At The End of All Our Wanderings

"At the end of all our wanderings, we return to the place of our very beginning, and see it, as if for the first time." T.S. Eliot

Each year I put together an Annual Summary document for work. It's a justification of my job, and proof I earn my keep. My supervisor then uses this Annual Summary as part of a performance evaluation. The write up is a lengthy undertaking, but one I don't mind. It helps me focus less on what I haven't accomplished and take a moment to appreciate what I have.

The write up landing on my supervisor's desk this morning was seventeen pages long. All in all, it has been a big year. Not just at work. Without deciding to I took up the habit of pushing against the edges of the comfortable skin I've occupied.

Did I tell you I took a personal finance course this spring? My checkbook is in no better shape but it seriously broadened my grasp investments and banking vocabulary. I kicked my running pace up a notch, and took a six-week progressive yoga class. I started this wacky on-line engineering program. Made a habit of reading more, listening to my kid more often than advising her, and casting around for new recipe ideas.

I'd call it a transformational year. One in which, my husband could attest, I've been moody and cranky most of the time. The learning curve comes more slowly than I'd like. Any sensation of progress or forward motion is fleeting. And, let's face it, I'm a bit of a drama queen to begin with...so you can imagine.

It isn't that I've morphed into someone else, cured my long laundry list of flaws, or mastered a new field of study. It's that I decided to be unafraid and un-embarrassed by my shortcomings. I dug into a fresh landscape of study. Found new slants on my familiars. Piped up when I struggled, had questions or didn't understand something.

It's the undercurrent of these events I like so much. Not the struggle or the slow progress, but, the sense that my life and mind are not so rigid that I couldn't still become someone. It's an optimistic lens on the familiar landscape of my life. I welcome this new sense that I am still growing into the person I had once hoped or intended to be.

Indubitably

McK's unfortunate work schedule persists. I know, I've complained about it so much even I'm tired of my whining. Rest assured, though, his rotten schedule isn't my point...not today anyway.

N and I were cooking dinner last night. With the daylight fading, I glanced outside. Noticed as McK's white car rolled into his usual parking spot.

Me: Looks like your dad's home.
N: Yeh?
Me: Yeh.

She bolted from my side, opened the heavy back door, and met him in the grassy yard. Neither of them wearing coats. They both came inside beaming. She was still kind of clutching his leg which offset his usual stride. McK cracked his eyes into mine. He looked at me a little longer than usual.

McK: Rumor has it two humans and two cats are glad to see me.
Me: That's more than a rumor, McK, it's the absolute truth.

Just Another Friday Night...

Naomi allows me to refer to our Friday Night line up as slumber-party-palooza. Though she did clip my ambition to title this picture: Slumber-Partying Like We're Rockstars.

We got to hang out with the Tucker-Donaldson crew and had a great time. We went swimming, ate pizza, played UNO, watched movies and read books. I've heard rumors of some secret handshake coined during the evening, though, I can neither confirm or deny those reports. It's too secret to even talk about.

Bringing My Work Home With Me

Naomi accompanied me to my calculus tutor’s house on Sunday. Generally my daughter opts to stay with my mom while I’m studying with Lucinda. Last Sunday, however, my mom was otherwise occupied and my appointment with Lucinda was right after Naomi’s Chinese language lesson.

So Naomi had her Chinese workbooks, I had my graphing calculator, we both sported backpacks and rang Luncinda’s doorbell. Once situated with a juice-box Naomi sat down on the sofa. Lucinda has a daughter, Sonja, close to Naomi’s age with similar interests. While Sonja was not home, Naomi welcomed Lucinda’s invitation to play with any available toys or books.

After about thirty minutes of number crunching with my textbook Lucinda and I walk into the living room to check on Naomi. My girl was pleased to showcase her latest Keva plank creation.

Naomi so admired a tower Sonja built out of planks she had spent her time building a railroad system for “coal trains” to serve the structure's occupants. The nearby green and black marbles served as the coal pieces loaded into rail-cars which ran straight into the basement of Sonja’s tower.

“That’s so the coal can make electricity or else, you know, Sonja can just burn it in an oven to keep warm,” Naomi said.

Live Honestly, Eat Slowly...

My Grandmother Gracele McPherson turns ninety years old today. I woke up this morning and considered this picture of Gracele at sixteen. I wondered how unfamiliar the world would seem to that sixteen year old girl now. A world with indoor plumbing, penicillin, rural electrification, ATM machines, microwave ovens, integrated schools, television, Lazy Boy recliners, and air conditioning.

In the wake of World War I Gracele grew up not only in a post-war era, but a post-war-to-end-all-wars era. She was born the same year Congress passed the Eighteenth Amendment prohibiting the sale of "intoxicating liquors" and the Nineteenth Amendment which, at long last, granted women the right to vote.

I found a quote by Lucille Ball today, and figured my grandmother lived by her advice when told "[t]he secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age." Please join me in wishing my Grandmother a Happy Birthday.

Mass Transit

I was a StarTran kid. The Havelock bus route was my summertime staple. It ran right past my house, made a tight loop around a two block radius before heading back downtown. The first squeal of the disc brakes was my ten minute warning signal. It gave me time to grab bus fare, scribble mom a note about where I was headed and when I'd be back, and bolt toward the bus stop.

As a parent I never wondered whether Naomi would learn to ride the bus. It was a given. We started fostering the habit late this summer. Saturday morning she dreams up a local destination like the library, the swimming pool, or Grandma Mel's house. We check the StarTran maps and head out the door.

Don't get me wrong, StarTran isn't the end all be all of mass transit systems. The schedules and routes are often inconvenient. But it's a manageable and relatively kid-friendly. It gives her a good primer on how to get around though Naomi has yet to take a trip solo. Probably sometime after she turns eight, we've agreed.

In the mean time, I rather enjoy teaching her how it works. We read books and make up word puzzles as we wait at the curb. Sometimes we'll daydream outloud. Naomi quickly tired of my Havelock bus stories. She's more curious about the buses serving Edinburgh. She likes the thought of the red double-decker bus. The luxury liner I took from Mexico City to Oaxaca de Juarez also sounds interesting since it screened a Jim Carey movie enroute. She thinks the campus shuttles sound less exotic but more functional.

Mobility is pretty potent and powerful stuff when you get right down to it. And to a seven-year-old getting her feet wet with this StarTran system well, it just opens up a whole world of possibilities now doesn't it?

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Currently Reading : Bright-Sided: How The Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America by Barbara Ehrenreich
Reading with Naomi: Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis
Personal Soundtrack: Hat Full of Stars by Cyndi Lauper
Dinner Line Up: Thai curry, spinach/cream cheese rangoon & steamed rice.