The Sun Is Hot, The House Is Cool, And This Couch Is Awfully Comfy

It's been a true vacation week. I could write all the details, but I'm still in vacation mode and find myself rather uninterested in working that hard.

I know. I'm awesome.

So let's see. How about a nice little bulleted list? I love lists. And then you could tell me what you're most interested in hearing about in greater detail, and I could be all happy about getting comments (because you know I'm a comment whore, Peoples, and all the comments on my last post gave me warm fuzzies and that's a Good Thing), and then I'll just focus on what you'd like to read rather than giving you some long drawn out commentary on a whole week's worth of activities like some modern literary version of those slide shows people make guests sit through showing them standing in front of a hundred different poorly photographed landmarks from their latest vacation.

You're welcome.

Since last Friday, the following major events have occurred:

• MTL and I drove north to his parents' place with all five kids and camped in their yard for over three days while sharing one kitchen and bathroom with eight other people (that makes fifteen total for the math challenged)
• DramaBoy earned his first ever full day Time Out (a.k.a. You're grounded, boyo.)
• I cohosted a hotel sleepover birthday party involving four thirteen- and fourteen-year-old girls with MTL's ex-wife
• MTL and I had a lovely couple of days All By Ourselves over on the west side of the state in a lovely little harbor town called Saugatuck

It's been quite the week, Peoples.

At the moment we're relishing our final days on vacation without kids and without responsibilities. On Monday reality takes over again. MTL will head back to work, and I will get back into the sorting and tossing and donating and packing process as well. It's only three weeks until we move. Time, it has wings.

And now back to relaxing with My True Love.

Today

Today, it's all too much, all at once. The ups and downs of this and that, the rollercoaster ride of expectations meeting reality. There's the death of the old, the next stage in joy with the new, bumps appearing in the road that once was broken and now is healing and yet and yet

life does not run smooth

I was foolish to think it might. There's that odd optimism raising its head at the wrong moment, bashing against the edge of reality. However better I am for being where I am now

life does not run smooth

and the road will bring new obstacles, new cracks, new heartaches to face.

Today I sit and stare at the great mounds of papers that must be graded, for time has run out. I have no interest. My mind has already skipped over the next week into this summer: bags to fill with trash and donations, boxes to line with books and toys and clothing and the necessities that will carry over into the next stage, places to go with friends and children and my beloved, hard days of work and long nights of play. The clock is ticking, and so much must be done. I mix anticipation with apprehension for what is to come for

life does not run smooth

and though I know I have strength I lacked before, love I lacked before, health I lacked before, still the anxiety of all the unknown wells in my throat.

Of some things I am certain:

faith

love

hope

and knowledge that there is nothing I cannot surmount because of them. I have been to the depths and back. I have known the dark of deepest night, wept my tears of pain and loss and heartbreak, faced the dragons of my despair and lost the battles.

But I won the war.

My chains are crumbling. My armor is stripped away. I have walked the broken road, followed dead-end paths, traversed the bridges built by God and family and friends to reach again the stretches and signposts that led me here.

And the rewards, the blessings: they overflow. New life, new hope, new faith, new love.

life does not run smooth

for life is imperfect, the road broken in a world that is broken. I have learned that the paths that appear easy are those that hide the greatest pitfalls. Anything worth having requires that a price be paid, a sacrifice be made.

Today I am overwhelmed and the tears run close to the surface. But I do not despair. Strength lies beneath, and Today will pass, and Tomorrow holds such brightness that I must catch my breath with the beauty that lies ahead.

The Good, The Bad, and The Whiny

Yo.

I'm back. Amazingly enough, I'm back in one piece and of sane mind--well, as much as I usually am, which I suppose is up for some discussion. I'm sure there are quite a few people who would have a few opinions to express on the matter. Shut up. It's not your blog.

Heh.

So how did the Great Camping Adventure go? Well, as Boy Crazy said in her post about her weekend, I'm a fan of selective memory. Therefore, I am choosing to remember

• multiple small children running about bare foot playing tag while MTL and I cooked breakfast/lunch/dinner
• The Widget sitting contentedly on the beach, just out of reach of the water, piling sand on his legs/torso/curly head
• DramaBoy finally getting brave enough to wade out in the water up to his waist
• both DramaBoy and The Widget eating their hotdogs across the top (corn-on-the-cob style) rather than from one end
• roasting marshmallows over the fire
• The Widget wanting a marshmallow properly toasted, taking it in his hands, then handing it back with an "ick" face, complaining that It's squishy! It's too squishy! despite assurances that its squishiness was, in fact, a desirable characteristic
• The Widget marching about in board shorts and a hoodie, face adorably framed by the hood
• DramaBoy climbing everything in sight like the monkey he is
• sitting by a fire sipping cold drinks while laughing over MTL's family's stories (his sister et famille and his parents were there as well, which raised the adult-child ratio to a marvelous and anxiety-reducing level)
• eating a delicious if very messy Choco-Raspberry Burrito grilled over the fire (though we'll use foil on the grill next time and add more cinnamon)
• toasting on the hot sand while the kidlets splashed about in the lovely clear lake
• getting into a water fight with MTL and his kids (mine stayed safely out of range on the beach)
• moments of pure, unadulterated happiness

And I simply am choosing NOT to remember

• the whining
• trying (with limited success) to remove sand from scalps and every possible crevice of small dirty children
• protests over eating the food we brought versus the (apparently superior) food brought by MTL's sister and parents
• the whining
• biting flies and mosquitos
• trying to get three small exhausted children to STAY IN BED and GO TO SLEEP when (horror of horrors) the sun was still up and other people got to stay awake
• the whining
• dealing with fighting and complaints and various difficult requests from two kidlets in the back seat while driving for hours and hours without anyone in the passenger seat to help
• the sheer exhaustion (shared by MTL) that resulted from tending camp, cooking food, bathing children, ferrying children to the potty, being woken in the too-early hours of the morning by small kidlets, driving for hours, and generally Being In Charge While On Vacation

and did I mention

• the whining?

That second list? Didn't happen.

It couldn't have, because MTL and I have agreed that camping is something we want to do frequently. We're even going to prep some permanent camping bins and make some lists (yay! lists!) to make sure we don't forget certain key items. Like, oh, a can opener. Or dish soap.

Thank God MTL's parents were there in their fully-stocked RV.

I should note, however, that we plan to make a good number of those camping trips kid-free. Then we can spend hours reading and relaxing and doing things whenever we feel like it rather than on Kidlet Time.

Hopefully that means we can take the h out of whine.

And that, dearest readers, would be something to remember.

A Camping We Will Go

I'm off quite shortly to go some way up north with MTL and four out of our five combined children to go camping over Memorial Weekend.

I anticipate many adventures involving beginner's attempts to use a dutch oven, small children eating campfire S'mores, and lashes of sand in various crevices.

The kidlets have been in a tizzy of excitement for days. We are going on a Camp Out! DramaBoy tells everyone he sees, and you can hear the capital letters in his voice. The Widget, in turn, was quite devastated to discover he would have to attend school today before heading out on the adventure.

I'm not quite sure how he'll feel about the four hour (with traffic) car journey that lies ahead before we reach the Promised Land.

So until Tuesday, I'll be out of touch, out of reach, and (quite possibly) out of my mind.

Have a lovely weekend, all of you!

If Calgon Won't, I Will

For years and decades and ages and holy crap this stuff is ooooooold good old Calgon has been telling us to tell it to "take me away."

For about as long as I can remember, I've wondered what the heck Calgon IS. I never owned any Calgon products. In my mind, that brand name sounds medicinal in a vaguely hemorrhoidal old people sort of way. I wasn't sure what it was, and I really wasn't sure I wanted it to take me anywhere.

Recently I spotted an actual Calgon product in someone's bathroom. Lo and behold, it was very feminine, flowery scented body lotion. In a pink tube. Ah ha! I thought. If they make that sort of product, then the brand must be trying to take its consumers Away From Here, as in Reality and Daily Life.

Turns out I was right. Well, I assume. The tropical theme certain indicates that sort of thing. Though that wouldn't be very Away for people who live in, oh, say, Jamaica or coastal Florida or that sort of place. Perhaps they should be able to link to a site that shows mountains or scenic deserts or something? Whatever. Wherever you are, apparently Calgon takes you Away From There.

Why the heck didn't I google that word ages ago? (And why the heck did they pick such an ugly brand name? Or change it for these here Modern Times? Helloooooooo!)

Anywho, all this to say I could use some Calgon spa products right about now, because Daily Life, it is worth leaving for a while. Too much stress, too much student angst, too much political and economic strain. Too much, in general.

I'm not entirely sure a tube of body lotion will cut it, however. So I'm planning a Getaway. Oh yes. In a few weeks I am Getting Away for realsies, at least for a couple of days. The details aren't all in place yet, but it's being planned. No phones. No computers. No kids. No work. Nothing other than utter relaxation Elsewhere.

And I'm not going to tell you where I'm going, either. Even though I love you all. So there.

Now to get through the next two-and-a-half weeks....

TeacherMommy 2.0

This post today...it's important enough that I created a calendar reminder for it. And now I sit and stare at this screen wondering where to begin. I texted wrote a friend about it. He tried, he really did, but it's a tricky little conundrum.

TM: i restarted my blog a year ago today. i want to write a post about it, but i'm not sure what i want to write about.

J: How far you've come and grown over the past year.

TM: yes, but HOW
not sure how to approach it
it's one of those things that's sort of massive, so i don't know where to start

J: At the beginning.

TM: oh, that helps. i'm not sure where the beginning is....

And that is the problem. Where is the beginning?

Almost exactly fifteen months ago I wrote this. And then I vanished from the blog for three months. On Tuesday, March 12, 2009, I returned with this post. Just a short one. But there are words in there that speak a great deal about what had passed during that space of time.

Twelve months ago...the time seems both massive and fleeting in retrospect. One thirty-second of my life. So very much has happened during that time: the attempt, and failure, to save my marriage; the decision to file for divorce; slow renewal of faith; the discovery and development of new friendships; the rediscovery and deepening of old friendships; renewed interest in teaching; slow growth and change in my parenting; facing and grieving and healing from a very old wound; and so very much more.

Above all else: the discovery of Myself. I spent so many years hiding my true Self from not only other people, but from myself. I hid behind walls of my own making in the belief that if I let anyone behind them, much less tore them down, I would be wounded anew. I had no faith in the love and forgiveness of others; I had no faith in God's ability to heal; I had no faith in myself.

I have so far to go, still. Life is, after all, a journey, and if I were to believe that I had nothing more to learn, well then that would mean I was once more hiding from the truth. But when I look back over this year of pain and joy, wounding and healing, learning and growing, I realize that who I am now is Beautiful. And as I learn to love myself, I learn how to love others, how to open myself up to the possibilities that life and love have to offer, and how to give myself fully rather than always holding something back in reserve.

It's time to put all my chips on the table.

I'm All In.

Shoe Love

DraftQueen was my Valentine this year (Oh my sweet Valentine! How I miss thee! You sure you want to move to New Mexico instead of Michigan? Sigh.) and as I mentioned, we're sole sisters. We both love shoes. And while we don't always have the same taste in shoes, sometimes, well, we do.

So when we wandered into our fifth shoe store Famous Footwear during our ramblings around a very small mall (now with mall cop!!!), we both spotted the same pair of shoes and fell in love. We had to try them on. Problem was, the shoe was on clearance. There were two pairs left, but only one of us fit a pair.

Guess who that was?

LOVE means having your tootsies hugged by beauty like this all day long. And looking at this pic, wow but my feet are small. Are my ankles really that large in comparison? Sigh. I swear, I don't have cankles!

Sadly, this means we are not shoe buddies and can't, like, totally wear the same shoes on the same day! Because that would be so awesome, fer sure!

I, however, am totally rocking these shoes. And hey, my tattoo gets to come out and play!

Sometimes the Road Seems Endless. It's a Good Thing I'm Building Up My Endurance.

You may have noticed that I had a bit of a meltdown yesterday, dark attempt at humor notwithstanding. I'd love to tell you that things improved after that last post, but I'd be lying. And since my resolution last year was to live with honesty, and I'm still working on that, I won't lie to you.

My day got worse.

Maybe I should rephrase that. Other than an unexpected (read: I forgot all about it and was caught off guard by the reminder that I would have to sit through one of those mind-numbing time-wasters) staff meeting after work, there wasn't much that really was BAD about the day itself. The roads were driveable. No one delivered horrible news to me. A dear friend offered to write one of my vocabulary exams--and in the spirit of asking for and accepting help, which was another resolution/lesson of my last year, I accepted.

Yet my mood continued to spiral down until the panic was in control and logic was out the window. Rage started taking over: anger at the world, life, the universe, everything. I wanted to hit something or someone. I drove home and desperately worked out. For those forty-some minutes, in which I was pleased to discover I'm getting a handle on this Zumba workout, I was able to let go...mostly. And then the rage came back. So I took a long hot shower. And the rage came back. I texted a friend and she called me back and I paced in the snow for who knows how long pouring out my anger and hurt and panic and fear.

She told me I'm allowed to break down, I'm allowed to have my weak moments, I'm allowed to admit that sometimes LIFE SUCKS. If I don't let go and let it out from time to time, it will just build up and fester and prevent me from being strong all the other days and times when I need to keep it all together. Since that's the sort of thing that got me into my huge mess last year in the first place, I have a feeling she's right.

You see, while talking to her I finally put my finger on the trigger to yesterday's debacle. I had been going through my exams from previous years so that I could draw from them for this semester's exams. And I was missing exams from this time last year. Why, I wondered, didn't I have anything for my eleventh graders at all?

And it hit me. Last year at this time I fell into a black hole. Last year at this time I was absent from work for around three weeks. I vanished. I had no exams prepared, piles of papers left ungraded, and no lesson plans left for those struggling to make sense of my classes. My amazing colleagues pulled everything together for me. They parcelled out the papers and got them graded. They pieced together exams from other teachers' after consulting with my students about what we had covered. The head counselor even created, from scratch, an essay exam for my Media Literacy class, since I was the only teacher in the school who taught or had ever taught that now-defunct elective.

(They did this, mind you, without a word of complaint or censure or guilt-tripping. They were deeply worried for me. When I finally returned, all I heard from anyone was how relieved they were that I was back and that if I needed ANYTHING, just ask. They have continued to be a source of amazing support and love and generosity in all the time since. I am so blessed.)

But yesterday, when I realized why I was missing so much information, I was swept back for a moment into that time of despair. While I am so very, very much better in almost every way in comparison to that time, nevertheless...It was so difficult to revisit that darkness, even for a moment. And then the sheer weight of responsibilities and the chaos of my life and the uncertainty of this time, a year later, crushed me.

When I am at that level of stress and panic, the best thing for me is some sort of physical outlet. If I creep into a corner, the darkness wins. So even though I had already done a grueling workout, I took a walk. I walked down the road as quickly as my legs and boots and the snow would let me. After only a few minutes two pieces of advice came to me--Heidi's mention of meditating techniques and Arby's advice to pray. I knew there was no way I could put together an extemporaneous prayer in my mental state at that time, so I began to run through the Lord's Prayer in my mind, over and over again. Gradually I found a rhythm to the words. It became a chant, a mantra and prayer that moved from my mind to my tongue as I found myself marching down that dark, empty, snowy road.

Our Father which art in Heaven
Hallowed be Thy name
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On Earth as it is in Heaven
Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our debts
As we forgive our debtors
And lead us not into temptation
But deliver us from evil
For Thine is the kingdom
And the power
And the glory
Forever and ever
Amen

As the words became smoother and flowed more naturally off my tongue, my mind finally could focus enough on what I was saying. Certain parts jumped out at me.

Give us this day our daily bread: I struggle constantly to focus on the day at hand. I have learned not to linger on the past much, but I worry about the future, all the things that are to come and over which I have so very little control. Here I ask for what is enough for this day. This one day, this one moment, and the simplest needs. Bread. Nourishment for body and (if one goes off into the philosophical and religious significance of the word) soul. Sufficient unto this day...And that's what I need. Enough for this day. Tomorrow will be time to ask for what is needed for tomorrow.

Forgive us our debts: So much of my darkness, both last year and now, was of my own making. Debts are both sins (the word trespasses is often used here) and what is owed. I feel, so very often, that I owe so much, too much, to everyone. I feel as if I have wracked up such a tremendous load of spiritual and emotional debt that there is no way I can ever repay it all. And I'm right. I cannot pay it back. So here I ask that those debts be forgiven--both the sins and that which is owed--so that I may walk free and light again.

As we forgive our debtors: But there is a codecil. Just as I ask to be freed of those debts, so must I free others. When I cling to resentments and angers and hurts, I not only refuse to grant that freedom of debt to others, I also refuse to free myself from the burden of being the debt-holder. When I harbor anger because someone has hurt me, I only poison myself. When I harbor resentment because someone has not acted or done or said what I want from them, I only worsen the situation. Last night I expected someone to be a mindreader, to magically understand that I was in a very bad state without my having to really express it verbally, to somehow know exactly what to say and do to handle the situation. I had to let go of my resentment and, without anger and without censure, let that person know what was going on and what I needed. I let go of the debt. And we were both freed and lightened and drawn closer in understanding. This is how it needs to be, both with those we love and with God.

Lead us not into temptation/But deliver us from evil: Tom Shippey suggests that these two lines emphasize the dual nature of evil. One kind lies within us--it is internal in both source and effect. Therefore we (I) ask that God not "lead us"--or perhaps, more clearly, allow us to lead ourselves--into temptation and darkness. This is all too real to me. Most, if not all, of my distress yesterday was created within my own mind. It was my own darkness. It was my own evil. And if there was an external source of Evil playing on that weakness last night, urging me on towards acts and words of anger, misplacing my own pain onto others...well then, we (I) ask that God "deliver us" from evil, both of the internal and external sorts.

God has that power.

After almost two miles of walking and chanting, I was finally calm enough and clearheaded enough to think through my situation and my reactions; thank God that I had not, in fact, said or done any of the things I had felt the urge to say and do; and work through where to go from there.

So I went home. I did and said what was needed, and I received the comfort that I needed.

And I ate pizza.

And today is better.

I am not naive enough to think this will not happen again. But this time last year I had almost none of the tools or support or wisdom that I needed to face my darkness, and yesterday's experience taught me that this year is indeed different.

It's another day. It's another step on that winding road, and even though the fog lies thick on the path right now, I know I've seen a glimpse of the joy that lies ahead. So I'm choosing to continue walking.

But MAN do my legs hurt.

This Weekend I Went Snowmobiling and I More Than Survived

At first I felt like I would fly off the back of the monstrous black-and-yellow beast at any moment. My boots kept lifting off the footboards, my rear bounced on the seat with every bump, my faceplate kept tapping the back of his helmet. I clutched his jacket with a death grip, sure that with the next burst of speed my hands would be ripped away and I would be flung backwards to break my neck or legs or spine. All I could do was hold on for dear life and try to see enough of the trail ahead that I could anticipate the bumps and turns, just a little bit.

And it was fantastic.

I was determined to figure this out. Surely there was a better way to keep hold. I remembered he had warned me that this sport could be hard on the knees. If it was hard on the knees, then my legs must need to get more involved. So I experimented with my foot placement. It turned out that if I pressed my ankles and shins against the side of the machine, I was able to brace myself better. That was a start.

At the first stop we made, I cleared the snow away from the footboards and realized there were metal teeth built into the boards at regular intervals. Aha! A way to get my boots to stay on better! When we climbed back on, I jammed my boots into the teeth. At last: they could stay on the boards without having to brace them against the tiny ridge on the side. Now I could get my upper legs more involved. I soon realized that if I gripped the machine and his hips with my knees and thighs, I was suddenly secure.

I no longer had to grip his jacket until my fingers ached. Instead, I held on just enough to brace myself in the absence of handlebars and concentrated instead on learning to lean into the turns so that he wouldn't have to fight both the machine's weight and mine. Gradually I learned to spot where we'd need to lean, anticipate the need to raise my rear end off the seat and grip with my knees so that I was no longer jounced by the bumps. We began moving in concert, almost one being on the machine. My face ached with the width of my grin, stretching muscles chilled by the wind screaming through the small space beneath my faceplate.

That's when I learned that he had been going easy on me. He could sense my new confidence, my ability to hold on with my lower body rather than my hands. I had thought we were going fast before; now he showed me more of what this machine was capable. We roared down straightaways at speeds that tugged at my body, skimmed over rugged stretches, spun around curves with bodies at acute angles to the ground, soared over hilltops so that I yelled with delight on this rollercoaster of snow.

I was alive: not only alive, but Living.

We climbed a massive hill that rose above the trees, turned, and stopped. We dismounted, raised our faceplates, and gazed out over a variagated grey and blue landscape of hills and naked trees edging mistily into the distance, dark against a crimson winter sunset. We stood in silence a while, listening to the gentle sighing of the wind, soon drowned out by the distant rumble of racing machines on the trail below.

So is this something you find enjoyable? Would you want to do this more if you had a machine to drive? he asked at last, glancing at me.

I grinned again and sighed, the crisp slice of air tingling in my lungs.

Oh yes. Oh yes indeed.

thanksgiving: travelling

long road stretches before
and behind
wintry trees flash by
spare yet regal in their barrenness
promise of life asleep within
glimpses of homes with spiraling smoke
speak family and friendship
warmth by the hearth
and on by fields now stripped
furrowed and naked
sleeping until spring brings seed
and warmth anew

a voice whispers and i turn
twist the dial to give sound
to its potent melody
hum then break into song
he sings too
if somewhat off tune
and we grin at memories of childhood
raised on this

my hand rests in his
as always
cradled in rough warmth
i shift and bend toward him
to see his face in profile
against the blur of passing land
and content
rest my head against the seat
while miles and hours stream by

adventure

the rocks loomed in jagged peaks
mounded no doubt by
yellow beasts with tractor wheels
as large as the monster truck
we ogled earlier

i clutched the padding
that clung in dusty insufficiency
around the bones of our jeep
wishing for one of those bracing hand grips
they put on rollercoaster cars

no track to keep our wheels in place
we ground our way onto the first boulders
jouncing through forward and reverse
feeling our way over edges and into pits
between and through and on

he got out thrice to spot the way
i kept my eye on the right edge
two feet away i said
more toward your side i said
then clenched my jaw as

we bounced forward jamming down
and into the opposite slope
(if you could call it a slope)
with flatter rocks and steeper descents
down and to the side and

off the edge clanging as the undercarriage
scraped the final stony step
we turned and grinned and laughed
at the insanity of what we'd done
that's the first time i've done that he said

my heart pounded and then
he turned toward the bog
where we had already been
and would go again
looking back at what we'd dared

i've built this more for mud
but that was fun and maybe
he grinned again at the thought
i'll need to build a new toy
that can take on those other climbs

i would have liked to hold his hand
but it was needed for gripping
the wheel instead of me
and so i held on again and braced
as we plunged down another trail

and into the dusk of the dying day

My Friday Evening: The Bad, The Good, and the Potentially Scary

Bad Thing: Brother's car breaking down on the highway. His cell phone has also been broken for some time.

Good Thing: A friendly driver pulling over to help when Brother finishes his nap and gets out for the long walk to the nearest gas station.

Bad Thing: Having to drive through rush hour AND construction traffic to pick up Brother and then go to his car, with two kidlets in the back trying to be patient.

Good Thing: Having a boyfriend who is an auto mechanic and is willing to diagnose the probable issue over the phone, therefore determining that it is in fact worth trying to save Brother's P.O.S. car rather than calling the nearest junkyard.

Bad Thing: Mechanic boyfriend is on the way up north to go dirt biking with some buddies. The car is stranded Very Far from anyone's house, including my boyfriend's.

Good Thing: My boyfriend is willing to call in a major favor and get a buddy with a tow-truck to come get Brother's car and tow it all the way to my boyfriend's house for less than half the price it would normally cost.

Bad Thing: Brother now will have to pay to fix the same car that already cost him a pretty penny in various fees and fines for other problems--ironically, he was on his way to court to work some of this out when the car broke down.

Good Thing: Brother happens to have the cash on hand and will get a Much Better Price from my boyfriend than he would going to a regular shop. This would be true even if he wasn't my brother, please note (though I have a feeling the towing favor would not have happened had he not been my relative.)

Potentially Scary Thing: I now owe my boyfriend Big Time.

This Old Gal, She Ain't What She Used To Be

Today I feel old.

Not mentally, really, just very physically. I'm just not as young as I used to be.

You see, I'm getting out and being active, which is good, but I'm also suffering the physical trauma (to be a little dramatic about it, surprise surprise) that comes along with being--well, out and active.

Friday night I did Halloweekend at Cedar Point, which meant four hours of crazy fun on rollercoasters that made me skip like a little girl (no, really--I even was made fun of for it, not that I cared) with hardly any line waiting. I think I added to my collection of bruises with all the lap restraints. And the tossing about (especially on the Maverick, which HOLY COW was fun but crazy!!!) did a number on my neck and shoulders. Then Saturday I managed to injure my shoulder somehow writing a story while sitting on some garage steps (hey, I was inspired: you don't dictate to the Muses when or where that's gonna happen, you know). And finally yesterday I went four-wheeling for the second time in my life, only on a real trail instead of in figure eights around a campground. It was, again, awesome, but I did take out a smallish tree and tweaked my lower back while trying to wrangle the machine back onto the trail.

I realized, however, that the vigorous workout regimen my kidlets have put me through for the last almost four years is what makes it even possible for me to consider wrangling an Off Road Vehicle, because my upper body strength was considerably lacking before then. Now I have GUNS, baby!

So I am now limping around like a gimpy old lady, wincing every time I bend over or sit down. I think I'll be giving my chiropractor a call this afternoon...

It is also monumentally unfair, though perfectly reasonable from a biological point of view, that Joe's nephew, who is all of fourteen years old, came away from his wild dirt bike rides without a single twinge.

And he made fun of me for running into trees. And for struggling with the clutch. It's her big issue, he reported. That and learning there's a reverse switch.

Teens. I swear. I can't even get away from them when I'm playing!

However, I still wear awesome shoes even when I'm decrepit. Here you go:

I'm Not a Complete Loser, But I'm Close

So you remember that post a little bit ago about how I was all jealous of the BlogHerites and stuff?

Well, I'm in Chicago. Just a few days late for BlogHer. I am at a conference, though, the b2G "Live Inspired" conference to which some good friends (who are Navigators staff) invited me.

The trip up, in a monster van with crappy steering and worse brakes, was actually quite fun. I didn't know anyone in my van (we had two) other than one man I'd met last fall on a cider mill trip, but it was a cozy group of six to eight people. We kept up a sort of musical vans game all day, though I stayed put in my shotgun position (sometimes being carsick-prone has its advantages). We talked the whole way, sometimes about silly stuff, quite often about deep stuff. You know how there are certain people and groups who cut past the surface crap and get to the Real very quickly? That was this group. Since I was the stranger in their midst, so to speak, I got to share my life story, which was great since one of my favorite topics is Me.

Hey, that's why I'm a blogger, right? Have navel, will gaze.

I was a total noob/rubbernecker/tourist as we drove through the city to Loyola University. Chicago, at least the lakeside part, is GORGEOUS. I was half-tempted to just up and move here. At least, until I saw the sign advertising cosy apartment-style condos starting at the low, low price of $1.325 MILLION.

Somehow I don't think I'd be living in lakeside Chicago on a teacher's salary.

And then...we got to the conference.

All my extroversion, my confidence, my joi de vivre drained away and left me not-so-high but very dry. Suddenly I was surrounded by people I didn't know and the people I DID know knew these other people and were saying hi and getting hugs and catching up and I was shuffling quietly in a corner, trying not to look like I was about to throw up.

At dinner I made the mistake of getting in line without making For Sure that my companions of the road were getting in line at the same time, so I had my plate of Chicago-style deep dish pizza (urgh) and Caesar salad and returned the table to sit by my lonesome while they chatted away. And then most of them sat at other tables anyway, with people from all over the country they had met before.

I felt like I was right back in high school, the new kid, the odd one out, sitting by myself at the losers' table in the cafeteria. All that social anxiety flooded over me and I shoveled down my food, wondering if anyone would notice if I sneaked upstairs to my dorm room and spent the evening on Twitter instead.

Cuz I can interact with 100 strangers online a whole lot easier than 100 strangers in a real live room.

I ended up getting tablemates and being led into conversation and such before I could disappear, so I stuck around long enough to endure the "Speed Relating" getting-to-know-you activity (think speed dating, but without the searching-for-a-date component, and all ages and genders are involved) before finally coming up to my room to get online and try to ease the kinks out of my shoulders.

Give me a room full of students. Give me a small group of strangers. Give me anything like that, and I can survive. Even thrive.

But tonight...tonight made me think twice about going to BlogHer next year.

Because I might not even make it to the corner to do that awkward should-I-shouldn't-I dance. I might just end up in my room, huddled over my laptop on the bed.

Though at least at BlogHer I could get HBO.

It Only Took An Hour And A Half Each Way But It Totally Counts As A Road Trip When There Are Young Children Involved

For the Fourth of July I loaded the kidlets up in the car, crammed my lanky brother in the driver's seat , and headed off to Saginaw to visit my paternal grandparents. I'll write about the visit later, but here is some eye candy from the trip up there. You're welcome.

DramaBoy concentrates on choosing the next letter to push on his "computer." Which then causes loud music to play and a woman's voice to inform him about the letter he has chosen and the corresponding word that begins with that letter. Fun times. Especially in a car.

The Widget's "computer" may be smaller, but it's just as loud. And annoying.

DramaBoy realizes there's a camera out: ergo, there's mugging to be done.

The Widget just recently got the hang of the whole "smile for the camera" thing. I think he may have it down.

The faithful bro, driving the fam.

Well, until he got too sleepy and made me take over. You'd think he stays up to the wee hours of the morning or something. Notice the tasteful (sort of) white duct tape keeping the side mirror attached to the frame. I'm classy like that.

The most you're gonna see of me from that particular day. Now I wish I'd taken the time to do a home pedicure or something.

Note the tiny chip in the windshield toward the upper left corner (no, that's not a bug). What you don't see is the massive crack that appeared from a more recent and even smaller chip about a month or so ago. Right across the driver's side. At eye level.

There's probably a good reason my car isn't a big target for auto thieves.

By the way, if there are any cute, intelligent, sweet young ladies out there looking for a fairly good-looking (I'm his sister--he'll always look like a dork to me) 22-year-old young man who is highly intelligent, rather geeky (in a good way, mostly), very sweet, great with children, an excellent listener, and a pretty good cook...

...would you mind staying away for a while? Cuz I'm kinda finding it useful to have him around. Just sayin'.