’t pass on my body hate to him.  But that was the goal: not to actually like my body but to make sure my son didn’t hate his.

I devoured books about a healthy body image and, for the most part, I think I was a success on the body image front when it comes to my son.  But when it came to me, the dysfunction seemed like it had become a part of my DNA.

A few years ago, when a podiatrist was treating my exercise-induced heel pain, he pointed out the high arches and narrow heels of my feet and asked if it was hard for me to find shoes that fit comfortably.  I replied yes and mentioned my weight and he looked at me and said, “no…..I’m talking about your high arches and narrow heel.”  For the first time in my life, I realized that my feet are just odd, not a function of my weight.  

I was 44.

I know that shaming people about their bodies is wrong and dangerous.  I also know that it happens all the time.  In the last year I have begun to pay attention to women associated with the body positivity movement.  I like and admire them and their work.  I see them as amazing human beings with bodies that fuel their outspoken presence in a world that rarely welcomes women who step outside the limits of constrained social norms for female bodies.  When I feel like I am part of something hopeful for women.  That is a significant transition for me, one that is the outcome of years of hard work to undo the impressions first made on 9 year old me.

It doesn’t always come easy and these days I suspect that it never will.  But honesty demands that we value all of our bodies for what they do for us.  It means giving myself permission to eat alone in public and wear the clothing I like.  To wear a swimsuit.  It means being willing to be in photos and not flinching from them (okay, this remains a challenge). It means making a concerted effort to like my self without apology.   To take up space and feel and believe that I deserve to do so.  

And so I do.

Your Weekly Amaryllis - Week Two

Sitting amongst the plants in a southern facing window has been a good arrangement for the amaryllis, which is coming along nicely.

Some years, it takes more than a few weeks for progress to show itself and I end up fretting abut the plant on a daily basis.  This year’s amaryllis bulb has quite kindly gotten after the job at hand so that my frets are at a minimum.  That’s happy!

Spring Fantasies

Last week I earnestly explained to T that January is nice because it’s almost Spring.  She looked at me as if I had lost my last bit of sense, pointed out that we were less than a month off the Winter solstice, pulled her toque lower on her ears, slipped on her curse of a coat (it weighs 15 pounds, no joke) and slunk outside in Winter boots.  She didn’t even take the time to truly consider my assertion that Spring starts on March 1st.

Or consider that I have my eye on a pale pink sweater which I will wear in Spring.

It’s the time of year when I begin to think about Spring and realize again that it is the season that I love the best.   Admittedly, I am early to the party….it’s January, after all.  But I don’t feel limits because of January.  Over the weekend, we had unexpectedly warm weather and I left the house in flip flops…..it’s like Mother Nature wants me to daydream about Spring.  

And so I do.  I cheer on my amaryllis.  I’ve collected seed catalogs so I can make plans about what to plant in my garden.  On-line, I visit pink sweaters and flower stickers.  I day dream about Easter decorations.  In a few weeks, daffodil bouquets will turn up in the grocery store.

I am ready.

Real Life Texts with KO: Moving House edition

The backstory: My sister and her husband have sold their house and are moving into a temporary residence while their new home is built.  That meant that last Wednesday they loaded up 18 years worth of life well-lived.  I texted her early in the morning to wish her good luck.  I heard back from her at 8:45 am California time.

KO:  I’ve already had my fill of moving.  Ready to tap out.

Me:  Hmmmm.  If the van is emptied, you may tap out for now.

KO:  Van is not emptied and also I think your standards are unreasonable.

Me: Well we can debate my standards after the van is emptied.

KO: God damn no flexibility on your part.

Me:  Well that seems harsh.  But true, as it turns out.

KO:  I wanted to tell up to fuck off so I thought my sentiment was a nice compromise.

Me:  Oh yeah, great work on the compromise.  Sorry about the day.  Treat yourself to tacos for lunch.

The move is complete and KO is celebrating a birthday weekend.  She’s one of the funniest and most determined people I know, a woman who gets up and does what needs doing, takes a nap, and then gets after it again.  Embrace the day, birthday girl, and know you are loved.

Wait, There is Photo Evidence

I think we can all agree that this uneven blind had.to.go.

Our Posh Lifestyle

For Christmas, T and I received new wood window blinds for our bedroom.  These are both prettier to look at and much easier to use than the sad blinds that proceeded them.  So sad, apparently, that I made no picture of them.  All you get are the pretty new blinds. 

Window blind technology has made some real leaps in the years since I last acquired blinds and these go up and down easily, without the unpleasant yanking-on-a-string process that always found me losing my mind because the blinds were not even.  And how could I survive looking at such a window every day?  I could not and thus, the window blind battle was enjoined.

I never won.

From our perch on the Princess and the Pea bed we are quite pleased with the view and the tidy line of even window blinds.  They feel quite posh.

Your Weekly Amaryllis: Week One

 Every year, in preparation for my coming dotage, I require an amaryllis bulb for Christmas.  T aids this tradition and word on the packaging is confirmed by her: this year, we’ll have a pink amaryllis, as I requested.  I planted it last week.  Now it’s nestled in among the plants on the plant stand where there is plenty of Winter light to get the party started.

This Winter tradition keeps me mindful that the payoff for the cold comes in the form of the beauty of Spring.  For the next few weeks, I will enjoy watching the stem grow and prepare to bloom with a splendid flower.  Amaryllis reports will happen every Wednesday.  

That’s happy!

Back to School

The second half of the school year begins later this month, when we officially hit the mid-point of the year, though it might as well be today, when I return to school.  

No matter how much the cold weather tries my patience, come January the school year always starts to fly past.  By now, we’ve hit our pace and the students understand expectations.  February’s shortness speeds by and before I know it, March and two weeks of Spring Break will have arrived.  Then it’s April and the prospect of balmy weather, flip flops, and relaxed Summer days are squarely on the horizon.

The last two weeks gave me the chance to rest up, read, and otherwise celebrate and relax.  It was a well-earned and much-needed respite.  Now that school is back in session I am ready to go.

Front Porch in January

Though we’ve yet to sink into an extended Winter chill, the front porch knows that it is likely coming.  Winter’s starkness makes the rest of the seasons that much more pleasing and this month’s porch decorations echo that theme.  The table has pinecones and a string of fairy lights that will come on at twilight, to brighten the darkness.

The flag welcomes wildlife to our yard, where we are sure to fill the bird feeder and look after squirrel dining needs with an array of stale crackers, bread, and peanut butter when T is feeling generous.

The front door wreath is simple.

Setting out plants and decorations on my front porch is one of the things I most enjoy as a new month beckons.  This porch welcomes us every day and reminds me that that the comforts of home are found here.

Obituary for a Dishwasher

On Saturday, December 28, my dishwasher died.  Strictly speaking, it passed to the great appliance beyond sometime the night before.  I started the dishwasher before I went to bed on Friday night and when we opened it on Saturday morning we found that the water pump had failed.  Fittingly for this workhorse of a machine, it had spent the past 10 days being run 3 to 4 times a day, to keep up with our busy holiday season.  It was never pretty but it always got the job done.

This beast of a Whirlpool machine joined the family in May 2005 when I moved into Sassafras House.  The previous owners had taken their shiny new dishwasher and given me this well-used transplant from their new house.  From the outset, it looked rough, with dents and scratches that suggested it had been in more than one fight.  The push button start mechanism was already worn through and that was the clue for how to start the machine.  But start it did and for years to come, it got the job done.  

In 2005, it was no Spring chicken, though it washed like a dream.  Inside it looked a little rough.  Over the years that appearance continued to decline as it began to rust and shed parts.   

When I first started it in 2005, I figured we’d ride this dishwashing wave as long as it lasted.  That it survived another 14 years is a surprise.  But golly did this beast earn its keep year after year.  For its faithful service, I offer a hearty and grateful thank you.

A new one has been summoned and installed.  Like the last dishwasher at this house, it’s a Whirlpool. Also like the last machine, we plan to enjoy it for a very long time.  Welcome aboard, washing beauty.  We already love you.

Front Yard Flowerbed in January

This year’s first-of-the month garden feature is my front yard flowerbed.  I see it every day from the front window and over the porch railing.  In the late Spring it is splendid.  

This time of year is not the finest view, though please note that the ivy, badly in need of a trim, continues to thrive in the cold.

This flowerbed is inside the retaining wall by the side of the driveway.  In season, there are hostas, an assortment of daffodil and tulip bulbs, and pink azaleas.  In the front yard are some evergreen bushes that T has disliked for years.  Now that they are dying, they are slated to be removed in 2020.  This will please T and result in a better looking front yard as well as friendlier neighbors in this flowerbed.  I’m excited for the changes that are coming and will be sharing them all year long in 2020.

A Lucky New Year

Black Eyed peas for good luck in the New Year are an absolute requirement for my celebration.  Usually, I make a bowl of Texas Caviar to meet our good luck needs —— it’s a dip that features black-eyed peas but my recipe makes a heap.  This year, we had a smaller celebration and so I made Zannie’s Dip, a hot black-eyed pea-based dish that served our good luck purposes and was delicious to boot. 

I love a tradition that reminds me of so many memories.  Black eyed peas does just that.  That it tastes delicious is just gravy on a tradition.  Happy New Year, Y’all!