I Sit Alone

I’ve started, restarted, paused, abandoned, and now wait for the finality of a draft post, titled The Day I Had Coffee with Her. Some time ago, there was a social media trend of the same title, basically stating what you would tell your younger self. A few posts that came across my feed were very deep, mentioning trauma and abuse, while some just shared encouraging memories. I jumped on the proverbial wagon, but I didn’t finish it. Yet.

In a way, this is my homage to the unfinished post.

I sit alone. And I am unafraid. Never lonely. Yet alone. Some events make me question myself. Some even bring back very tough memories or experiences. Some I thought I was over. Turns out I’m not. So I sit alone with the pain.

Even when the fear ebbs and wanes, I am unafraid. Fear is psychological and I am aware of my limitations, my weaknesses, my inability to turn away from feeling it. Fear is not failure. And words do not own me. So I protect me by sitting alone.

Those old patterns are tempting. Too easy to return to my old ways. But I know every curve in the road, every pothole waiting to derail me. Swerve. I sit alone, in the driver’s seat, in control.

It’s lonely at the top. When the decisions rest on my shoulders and hard news is hard on everyone. I sit alone, pondering how much easier it would have been to gloss over the truth, to abandon what must be said. I could invite others to sit with me. Yet the consequences are far too great. I sit alone out of self-respect.

I’m not sorry for choosing to sit alone, when the choice is mine. I’m not a failure for sitting alone when the choice is made for me. Sitting is an opportunity to rest. And no one knows me better than me. So I sit alone.

________________

I ask you –

Are you familiar with the “Coffee with Her” trend?

(The post I Sit Alone first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Ten!

We celebrated 10 years! Instead of the traditional party, we made a quick trip to DFW to eat, shop, and generally create chaos. Success! With cash in hand, Mini made good choices and reckless choices, but her “loot” (as she calls it) was quite satisfying.

A fabulous brunch at The Brunch District in Addison. Truly a best kept secret. Mini’s Eggs Benedict stole the show. Once a girl who avoided anything considered spicy, she has opened her mind and taste buds to new things…and a taste for simple spicy.

We drank a lot of coffee. Of course. The Ninja Kids Adventure Park was also a hit.

And we shopped until we nearly dropped. Better than a party, in my opinion, and so much fun. The experience was worth the drive, the stormy weather, and the very late arrival home.

My sweet 10-yr-old is a happy, kind, beautiful, strong, young lady with an appreciation for fun and chaos. Her wide smile is shared with everyone. And her critical opinions are both humorous and fearsome. As some would say, she’s a hoot!

___________________

I ask you –

Tell me your favorite birthday memory!

(The post Ten! first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Outtakes, episode 10 (in progress)

On my birthday weekend, Mini outdid herself! She ran a 5k with me, she finally showed up to help me with the short disciples, and she found a new bathing suit! All tougher than they look.

A whole photo shoot, courtesy of mini.

For 3.14, we celebrated Pie Day with a 5k and pie! Any excuse to eat pie is a good one in my book, so I didn’t need convincing. Mini chose blueberry pie, which we both enjoyed. She came in first in her age group…and now that I’m in a new age bracket (40-49) I also placed first in my age group!

The following week I managed 2 runs, twice as many as achieved nearly the entire month prior. Now, to keep the streak alive.

Not much for this post. Hope you all have an amazing day!

________________

I ask you –

If you like pie, what is your favorite? Aunt Mary Catherine’s blueberry pie.

(The post Outtakes, episode 10 first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Cheers to 40 Years

Mini’s got jokes

When I tell you I thought the week leading up to 40 (not 50 as mini would have you believe) was difficult, even the word difficult doesn’t capture how trying it was.

I’d like to think I’m prepared for anything. But when a situation stops you dead in your tracks and you are forced to navigate your own emotions, moving away from those emotions is like falling without a parachute. Though I wouldn’t exactly know. Never could I be prepared for the adrenaline dump. It’s a moment like this I’m thankful for others who checked on me, who let me take a minute to breathe, who were gentle with me. Living should never be taken lightly. And asking the really really really hard questions is not for the faint of heart. My title isn’t free. It comes with a heavy cost and, although I’m living a career dream come true, the title is paid for in blood, sweat, and tears.

On a more lighthearted note, this cake makes the toughest days a little brighter.

Lemon blueberry cake, courtesy of Tanto

So do beautiful flowers –

Muse love

And the real reason for all the shenanigans –

Spare Parts and I

40!

She and I received so many messages, calls, texts, and a visit from her sweet grandbaby! Our families and friends made today extra special. If this is 40, I’m a big fan!

________________

I ask you –

Do you celebrate your birthday or is it just another day?

(The post Cheers to 40 Years first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Outtakes, episode 9 + Hobbies

For all my complaining the past few weeks about my helper moving on, away from me, the very next session included only 3 short disciples. And they weren’t even my own child! Just 3. Tres. All girls. It was chat time central that day.

lights are on, no one is home

The following weekend they bribed someone to help me. I’m convinced.

Once again mini-less and it was the wildest group ever. I even had to raise my voice once. Trust me, it’s not pretty when I do.

Next topic.

I like to play a little game called Mind Charades. It’s awful. Your brain tells you how many words, anywhere from 1 to 1 billion, you spend upwards of 1/2 the day trying to figure out the word(s), then completely forget what you were thinking so hard about remembering. Welcome to my life. It’s fun here.

Our local arts council has a workshop series titled “Granny Hobbies” and the snort which exited me would have made a farm animal proud. Can you imagine. The workshops include learning to crochet, acrylic painting, and other fun hobbies. I think I have a leg up, though, because my hobby is more self taught than classically trained – puzzling! Next month is my 40th birthday and my granny hobby is well underway!

Mini also has granny hobbies as evidenced by the amount of yarn and crochet hooks perilously perched on every surface. She comes by it honestly because Parts is also a granny, literally and figuratively. When did we become such hobbyists?

And on hobbies … drums, round 2 is going swimmingly! My skills are growing, I (try to) practice 2x/week, and I’m loving the new lessons. I’m sure it doesn’t help my mind charades when I constantly chant one-eeeh-and-uh, two-eeeh-and-uh, etc. As our lessons are being taught by someone with both classic training and self-taught principles, the mix is beneficial. Will I ever be the drum soloist I aspire to be? Eh, here goes nothing.

________________

I ask you –

Share your most recent experience with forgetfulness. If you can remember.

(The post Outtakes, episode 9 + Hobbies first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Outtakes, episode 8

Not our usual background, but we both love this color so much!

In a turn of events, the adult helper I’m usually paired with has decided she can’t stand me and has resigned from her position. It’s not you, it’s me. Kidding. Halfway. She has resigned, but assured me it was not my fault. Like all nice people would say. So it was just me, solo, alone, in the midst of wild children, again. Somehow we all survived because, if you will recall, serving solo has become a pattern.

To think people trust me with their children is surprising yet not. I worked with kids for a long time, and aren’t adults just oversized children anyway? Do you know what is difficult? Getting hired as an adjunct professor! Countless submissions, hours of searching – still nothing. Not a single hit. I’m not sure what the hiring committees are looking for, but I don’t have it (or I don’t know how to market it). I really underestimated the challenges of applying to teach.

Meanwhile, I’m keeping upwards of 13 young people alive, well, and engaged. Shouldn’t this count for something?

________________

I ask you –

Do you have any suggestions for professorship?

(The post Outtakes, episode 8 first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Growing up, maybe with friends

Photo by Bu00fcu015fra u015e on Pexels.com

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I love this question, especially when it’s posed to adults at any stage in their life. A simple reminder not to take life too seriously. You can start again! And again! And again! It reminds me of a meme I cannot find at the moment where an adult says ‘no one asked me how fast I can run in my new shoes. This is BS! (baloney sandwich)’.

Side note. In my house, we say baloney sandwich for the (obviously) BS. Mini always replies with affirmation that she knows what it really means. At this point, I just say it for my own affirmation of her innocence. Denial, anyone?

Focus, Kel.

The hilarity of mentioning growing up to an adult has many giggle-worthy images. You can fill in your own blank.

Side bar. How to not make friends.

Step 1. Trauma-dump your life story within the first 2 encounters. Step 2. See step 1.

Just don’t! Also, don’t invade my personal space. Don’t capture my phone number from a well-meaning person. And, don’t invite me to meet your friends. I am sure they are lovely people, but if this is how you also met them…I have reservations.

I really need to work with mini on not blowing my cover. She’s the worst. Loudly, “hey mom, why are you avoiding them?!” Me: “Shhhhh!”

_____________________

I ask you –

What steps should others not take to become your friend?

(The post Growing up, maybe with friends first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Fern Made Me Do It

Obviously written during Winter Storm Fern –

As we roll (ahem, slide) into another snow day, is this day 2 or 3?, I confront my own anxiety and fear. I have wished it away. I have sought spiritual intervention. I have pretended it does not exist. But, there is not enough anxiety medication at the nearest pharmacy to get me into a moving vehicle and out on ice/snow-covered roads. Alas, I stay at home, in the safety of my four walls. ‘Tis rather nice here and I’m still productive.

Besides, snow days are meant to keep people off the roads so safety and emergency personnel can do their job. I am supporting their mission! But I can’t help it. 6 days at home is a bit much.

On day 4, we considered unfolding the treadmill. Quickly vetoed, instead I paced the house for approximately 11,000 steps. On day 5, I forgoe’d the pacing, resolving to complete an actual workout the next day AND…dun dun dunnnnnn…go outside!

2 miles outside, dodging the slippery spots, was glorious! I didn’t want to come back inside. But there’s where the coffee lives.

Day 5, I completed a workout with mini. As in, she actually did the entire workout with me. Zero complaining. She tried very hard, she amazed me!

photo, at her request

Overall productivity: I cleaned up 7,914 old emails, I deleted all 11 voicemails, and I organized my teams folders. Now I can’t find anything.

Did I “enjoy” the long, long unexpected time “off”? Yes. Do I wish to do this again anytime soon? Not so much.

________________________

I ask you –

What was the most amount of time you’ve been home due to weather?

(The post Fern Made Me Do It first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Outtakes, episode 5

Mini joined me for a rousing room of 3 other participants, complete with a broken thermostat and much running.

An attempt to tame my curls came in the form of these little dinglehoppers, otherwise known as French horns. Ahem, French pins. And a partridge in a pear tree. Or the garbage can, which is where one went after I broke it. It lasted only a few hours in my hair. RIP, French horn. Also, the tutorial exploited its ease of use. It was not.

I was honored to be selected as a judge for lodging’s gingerbread house competition! When I asked for a taste test, I almost lost my judging rights. Next time.

Another week of leave is on the horizon. Ahem, now. There will be no gingerbread house creation. Instead, upwards of 75 degrees is forecasted. I have no doubt the winter weather will come soon though. Merry Christmas Eve!

_____________________

I ask you –

Have you ever eaten a gingerbread house post-decoration?

(The post Outtakes, episode 5 first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Outtakes, episode 4 + A Special Introduction

My kid’s life partner, ahem, mini, ditched me in favor of sleeping in so I had to survive alone.

Good thing there were only 6 young people and I was somewhat familiar with the Hebrew language so as not to wildly mispronounce every word. A few, but not all of them.

The Big Reveal

Our home has succumbed to the pressure. We will forever live the holidays in the shadow of an elf. Yes, that elf. I have been content watching other homes overtaken with mischief and shenanigans and found myself thankful to be spared. Until now…

Introducing Tyna Tynsel. She’s a jolly ol’ gal with her vest and ear muffs. She rode in on an skateboard, tossed a letter from Santa (Bossy, as she calls him) to the side and declared her reign over our home. I hope she remembers to leave. I’m excited and fearful for the month. Maybe I can make friends with her to limit the destruction.

Perhaps she likes wine.

Or perhaps I’ll need wine to deal with her destruction. Standby.

_____________________

I ask you –

What brand of trouble do you think Tyna will get into?

(The post Outtakes, episode 4 + A Special Introduction first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)