A FaceTiming son

He says he called for help with a recipe, but we know what he really wants.

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Ethno Mento

A few years ago, I took an online class in ethnography from Boise State U (Go Mustangs!). Ethnography is the systematic study of human behavior and cultures, and involves a lot of observation, some interviewing, and then trying to make meaning from the observation and interviews. My friend Tom in California is experienced in ethnography, and he was my informal mentor during the class. Both during the class and for work I've done since then, I've learned more from him than from academia. Today I used something I learned from him, and got a fantastic response. I'm grateful that Tom is always willing to take my call, share what he knows, and reassure me that I can do this!

Friendly strangers

It's my FIL's birthday today. He went to a doctor appointment and struck up a conversation with a young woman sitting next to him. After a few minutes, she left and he continued to wait. Before long, she returned with a piece of cheesecake for him, which she had gone down the street to buy. "Happy birthday!" she said. I'm grateful for this person who went out of her way to make my FIL's day. Her thoughtfulness was really extraordinary, I think, and it makes me want to pay better attention to those casual interactions I have with countless people every day.

Work

My dad loved work. He can't work anymore. He can't even get out of bed. But back when he could, he used to say that work was a blessing, and that you only need enough work for today; don't worry about tomorrow. As a kid, I had a hard time believing that work was anything other than inconvenient--something that got in the way of my plans. But, as a long-time independent contractor, I have come to realize the truth of it. Work ebbs and flows. Feast or famine. But always I remember what he said. Today there was work, and I'm grateful for it.

Showing up

Church is a little like writing for me. I have a hard time getting myself there, but I'm always glad when I do. Today I was especially glad that I was able to get over the "I have nothing I like in my closet" hump, and get there because a good friend gave the most amazing "witness to reconciliation," which included this quote: "God is a presence that spares us from nothing while simultaneously sustaining us in all things."--James Finley

Life!

We have a new member of the family--all 7 lbs, 9 oz. of her. She's healthy, the parents are healthy. Is there anything better than this? (The big brother, who has no idea what's coming, might have a few ideas.)

Madeline’s so good very good day

School and class are going well, she heard from her man, her ankle feels stronger, and she was able to do a short run in the sun. Happy Friday, indeed!

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More (ish) daylight

The days are getting longer by baby-fine strands, but it's noticeable if I pay attention. I close the shades right before we sit down to dinner, instead of while I'm cooking dinner. It's happening, the same way it does every year. I am getting through the winter.

An invite

This morning an old friend texted me a picture of the view from her oceanfront condominium in Florida. "Come down!" she said. "We'll sit on my porch, drink coffee, and talk about the old days." It's doubtful that I'll go, but it's nice to be invited, and even just daydreaming about it for a few minutes was like a mini-escape.

The Dutch House

For the last few years, I've made sure to always have at least one book within easy reach so that I'll pick that up every time I have a few minutes instead of scrolling through the news on my phone. (Hypertension that way lies.) While reading The Dutch House, it didn't occur to me to reach for my phone, so eager was I to get back to the story. I'm grateful for a good book that can compete with modern distractions.

Railroad (and leg) crossing

This is a laughably small thing to be grateful for, but I am. I should have used the bathroom before I left DeWitt Tennis, but I didn't because home is only six blocks and one railroad crossing away. Once I was in my car, I heard the train's whistle, and I thought, "oh please oh please oh please" because that morning train can be really long, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to cross my legs hard enough to make it. But I did beat the train, and I've been kind of happy about that all day.

Kitchen friends

I'm not very creative or adventurous in the kitchen, but I have friends who are. Over the years I've learned from them and gotten amazing recipes from them. One of those recipes is butternut squash risotto, along with a few alterations to the recipe (you can get by with less saffron and you can quarter the salt). It's a perfect dish for a cold winter night like tonight. I'm grateful for friends who are good cooks!

Getting under the hood

Clark had an issue with his car--something with the cable that holds down the hood. It was going to cost a lot to get it fixed. He talked to his good friend, who is basically a self-taught mechanic (but an engineer by degree), and he said, "Just buy the parts, and we can fix it the next time I come," which was today. Clark did, and they did. I'm so happy for him, because it has been weighing on his mind, and grateful for his friend's willingness to help. This is my happiest of places, lately--just the really small things that people do to help each other. The international scene and national scene make me want to bury my head in my hands, but the local scene, the one-on-one, makes me smile and remember there's a lot of good in this world that doesn't make the news.

Love, love

Brad doesn't play tennis. He didn't know much about it before I picked the game up again a dozen years ago. But one year the kids got me a subscription to the Tennis Channel and he started watching some of the matches with me (on mute, which is how we watch all sports in our house). Now he is as likely to suggest watching tennis as I am, and he knows the rules and the players almost as well as I do. I'm grateful he takes an interest in my interest. It's a nice way to relax together for an hour.

50 shades of January gray

It's been gray here for a few days, which is typical at this time of year. I don't love being the age I am, but it has its benefits. Chief among them is that I know myself pretty well. I know the signs of a downward spiral at this time of year, and I have tools I can use to pull out of it. I may not always use them right away, but I use them more quickly than I used to. I could do without the wrinkles, but I'm grateful for the experience and perspective that comes with this age.

Queens, generals, and writers

There's a lot of wisdom and inspiration out there, if you know where to find it. Or your friends do, which my friends do. As I get ready to "step off into the blank of my mind," I'm grateful for this gem from Lorna, "As a queen sits down, knowing that a chair will be there, or a general raises his hand and is given the field glasses, step assuredly into the blank of your mind. Something will come to you."--Richard Wilbur, from Waking to Sleep

Loose connections are still connections

A friend's mother just moved into a retirement community. She's not exactly happy there; she's already packed up her things in preparation for the move "home." My brother-in-law's mother lives in the same place. She's an energetic eighty-something--a real social butterfly--who stays up later than I do. I told my brother-in-law about my friend's mom. He told his mom, and now she's going to check in on the new resident. Small towns can be their own special hell or purgatory, but they can also be a little better than that. It all depends on the people who live in them.

This, specifically

Hearing "I like your writing," is nice but it doesn't tell you much about what you're doing right. Dialogue? Description? Evoking emotions? It takes time and thought to be specific. I'm grateful for a friend who read something of mine over the weekend and then told me specifically why she liked it.

Specifics matter. They convey that you care about the person, whether you're giving someone feedback on their work or writing a thank you letter or telling someone that they hurt you. An in writing, specifics bring energy and life.

I'm thinking about making "specifics" my word of the year for 2020.

A leisurely chat

Madeline wasn't in a big hurry to get to her studies and I was just waiting for the wine to simmer off the bolognese I was making during the ice storm, so she and I had a long phone call. I learned about what her days and evenings are like in Texas. I'm thankful just to hear her voice and her laugh and to know more about her training and grad classes. It's not easy for her, but I can see her learning how to create a life for herself wherever she goes.

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Tulips--hope incarnate--on the tenth

I don't expect to see tulips in the grocery store (decent ones, anyway) until at least February, but tonight on our way out of the grocery store, I stopped at the floral stand just to see. Among a few bunches of weary-looking aubergine tulips, I found a bouquet of white ones that hadn't opened yet and had the potential to be decent. Which is basically what hope is.

Characters outlive the rest of us

I hardly ever think about my children's book-writing days anymore. But today a friend told me that her seven-year-old granddaughter, who is a precocious reader, "just loved that Mary Margaret book," and asked me to sign it. I'm grateful for the reminder that once you write something and put it out into the world, it doesn't have an expiration date. And you never know the effect your words will have on readers. I read a book once--I wish I could remember the title--that was about a book that sold only a few copies, but one of those copies changed the life of the person who bought and read it. I don't think Mary Margaret will change any lives, but she brought a young reader pleasure, and knowing that is pretty satisfying.

85%

That's what my daughter needed to pass her pre-test for the training in Texas this morning. She relocated there specifically for this seven-month class, and the stakes were high. If she didn't pass it, she would have to wait until the next class started. She's a smart woman and I wasn't worried--until shit got real in Iraq 12 hours before she had to take the test. It was a tough night for her. She was worried about John and his brother, specifically, and anxious about the situation in general. Because of the field she's in, she carries a heavy load of knowledge on her narrow shoulders. Given all this pressure and distraction, imploding would have been understandable--expected, even--in someone so young. But she dug deep, calling on resources and powers of focus, determination, and compartmentalization she didn't know she had and pulled it out. She did her job.

Putting things in perspective

Too little work and inspiration; spats with loved ones; a barfing dog; a broken garage door--so many problems. But you know what? It's really just life. And nothing puts that in perspective quite like having a person you care about in harm's way, physically. Trump had Suleimani killed, and today Iran retaliated, firing missles at U.S. bases. John is safe. Some days, my gratitude is sharp and clean, like a blade slicing through cotton candy until it hits bone.

A clean, well-lighted place

That is all.

Who needs Good Reads?

I have a number of friends who also happen to be dedicated readers, recommenders, and lenders of good books. In the last few years, especially, I've noticed that unless I'm intentional about always having a book within reach, my time gets eaten up scrolling on my phone or binge watching whatever (really good!) show I'm into. I'm grateful for the serious readers in my life who lead by example and help me find books that are worth my time.

Memory hacks

I don't have a good memory. I forget conversations, other people's secrets, events from childhood that my siblings remember. Sometimes I think that a bad memory is a hindrance to my writing; other times I think it doesn't matter since, as this episode of Hidden Brain points out, memory is corruptible. What you think you remember is not the unvarnished truth.

If it were 2019, I would say that to compensate for my poor memory, I should have been religious about keeping a diary. Blessedly, it's now 2020, and I'm trying to give up "shoulds." I have occasionally taken notes over the years, however, and today I came across some from when I was in my 20s and 30s. I'm grateful for these snapshots of the struggles I went through when I was young, my marriage was young, and my children were young. While painful to read, they are a good reminder that the marriage I have today took time, work, and more than a little luck. I wasn't a wonderful partner or mother when I first started out, but I think I'm well on my way to becoming a pretty good one. These snapshots are a reminder to me to give myself grace, my partner grace, my children and their future partners grace. Who we are today is not our final answer. We grow up, one life stage at a time. We get better at knowing what we need to work on--and what we can simply let go of.

I runned

Any day in January in Michigan that offers clear sidewalks, moderate temps, and no wind is a win. I don't love running, but it makes me feel more connected to Madeline, who is running faster and farther a thousand miles away. Throw in her running playlist, and it's not a bad experience.

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I passed

I had a medical test—nothing serious and I'll spare you the details—and it came back negative. I worry about stuff like this: You're sailing along through life, mopping the floor, texting with your daughter, sending off a draft to a client, and then you have to take this test out of the blue and what if it comes back and something is really wrong and the doctors want you to deal with it right now and what if one thing should lead to another and then I was never able to play tennis again? Or, say, drink red wine or feel the sun or have sex? What if I had done any of those things for the last time without even knowing it was the last time? You can see how I work myself up, here. But today one thing did not lead to another. Today was just one thing. End of story. Followed by a glass of wine.

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Safe travels

It doesn't take much precipitation to make the drive around the lake to Milwaukee treacherous. Not quite a year ago, we made the drive in a U-haul on a sunny day. We had black ice for the first two hours of the trip, giving it the dubious honor of scariest driving we've ever had to do. Today was sunny and 35, so the roads were clear and dry for my son's drive home and he didn't have any car trouble. I'm grateful he's back home, happily watching whatever New Year's Day football game is on.