Monday, March 28, 2011
3-28-11 9:56 pm Child Services
A few days off work and I'm back to walking. Today we walked and walked. To the coffee shop. To the nursery. To the dry cleaners. I only did some of it. Anne went to the cleaners for me, all on her own. It's only three blocks away, and I still asked her to call me when she arrived, and again before leaving. That way I'd know if something's taking too long. She's happy to make all those calls if it means she can go by herself. Remembering to walk, in a driving world, requires forethought. And it helps if you're willing to take a few risks. In the end, I needed help. A trip to Gateway Feed & Seed was in order. We needed fence-post toppers, and landscape fabric, a wheel-barrow, and pins to hold down the fabric. Walking seemed only partly viable. How could we walk six blocks and bring home all those purchases? The wheelbarrow. So we walked. The sun shone, Anne seemed cheerful, and we soaked in the fresh air. All was well. Gateway had almost everything we needed, except the critical item: a wheelbarrow. Having walked all that way we shopped anyway. They had everything else on our list, plus a few seed packets, a new hoe and a new hand-held tiller. I wondered to myself, as I paid at the register, could we possibly get it all home? Yes, we could however the weight, the awkwardly shaped items, and the fact that I had a child in tow required a more moderate approach. We'd carry home what we could, and then come back with the car for the rest. Risk number 1: leaving the rest of our purchases at the store until we could come back and get them later. Risk 2 came later, after we got home. And so leaving home to return to the store, after just arriving, seemed anathema to me. I just couldn't make myself get in that car. Besides, Harold had arrived for lunch while we were gone, and he'd just begun to eat. It was time for family, lonely purchases waiting for me at Gateway be damned. The hour together provided plenty of time to ponder their passage to our abode. And then it came to me: the wagon! Anne could wheel her Radio Flyer wagon back to Gateway after lunch, get the rest of our items. It was big enough. Still, she'd be on her own, and this was the 2nd risk. She loved the idea! She delved into the task, made quick work of it, and was back with the rest of our things in no time. This asking for help has its rewards. Of course her assistance gave me time for other tasks, and yet there's more. Her having been able to step in, actually lend a hand all on her own, gave her a visible feeling of pride. I now wonder two things: 1 - Who out there is ready to call child services? After all, I did send my unaccompanied 11 year-old on a six-block errand with a wagon in tow. 2 - How many opportunities like this one go untapped, are left ignored, because we fail to put our kids to work? We forget to use feet. We forget to include them, with all their capabilities, in our planning. The look of pride, self-satisfaction, and joy on Anne's face when she left, and even more so when she returned, was priceless. She built character when I put her to work. In this world of convenience and instant gratification, we need more character-building experiences like that. Anne's ability to step up to the task renewed a little faith for me. Kids now-a-days can do things on their own, and they will if we give them the chance.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
3-9-11 6:40 pm Biking Buddies
A first-time offer materialized today, from a friend at work. "M" asked: "Wanna bike to work with me tomorrow?" Given my work schedule, we may only end up biking home together (I like to show up pretty early) yet it's a motivator. What impact might having a partner in crime have on the frequency with which I use alternative transportation? Hopefully we'll see soon!
I'm beginning to feel the effects of a campaign. These days when friends realize I am walking or biking, rather than ask after the relative functionality of my car, they declare something like: "Oh good, you left your car at home!" They're happy for me rather than concerned. Well, maybe it's a campaign effect, or it could just be relief about the warmer temperatures. Either way it feels like support, and I'll take it! It's like the power of prayer. Somehow a communal effort toward one goal strengthens the energy behind achieving it.
I'm beginning to feel the effects of a campaign. These days when friends realize I am walking or biking, rather than ask after the relative functionality of my car, they declare something like: "Oh good, you left your car at home!" They're happy for me rather than concerned. Well, maybe it's a campaign effect, or it could just be relief about the warmer temperatures. Either way it feels like support, and I'll take it! It's like the power of prayer. Somehow a communal effort toward one goal strengthens the energy behind achieving it.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
3-1-11 5:36 pm Mining my Manners
Manipulation is mostly lost on me. It requires a level of scheming too complex and planful for my lifestyle. At almost 40 what I can do is figure out what I want, most of the time. This morning I wanted to faithfully carry out my "Carless Transportation" commitment, with as little effort as possible.
Biking filled the bill, and preparations felt doable: get lunch together, the hair dryer, my sneakers, work shoes and coffee. Lots of coffee. What I wanted to avoid: getting the bike off its ceiling hook in the garage, and lugging it into the house, its panniers to pack. Out of desperation to fulfill my commitment and reserve enough energy to actually pedal to school, I asked Harold to bring it in for me.
It was 5:30 a.m., and pretty cold outside. Of course he did it, because he just helps when he can. And yes, he did it grudgingly. He grunted. He sighed. He yawned broadly. I politely thanked him. Profusely thanked him. And when I discovered my rear tire low on air, he received another eye lash-batting request from me. Oh, did he struggle. The position, the air pressure, the early hour, it all oviously disagreed with him, and yet he insisted on coming to the rescue. In recognition of his efforts I did the dishes he had waiting in the sink. No offer, I just did them. And felt happy about it to too. By the time I left, his attitude turned.
As I rolled my heavily-laden bike out the door, he offered to carry it down the steps. He checked that my lights worked. He watched as I peddled off. I felt ready and energized for the ride. Because I recognized a need for help, got up the gumption to ask for it, and felt compelled enough to offer some remuneration for it that I actually did him a sizable favor, we parted ways amicably after what could easily have been a tense and difficult time.
In the past I've been more reluctant to ask for help, landing me in more trouble than I ever imagined. Building our daughter's swing set largely without his help created significant ripple effects for our relationship. Landscaping our front, side, and back yards, hauling 3 cubic yards of pea-gravel, and putting in an asparagus patch were all gestures I thought he would appreciate. He did, and he also felt some residual negativity. So did I. Can you say "resentment"? I learned quickly. And yet, working together demands a delicate balance of recognizing the efforts of another, capitalizing on one another's strengths, and knowing how to most effectively thank the other party.
In all honesty, I toddled off this morning with these words scrolling through my mind like a marquis: "She's got a man, and she knows how to use him!" The spirit being: I finally figured out the "I'll scratch your back, you scratch mine" balance in our marriage. Well, this time. Through some mysterious combination of time, experience and love, managed to mine my resources and extract exactly what we both needed. It took manners, love, appreciation, and a great deal of patience.
Biking filled the bill, and preparations felt doable: get lunch together, the hair dryer, my sneakers, work shoes and coffee. Lots of coffee. What I wanted to avoid: getting the bike off its ceiling hook in the garage, and lugging it into the house, its panniers to pack. Out of desperation to fulfill my commitment and reserve enough energy to actually pedal to school, I asked Harold to bring it in for me.
It was 5:30 a.m., and pretty cold outside. Of course he did it, because he just helps when he can. And yes, he did it grudgingly. He grunted. He sighed. He yawned broadly. I politely thanked him. Profusely thanked him. And when I discovered my rear tire low on air, he received another eye lash-batting request from me. Oh, did he struggle. The position, the air pressure, the early hour, it all oviously disagreed with him, and yet he insisted on coming to the rescue. In recognition of his efforts I did the dishes he had waiting in the sink. No offer, I just did them. And felt happy about it to too. By the time I left, his attitude turned.
As I rolled my heavily-laden bike out the door, he offered to carry it down the steps. He checked that my lights worked. He watched as I peddled off. I felt ready and energized for the ride. Because I recognized a need for help, got up the gumption to ask for it, and felt compelled enough to offer some remuneration for it that I actually did him a sizable favor, we parted ways amicably after what could easily have been a tense and difficult time.
In the past I've been more reluctant to ask for help, landing me in more trouble than I ever imagined. Building our daughter's swing set largely without his help created significant ripple effects for our relationship. Landscaping our front, side, and back yards, hauling 3 cubic yards of pea-gravel, and putting in an asparagus patch were all gestures I thought he would appreciate. He did, and he also felt some residual negativity. So did I. Can you say "resentment"? I learned quickly. And yet, working together demands a delicate balance of recognizing the efforts of another, capitalizing on one another's strengths, and knowing how to most effectively thank the other party.
In all honesty, I toddled off this morning with these words scrolling through my mind like a marquis: "She's got a man, and she knows how to use him!" The spirit being: I finally figured out the "I'll scratch your back, you scratch mine" balance in our marriage. Well, this time. Through some mysterious combination of time, experience and love, managed to mine my resources and extract exactly what we both needed. It took manners, love, appreciation, and a great deal of patience.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
2-27-11 8:25 am Puddles, Slush, and Snowball Fights
Two circumstances converged yesterday to provide an opportunity for carless transportation. 1: Anne's artwork was selected by her teacher to appear in the annual school-district art show at our local museum, located about four blocks from our home. 2: A young friend (1st grade boy, "C") spent the day with us in order that his mother could attend a class. She's a dear friend who's similarly helped us many times before.
The obvious choice: walk. On opening day, parking at our house might be about the best we could do anyway. Honestly, our walking adventures so consumed us, I have no idea what parking ever ended up looking like.
With kiddos ready to head out before the grown-ups, I asked them to wait outside (they politely looked very board waiting for our shoes to go on). Happy screams announced their snowball fight. Harold and I took as long as possible donning our outdoor gear, watching and listening to their happy spirits.
The moment all four of us hit the sidewalk, "C" began to drag his feet through the snow-covered grass for an entire block. Anne very neatly kept to the shovelled pavers, glancing at him furtively. Harold and I shared a few silent, very wide grins at their contrast.
After restraining themselves for almost a block-and-a-half, good-natured snow-ball-tossing resumed. Anne still kept to dry places, while "C" became braver. In addition to snow, he now stomped in slosh, and jumped in puddles. Happy screams bursting out of them, as snow landed on warm dry skin, accompanied our party the entire rest of the way.
Anne seemed almost bored at her own show, as did "C". Except for the cookie at the end, they both looked impatient to get back into snow the entire time. Maybe it was my imagination, and yet, when we emerged from the museum, the predictable occurred. Until we got to the Fire Station Museum. "C" wanted in, so in we went.
Had we been driving, the opportunity would've remained unnoticed. Once in, we fell into the wanting heart of a retired fireman just waiting to share the story of his brethren. 45 minutes later, and over-heated, we emerged. Happily snow still graced the path home. I found myself pre-emptorally apologizing to strangers at intersections, in case they got hit with stray bits of the cold stuff. They smiled wistfully, seeming to enjoy the kids' playfulness as much as Harold and me.
The rest of the way home Harold and I held hands, and each other's hearts. This was what the good times would maybe look like, had we been able to bring more children into the world. The kids called "COLD!" time-outs, whenever their little fingers needed a break. Love, joy, regret, comingled, and because it all felt so palpably real, I think I'd take that walk again, 100 times over.
The kids made a memory. Strangers smiled. We hopefully helped improve the day of a retired public servant. Anne got her 15 minutes of fame. Our little guest enjoyed himself. Mostly all attributable to our choice to walk. Reflecting back on the whole gratifying experience just makes the entire weekend a deeply more positive, vital experience.
The obvious choice: walk. On opening day, parking at our house might be about the best we could do anyway. Honestly, our walking adventures so consumed us, I have no idea what parking ever ended up looking like.
With kiddos ready to head out before the grown-ups, I asked them to wait outside (they politely looked very board waiting for our shoes to go on). Happy screams announced their snowball fight. Harold and I took as long as possible donning our outdoor gear, watching and listening to their happy spirits.
The moment all four of us hit the sidewalk, "C" began to drag his feet through the snow-covered grass for an entire block. Anne very neatly kept to the shovelled pavers, glancing at him furtively. Harold and I shared a few silent, very wide grins at their contrast.
After restraining themselves for almost a block-and-a-half, good-natured snow-ball-tossing resumed. Anne still kept to dry places, while "C" became braver. In addition to snow, he now stomped in slosh, and jumped in puddles. Happy screams bursting out of them, as snow landed on warm dry skin, accompanied our party the entire rest of the way.
Anne seemed almost bored at her own show, as did "C". Except for the cookie at the end, they both looked impatient to get back into snow the entire time. Maybe it was my imagination, and yet, when we emerged from the museum, the predictable occurred. Until we got to the Fire Station Museum. "C" wanted in, so in we went.
Had we been driving, the opportunity would've remained unnoticed. Once in, we fell into the wanting heart of a retired fireman just waiting to share the story of his brethren. 45 minutes later, and over-heated, we emerged. Happily snow still graced the path home. I found myself pre-emptorally apologizing to strangers at intersections, in case they got hit with stray bits of the cold stuff. They smiled wistfully, seeming to enjoy the kids' playfulness as much as Harold and me.
The rest of the way home Harold and I held hands, and each other's hearts. This was what the good times would maybe look like, had we been able to bring more children into the world. The kids called "COLD!" time-outs, whenever their little fingers needed a break. Love, joy, regret, comingled, and because it all felt so palpably real, I think I'd take that walk again, 100 times over.
The kids made a memory. Strangers smiled. We hopefully helped improve the day of a retired public servant. Anne got her 15 minutes of fame. Our little guest enjoyed himself. Mostly all attributable to our choice to walk. Reflecting back on the whole gratifying experience just makes the entire weekend a deeply more positive, vital experience.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
2-22-11 6:50 pm Possibilities for Confusion
I got to school today only to notice a class listed on my calendar. All day, out of the building, substiture required, absense. I sincerely tried to politely reply to moring greetings after a long weekend. Heart pounding, I confirmed my sub (arranged three months ago so I'd forgotten), wrote up lesson plans someone else could follow, improvised for my Book Review Club who meets on Tuesday mornings, and dashed off to class, hoping my moderate speeding would go unnoticed by local law enforcement. Must not speed in school zones.
Upon arrival at class location I noticed: not enough cars in the lot. Quick-scan of all the classrooms confirmed it. Class was rescheduled, and I'd not bothered to erase this listing on my daily calendar. Race back to school, to find out my sub hadn't ever arrived. Walke into my classroom, with my students. An overly busy start to my day. And so many of my coworkers now know what a mixed up, unorganized person I can be. My very kind boss knows. I know.
Replay that scene from a pedestrian perspective. Class today? Bummer! No car. Guess I'll have to make that one up. Oh! Class was rescheduled? Hip, hip, horray! Back to the morning routine. Hello Book Review Club! So simple. If only I'd been able to walk today. Too much going on after school. In fact, this whole week is packed. When, oh when will it feel possible to walk again? I so need it!
Upon arrival at class location I noticed: not enough cars in the lot. Quick-scan of all the classrooms confirmed it. Class was rescheduled, and I'd not bothered to erase this listing on my daily calendar. Race back to school, to find out my sub hadn't ever arrived. Walke into my classroom, with my students. An overly busy start to my day. And so many of my coworkers now know what a mixed up, unorganized person I can be. My very kind boss knows. I know.
Replay that scene from a pedestrian perspective. Class today? Bummer! No car. Guess I'll have to make that one up. Oh! Class was rescheduled? Hip, hip, horray! Back to the morning routine. Hello Book Review Club! So simple. If only I'd been able to walk today. Too much going on after school. In fact, this whole week is packed. When, oh when will it feel possible to walk again? I so need it!
Friday, February 18, 2011
2-18-11 5:12 pm Socializing
I get H.O.A.s. Gated communities, I understand. Predictable living conditions make sense in terms of investments and life-style. For us, living in an old-town, downtown area feels just right. And it's perfectly set up for carless transportation.
Today I met a friend for coffee and a stroll. Honestly, I wanted to stay in sweats at home, lying on the couch reading. Yet socializing provides balance and I enjoy my friend very much. The ambivalence felt like a familiar, easy hurdle, so I went. Bundled in sweats, hair a mess (thank you hat for your cover!), bulky coat on, store fronts reflected a haphazard look as I ambled my way to the coffee shop.
Downtown, I fit right in. Of course my friend got regaled with apologies for my appearance, which she patiently tolerated. Really who cares? On our walk we passed plenty of folks with disheveled hair. And fashion, well, Loveland has a long way to go as compared with, say, Rodeo Drive.
The coffee shop felt a bit haphazard with its mismatched furniture and slightly grimy floor. Some special-needs adults stopped to pet my friend's dog. The apartments, houses and allies felt just on the shabby-side of a comfortably lived-in look. I liked it. I liked walking through it. It felt good that me, in my natural, unmade-up, unplanned outfitted state, slid comfortably along side other people and living conditions also in their natural state. Unpretentiousness, it feels comfortable.
In cars we need to decide where to go. Are we dressed appropriately? Where will we park? Carless transportation renders all those possibilities mute. In the calm wake of walking, despite initial inertia, I truly enjoyed our time together. And we left no carbon footprint. Ahhh....
Today I met a friend for coffee and a stroll. Honestly, I wanted to stay in sweats at home, lying on the couch reading. Yet socializing provides balance and I enjoy my friend very much. The ambivalence felt like a familiar, easy hurdle, so I went. Bundled in sweats, hair a mess (thank you hat for your cover!), bulky coat on, store fronts reflected a haphazard look as I ambled my way to the coffee shop.
Downtown, I fit right in. Of course my friend got regaled with apologies for my appearance, which she patiently tolerated. Really who cares? On our walk we passed plenty of folks with disheveled hair. And fashion, well, Loveland has a long way to go as compared with, say, Rodeo Drive.
The coffee shop felt a bit haphazard with its mismatched furniture and slightly grimy floor. Some special-needs adults stopped to pet my friend's dog. The apartments, houses and allies felt just on the shabby-side of a comfortably lived-in look. I liked it. I liked walking through it. It felt good that me, in my natural, unmade-up, unplanned outfitted state, slid comfortably along side other people and living conditions also in their natural state. Unpretentiousness, it feels comfortable.
In cars we need to decide where to go. Are we dressed appropriately? Where will we park? Carless transportation renders all those possibilities mute. In the calm wake of walking, despite initial inertia, I truly enjoyed our time together. And we left no carbon footprint. Ahhh....
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
2-16-11 9:22 pm Carpooling
I needed to drive today. During conferences we stay at school sometimes until after dark. Harold worries about me walking home at night, and I guess I agree. So I dutifully drove, chanting the whole way to school: "balance. balance. balance." Even though the driving option provides safety on days like today, I still struggle with the choice. And then some magic happened.
One friend needed a ride home, and then another, and by the end, we had a multi-person carpool going. We talked about our day, laughed together, and they even helped me run a very quick errand - more on that later. What really felt wonderful: debriefing about our day with people who instantly identified. Explanations and background knowledge exist with coworkers that otherwise needs building with life partners. Harold sort of understands what conference days require, and he certainly wants to support me. In fact he listens beautifully, and supports me greatly. Even so, having coworkers to air out the day's events feels gratifying.
And now for the errand: Something seems spooky about our church at night, deserted. I needed, however, to pick up some music on my way home for this week's upcoming worship. My friends offered to come in with me: "Now, tell the truth, Jeannie, do you want us to come in?!" Of course I answered "yes", and in they came. The spooky feel led to two wonderful little conversations. One: They complimented our building, which felt validating, and what feels better than complimenting one's house of worship? It felt almost similar to if they complimented my own home. Two: We shared ghost stories, great fun!
Anyway, while it felt tough to drive in, I ended up very happy about my choice. It definately benefitted me and several others too. Maybe we will do it again sometime...
One friend needed a ride home, and then another, and by the end, we had a multi-person carpool going. We talked about our day, laughed together, and they even helped me run a very quick errand - more on that later. What really felt wonderful: debriefing about our day with people who instantly identified. Explanations and background knowledge exist with coworkers that otherwise needs building with life partners. Harold sort of understands what conference days require, and he certainly wants to support me. In fact he listens beautifully, and supports me greatly. Even so, having coworkers to air out the day's events feels gratifying.
And now for the errand: Something seems spooky about our church at night, deserted. I needed, however, to pick up some music on my way home for this week's upcoming worship. My friends offered to come in with me: "Now, tell the truth, Jeannie, do you want us to come in?!" Of course I answered "yes", and in they came. The spooky feel led to two wonderful little conversations. One: They complimented our building, which felt validating, and what feels better than complimenting one's house of worship? It felt almost similar to if they complimented my own home. Two: We shared ghost stories, great fun!
Anyway, while it felt tough to drive in, I ended up very happy about my choice. It definately benefitted me and several others too. Maybe we will do it again sometime...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)