a deep breath year

the year's turned.  i've rested, and spun in circles, sipped, and dreaded.  i don't want any fewer answers than i already thought i had, but they seem to be slipping away, melting through the cracks like the ice disappearing between the boards of the porch.  it's a waiting place, this month. 

m leaves tomorrow to go back to work, and the interlude together has been rich and savory sweet.  not productive mind you, the measuring stick by which i've always labeled days as good or bad, but that's slowly starting to shift.  good books, pictionary with the boys, or simply getting along for the majority of the day.  these are good things, very good things, and the less i plan the more they seem to happen.  and the laughter when fynn's drawing "gas mask" for me to guess, and lets go with one of his famous farts?  it does a body good.

this year is one that holds new things, including growing plans for change, and i'm finding myself sharing some of m's visions that i've never been able to support fully before.  though i find them absurd.  this particular one is something i've always found insanely embarrassing, but it's only my pride getting in the way.  it IS funny.

i think it's going to be a deep breath year.  i'm settled in to life in the woods ... finding friends, outings, longer trips, knowing when i need to just get OUT and breathe the fresh air, and yet i know we'll be moving on before too terribly long.  so i take a deep breath, and know that the roots i have here are just as real as any i've left elsewhere, and they'll hurt just as much to pull up.  so let 'em grow, and grow deep and fast.  i can't live on the surface, and i can't live half-rooted.  it doesn't feel right.

i'm a worrier by nature.  worry handles things, right?  keeps it under wraps, under my control, and in my hands.  not.  i can plan, hope, work, and all that, but there are no guarantees.  back in the bklyn years (as they're rapidly becoming known, not sure how i feel about that but i can't seem to stop it either) we lived in an apartment we never could afford, in a neighborhood we couldn't afford, eating food that we sometimes couldn't really afford either.  freelancers, new baby added to the mix, and when you look at it on paper i have no idea how we survived.  but we did.  and left without debt.  God does work miracles in my book, and that's one of them. 

i used to get so very stressed though, the tighter the money got, and more and more shut down.  in everything.  irritable, uncommunicative, unresponsive.  wound up in my little cocoon of worry and anger and fear.  fear of what could happen, anger at my husband for not worrying as hard as i was (or at all quite frankly), and worry that my pride would take another hit.  M would eventually get a bit fed up, and suggest we pray together.  which i did NOT want to do, knowing it might crack my shell, but guilting myself into doing it anyhow.  so we would, and inevitably he'd start off with what we were thankful for, including never really lacking for anything and always having things work out in the end, without drama or damaged relationships, even with our landlord.  and i'd seethe next to him, feeling like he was pointing an unfair finger at my worries, which were what was keeping us afloat, dammit!

sometimes i'd hang onto my worry even tighter after that, and let it become a bigger wedge between us.  sometimes, i'd be able to let it go.  rest in it, knowing that it always does work out, somehow, and that the worry really is a curse. 

that there's always some bit of deliciousness in there somewhere, even in the not knowing.  that there's tremendous freedom in letting go. 

i don't expect i'll become a non-worrier, or a calm and never flustered mom (hah!).  but it seems that with age does come a bit of that weight-of-experience thing, and when i look back and see that we really never have gone hungry, or roofless ... yet ... i've come close enough to trust that even if we do at some point, it will work out.   

and if i do start freaking out because we hit a new low somewhere, remind me of this, will you?  i'm sure i'll need it.

deep breaths, and not just the sighing kind.  warm breaths, because i'm close to someone i love.  slow breaths, because i'm savoring.  short breaths, because i'm laughing. 

these are my hopes for the year. 

snippets

trips taken, friends visited, sun warmed, loneliness felt, body crashed, clouds watched, thoughts chewed, life lived.

between my birthday and the holidays, it always seems to trigger introspection that often slides into depression. this year is no different.  in many ways it's been the least stressful year i've had in a long time.  finances are better (at least temporarily), there are few obligations and lots of free time, and we've gotten in lots of trips and visits in the last 12 months.  my day-to-day interactions are far less frequent than they've ever been though, and while i feel like my introverted side is becoming more prominent, it needs to be balanced by deep-enough interactions that i don't get too lost in the well.  i seem to be leaning more towards small groups or 1:1, the pull of a party crowd is not what it used to be. 

i especially miss female friends to chew the fat with, though the local homeschool meetup gives me a couple hours a week of that which i'm very thankful for.  face-to-face is much better than phone and email, though i'm glad for that too.  it's something that i'm looking for more of in the next year.  xo. 

two days' worth

grin

mmmhmmm

the best place in the city for pictures

i swear there’s something magic about photos on the staten island ferry.  perhaps it’s the orange cast from the ship itself, crazy breezes, or reflections from the water, but it’s hard to take a bad shot.

leaping shadow …

walked the glow of each other’s majestic presence …

band of brothers …

D hid, and this was the best I could get …

these two yahoos were along, making it a rare day …

and i leave you with this …

green sanctuary

In honor of my favorite watering hole, the Women’s Colony, here are some of my favorite Green images (as requested for Monday) for the Sanctuary. 

The first is from a rainy day spent land-hunting-dreaming in WV.  We stopped at the top of a mountain, knocking on the door of a cabin that appeared to be for sale.  No response, so we wandered and poked and got dripped on.  Fynn clutched his precious juice bottle for dear life.  When he saw me posting this photo, he asked if “that juice was all mine? It’s all mine, isn’t it?” We don’t drink much juice I guess, and I do tend to make the boys share bottles of it.  I love the green cast around their eyes.

Douglas found the dripping that day a bit chilly. We all did actually.  The incredible green-ness of everything, in contrast to home, was delightful. 

I gave Fynn green yogurt once, long ago.  Only once.  The results were hilarious to me, as his motor coordination wasn’t so hot.

Making salsa is a summer tradition.  I make (and can) as much as I find the time and money for.  I didn’t get that much done this year, and missed the last couple weeks of Romas at the market, so picked up a bag of tomatillos to make some salsa verde. They were gorgeous to me, swirling ever so slowly in the pot.  I wasn’t so sold on the taste in the end, sadly. There’s still a half-eaten jar in the fridge that keeps getting shoved to the back of the shelf. 

Happy Monday, and perhaps, just maybe, you’ll see me around a bit more this week.  I’m toying with the idea of NaBloPoMo and all that.