2 Board Alley

This Week's List

Okay.  Blogging daily hasn't happened so far.  I'm just not in the mood for it, and I don't want to.  And it's a neutral detachment--not something filled with anger.  Still, I want to keep my fingers and my mind nimble, and writing of any kind is useful for that.  So, I've decided to blog weekly lists of various things that have struck my fancy. Low or no-pressure writing here.

1.  Getting back in the swing has involved walking a few times a week.  I hope that by the end of the month, my strides will have picked up the pace a bit, but for now, I'm glad to put on my Skechers and walk for a half hour a few days a week.

2.  I've returned to doing affirmations every day, a few times a day, during walks or drive time.  Why did I ever stop doing them, I wonder.  As a person with depression, it's altogether too easy for my mind to hunker down in a negative pattern.  Affirmations are a very powerful way of circumventing negativity.  Do they make everything perfect?  Nope.  But I find that if I'm in the habit of doing them regularly, they come to me when my mind takes an impulsively negative turn.  

3.  I've returned to reading and listening to books about Buddhism, which is another comfort in my life.  I suspect that what I read falls into the "self-help Buddhism" category (if one can be said to help the "self" according to Buddhism!) and not philosophical tracts, but again, the reading I do helps me find balance in my life--quelling enervating negativity.

4.  We're into week three at school, and I love my classes, love my students, and have a good schedule.  I've realized that the first two weeks of classes are a big transition for everyone, including this professor who is getting back into the swing.   Adding the flu epidemic to the mix has students missing or anxious, but we still manage to get things done.  So far, our community college hasn't been struck like some of the local universities-- I suspect this is so because we are not a residential school.  But we have been made aware of it and are Purelling up a storm.

5.  My cats have not been blogged about lately, but that hasn't stopped the Bink from bringing upstairs his latest hunting catch, a half-dead mouse.  Props to my husband who swooped in, multitaskingly, and picked up the mouse with one hand while patting and complimenting the cat with the other hand.  I stood down the hallway wondering why I freak out when the cats bring up treasures from the basement.  

Meanwhile, Snickerdoodle is keeping watch over all of the birds on our property.  He's more inclined to let the Bink do the work of actually catching mice, but birds and insects are his prey of choice.  I heard a fly buzz while I meditated today, really, and I heard the gallumping of Snickerdoodle in hot pursuit.  He's more likely to throw himself at windows and fall off of furniture when he hunts his out-of-reach projects--Bink is a big picture mouser, cautious and canny.

6.  Alz Walk will be walking without me, I'm afraid, but my husband will be walking in New Haven, and that makes me happy.  I have to be at our annual lit festival this year, which falls on the same day as the walk.  Oh well.  

7.  New laundry game plan--the rule of eight.  Instead of waiting for mountains of laundry to accumulate (which can be depressing), I've starting watching eight of everything we wear --tshirts, shorts, unmentionables.  It gets the job done more quickly and gives me more time for other things.  

Post for the New Week

A list of things that I wonder about:

1.  Why does my cat rub his head on the leaky bathtub faucet?

2.  When will I have finally unpacked all of the boxes in my basement office?

3.  Will my newly-ordered solar recharger for my cell phone work?

4.  Will I sustain my healthy exercise habits into the semester?

5.  Should I let my hair grow out of the reddish brown tint?

6.  If I do, will I look like a striped bandicoot?

7.  Re #6:  who cares?

8.  Should we turn the garden into a community garden? Or a swimming pool?

9.  Am I paying back or creating karma in this life?

10.  Does #9 matter?  "Big wheel keep on turnin', " sang Tina Turner.  Maybe she knows something that I don't.

Well and So

Professional week starts tomorrow--it's the academic version of New Years', sans champagne and paper hats.  

I'm looking forward to the year.  Having spent the summer regrouping and organizing my important personal  papers and cleaning out my office at school, I feel ready and excited in a way that I haven't in years.  It feels so good not to feel that no matter what I do, I am only chipping away tiny flakes from a too- long list. 

It feels great to be organized.  Having cleared out everything that I haven't worn in a few years, I can enter my closets and find things.  And I don't need that much--I have all that I need to get through the school year.  I've found my beloved celtic horse pin among the various piles of junk near my jewelry.  I'm hanging my bracelets up, alongside my necklaces, in the hopes that seeing them displayed will prompt me to wear them.  All of my wristwatches--except for the one I wear everyday and one formal one--went to Goodwill.  A long time ago, I was seized with the idea that it would be practical to wear different wristwatches instead of bracelets.  The only catch was that each of my watches ran on batteries, so as the collection grew, so did my trips to have worn batteries replaced.  

I've sorted through my earrings.  Two years ago, when things started to get really intense concerning my father, I bought myself a pair of rose gold hoop earrings that I have worn day in and day out.  They look good with everything, so I haven't had to worry about them.  However, I have needed to weed out the rest of the earrings and ask myself if I really, really, really want to be saddled with anything I don't use.  So I've about six pairs of earrings fewer than when the summer began.  

I read somewhere that as we move into our fifties, we start divesting ourselves of stuff.  We have everything we need (and then some), so the thrill of getting things is no longer the adrenalin-fueled experience that it once was.  I've been ruthless in getting rid of things that I simply don't use or like.  Sentiment has been steamrolled, I'm afraid, in my desire to have less stuff.  And I'm embarrassed to add that digging through piles of stuff has unearthed several versions of an item that I bought because I couldn't find the original!  

Here's the difference:  when I was younger, I had the luxury of dreaming of the time when I'd have a place where I could use all of this stuff.  But times and tastes change, and I find that some of the quilts I bought long ago just don't appeal to me anymore.  I have a place, but I am less interested in using the stuff I have hoarded over the years (a mismatched spectacle if ever there was one) than in just finding exactly what I need and buying it.  Period.  

So, goodbye to that 1930's style armchair in the basement--the one that belonged to my first husband and which several generations of cats have shredded.  I've been dreaming of the someday when I'd learn how to reupholster it, and I think that that time has passed.  Hello, freecycle.  

And hello, space.  Empty, clean and clear.

Nearly September?

And so it's time for a  post. 

I've been reading other blogs, but the urge to write has been lacking this summer.  I think that grief has had a few more tasks in store for me, and so I followed its urging and took it easy.  Slept, cried, wrote in my journal, and let things be--finding meaning in the stillness of letting ideas bubble up and then move on.

More than anything, I've wanted to be alone for big chunks of time, and as a college professor, feel blessed to have had the summer to do that.  Last year was the denoument of a highly intense period of my life, and I've needed this time to meditate on how my life has changed.

And the changes are internal--I feel much more adult that I ever have.  "Adult" in the sense that I'm parentless.  "Adult" in the sense that I feel a stronger responsibility to my family and to the younger people of my community to speak up and be honest about things. 

I've noticed that as my father aged and then died, my perspective on my  mother has become more compassionate.  I understand now that feeling compassion for her and forgiving her doesn't mean that I am condoning what she did. For years, my willingness to feel sympathy for her was predicated on other people's acknowledging that she did treat me badly.  These days, I don't care.  I've been able to have the best therapy, the best medical help and support a person could want. My mother, born in another time, wasn't able to have that.  I honestly believe that she did the best she could, but both her physical deterioration and mental health problems made it impossible for her to have been the kind of mother I needed. 

As an INTJ, I need to be alone and to process things.  I need to be able to sit quietly and mull.  As a person with depression, I need to be able to determine when mulling has become a rut that I need to get out of.  Over the past few months, I've been reading about cognitive techniques to use to get out of the rut, and have been trying them out, establishing new patterns along the way. 

Yes, this summer has also afforded time to get all of the practical tasks of adulthood back in an organized rhythm--filing papers, sorting out recyclables, and gathering up items for Goodwill.  The older I become, the less materialistic and the more unburdened I feel about things.  Things used to be a part of my identity--they were a kind of anchor:  the story behind each piece of furniture and trinket reminded me that I had worth.  These days, that worth is more intrinsic and based on what I do for others--that's my legacy, not any jewelry or dish.

The older I become, the more I feel the need to be healthy and be even more proactive about taking care of myself, so I have spent three hours a week stretching and holding into my yoga practice.  I've been even more disciplined about watching what I eat. 

But there has been time for fun, too.  Visiting with family, catching up with friends, playing Scramble and Scrabble on Facebook have been part of the plan.  I've been very happy to have worked with Molly Fisk on my poetry and am looking forward to doing more of it in the coming semester.

Today I Posted at CCE

about the "Dear Plagiarist" essay in the IHE.  My post is here .  Have a great 4th!

The Chat du Chats: Friday Cat Blogging Returns

One aspect of blogging that has been sorely missed around here has been the Friday Blogging of the Cats.  Our team of tabbies has spent the last few months languishing in unpostedness.  And now that the time has come, there doesn't seem much to post about the charming critters except to say that someone (whose name rhymes with "ickerfoodle") has been soaking his toys in his waterbowl.  Not all of his toys all at once, mind you--just whenever he's playing and gets thirsty.  He trots over to the bowl and dunks the toy while drinking, a la "Stone Soup," and then leaves it there.  I don't really care since I won't be drinking the stuff, and the Bink has his own bowl of clear water to sip from.  

A New Direction

Hence the photo of the Metro Elephant taken outside the MLK library last week.  I'm not completely sold on the parrot theme--the middle column seems too narrow, but I'm leaving it in place until I figure out how to use Corel 11 to create a new banner--A Joannerbanner, if you will. 

I had lunch with timna last week which was a terrific event in and of itself.  To get there, I took the Metro, which, as you can well imagine, had no passengers in the first and last cars, but SRO cars in the middle.  I couldn't help but notice that the "voice" kept announcing that Fort Totten was closed due to a "situation."  Calling George Orwell!  A "situation"?!?

Anyhow, I pulled myself together to have a delicious lunch of biriyani chicken and rice and plenty of laughter.  And afterwards, I strolled over to the Portrait Gallery and its conjoined twin, the American Gallery of Art, something I don't do often enough.  Saw an exhibit of the history of the US, which meant lots and lots of portraits of white men, not so much of people of other races or sexes.  Oh well.  An exhibit of paintings done for the WPA struck my fancy, and if I'd had time, I'd have stayed to look at all of the exhibits, but doing that would have meant coming home on the Metro during rush hour. 

So, I'm back and adding to my blogroll.  If you don't see your blog posted here, e me at jmkhoward at g mail dot com.

Taking a Break

I'm going through a phase where I'm not much interested in blogging or writing of any kind--we're in the midst of settling my father's estate, I'm back at work, and I am using my blog time to read and chill. But I'll return, and in the meantime, I'm reading your blogs to stay in touch.

Sunday Cat Blogging

He is the master of all he surveys and the great destroyer of the carpet. 

Hello, Stranger

After the whirlwind that was January's blog-a-day festival, I've slowed down to an almost halt here.  I'm up to about 80% energy since November, and am getting into the crush of the new semester with enthusiasm.  I've been working on my textspace and will probably do most of my posting there as well as occasional posts here and at The Crying Room.  I haven't felt the need to write so much about my grief these days, though I feel it, from time to time, swooping in and then trailing out. 

I've been trying to get back into the swing of reading blogs more thoughtfully than I have in the past several months.  I'm still lurking for the most part, but I'm glad to be back to reading more regularly.  I've missed it.  As much fun as Facebook is, it isn't blogging.

And the cats, well, they, too will be blogged about with more frequency.  They've spent the months since November writing biweekly letters to my niece and nephew, ages4 and 2, and are developing quite a following.  As their editor, I spend a great deal of time looking over their work. And typing--it's not easy to type with thick paws.