So many people came to me today declaring: "Jeannie! You're not walking today, right? You better not be! Otherwise, I'm headed your way, and would be happy to give you a ride..."
Thank you, universe, and all those caring people out there bearing generous offers. In fact I drove today, anticipating piano lessons for Anne. Turns out so much ice covered the road that two interesting things occurred: 1 - I called our teacher to cancel. That happens very rarely. 2 - I felt glad to ride in my car this morning.
Weird. Driving in any sort of weather usually freaks me out so much that I avoid driving all together. Of course my current efforts at carless transportation also made my morning gratitude feel out of place. My thinking took a new direction because of the ice. Rather than worry about crashing into someone or something, I felt safely wrapped in two tons of metal. Perhaps my recent fall after slipping on the ice a while ago brought back painful memories. Whatever the reason, I needed only step outside once today before realizing that the car held more safety than my feet.
And...school needed cancellation in anticipation of more nasty weather on the way. An unexpected day off. Yay!!!!! I plan to walk another day.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
1-29-11 5:19 pm The Culprit of Transportation Drama
I drove on "E" for days. The dentist, after-school meetings, classes, they each demanded their own time, location, and 30 mile-per-hour speeds. It's more fuel-efficient to fill up the tank before it empties more than half-way. I know this, and yet...
Procrastination works OK for some things, however stranding myself on the street having run out of gas seemed a futile and self-inflicted outcome. Even with this foresight, I still couldn't drive myself to the gas station. So, instead I sent a very-willing Harold. He's too accommodating. I felt as though he was my henchman, carrying out the dirty deed of gassing up our family car. How is it that we even own that gas-guzzling machine in the first place?
And then there were other favors, far less vile in nature. Friends taking Anne home from school so I could avoid making an extra trip. Co-workers sharing food to save us a bit of time. Making these requests humbled me. Turns out, in order to care for our earth, carry out my professional duties, and be a responsible parent, I actually need others' help. And there it is, back again: community.
In college I recycled the ends of my juice cans. I actually used the "print-preview" function before spending paper in printing. I didn't even own a car. I took eco-econ-political courses designed to enlighten the student body about balanced living. The enduring theory: sustainable living can be good for the economy; a perspective shared only by some, even today in the 21st century. Maybe the community-building that ecological living results in feels more intuitive, less contestable than its economy-sustaining features. Yet it seems there's something of value to be gained by looking closer.
It turns out, though, that the magnifying glass focuses on the culprit, rather than the neighborly results of judicious transportation. The culprit is, of course, the car. It's way too easy. No crank, no pushing, not even a manual gear shift. Ah! And now I can even ask it to tell me where to go. Crazy. And yet, so easy. Pricey on so many levels, yes, and still so very easy to take advantage. Of course helping one another out builds community, so the question is, why don't we do it more?
Asking for help is hard, that's why. Revealing one's own needs means we have needs. When we have needs, it could mean that something's not working out just right in our personal lives. In fact, it's when we fail to engage in sharing and helping one another that something's not working quite right. It's maybe why we know so few of our neighbors, for one thing. What's becoming ever-so clear to me today is this: In order to make driving less a success, a reality, I'm gonna have to get used to asking others for help more often. On my mind now then: how do I make it up to them? Or is building community reciprocal enough of it's own accord that it renders "making it up" superfluous? We shall see...
Procrastination works OK for some things, however stranding myself on the street having run out of gas seemed a futile and self-inflicted outcome. Even with this foresight, I still couldn't drive myself to the gas station. So, instead I sent a very-willing Harold. He's too accommodating. I felt as though he was my henchman, carrying out the dirty deed of gassing up our family car. How is it that we even own that gas-guzzling machine in the first place?
And then there were other favors, far less vile in nature. Friends taking Anne home from school so I could avoid making an extra trip. Co-workers sharing food to save us a bit of time. Making these requests humbled me. Turns out, in order to care for our earth, carry out my professional duties, and be a responsible parent, I actually need others' help. And there it is, back again: community.
In college I recycled the ends of my juice cans. I actually used the "print-preview" function before spending paper in printing. I didn't even own a car. I took eco-econ-political courses designed to enlighten the student body about balanced living. The enduring theory: sustainable living can be good for the economy; a perspective shared only by some, even today in the 21st century. Maybe the community-building that ecological living results in feels more intuitive, less contestable than its economy-sustaining features. Yet it seems there's something of value to be gained by looking closer.
It turns out, though, that the magnifying glass focuses on the culprit, rather than the neighborly results of judicious transportation. The culprit is, of course, the car. It's way too easy. No crank, no pushing, not even a manual gear shift. Ah! And now I can even ask it to tell me where to go. Crazy. And yet, so easy. Pricey on so many levels, yes, and still so very easy to take advantage. Of course helping one another out builds community, so the question is, why don't we do it more?
Asking for help is hard, that's why. Revealing one's own needs means we have needs. When we have needs, it could mean that something's not working out just right in our personal lives. In fact, it's when we fail to engage in sharing and helping one another that something's not working quite right. It's maybe why we know so few of our neighbors, for one thing. What's becoming ever-so clear to me today is this: In order to make driving less a success, a reality, I'm gonna have to get used to asking others for help more often. On my mind now then: how do I make it up to them? Or is building community reciprocal enough of it's own accord that it renders "making it up" superfluous? We shall see...
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
1-26-11 8:39 pm "E"
It's the gas gauge. The needle leans closer to the "E" than it did a month ago. All this driving is, ghasp!, using up fuel.
"Committed" describes me pretty well. I've braved cold, ice and snow, all to avoid using the car, only to have best intentions usurped by a few appointments. So, the question evolves from "What can I withstand physically?", to "What can I do intentionally to avoid driving?"
Well, I could change our dental service-provider. Driving less builds relationships in some cases. Am I willing to say goodbye to established connections so that we can walk to the dentist? Classes I'm taking, meetings I'm scheduling, am I willing to work those around pedestrian constraints?
Just how committed am I to this "carless transportation" thing?
At the outset I think my level of commitment felt something like: any time I could walk instead of drive, I would. Period. All other situations, meetings, appointments, doctors, all that felt outside of the realm of my thinking about walking as much as possible. After all, walking most days to school should make up for those anomalies.
A new feeling lurks in my concience now. Maybe the question feels more like: Why am I driving? What's so important about this dentist, who's three miles from our home, when at least three other dentists set up offices within blocks of our house? Surely they're nice people. Surely one of them works with our insurance. For an interview, I think I would still drive. For a one-time trip, say, a vacation, I would drive. But driving less has heightened my awareness of the plethora of options for keeping my feet on the ground, and my hands free for the routines in my life.
Maybe tomorrow, while extracting fossil fules from the pump, I could make a call to the new dentist's office two blocks from home. Heck, maybe I'll just walk on over there in person. It's always good to meet new neighbors.
"Committed" describes me pretty well. I've braved cold, ice and snow, all to avoid using the car, only to have best intentions usurped by a few appointments. So, the question evolves from "What can I withstand physically?", to "What can I do intentionally to avoid driving?"
Well, I could change our dental service-provider. Driving less builds relationships in some cases. Am I willing to say goodbye to established connections so that we can walk to the dentist? Classes I'm taking, meetings I'm scheduling, am I willing to work those around pedestrian constraints?
Just how committed am I to this "carless transportation" thing?
At the outset I think my level of commitment felt something like: any time I could walk instead of drive, I would. Period. All other situations, meetings, appointments, doctors, all that felt outside of the realm of my thinking about walking as much as possible. After all, walking most days to school should make up for those anomalies.
A new feeling lurks in my concience now. Maybe the question feels more like: Why am I driving? What's so important about this dentist, who's three miles from our home, when at least three other dentists set up offices within blocks of our house? Surely they're nice people. Surely one of them works with our insurance. For an interview, I think I would still drive. For a one-time trip, say, a vacation, I would drive. But driving less has heightened my awareness of the plethora of options for keeping my feet on the ground, and my hands free for the routines in my life.
Maybe tomorrow, while extracting fossil fules from the pump, I could make a call to the new dentist's office two blocks from home. Heck, maybe I'll just walk on over there in person. It's always good to meet new neighbors.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
1-25-11 6:48 Driving Confessions
Today I drove. The title reveals some feelings of guilt on my part, yes. And then there sat Anne, in the back seat for our ride home, entirely engrossed in a new novel our librarian generously let her have the first read of: All the Broken Pieces. The book transported her; when we arrived home she emerged from the car entirely lost in the story. About this I feel, proud, happy, and extremely gratified. It makes each harrowing moment of listening to her decode her first "chapter books" worth every effort-filled second. Besides, I only drove after having left my sneakers at school on Monday. Yesterday was, well, full.
And yesterday morning I did walk to school. Fox-free, large-dog-free, startle-free walking felt meditative. It was the rest of the day that took off at lightening speed. At least I started out with good intentions.
Harold, again, saved my day. Upon remembering about meetings, lessons, and time-crunches, I called him in relative panic. Calmly, (OK, I just caught myself almost using the word "but") he picked me up on his way home from lunch, and then the wheels Anne and I needed carried us everywhere we'd committed to go. The morning walk did me good. My life partner helped me pick up the slack. And I fulfilled my commitments. Thank you, again, wonderful husband for your willing help!
Tomorrow we drive again, for dentist appointments after school. Maybe Anne's book will transport her to another time and place. I'll be concentrating on my breathing. After two days of driving I can feel the relative speed of life picking up. Thursday I walk. Friday, hmmmm. It's a new destination this year, and maybe I can walk there too. Have to give that one some thought.
And yesterday morning I did walk to school. Fox-free, large-dog-free, startle-free walking felt meditative. It was the rest of the day that took off at lightening speed. At least I started out with good intentions.
Harold, again, saved my day. Upon remembering about meetings, lessons, and time-crunches, I called him in relative panic. Calmly, (OK, I just caught myself almost using the word "but") he picked me up on his way home from lunch, and then the wheels Anne and I needed carried us everywhere we'd committed to go. The morning walk did me good. My life partner helped me pick up the slack. And I fulfilled my commitments. Thank you, again, wonderful husband for your willing help!
Tomorrow we drive again, for dentist appointments after school. Maybe Anne's book will transport her to another time and place. I'll be concentrating on my breathing. After two days of driving I can feel the relative speed of life picking up. Thursday I walk. Friday, hmmmm. It's a new destination this year, and maybe I can walk there too. Have to give that one some thought.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
1-23-11 8:29 pm News Flash!
3 miles - it's actually three rather than the two miles I'd previously thought. That explains the 45 minutes it takes to walk the distance. It explains the achiness in my feet (six miles a day exceeds my previous exercise records). The fox problem, however, remains. My other option is to walk through a cemetery - really it's a street that bisects the cemetery. Yet, walking through that area in the predawn darkness has little appeal for me. A whistle is sounding more and more attractive. Here's hoping the walk goes well tomorrow.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
1-19-11 5:33 pm Driving me Crazy
We've had a few things come up, requiring me to drive...which makes me nuts. I crave exercise and fresh air. "Calm" is a goal rather than a state-of-being. But, I did walk once today.
For lunch (I attended a class) lunch waited across the street. Of course I walked. Under dressed, from driving to class in the morning, I froze every step of the way. As a long stream of cars passed while I waited to cross, I began to long for the cocoon of a car cabin. At least drivers could see me.
I leapt at the opportunity to return with colleagues, in someone's car. Six of us in one vehicle most certainly qualified us as carpooling. The companionship comforted me too. Walking felt more lonely in broad day-light than in the dim morning hours. Maybe everyone seeing me alone felt exposing.
Here's to tomorrow's walk in to work!
For lunch (I attended a class) lunch waited across the street. Of course I walked. Under dressed, from driving to class in the morning, I froze every step of the way. As a long stream of cars passed while I waited to cross, I began to long for the cocoon of a car cabin. At least drivers could see me.
I leapt at the opportunity to return with colleagues, in someone's car. Six of us in one vehicle most certainly qualified us as carpooling. The companionship comforted me too. Walking felt more lonely in broad day-light than in the dim morning hours. Maybe everyone seeing me alone felt exposing.
Here's to tomorrow's walk in to work!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
1-18-11 7:40 pm Wildlife
Safety. Harold asks me about it now and then: "Do you feel safe...?" In the dark, alone, on the ice, in the snow, whatever. He's asked about it all. Of course I tell him "Yes."
Then I fell on the ice the other day. It's OK, there's a solution to that. A teacher friend advises I use an old pair of sneakers and some short screws turned a few twists into the soles. The ice is melting anyway.
As for would-be evil-doers, I think they're sleeping so early in the morning. Speaking of which, I saw the dawn emerge today. Lovely.
Snow is a non-issue, thanks to my hulking snow-gear, and then there's wildlife - of the human, the canine, and the feline variety. Some surprising developments began to occur last week.
About last Wednesday, I happened to suddenly notice a rather large four-legged creature eying me. Frightening indeed. Mountain lion? Ears too rounded, tail too short and furry, muzzle to long. Fox? Tail too long, too stringy. I swore to wear a whistle the next day. Bear mace, guns, and other weaponry generally inviting trouble at school, a whistle seemed inspirational. Frightening to the animal, safe at school, if a bit loud for sleeping residents.
The next day, me whistle-less, there it was again. Persistently licking something trapped in the ice, completely engrossed. Oblivious as well to an on-coming car, which luckily stopped. A German Shepherd. Friendly too, that or a bit slow. It only moved when the car beeped.
So, there's a dog on my way to school. Maybe if a mountain lion happens along, this canine will come to my assistance. A whistle and dog treats.
Then this morning the distinct sounds of a wild-animal struggle. Sudden silence, and then they darted. First a house-cat, followed closely by a large fox. I saw them. Unsettling, however, I'm a lot bigger than that fox. Hopefully its sense of balance will keep him at bay. Must remember the whistle tomorrow.
Lastly, the human. Unpredictable, distracted while driving, compelled, living wild in an apparently civilized world. As I approached an intersection close to the high school, traffic stopped, I began to inter the walk way. Then a Toyota logo, growing large in my peripheral vision, registered in my cerebral cortex. "Back up!" my brain shouted at my legs, and I did. Horns honked. Dirty looks were heaped upon the errant driver, who suddenly jerked to a halt. I waved and smiled as I finally, safely crossed, grateful for my life. That driver has been me. I hope she takes the lesson without guilt, and carries her learning to her next car trip and those ever-after.
Then I fell on the ice the other day. It's OK, there's a solution to that. A teacher friend advises I use an old pair of sneakers and some short screws turned a few twists into the soles. The ice is melting anyway.
As for would-be evil-doers, I think they're sleeping so early in the morning. Speaking of which, I saw the dawn emerge today. Lovely.
Snow is a non-issue, thanks to my hulking snow-gear, and then there's wildlife - of the human, the canine, and the feline variety. Some surprising developments began to occur last week.
About last Wednesday, I happened to suddenly notice a rather large four-legged creature eying me. Frightening indeed. Mountain lion? Ears too rounded, tail too short and furry, muzzle to long. Fox? Tail too long, too stringy. I swore to wear a whistle the next day. Bear mace, guns, and other weaponry generally inviting trouble at school, a whistle seemed inspirational. Frightening to the animal, safe at school, if a bit loud for sleeping residents.
The next day, me whistle-less, there it was again. Persistently licking something trapped in the ice, completely engrossed. Oblivious as well to an on-coming car, which luckily stopped. A German Shepherd. Friendly too, that or a bit slow. It only moved when the car beeped.
So, there's a dog on my way to school. Maybe if a mountain lion happens along, this canine will come to my assistance. A whistle and dog treats.
Then this morning the distinct sounds of a wild-animal struggle. Sudden silence, and then they darted. First a house-cat, followed closely by a large fox. I saw them. Unsettling, however, I'm a lot bigger than that fox. Hopefully its sense of balance will keep him at bay. Must remember the whistle tomorrow.
Lastly, the human. Unpredictable, distracted while driving, compelled, living wild in an apparently civilized world. As I approached an intersection close to the high school, traffic stopped, I began to inter the walk way. Then a Toyota logo, growing large in my peripheral vision, registered in my cerebral cortex. "Back up!" my brain shouted at my legs, and I did. Horns honked. Dirty looks were heaped upon the errant driver, who suddenly jerked to a halt. I waved and smiled as I finally, safely crossed, grateful for my life. That driver has been me. I hope she takes the lesson without guilt, and carries her learning to her next car trip and those ever-after.
Monday, January 17, 2011
1-17-11 11:38 am- Those Docs
Maybe you see their column in your paper: "YouDocs". Drs. Michael Roizen, M.D., and Mehmet Oz, M.D., share their medical wisdom and know-how with the reading public in their regular column, which gets published in our paper every Sunday. Thank you Reporter-Herald. Yesterday they wrote about "No More Excuses; Get on Your Feet".
Perfect for me, sort-of. Coming up with excuses to avoid walking is a trap I seem to be getting around. But, in their article today, as usual, they shared benefits of regular walking exercise. Some were news to me, some not-so-much...
"Every step you take mobilizes immune-system warriors that patrol your nose, throat and lungs to take down invading cold/flu viruses." So, walking boosts my immune system. I'd read before (in an office lounge posting at a previous employer) that sex boosts the immune system. Good to know that walking does too! Their point in the article, I think, was that potential walkers rob them of cold-fighting forces in their bodies when using that for an excuse not to don sneakers and take them out for a spin. I'll keep that in mind, if I'm ever tempted to drive and blow my nose at the same time.
"Being fit can save your life, even if you're overweight." That's old, but still good news to me. The Docs want us to get moving even if we're feeling heavier than we want, in order to be seen in public. My weight's OK; I don't mind being seen. Snow pants with a long down parka have fairly low sex-appeal anyway. OK, there's the ski-bunny attire, but I'm talking about the poofy, shapeless variety of snow pants and parka. Even if I looked like a super-model in street clothes, my snow-gear would morph me into a rotund snow-warrior within a mere two zips. It's nice to remember that with each hulking step, I'm maintaining my health.
"The right moves keep knees healthy." Now that caught my eye. In college some called me "Ginger", on account of my red hair and pension for ballroom dance classes and competitions. I also swam a mile every day before classes, and jogged off-and-on. Oh yeah, and I took six Aikido classes (a tumbling martial art) each week. How I fit all that in and maintained a 3.77 G.P.A. impresses me now. Anyway...I digress...All those activities came to a screeching halt one day when, as I was climbing a flight of stairs to class, my knees froze. No ache, no pain, no symptoms of strain had warned me. They just stopped. I hobbled back to my dorm room, fretting the whole way about missing class, and took a hot bath. After a lot of ice, heat, t.l.c. and much research, I quickly learned to protect my knees from strain during most activities. Slowly, I reintroduced my knees to each extra-curricular, one at a time. The one that my knees screemed about? The dancing. I continue to struggle with that one - some 20 years later.
Last week when I started taking the Zoomba class with my friend, my knees cried out again. But the walking, I think it actually helps. They don't hurt even the day after dance class, when I walk. Maybe YouDocs can advise me about knee care for the avid dancer.
"Gentle exercise can improve your health, and your baby's too." So, pregnancy: all the more reason to walk. Well, now for that I can vouch. When we were expecting Anne, I ate foods only in their natural state, no processed anything, (OK, we did cook, but no packaged, refined, or processed anything) and I walked, walked, walked. My co-workers at the time pestered me for the first seven months of Anne's gestation: "When are you gonna start to show, girlfriend!?!" To be fair, my torso stretches to an unusual length, but the exercise certainly helped me grow only a tummy during pregnancy. And continued exercise in combination with a persistently healthy diet and breastfeeding after birth, had me back in my pre-baby clothes inside of four weeks.
And Anne? All that exercise and healthful food managed to produce a bright, active, joyful person who continues to thrive thanks to our continued efforts at health, and a loving family, neighborhood and school community. Her good fortune is my life's joy. Her first couple of months saw acute awareness, rapid development, and social interaction beyond her age. Regular verbalization began a two-and-a-half months, practicly unheard of, but verified by a leading brain expert (I had her evaluated because we couldn't believe our eyes and ears!) Eleven years later she continues to impress us on so many levels: stamina, dedication, critical thinking, logic, language development, capacity for love, etc.
"Exercise cuts anxiety by 29 percent." I believe it. Work feels so much more doable these days. I'm cooking for my family regularly, and enjoying it. My house is clean, minus resentment. Perspective, patience, and good will fill my being, in place of worry, fretting, anxiety, and, well, as YouDocs say, "stress". I think I'll keep walking.
Perfect for me, sort-of. Coming up with excuses to avoid walking is a trap I seem to be getting around. But, in their article today, as usual, they shared benefits of regular walking exercise. Some were news to me, some not-so-much...
"Every step you take mobilizes immune-system warriors that patrol your nose, throat and lungs to take down invading cold/flu viruses." So, walking boosts my immune system. I'd read before (in an office lounge posting at a previous employer) that sex boosts the immune system. Good to know that walking does too! Their point in the article, I think, was that potential walkers rob them of cold-fighting forces in their bodies when using that for an excuse not to don sneakers and take them out for a spin. I'll keep that in mind, if I'm ever tempted to drive and blow my nose at the same time.
"Being fit can save your life, even if you're overweight." That's old, but still good news to me. The Docs want us to get moving even if we're feeling heavier than we want, in order to be seen in public. My weight's OK; I don't mind being seen. Snow pants with a long down parka have fairly low sex-appeal anyway. OK, there's the ski-bunny attire, but I'm talking about the poofy, shapeless variety of snow pants and parka. Even if I looked like a super-model in street clothes, my snow-gear would morph me into a rotund snow-warrior within a mere two zips. It's nice to remember that with each hulking step, I'm maintaining my health.
"The right moves keep knees healthy." Now that caught my eye. In college some called me "Ginger", on account of my red hair and pension for ballroom dance classes and competitions. I also swam a mile every day before classes, and jogged off-and-on. Oh yeah, and I took six Aikido classes (a tumbling martial art) each week. How I fit all that in and maintained a 3.77 G.P.A. impresses me now. Anyway...I digress...All those activities came to a screeching halt one day when, as I was climbing a flight of stairs to class, my knees froze. No ache, no pain, no symptoms of strain had warned me. They just stopped. I hobbled back to my dorm room, fretting the whole way about missing class, and took a hot bath. After a lot of ice, heat, t.l.c. and much research, I quickly learned to protect my knees from strain during most activities. Slowly, I reintroduced my knees to each extra-curricular, one at a time. The one that my knees screemed about? The dancing. I continue to struggle with that one - some 20 years later.
Last week when I started taking the Zoomba class with my friend, my knees cried out again. But the walking, I think it actually helps. They don't hurt even the day after dance class, when I walk. Maybe YouDocs can advise me about knee care for the avid dancer.
"Gentle exercise can improve your health, and your baby's too." So, pregnancy: all the more reason to walk. Well, now for that I can vouch. When we were expecting Anne, I ate foods only in their natural state, no processed anything, (OK, we did cook, but no packaged, refined, or processed anything) and I walked, walked, walked. My co-workers at the time pestered me for the first seven months of Anne's gestation: "When are you gonna start to show, girlfriend!?!" To be fair, my torso stretches to an unusual length, but the exercise certainly helped me grow only a tummy during pregnancy. And continued exercise in combination with a persistently healthy diet and breastfeeding after birth, had me back in my pre-baby clothes inside of four weeks.
And Anne? All that exercise and healthful food managed to produce a bright, active, joyful person who continues to thrive thanks to our continued efforts at health, and a loving family, neighborhood and school community. Her good fortune is my life's joy. Her first couple of months saw acute awareness, rapid development, and social interaction beyond her age. Regular verbalization began a two-and-a-half months, practicly unheard of, but verified by a leading brain expert (I had her evaluated because we couldn't believe our eyes and ears!) Eleven years later she continues to impress us on so many levels: stamina, dedication, critical thinking, logic, language development, capacity for love, etc.
"Exercise cuts anxiety by 29 percent." I believe it. Work feels so much more doable these days. I'm cooking for my family regularly, and enjoying it. My house is clean, minus resentment. Perspective, patience, and good will fill my being, in place of worry, fretting, anxiety, and, well, as YouDocs say, "stress". I think I'll keep walking.
Friday, January 14, 2011
1-14-11 7:24 pm Cheating
Am I? Yesterday after school I carpooled with another teacher to a middle-school. We wanted to observe a new-to-us literacy curriculum/program in action. It piqued our interest - I probably need to do something about that, but I digress...And then...she drove us home. Completely out of her way. She lives north, we were headed south. It was later in the day than Anne and I usually leave, and since I had Anne with me...maybe the ride helped us live out our day in a more balanced way.
And this afternoon I ended up bringing some work home. There was more than I could carry. I found a cart in my closet, but navigating the slush and bumpy sidewalk pavers with that thing, well, the phrase "recipe for disaster" comes to mind. How irritated, cold, wet, and tired might we have felt after such a walk.
Surprisingly it took the convincing rhetoric of Anne, and a good teacher friend of mine to accept the ride. We live directly on her way home. The gas issue should be non-existent. It's nagging at me none-the-less. Monday I will transport my friend and I on some social calls, so all-in-all I feel less like a loner at any rate.
Perhaps my spirits need a little lifting. Some ice had me airborne today, and landing on my hip was, well, painful. And my foot has begun to hurt from wearing boots rather than supportive sneakers on long walks in the ice and snow. It's time for a little trouble-shooting.
These are hurtles rather than road blocks. Solutions to varietous problems sometimes hide in unsuspecting places. This weekend may provide the thinking time I need to find them.
And this afternoon I ended up bringing some work home. There was more than I could carry. I found a cart in my closet, but navigating the slush and bumpy sidewalk pavers with that thing, well, the phrase "recipe for disaster" comes to mind. How irritated, cold, wet, and tired might we have felt after such a walk.
Surprisingly it took the convincing rhetoric of Anne, and a good teacher friend of mine to accept the ride. We live directly on her way home. The gas issue should be non-existent. It's nagging at me none-the-less. Monday I will transport my friend and I on some social calls, so all-in-all I feel less like a loner at any rate.
Perhaps my spirits need a little lifting. Some ice had me airborne today, and landing on my hip was, well, painful. And my foot has begun to hurt from wearing boots rather than supportive sneakers on long walks in the ice and snow. It's time for a little trouble-shooting.
These are hurtles rather than road blocks. Solutions to varietous problems sometimes hide in unsuspecting places. This weekend may provide the thinking time I need to find them.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
1-13-11 5:55 pm Speed, Stress, and Snowpants
Temperatures were high enough this morning for me to walk without the sound of poly-vinyl friction punctuating each step. And the snow squished rather than squeaked for each step. My hood flapped behind me and the air felt down-right balmy.
Attire each morning until now (this year) included a work outfit bundled underneath the aforementioned snow pants, a down parka reaching to mid-thigh, well-insulated mittens, a headscarf, hood, and leather boots. Friends look aghast when I tell them I'm comfortable. One warns of frostbite on a regular basis. If I stood stock-still for 45 minutes, maybe.
Some joggers and their dog passed me this morning. They reminded me of a story my mother tells, that goes something like this:
A well-liked village farmer rises each day, puts in a hard day's labor, and relaxes with his family and an evening meal at sunset. His favorite activities: Watching the sun set, playing with his grandchildren, and sharing stories of his childhood with loved ones.
On one such evening, a semi-retired businessman on vacation strolls past. Seeing the tired man and his dirty grandchildren playing in the mud, he offers:
"You should come work for my company. The hours are killer at first, but you will eventually become financially secure, and be able to take your family on vacation to places like this instead of working your fingers to the bone."
To which the wizened villager replies:
"Why should I put my nose to the grindstone, miss my family, and shorten my life with stress, when I have all I want right here? Keep your money and your prestige. This is the life for me.
Joggers plod away determinedly, in their high-tech togs. Gym-members faithfully attend their expensive facilities. I admire them, but for myself I ask: "Why lay out all that cash, when I can simply walk? It saves money in gas, and wear and tear on my vehicle. It's also uncommonly good for the environment."
And walking calms me. Something about the ability to shave minutes by simply speeding just a few miles per hour gets my heart racing. Can I squeeze in a quick grocery-store stop? Can I leave just a few minutes later? Can I sleep just a little longer? I'm stressed before even arriving at work, and who knows what the day will bring?
Walking is the way to go for me. I arrive at my destination refreshed, and ready to focus. I leave on time, and suddenly, work stays at work. At home I'm with my family, eating dinner with my husband and daughter. Magically, my work week has reduced to 50 hours per week (approximately). Living the life in the way I want, with the people I love, all for simply walking. My life feels truly blessed.
Attire each morning until now (this year) included a work outfit bundled underneath the aforementioned snow pants, a down parka reaching to mid-thigh, well-insulated mittens, a headscarf, hood, and leather boots. Friends look aghast when I tell them I'm comfortable. One warns of frostbite on a regular basis. If I stood stock-still for 45 minutes, maybe.
Some joggers and their dog passed me this morning. They reminded me of a story my mother tells, that goes something like this:
A well-liked village farmer rises each day, puts in a hard day's labor, and relaxes with his family and an evening meal at sunset. His favorite activities: Watching the sun set, playing with his grandchildren, and sharing stories of his childhood with loved ones.
On one such evening, a semi-retired businessman on vacation strolls past. Seeing the tired man and his dirty grandchildren playing in the mud, he offers:
"You should come work for my company. The hours are killer at first, but you will eventually become financially secure, and be able to take your family on vacation to places like this instead of working your fingers to the bone."
To which the wizened villager replies:
"Why should I put my nose to the grindstone, miss my family, and shorten my life with stress, when I have all I want right here? Keep your money and your prestige. This is the life for me.
Joggers plod away determinedly, in their high-tech togs. Gym-members faithfully attend their expensive facilities. I admire them, but for myself I ask: "Why lay out all that cash, when I can simply walk? It saves money in gas, and wear and tear on my vehicle. It's also uncommonly good for the environment."
And walking calms me. Something about the ability to shave minutes by simply speeding just a few miles per hour gets my heart racing. Can I squeeze in a quick grocery-store stop? Can I leave just a few minutes later? Can I sleep just a little longer? I'm stressed before even arriving at work, and who knows what the day will bring?
Walking is the way to go for me. I arrive at my destination refreshed, and ready to focus. I leave on time, and suddenly, work stays at work. At home I'm with my family, eating dinner with my husband and daughter. Magically, my work week has reduced to 50 hours per week (approximately). Living the life in the way I want, with the people I love, all for simply walking. My life feels truly blessed.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
1-11-11 5:08 pm Clarity:
"Carless Transportation" brings to mind transportation in absence of a car. A bicycle, scooter, or even a skateboard, anything other than a car. But the car itself commits no crime in operating as expected. On the contrary, vehicles outperform their designed life-expectancy on a regular basis. Why shun them?
I have nothing against cars themselves. Ours served us well when we decided to take a last-minute trip from Colorado to Kansas a few weeks ago. The freedom afforded by our well-maintained vehicle (thank you Harold) meant a great deal to my family and me at a time of some distress.
Today helped me clarify the purpose of my "carless transportation" mission. It's about conscientiously and intentionally deciding when to drive, carpool, walk, bike, etc. It's about responsibility rather than taking something for granted.
My second family and me, (as in those with whom I work) are a fairly responsible bunch. Whenever we have a common destination, say a meeting at the district office, carpooling is the norm. Our school happens to be geographically placed such that classes can and do take advantage of multiple destinations for "Walking Field Trips". And we care for one another. Today a teacher friend offered Anne and I a lift the rest of the trip home as he passed us along the way. He's practically a neighbor (we live on the same street less than a mile apart), and his kindness warmed us in more ways than one. When he stopped he asked: "Am I allowed to offer you a ride?"
So, for the anomalies in transportation I feel in the clear. I'm amenable to carpooling when we happily discover we're going to the same place at the same time, and I take advantage of public and mass transit when and where available. It's the daily trips that have me wondering: Why does it feel so easy to drive? I could try to arrange a carpool, say, with my neighbor teacher maybe? But something's stopping me. And since so few of us regularly carpool (at least in my circles of friends and acquaintances) could the same thing also be stopping others? Why are we so much more environmentally savvy handling "trips", than our daily routines?
Reflecting back on some previous blogs reminds me that there's a certain intimacy connected to having someone drop me off at home. There's the neighborhood, approximate property value, maybe the used Christmas tree on our porch, or a new vehicle displaying a recent large outlay of cash (just fantasizing) - all kinds of things a driver could judge. Not that they would. Not that I would. But it's a possibility.
Also, there's fear of imposition. Another teacher friend of mine, who also lives less than a mile away, was having car complications at the beginning of the school year. For about two weeks I gave her as many rides as she accepted. You'd have thought I was bringing her a $100 at each offering. She insisted on taking Anne one evening so Harold and I could have a date, to repay the kindness.
Then there's gas expenses, vehicle wear and tear, carpooling etiquette, farting, and the irregularities of meetings, practices - sports, theatrical, etc. There are doctor's appointments to consider. What if one of you wanted to see a therapist? It could change your schedule. How do you tell your partner in environmental stewardship that you have issues to work through, so the Wednesday schedule will change. What if you talk and reveal too much to that person with whom you share a ride? I mean, eventually it could happen. That 20 minutes you spend together in the car on a daily basis could amount to more alone time than you get with your spouse. Personal issues could come up.
Bottom line, carpooling feels pretty complex. I'd do it in a minute, commit to it for real, but you couldn't pay me to ask someone else to carpool. Damned if you do, for reasons mentioned above, and damned if you don't, for seeming like a gas-guzzling glutton. I'd never want to put someone in the position of worrying about how to refuse, or feeling pressured into accepting the offer.
Since the distance is 1.9 miles, I just feel like it's reasonable to walk, and because it's reasonable, I should walk so as not to take fuel for granted. It's non-renewable. Walking's great exercise to boot. It builds community (although the village grandfathers were absent this morning, hopefully still snoozing in their beds). Given the frigid temperatures, some are growing suspicious. Is everything OK? Are our cars working? Did we have to sell a vehicle? It seems they might be wondering why I'm walking, and taking my daughter with me. It just feels like the right thing to do. It feels so right that, despite the cold, the dark, and the snow, I'd need a pressing reason to bring our car to work.
Tomorrow several pressing reasons will see me driving, and I'm not worried about it. But the next day, that will be a test. After a few comfy trips in the car, will I continue to feel compelled by this conviction -this environmental commitment? Here's hoping so - cheers!
I have nothing against cars themselves. Ours served us well when we decided to take a last-minute trip from Colorado to Kansas a few weeks ago. The freedom afforded by our well-maintained vehicle (thank you Harold) meant a great deal to my family and me at a time of some distress.
Today helped me clarify the purpose of my "carless transportation" mission. It's about conscientiously and intentionally deciding when to drive, carpool, walk, bike, etc. It's about responsibility rather than taking something for granted.
My second family and me, (as in those with whom I work) are a fairly responsible bunch. Whenever we have a common destination, say a meeting at the district office, carpooling is the norm. Our school happens to be geographically placed such that classes can and do take advantage of multiple destinations for "Walking Field Trips". And we care for one another. Today a teacher friend offered Anne and I a lift the rest of the trip home as he passed us along the way. He's practically a neighbor (we live on the same street less than a mile apart), and his kindness warmed us in more ways than one. When he stopped he asked: "Am I allowed to offer you a ride?"
So, for the anomalies in transportation I feel in the clear. I'm amenable to carpooling when we happily discover we're going to the same place at the same time, and I take advantage of public and mass transit when and where available. It's the daily trips that have me wondering: Why does it feel so easy to drive? I could try to arrange a carpool, say, with my neighbor teacher maybe? But something's stopping me. And since so few of us regularly carpool (at least in my circles of friends and acquaintances) could the same thing also be stopping others? Why are we so much more environmentally savvy handling "trips", than our daily routines?
Reflecting back on some previous blogs reminds me that there's a certain intimacy connected to having someone drop me off at home. There's the neighborhood, approximate property value, maybe the used Christmas tree on our porch, or a new vehicle displaying a recent large outlay of cash (just fantasizing) - all kinds of things a driver could judge. Not that they would. Not that I would. But it's a possibility.
Also, there's fear of imposition. Another teacher friend of mine, who also lives less than a mile away, was having car complications at the beginning of the school year. For about two weeks I gave her as many rides as she accepted. You'd have thought I was bringing her a $100 at each offering. She insisted on taking Anne one evening so Harold and I could have a date, to repay the kindness.
Then there's gas expenses, vehicle wear and tear, carpooling etiquette, farting, and the irregularities of meetings, practices - sports, theatrical, etc. There are doctor's appointments to consider. What if one of you wanted to see a therapist? It could change your schedule. How do you tell your partner in environmental stewardship that you have issues to work through, so the Wednesday schedule will change. What if you talk and reveal too much to that person with whom you share a ride? I mean, eventually it could happen. That 20 minutes you spend together in the car on a daily basis could amount to more alone time than you get with your spouse. Personal issues could come up.
Bottom line, carpooling feels pretty complex. I'd do it in a minute, commit to it for real, but you couldn't pay me to ask someone else to carpool. Damned if you do, for reasons mentioned above, and damned if you don't, for seeming like a gas-guzzling glutton. I'd never want to put someone in the position of worrying about how to refuse, or feeling pressured into accepting the offer.
Since the distance is 1.9 miles, I just feel like it's reasonable to walk, and because it's reasonable, I should walk so as not to take fuel for granted. It's non-renewable. Walking's great exercise to boot. It builds community (although the village grandfathers were absent this morning, hopefully still snoozing in their beds). Given the frigid temperatures, some are growing suspicious. Is everything OK? Are our cars working? Did we have to sell a vehicle? It seems they might be wondering why I'm walking, and taking my daughter with me. It just feels like the right thing to do. It feels so right that, despite the cold, the dark, and the snow, I'd need a pressing reason to bring our car to work.
Tomorrow several pressing reasons will see me driving, and I'm not worried about it. But the next day, that will be a test. After a few comfy trips in the car, will I continue to feel compelled by this conviction -this environmental commitment? Here's hoping so - cheers!
Monday, January 10, 2011
1-10-11 8:18 pm Victory!
You may be thinking: "It's only been five days - victory already?" And victory over what? That remains to be determined, but today feels like a victory none the less. According to my sources at work, the temperature dipped to four degrees Fahrenheit around the time I was walking in. I did it anyway. Despite doubts, viable excuses, and slippery walks, it happened.
What's more, Anne and I also walked home together. We had reassuring offers for rides, thanks to caring friends, and certainly a few doubtful looks from teachers wondering whether Anne was adequately dressed. But the walk felt refreshing. (And she was fine, by they way). Today we spent the hour (Anne loves to kick at the snow and watch the crystal flakes disperse, which adds about 15 minutes to the trip) reviewing her spelling bee word list. Her ability to observe the snow, exert herself, keep warm, and study all at the same time surprised and impressed me.
The exercise felt good. My body responds well to regular balanced exercise, and walking certainly fills that bill. On the way in I saw four or five senior men out, shoveling, hand-plowing, or sweeping. Their cars and trucks were inside, turned off. Maybe they actually wanted to be out there in the frigid temperatures. These men were getting their exercise and protecting pedestrians' safety. They'd accomplished something already at an early hour.
They all wore huge grins on their faces. Their spirits seemed boosted by the brisk air and maybe even because they felt needed, useful, industrious. Each greeted me warmly, and some even wanted to chat.
"Great day for skiing!", "At least it's a light snow!" "Have a nice day!" Their words of encouragement warmed my heart while my hair and hood froze to my cheeks. Remembering them makes me smile.
Driving seems a progressively less attractive alternative for transportation. Tomorrow even colder temperatures, possibly below zero, may occur. That's what the weather report predicts. So I add another layer. Harold prefers to think of me conveyed in a warm, locked, two-ton machine. Safe-and-sound. But I look forward to the walk, and maybe I prefer it.
When the sun brightens the sky earlier in the day, beautiful sunrises will greet me on the way to school. Of course I prefer that over the dark early morning winter skies. But it's solitude either way. It's cleaner to walk rather than drive no matter what time of year I do it. It's exercise all the same. And maybe a few grandpas will be out to shout "Good Morning again, young lady!" to me as I make my way to school.
What's more, Anne and I also walked home together. We had reassuring offers for rides, thanks to caring friends, and certainly a few doubtful looks from teachers wondering whether Anne was adequately dressed. But the walk felt refreshing. (And she was fine, by they way). Today we spent the hour (Anne loves to kick at the snow and watch the crystal flakes disperse, which adds about 15 minutes to the trip) reviewing her spelling bee word list. Her ability to observe the snow, exert herself, keep warm, and study all at the same time surprised and impressed me.
The exercise felt good. My body responds well to regular balanced exercise, and walking certainly fills that bill. On the way in I saw four or five senior men out, shoveling, hand-plowing, or sweeping. Their cars and trucks were inside, turned off. Maybe they actually wanted to be out there in the frigid temperatures. These men were getting their exercise and protecting pedestrians' safety. They'd accomplished something already at an early hour.
They all wore huge grins on their faces. Their spirits seemed boosted by the brisk air and maybe even because they felt needed, useful, industrious. Each greeted me warmly, and some even wanted to chat.
"Great day for skiing!", "At least it's a light snow!" "Have a nice day!" Their words of encouragement warmed my heart while my hair and hood froze to my cheeks. Remembering them makes me smile.
Driving seems a progressively less attractive alternative for transportation. Tomorrow even colder temperatures, possibly below zero, may occur. That's what the weather report predicts. So I add another layer. Harold prefers to think of me conveyed in a warm, locked, two-ton machine. Safe-and-sound. But I look forward to the walk, and maybe I prefer it.
When the sun brightens the sky earlier in the day, beautiful sunrises will greet me on the way to school. Of course I prefer that over the dark early morning winter skies. But it's solitude either way. It's cleaner to walk rather than drive no matter what time of year I do it. It's exercise all the same. And maybe a few grandpas will be out to shout "Good Morning again, young lady!" to me as I make my way to school.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
1-9-11 12:35 pm More Learnings:
My eco-calculator tells me that if I walk to and from school every day, for an approximate total of 720 miles, I'll conserve 49.2 pounds of CO2. But what does that really mean for preserving the health of our environment? According to cutdowncarbon.com, carbon is "responsible for about 80% of the problems related to greenhouse gas emissions." I want to know more specifically how I'm directly impacting the environment and our economy by driving less.
Tomorrow will be an interesting walk - if it keeps snowing, there'll be about 6 inches on the ground. Shoveled sidewalks cover about 50% of the distance. That means about half the folks living along my route are inside, maybe sipping hot chocolate, and the other half will go out and clear the way. Well, to all I say, "Either enjoy the cocoa", or, "Thanks!"
Zoomba class starts tomorrow. We'll have to leave school in plenty of time to get home. Since half the sidewalks my be covered in snow, it could be slower going. What does one wear to a zoomba dance class?
What impact have cars had on our daily social lives? How have changes in transportation impacted history, the economy, and society as a whole? We were at Barnes & Noble yesterday, and I thought I'd do some reading about transportation. (Yes we drove, but it was a carpool of three - that's OK with me.) So, I wondered over to the "Transportation" section. In one word, it was all about "destinations". Clearly, I need to cast a broader net of inquiry in order to answer these questions.
Committing to driving less will help me understand how using a car for transportation truly effects my life and help me appreciate more of what I already have. It's the "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" theory, but applied to driving. But my wondering goes deeper. I'm interested in knowing more about the indirect effects so I can make more informed decisions about how I live my life. Every action causes a reaction. Each decision has an outcome. What are the hidden effects of driving?
One result is clearly more exercise. I walked 14 miles last week. And it occurred in regular, small intervals. That seems like a good thing. Sore muscles and blisters were my biggest challenges, but because the intervals were small, those things merely slowed me down, forced me to do a little problem-solving. All for the benefit of free exercise, quiet time to meditate, and more meaningful conversations with Anne. So far the effects of not driving seem to be only good. What's more, yesterday I felt like getting out for a walk.
Feeling a desire to get out and move refreshed my spirits, and gave me faith that my body still contains the capacity to enjoy exerting itself. With my 40th birthday just around the corner, this begins to relieve a secret dread I harbor: What will happen when my body starts to get older? Clearly, grey hair, wrinkles, perhaps a few achy joints all come with age. But some people look younger than their years.
In general my body has been fairly resilient. Three major events that could have had devastating effects on the human body seemed to have left me fairly whole: I've been bounced across the floor four to six times (don't ask), fallen off a 10-foot bridge, (again, probably better not to go there), and had a successful pregnancy/delivery. After all that, I have my balance, all unbroken bones, and a stretch-mark free tummy. So, maybe aging will be kind to me like the other traumas. Maybe aging will be more of a progression than an trauma. Perhaps walking more will teach me more about my physical being.
Tomorrow will be an interesting walk - if it keeps snowing, there'll be about 6 inches on the ground. Shoveled sidewalks cover about 50% of the distance. That means about half the folks living along my route are inside, maybe sipping hot chocolate, and the other half will go out and clear the way. Well, to all I say, "Either enjoy the cocoa", or, "Thanks!"
Zoomba class starts tomorrow. We'll have to leave school in plenty of time to get home. Since half the sidewalks my be covered in snow, it could be slower going. What does one wear to a zoomba dance class?
What impact have cars had on our daily social lives? How have changes in transportation impacted history, the economy, and society as a whole? We were at Barnes & Noble yesterday, and I thought I'd do some reading about transportation. (Yes we drove, but it was a carpool of three - that's OK with me.) So, I wondered over to the "Transportation" section. In one word, it was all about "destinations". Clearly, I need to cast a broader net of inquiry in order to answer these questions.
Committing to driving less will help me understand how using a car for transportation truly effects my life and help me appreciate more of what I already have. It's the "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" theory, but applied to driving. But my wondering goes deeper. I'm interested in knowing more about the indirect effects so I can make more informed decisions about how I live my life. Every action causes a reaction. Each decision has an outcome. What are the hidden effects of driving?
One result is clearly more exercise. I walked 14 miles last week. And it occurred in regular, small intervals. That seems like a good thing. Sore muscles and blisters were my biggest challenges, but because the intervals were small, those things merely slowed me down, forced me to do a little problem-solving. All for the benefit of free exercise, quiet time to meditate, and more meaningful conversations with Anne. So far the effects of not driving seem to be only good. What's more, yesterday I felt like getting out for a walk.
Feeling a desire to get out and move refreshed my spirits, and gave me faith that my body still contains the capacity to enjoy exerting itself. With my 40th birthday just around the corner, this begins to relieve a secret dread I harbor: What will happen when my body starts to get older? Clearly, grey hair, wrinkles, perhaps a few achy joints all come with age. But some people look younger than their years.
In general my body has been fairly resilient. Three major events that could have had devastating effects on the human body seemed to have left me fairly whole: I've been bounced across the floor four to six times (don't ask), fallen off a 10-foot bridge, (again, probably better not to go there), and had a successful pregnancy/delivery. After all that, I have my balance, all unbroken bones, and a stretch-mark free tummy. So, maybe aging will be kind to me like the other traumas. Maybe aging will be more of a progression than an trauma. Perhaps walking more will teach me more about my physical being.
Friday, January 7, 2011
1-7-11 12:10 pm On Community
What are the implications of driving on our capacity to build community? A new destination and arrival time for today gave me an extra hour in bed this morning. And the more I thought about it, the more sense it made to ask my husband drop me off, on his way to taking our daughter to school.
At first it felt close to cheating, after all, there I was using gasoline. But like yesterday, we were definitely carpooling. And we began our day together. The conversation was light, and our time was short, but all the same, kisses, "I love you"s, and "Have a good day" greetings were exchanged. That warm memory has kept me company all day.
I'm prepared to walk home. The backpack is heavy, but it's all there will be to carry. And the distance is short. A couple of people here know about my mission, and this blog (thanks for reading!), so maybe someone will offer me a ride home. But that's beside the point.
When I look ahead at this year as a whole, it's pretty likely that I'll get a few more rides now and then. What might it be like for people to know where I live? What does seeing someone's house tell you about a person; what could people infer about me and my family?
We live in a small home built around 1910, in the heart of downtown. Some drivers might notice the quaint neighborhood. Others might evaluate the area based on average home price (which is low.) Still others be reminded of their own childhood neighborhood, and associate seeing my home with those memories. For us, our home means three things: location, location, location. We're close to so many things, and we love the solid wood flooring and doors. We also love having a small house as it's less to clean.
Regardless of others' inferences about me and my family based on our home, connections will be made when others come here, even if they stay in their cars. We were fortunate to host someone with whom I work closely, for a short working visit over the winter break. While she didn't give us a ride that day, she comes to mind as I think about building relationships. It was a peaceful visit, we got a bit of work accomplished, and more than that we made a connection. She saw our Christmas decorations, noticed our other decor, played around on our piano, and complimented our living space. That positive experience gave us a new, palpable layer of relating to one another. As it was happening I knew we were adding a new dimention, however small, our relationship. When we saw each other next at work, there was an added depth to our greeting. This new connection gives dimention to our working relationship.
I guess there's always risk in making connections. What if someone you invite to your home decides it's ok to show up unannounced at some later date? What if a guest chooses to think ill of you based on your taste in color? Opening myself, our home, and the logistics of my life to involve others means being willing to take these kinds of risks. But so far, they are paying off in spades. I feel closer to friends, family, and co-workers.
What other avenues of building relationship work? Under what other circumstances could I make such connections with others? I rarely see co-workers outside of work. In regards to my family, it's becoming more and more the case that we're living according to our own schedules and need to be intentional about finding time to enjoy one another. We've lived across the street from several houses for almost a decade, and their occupants are complete strangers to us. Somehow opening my life in a way that reducing my driving enables is, by default, supporting my capacity to build community in my personal and professional life.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
1-6-11 5:52 pm Day 4, On Balance
Balance puts things to rights on so many levels.
Today was the first day I found myself closer to school, sooner than expected. Dare I say I may be getting used to the walk? It's only two miles, but 45 minutes to an hour is a long walk in my book, and when it's dark (as during these winter months), it seems even longer.
This morning darkness and quietude have given me time to divide the routine into fraction-sections. 24ths, precisely. Mind you these are not distance fractions, but more sections by landmarks. 3/24 of the walk are from home to Truscott Elementary. 12/24 go from there to the intersection of Lake and the west turn-off to 29th street. 6/24 of that 1/2 are along Garfield, from Truscott to the lighted intersection at Highway 34. 6/24 take me from there to where Lake heads west off of Garfield. And the last 6/24 of that 12/24 go from the first stop sign on Lake, to the aforementioned intersection of Lake and 29th street. The last 3/24 of the walk are from Lake and 29th to Lincoln Elementary, where Anne attends school, and I have the privilege of working.
The balance among all those fractions? The word routine applied to any part of this endeavor indicates a bit of balance. Calm throughout the day, afforded by a healthy walk at the start, feels like balance. Looking forward to the journey home brings joy to my day. That'll bring balance to any lurking misery I've learned to take for granted.
I tried the hood today, and as soon as I stepped outside it became clear this would result in even curlier hair. And it did. In addition to holding my hair in place, it also trapped the heat from my head. Mixed with the cold air from outside, a significant amount of condensation seemed to materialize. Add to that good ol' fashioned sweat, and it seemed this morning's primping was extraneous. Ah well. Maybe my coworker was right. If I'm gonna do this, I'd better do my hair at work. I'll have to ask my stylist about it - maybe she can help.
Where's the balance? Maybe it's in sticking to the plan regardless of these little speed-bumps. The hair is a solvable problem. The benefits far outweigh it anyway. I'm calmer throughout my day. I work less, which is a healthy step in the right direction. Work is more a pleasurable experience for me now than before, when I thought I was already pretty happy. Enjoying my students more? That's a win-win for all of us.
I'd grown accustomed to taking a certain amount of misery for granted at work. Working at an elementary school can get anyone used to feeling like there's too much to do, all the time. Then we get used to feeling overwhelmed, and then even when things could really be in balance, they seem unmanageable anyway. Resisting the temptation to stay feeling overwhelmed can feel like a Herculean effort.
I have a substitute coming in tomorrow and Monday. Most teachers avoid being gone because setting up for it is a big job. It's well-worth avoiding. I resisted getting ready until the last hours today. It was only after I'd definitely decided to adhere to my vow to drive less, that I really felt motivated to prepare for the next two days. It would have been much more like me to drive in at 5 am, set up for the sub, then drive to my destination away from school, then go back to school, clean up from Friday, and set up for Monday's sub. That would have been two full trips back and forth to school, simply due to procrastination. That's 8 miles of needless driving. My phone eco-calculator application tells me that I'm conserving almost 1/2 a pound of co2, simply by...living simply.
And it gets better. Forcing myself to get completely ready for two days of subs today inspired more healthy choices. Instead of crafting highly complex plans for new and exciting activities to make up to students for my being gone, it seemed wiser to simply continue the work routines we've already begun. That will make life easier on everyone, while supporting continued learning. We all win. And I found that preparing was an entirely doable task.
Feeling this level of competence during work made interruptions feel like welcome breaths of fresh air (part of my job involves a rotating door of "interruptions"). Today these really felt like opportunities. I'll go farther and say that my increased presence of mind enabled me to do my job better. Building more trust made me a much better coach. Whether my co-workers agree will reveal itself later, but for now at least I feel I'm doing my job better, and enjoying it more.
It's also possible that I'm making more reasonable choices. Since I'll be away from school tomorrow, there's the issue of getting Anne home. It's two miles, and she knows the route by heart. She's more than capable of navigating her way home successfully. But what about the rest of the world? Would she get home unmolested? Believe me when I say the choice required some thought, and seeking input from others, that's how bent I am on avoiding using petroleum.
Harold was much quicker to suggest that she needed another option. Obviously, agreed. Without outward argument, or inner turmoil I felt relieved at hearing his thoughts. Yet it's still important to me to avoid driving. So I sought out other options, and one turned up. This is all sounding so utterly reasonable. It's a new me!
Then there was getting home today. My after school meeting ran longer than I'd planned, as my calendar contained some fuzzy details. At any rate, I asked a friend to drive us home as we live on her way, and were leaving at the same time. It didn't feel like a violation of my plan. For one thing, we were carpooling. For another, I wasn't at the wheel. But above all was the very reasonableness of getting home before dark.
When my daughter sees me living my life, these balanced decisions are what I want her to notice. Sure I'll stay up until the wee hours to finish a project, and she'll certainly have that opportunity herself someday, very likely. But in order for that sort of thing to be her exception, rather than her norm, I feel she needs to see balance in her parents' choices. Living with balance and reasonable decisions is fairly new for me in this context. It's growth.
Driving home with a friend also helped build community. She shared on the ride that she's enrolling in a Zoomba class, and when I gasped with envy, she invited me to join her! She needs a friend, she said, and now I get to engage in a fun activity with some favorite company. And Anne was there to see me get excited about something other than a job well-done. That feels like living, which is really what I most want for both of us.
Today was the first day I found myself closer to school, sooner than expected. Dare I say I may be getting used to the walk? It's only two miles, but 45 minutes to an hour is a long walk in my book, and when it's dark (as during these winter months), it seems even longer.
This morning darkness and quietude have given me time to divide the routine into fraction-sections. 24ths, precisely. Mind you these are not distance fractions, but more sections by landmarks. 3/24 of the walk are from home to Truscott Elementary. 12/24 go from there to the intersection of Lake and the west turn-off to 29th street. 6/24 of that 1/2 are along Garfield, from Truscott to the lighted intersection at Highway 34. 6/24 take me from there to where Lake heads west off of Garfield. And the last 6/24 of that 12/24 go from the first stop sign on Lake, to the aforementioned intersection of Lake and 29th street. The last 3/24 of the walk are from Lake and 29th to Lincoln Elementary, where Anne attends school, and I have the privilege of working.
The balance among all those fractions? The word routine applied to any part of this endeavor indicates a bit of balance. Calm throughout the day, afforded by a healthy walk at the start, feels like balance. Looking forward to the journey home brings joy to my day. That'll bring balance to any lurking misery I've learned to take for granted.
I tried the hood today, and as soon as I stepped outside it became clear this would result in even curlier hair. And it did. In addition to holding my hair in place, it also trapped the heat from my head. Mixed with the cold air from outside, a significant amount of condensation seemed to materialize. Add to that good ol' fashioned sweat, and it seemed this morning's primping was extraneous. Ah well. Maybe my coworker was right. If I'm gonna do this, I'd better do my hair at work. I'll have to ask my stylist about it - maybe she can help.
Where's the balance? Maybe it's in sticking to the plan regardless of these little speed-bumps. The hair is a solvable problem. The benefits far outweigh it anyway. I'm calmer throughout my day. I work less, which is a healthy step in the right direction. Work is more a pleasurable experience for me now than before, when I thought I was already pretty happy. Enjoying my students more? That's a win-win for all of us.
I'd grown accustomed to taking a certain amount of misery for granted at work. Working at an elementary school can get anyone used to feeling like there's too much to do, all the time. Then we get used to feeling overwhelmed, and then even when things could really be in balance, they seem unmanageable anyway. Resisting the temptation to stay feeling overwhelmed can feel like a Herculean effort.
I have a substitute coming in tomorrow and Monday. Most teachers avoid being gone because setting up for it is a big job. It's well-worth avoiding. I resisted getting ready until the last hours today. It was only after I'd definitely decided to adhere to my vow to drive less, that I really felt motivated to prepare for the next two days. It would have been much more like me to drive in at 5 am, set up for the sub, then drive to my destination away from school, then go back to school, clean up from Friday, and set up for Monday's sub. That would have been two full trips back and forth to school, simply due to procrastination. That's 8 miles of needless driving. My phone eco-calculator application tells me that I'm conserving almost 1/2 a pound of co2, simply by...living simply.
And it gets better. Forcing myself to get completely ready for two days of subs today inspired more healthy choices. Instead of crafting highly complex plans for new and exciting activities to make up to students for my being gone, it seemed wiser to simply continue the work routines we've already begun. That will make life easier on everyone, while supporting continued learning. We all win. And I found that preparing was an entirely doable task.
Feeling this level of competence during work made interruptions feel like welcome breaths of fresh air (part of my job involves a rotating door of "interruptions"). Today these really felt like opportunities. I'll go farther and say that my increased presence of mind enabled me to do my job better. Building more trust made me a much better coach. Whether my co-workers agree will reveal itself later, but for now at least I feel I'm doing my job better, and enjoying it more.
It's also possible that I'm making more reasonable choices. Since I'll be away from school tomorrow, there's the issue of getting Anne home. It's two miles, and she knows the route by heart. She's more than capable of navigating her way home successfully. But what about the rest of the world? Would she get home unmolested? Believe me when I say the choice required some thought, and seeking input from others, that's how bent I am on avoiding using petroleum.
Harold was much quicker to suggest that she needed another option. Obviously, agreed. Without outward argument, or inner turmoil I felt relieved at hearing his thoughts. Yet it's still important to me to avoid driving. So I sought out other options, and one turned up. This is all sounding so utterly reasonable. It's a new me!
Then there was getting home today. My after school meeting ran longer than I'd planned, as my calendar contained some fuzzy details. At any rate, I asked a friend to drive us home as we live on her way, and were leaving at the same time. It didn't feel like a violation of my plan. For one thing, we were carpooling. For another, I wasn't at the wheel. But above all was the very reasonableness of getting home before dark.
When my daughter sees me living my life, these balanced decisions are what I want her to notice. Sure I'll stay up until the wee hours to finish a project, and she'll certainly have that opportunity herself someday, very likely. But in order for that sort of thing to be her exception, rather than her norm, I feel she needs to see balance in her parents' choices. Living with balance and reasonable decisions is fairly new for me in this context. It's growth.
Driving home with a friend also helped build community. She shared on the ride that she's enrolling in a Zoomba class, and when I gasped with envy, she invited me to join her! She needs a friend, she said, and now I get to engage in a fun activity with some favorite company. And Anne was there to see me get excited about something other than a job well-done. That feels like living, which is really what I most want for both of us.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
1-5-11 6:33 pm - Day 3 "Missery should not be taken for granted."
This entry was going to be called "My hair or the gas", because it seems that all this walking affects appearances.
But walking home with Anne changed plans. Again. She's full of profundity. For example during a discussion with my mother about emoting (Anne was about 2 at the time), our own Little Miss Peeps piped up and said "Grown-ups hard to cry. Babies good criers." Of course her observation nailed it. Children wear their emotions on their sleeves, especially babies. Grown-ups repress them. What two-year-old verbalizes what adults are hard-pressed to admit?
Today her observation was that "missery shoiuld not be taken for granted." That required some thought. The context was a discussion about seating arrangements in Library Skills class, and her contemplating whether or not to take action to ammend a problem. I'd added a comment about living life joyfully. And then she said: "Misery should not be taken for granted." It was the "taken for granted" part that gave pause.
When we take something for granted, we're letting it be, whether it's good, or in need of improvement; we let it lie. She verbalized an important, profound observation. We sometimes even let missery survive, taking the situation for granted. It is, so it must therefore continue to be. The safety is in predictability rather than improving things.
She may or may not take action, but now I'm wondering: what missery might I be taking for granted? What about my friends? Family? The world at large? I'm also on a mission to exist in an etirely positive state of being. Every problem has a solution. Every cloud a silver lining. This was another invitation to search the cobwebbed corners of life, and blow out missery with the powerful force of positivity. Thank you, Anne.
As for my hair, this morning thoughts of other countries and culters surfaced as I wondered: what do daily life routines mean for citizens in places where car transportation is reserved for a select few? Going carless is certainly changing my daily routines. If villagers in India have to walk everywhere, and live without running water, no wonder their scent is strong. If there's no toilet paper in some Middle Eastern countries, no wonder they reserve the left had for certain activities.
What expectations about our appearances do things like cars, modern plumming and a seemingly endless supply of dry-goods place on us? Pile on a little publicity al a Hollywood and modern media, and our dependence on cars, water, cosmetics, and plastic surgeons, and expectations for instant gratification begin to make sense. Americans are not bad people for driving 3 miles to and from work every day. We're just rising to the expectations all our modern conveniences have placed upon us.
Now the rub: How do I, existing in our Americal culture of high expectations for appearances, also live responsibly as a carbon-footprint-minimizing citizen? One friend suggested doing my hair at work. I'd have to double my supply of hair-dryers, spray, brushes; this is beginnign to sound like more consumption of plastics, chemicals, and petrolium products.
Maybe the solution is the head-scarf. Do my hair, then loosely wrap it in a kerchief of some kind or other. I'm nearly 40, and this is sounding uncomfortably grandmotherly to me. It may take some more thought. I could wear my hair up, but that's a less-than-flattering style on me. The American expecation is that we'll look our best, wearing styles that accentuate the positive. An up-do falls short. But this is another opportunity to be positive. I'll try wearing my hood tomorrow.
Two friends saw me walking to work today. One even read yesterday's blog posting (thank you!) It's nice to have company on this adventure. I certainly feel I'm taking the road less-traveled.
But walking home with Anne changed plans. Again. She's full of profundity. For example during a discussion with my mother about emoting (Anne was about 2 at the time), our own Little Miss Peeps piped up and said "Grown-ups hard to cry. Babies good criers." Of course her observation nailed it. Children wear their emotions on their sleeves, especially babies. Grown-ups repress them. What two-year-old verbalizes what adults are hard-pressed to admit?
Today her observation was that "missery shoiuld not be taken for granted." That required some thought. The context was a discussion about seating arrangements in Library Skills class, and her contemplating whether or not to take action to ammend a problem. I'd added a comment about living life joyfully. And then she said: "Misery should not be taken for granted." It was the "taken for granted" part that gave pause.
When we take something for granted, we're letting it be, whether it's good, or in need of improvement; we let it lie. She verbalized an important, profound observation. We sometimes even let missery survive, taking the situation for granted. It is, so it must therefore continue to be. The safety is in predictability rather than improving things.
She may or may not take action, but now I'm wondering: what missery might I be taking for granted? What about my friends? Family? The world at large? I'm also on a mission to exist in an etirely positive state of being. Every problem has a solution. Every cloud a silver lining. This was another invitation to search the cobwebbed corners of life, and blow out missery with the powerful force of positivity. Thank you, Anne.
As for my hair, this morning thoughts of other countries and culters surfaced as I wondered: what do daily life routines mean for citizens in places where car transportation is reserved for a select few? Going carless is certainly changing my daily routines. If villagers in India have to walk everywhere, and live without running water, no wonder their scent is strong. If there's no toilet paper in some Middle Eastern countries, no wonder they reserve the left had for certain activities.
What expectations about our appearances do things like cars, modern plumming and a seemingly endless supply of dry-goods place on us? Pile on a little publicity al a Hollywood and modern media, and our dependence on cars, water, cosmetics, and plastic surgeons, and expectations for instant gratification begin to make sense. Americans are not bad people for driving 3 miles to and from work every day. We're just rising to the expectations all our modern conveniences have placed upon us.
Now the rub: How do I, existing in our Americal culture of high expectations for appearances, also live responsibly as a carbon-footprint-minimizing citizen? One friend suggested doing my hair at work. I'd have to double my supply of hair-dryers, spray, brushes; this is beginnign to sound like more consumption of plastics, chemicals, and petrolium products.
Maybe the solution is the head-scarf. Do my hair, then loosely wrap it in a kerchief of some kind or other. I'm nearly 40, and this is sounding uncomfortably grandmotherly to me. It may take some more thought. I could wear my hair up, but that's a less-than-flattering style on me. The American expecation is that we'll look our best, wearing styles that accentuate the positive. An up-do falls short. But this is another opportunity to be positive. I'll try wearing my hood tomorrow.
Two friends saw me walking to work today. One even read yesterday's blog posting (thank you!) It's nice to have company on this adventure. I certainly feel I'm taking the road less-traveled.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
1-4-11 5:44 pm Walk-on
4 miles into my carlss transportation adventure, I have sore legs, a large blister on my left heel., and a sack-load of guilt. Not exactly the results I was hoping for, but it's early. The sore legs are actually exciting - surely it's a good sign. The blister will heal. And the guilt is probably undeserved.
Harold dropped the car off at John's Uptown Auto, our trusty mechanic, earlier today. He knew I was walking. And he knows I don't walk on the one-way street with no sidewalk or cross-walk intersections where John's business lives. To top it off, it's three or four blocks out of my way when I walk home from work.
It's ok with me that I decided not to pick up the car. Harold should have asked me during the planning phase if I'd be willing to do it, rather than just before the end of the day. And since he didn't, the chips fall where they will. But I tacitly agreed to the task just before leaving work. Then I remembered, as we approached the turn-off, this place is out of our way, Anne was along, it's icey, and I have this blister. The car will defniately stay where it is until Harold makes another plan. But the residual guilt from my earlier tacit agreement is nagging.
Hopefully I won't be too sore to walk to school tomorrow. These endeavors have a way of responding to momentum. The more times we walk, the more likely we'll do it again. Here's hoping!
Harold dropped the car off at John's Uptown Auto, our trusty mechanic, earlier today. He knew I was walking. And he knows I don't walk on the one-way street with no sidewalk or cross-walk intersections where John's business lives. To top it off, it's three or four blocks out of my way when I walk home from work.
It's ok with me that I decided not to pick up the car. Harold should have asked me during the planning phase if I'd be willing to do it, rather than just before the end of the day. And since he didn't, the chips fall where they will. But I tacitly agreed to the task just before leaving work. Then I remembered, as we approached the turn-off, this place is out of our way, Anne was along, it's icey, and I have this blister. The car will defniately stay where it is until Harold makes another plan. But the residual guilt from my earlier tacit agreement is nagging.
Hopefully I won't be too sore to walk to school tomorrow. These endeavors have a way of responding to momentum. The more times we walk, the more likely we'll do it again. Here's hoping!
Monday, January 3, 2011
1-3-11 1:20 p.m. Gas-me-Not!
I've used cars for about half my life. In elementary school I was a "walker", as opposed to a "busser". In middle and high school I became a "busser", but that's mass transit. Hardly the caleber of fuel-wasting, single-passenger transport claimed by cars. For the year I worked between high school and college, I walked to and from my apartment to work, or took the city bus. In college I lived on campus, so I could walk, bike, or take the city bus to wherever I needed or wanted to go. So far, my carbon foot print was pretty light.
Then I got married. At 22 I became part-owner of one Toyota 2x4 pick-up, Garnet Pearl. By 23 we'd also aquired a Nissan Sentra, model E. No radio, manual windows and transmission. It was bare-bones, but a gas-guzzling machine none-the-less. I was it's primary driver - sometimes 5 miles, sometimes 50.
Five years later we had our daughter, Anne, and the madness escallated. After all, I was a stay-at-home mom. The baby needed playdates, Kindermusic, and trips to the zoo. I remember one year in particular, when Anne was smitten with living creatures of all kinds, we guzzled our way to the Denver Zoo on a weekly, and sometimes semi-weekly basis. Living 50 miles north was no deterrent. What else was there to do, but indulge her in this seemingly harmless way?
She started school, and I started back to work, and the petroleum pig-out continued, unabated. I have wanted to stop or at least slow down. Her school and my work are both a mere two miles away. It'd be easy enough to walk or bike.
Making an even stronger case for carless transportation, we live within blocks of the library, at least two grocery stores, a great gym, restaurants, a theatre, coffee shops, a great book store, and even more shopping. We verily purchased our home based on pedestrianability of its address. So, what's the problem?
I wish I knew, but for almost a decade this desire for carless transportation has bedeviled me. This year will see my 40th year on this carbon-based life-form planet. I hereby resolve that the madness will calm. I will walk, during which time meditation, exercise, noticings, and lovely conversations with Anne will occur. Or maybe I will just keep driving. But this is the year I will try. I will try to walk, bike, hitch a ride, bus, or telecommute my way everywhere.
Some days it will simply mean getting my work done at work. Walking home for two miles with 40 lbs in tow is out of the question. Other days it could mean walking with Anne to the Post Office, picking up Harold's (my wonderful husband and her father) car, and driving her to piano lessons from there. The P.O. is only a mile from school and work. He can walk home. If he agrees. Otherwise, maybe we'll bike home, then catch a bus to Mrs. Bashford's. At any rate, life will necessitate some degree of cooperation and coordination. Harold's on board in theory. We'll see how he feels when the time comes.
For those of you lucky enough to live in a pedestrian society, or a very bike-friendly city like Portlan, Oregon, this may seem a small endeavor. A pittence. What's the big deal? I'm getting older, that's what it is. I feel a moral obligation to conserve as much as I reasonably can, leaving a cleaner planet for generations to come. Clearly my body needs more regular exercise, and my daughter is becoming a young woman. All these forces conspire together to bring me to the obvious conclusion that walking is the answer. It's the answer to working smarter not harder (I'm a teacher and Instructional Coach at an elementary school. Our work is continual), it reduces polution, conserves the use of a costly machine (namely, the car), provides regular exercise, and conversation with Anne.
The conversation that walks elicit are different than any other conversation setting. It's private, but with the benefit of distractions. Tough topics and even the rogue tear can easily be concealed by glancing in a new direction, where there'll likely be something new to pretend to notice. Ambulatory movement brings glucosamine to the brain, strengthening neural connections, and the visual and olfactory senses are stimulated. She'll talk much more openly with me when we're walking, and I'll be thinking ever-so-much-more clearly.
It's scary. Tomorrow will be the 4th of January in Colorado. In a word, cold. I'll need snow pants, a long down coat, scarf, serious mittens (the kind used for skiing, rather than the thin knit kind used for...show?), boots, and heavy clothes. In the backpack will go a light lunch, a book, and by wallet and keys. That's it. Oh! Sunglasses. I'll need them for the return walk home. The morning will still be dark at 6 a.m.
Ah! The other issue. Besides bringing loads of work home, which I rarely touch anyway, the car allows me to sleep a bit later and still arrive at work before seven a.m. Walking will mean early rising.
We'll see how it goes.
Then I got married. At 22 I became part-owner of one Toyota 2x4 pick-up, Garnet Pearl. By 23 we'd also aquired a Nissan Sentra, model E. No radio, manual windows and transmission. It was bare-bones, but a gas-guzzling machine none-the-less. I was it's primary driver - sometimes 5 miles, sometimes 50.
Five years later we had our daughter, Anne, and the madness escallated. After all, I was a stay-at-home mom. The baby needed playdates, Kindermusic, and trips to the zoo. I remember one year in particular, when Anne was smitten with living creatures of all kinds, we guzzled our way to the Denver Zoo on a weekly, and sometimes semi-weekly basis. Living 50 miles north was no deterrent. What else was there to do, but indulge her in this seemingly harmless way?
She started school, and I started back to work, and the petroleum pig-out continued, unabated. I have wanted to stop or at least slow down. Her school and my work are both a mere two miles away. It'd be easy enough to walk or bike.
Making an even stronger case for carless transportation, we live within blocks of the library, at least two grocery stores, a great gym, restaurants, a theatre, coffee shops, a great book store, and even more shopping. We verily purchased our home based on pedestrianability of its address. So, what's the problem?
I wish I knew, but for almost a decade this desire for carless transportation has bedeviled me. This year will see my 40th year on this carbon-based life-form planet. I hereby resolve that the madness will calm. I will walk, during which time meditation, exercise, noticings, and lovely conversations with Anne will occur. Or maybe I will just keep driving. But this is the year I will try. I will try to walk, bike, hitch a ride, bus, or telecommute my way everywhere.
Some days it will simply mean getting my work done at work. Walking home for two miles with 40 lbs in tow is out of the question. Other days it could mean walking with Anne to the Post Office, picking up Harold's (my wonderful husband and her father) car, and driving her to piano lessons from there. The P.O. is only a mile from school and work. He can walk home. If he agrees. Otherwise, maybe we'll bike home, then catch a bus to Mrs. Bashford's. At any rate, life will necessitate some degree of cooperation and coordination. Harold's on board in theory. We'll see how he feels when the time comes.
For those of you lucky enough to live in a pedestrian society, or a very bike-friendly city like Portlan, Oregon, this may seem a small endeavor. A pittence. What's the big deal? I'm getting older, that's what it is. I feel a moral obligation to conserve as much as I reasonably can, leaving a cleaner planet for generations to come. Clearly my body needs more regular exercise, and my daughter is becoming a young woman. All these forces conspire together to bring me to the obvious conclusion that walking is the answer. It's the answer to working smarter not harder (I'm a teacher and Instructional Coach at an elementary school. Our work is continual), it reduces polution, conserves the use of a costly machine (namely, the car), provides regular exercise, and conversation with Anne.
The conversation that walks elicit are different than any other conversation setting. It's private, but with the benefit of distractions. Tough topics and even the rogue tear can easily be concealed by glancing in a new direction, where there'll likely be something new to pretend to notice. Ambulatory movement brings glucosamine to the brain, strengthening neural connections, and the visual and olfactory senses are stimulated. She'll talk much more openly with me when we're walking, and I'll be thinking ever-so-much-more clearly.
It's scary. Tomorrow will be the 4th of January in Colorado. In a word, cold. I'll need snow pants, a long down coat, scarf, serious mittens (the kind used for skiing, rather than the thin knit kind used for...show?), boots, and heavy clothes. In the backpack will go a light lunch, a book, and by wallet and keys. That's it. Oh! Sunglasses. I'll need them for the return walk home. The morning will still be dark at 6 a.m.
Ah! The other issue. Besides bringing loads of work home, which I rarely touch anyway, the car allows me to sleep a bit later and still arrive at work before seven a.m. Walking will mean early rising.
We'll see how it goes.
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