the mud

I am a teacher. I am a practical person. I pack my lunch each day. I drive a little too far to work each day. I wear sensible shoes. I look really carefully when crossing the street, walking or driving. I understand some of the pitfalls of life. I try to avoid them. I don't use my phone while driving, well maybe a little. I try to get enough sleep. I try not to drink too much. I eat healthy. But sometimes, you just can't help what happens. A few days ago, I was walking into school. I saw my favorite teacher coming out the front door. We always say the same thing each morning, "Buenos dias!" Except this morning, I could only say, "Buen..." My first thought was, why can't I finish this phrase? I almost thought I was having a stroke! Then I suddenly knew - I was falling. I tried to save my coffee, my hands, and then the next thing I knew I was down on the ground and my coffee was running downhill and was going to get me all wet. I had to get up. So I did. A...

 A few weeks ago the heat at school broke down. We scrambled to move our classrooms into another building on campus. I loaded my little easel cart with its plentiful buckets and charts and shelves and proceeded to roll it up the hill - a relatively small hill, but a hill nonetheless. A 4th grade student offered to help me. We made it about 25 feet before hitting the first bump. We successfully maneuvered the wheels through the cracks and crevices another 10 feet before losing a wheel. We shifted positions and hoisted the cart up another 10 feet, with about 25 to go. Nope, another wheel was lost. At that point the 4th grader stopped and said, "Mrs. Miles, I think we need to call for backup." He was so sincere and so serious, but I just laughed, a real hearty laugh. I knew that all the teachers and administrators and maintenance were working like crazy to get everyone moved up this literal mountain before all the kids arrived in about 3 minutes. I feel bad about my response. ...

Well? I don't know if I am well. I am trying, that's for sure. I hope you are well, or surviving. What can we do? I do not know. So I take baby steps. Today we had a postcard writing campaign  (find the postcards here) at our town library. I had asked a friend on Wednesday what she thought and we rallied and about 20 people showed up. We wrote over 275 postcards. We mailed them. I don't know what I expected but it was good. Good enough. We are trying to make our voices heard above the noise and chaos. We are trying to make change. This is the only way I know. Someone who attended our little workshop asked, "How do we make it through this? Any tips?" I never answered her as we all shared and swayed between thoughts and confusion, answers and questions. As we talked, I started misspelling words because it is just too much sometimes. But now I'd like to answer her question.  I am reminded of two things that help me when the way is not clear. One is a message from...

 I love this time of year, the After time. Don't get me wrong. I love the holidays too. Having the kids home for weeks and sharing their daily lives again is awesome. I love the decor and the celebrations and the food and even all the preparation in the kitchen and in the stores, collecting and gathering and creating. It's wonderful - the most wonderful time of the year. But what I really appreciate is this After time of year, the time after the grandiose holidays and the days before the spring air begins to breeze in. Winter - the Heart of Winter. The cold wind blows. The sun is low. The days are short. I don't even mind the darkness, it's a good excuse to go to bed early and wrap myself in books and tea and a heating pad. (I can't help it - I'm not young anymore.) And what calls to us is extra layers. Extra blankets on the bed. Extra sweaters and woolen mittens. Thick socks and furry slippers. A cozy wrap, a long scarf. Oatmeal in the morning. A bowl of hot so...

 My husband accuses me of bundling. Like everything. I won't go down the basement until I have collected a pile of everything that could possibly need to go down. So I'll bring the laundry down to the kitchen and then I'll start bundling. The old front door wreath goes on top of the laundry, The drill I used in the garden yesterday - on top. The Fourth of July banner on top of that. I can amass quite a pile. The same goes when I'm out doing errands. I have a doctor's appointment in Mt. Laurel? Hmm. I can stop at the Home Sense store, the big Dollar Tree, the Produce Junction, the Michaels, and the Container Store. All on my way home! I like bundling. Not just because it saves trips, which equates to gas, but it also saves my energy. If I separated those trips it would be hours or even days of travel. I don't have time for that. When I can I want to tie everything together and wrap it up. With a pretty bow.  Bundling was an act of desperation back when the kids w...

This morning I am creating a nest. I am building it from scratch with spare parts that have been left around from another owner. We are vacationing in a house on a lake near Grandfathers, since that currently has no running water. We love it up here. It is a place that is carved in our hearts and our stories.  Since this is a foreign house, I am trying to make it feel like home. We have been here for 2 days and now I see the needs and small fixes I can do to make things more ‘ours’.  I have brewed coffee and put away the dishes from last night. I have placed a small rug by the door to catch our shoes that are caked in pine needles and fallen beech leaves and sand from the beach. I have moved the ottoman away from the chair it belongs to so that we have an extra seat. We have more people than it sits. Charlie made a chair with two pillows and leaned them against the end table. We are all working to build the nest. I am using pillows and blankets which I found in an upstairs clo...