30 Days of Blogging, Day 5: The Best Thing in Your Life Right Now

Easy question today.  My little family has always been the best thing in my life. 

At first, it was just me and The Hubs.  For six years we just had fun together, going to movies and trying out restaurants and taking road trips whenever we wanted to hit the road.  The early part of our marriage was one giant adventure. 

Then our daughter was born--she hated riding in the car until she was old enough to sit in a forward-facing car seat, but after that she was a terrific traveler.  She spent most of her time around adults because we took her with us wherever we went.  By the time she was two, I was telling people that having a toddler was just like having a little roommate.  That's the kind of kid she was.

Our son was a surprise addition to the family, a wonderful surprise.  He was the easiest baby ever born--all he did was eat and sleep and smile and snuggle up with me.  When he got a little older, giving him a hug and kiss at bedtime was the best part of my day.  He was the very best hugger. 

I always knew I wanted to be a mom, but I didn't know how much I'd enjoy being part of my family.  There's really nothing I'd rather do than hang out with these people, and knowing I get to come home to them makes even the hardest days easier to get through.
  

30 Days of Blogging, Day 4: A List of 20 Favorite Things

In no particular order:
 
1.  Coffee
2.  Making bread
3.  October
4.  Red wine--in particular, Middle Sister Rebel Red
5.  Tulips 
6.  Polish on my toenails, never on my fingernails
7.  My Microplane lemon zester
8.  Planet Hollywood's white chocolate bread pudding
9.  A chai latte on a rainy day
10. Taking a run when it's chilly but sunny outside
11. Yoga pants
12. Softlips Vanilla 
13. The smell of pine trees (Not fake pine scent.  Ick.)
14. Cadbury Mini Eggs (Not the creme eggs.  Ick.)
15. Long walks in quiet places
16. NPR
17. Lemons, lemons, lemons
18. Salmon
19. Barbecue
20. Staying home on a rainy day

30 Days of Blogging, Day 3: You Favorite Quote

"Only the hand that erases can write the true thing."  ~ Meister Eckhart

I love this quote for many reasons.  First, it's about writing--or, specifically, it's about revision.  This is a quote that debunks the importance of the first draft.  Lots of young writers want to believe that their first draft is the "truest" draft, the closest thing to what was really on their minds when they were writing.  I know this because I used to be one of those writers.  Over time, though, you learn that revision is where you figure out what you actually meant.  As I tell my students, "You have to make the clay before you can do anything with it."

I also love this quote because it's about learning to live with integrity.  You can't understand the story of your life unless you're willing to re-write some chapters when new information arises and new wisdom surfaces with age and experience.  You can't believe the same things throughout your entire lifetime if you're learning and growing.  "I was raised to believe . . . " is one of my least favorite phrases.  I was raised to believe many things that I don't believe anymore, and I don't believe those things because my experience of life has proven them to be untrue.  If you're going to live with integrity, you have to be open to doubting the people you love and erasing pieces of their influence.  That's never an easy thing to do, but it's a necessary part of living in the truth.                       

30 Days of Blogging, Day 2: Something you dislike about yourself

I don't like the fact that I'm so shy.  I'm not even sure if that's the right word for it at my age--I'm not comfortable talking to people I don't know well.  Is that shyness?  I can do it, thanks to my sorority training, but I really don't enjoy it.  Maybe that's just the sign of an introverted nature--I'm energized by time spent alone, not time spent with others.  I'm perfectly happy hanging out by myself, and I'm happiest when I'm at home with my family.

Whenever I'm asked to attend some social event, my immediate response is to say "Oh, sorry, I can't."  Even when that occasion involves people I know well, that's my first reaction--I have to make myself pause for a moment and actually consider the possibility.  This has a tendency to make people think I'm standoffish and conceited, but I don't think I'm either of those things.  Just borderline agoraphobic.  

30 Days of Blogging, Day 1: Something You Like About Yourself

I'm glad this project begins on a positive note--with a metaphorical pat on the back, so to speak. 

I have a hard time thinking of things I like about myself because, as the child of Midwestern parents, I was raised to be unfailingly humble and self-deprecating.  My usual response to a compliment is, "You're so kind.  Thanks.  But I wish . . ."  And from there I go on to explain what was wrong with whatever had been complimented.   Secretly, though?  (Not so secretly now, I realize.)  I like that I'm able to reach people with the things I write.  Whenever I publish an article in The Chronicle, I love getting email from other professors who tell me I've expressed something they too have been feeling.  After my novel was published, getting email from readers who were moved by that story meant a lot to me.  When my colleagues read my work and tell me they enjoyed it, I feel like our personal relationship changes--like we know something new about each other.

Putting your writing out into the world is a scary thing, but getting positive feedback makes it worth the risk.

30 Days of Blogging

As some of you know, I've been busily posting on my other blog and, in the process, ignoring this one entirely.  I've been feeling regretful about that lately  because I started this blog with good intentions: to give myself regular writing practice, and to make myself think about something beyond the daily details of my life.  These are still things that matter to me, though I haven't been making them a priority.

So.  With that in mind, I'm going to embark on a project:  30 Days of Blogging.  I saw that my niece was doing this on her blog, and when I did a quick Google search I found many different lists of daily blog topics for a 30-Day challenge.  I've picked the topics that seem most relevant to me and I'll be responding to one a day for the next month.  I'm going to try to keep my responses brief, so the project will stay manageable.

Does it bother me that I'm beginning a month-long project 5 days into the current month?  Yes, it does.  Very much.  (More on this when we get to Day 17 of the challenge.)  But I don't want to wait until October to get this started.  I hope you'll check in daily and read my responses to each of these prompts.  Better yet, why not blog along with me?  30 days of writing practice never hurt anyone.


Day 01 → Something you like about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you dislike about yourself.
Day 03 → Your favorite quote and why it's your favorite.
Day 04 → A list of 20 favorite things.
Day 05 → What’s the best thing in your life right now?
Day 06 → Someone from the past you'd like to get in touch with.
Day 07 → Someone from the past who disappointed you.
Day 08 → The reasons why you love your significant other or best friend.
Day 09 → A piece of art or sculpture that you really like.
Day 10 → A photo that makes you happy.
Day 11 → A photo that makes you sad.
Day 12 → An old photo of you (taken at least 10 years ago) and a story to go with it.
Day 13 → Your favorite song, band or artist.
Day 14 → Your favorite TV show, past or present.
Day 15 → Something you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Something you definitely can live without.
Day 17 → Something you're a little neurotic/irrational/OCD about.
Day 18 → Your views on a current controversial topic.
Day 19 → Your faith, or your political views in general.
Day 20 → A book that really meant something to you.
Day 21 → A story about your best friend, past or present.
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done.
Day 24 → Make a playlist for someone, and explain why you chose all the songs.
Day 25 → A song that makes you think of someone besides your significant other.
Day 26 → Describe your dream house.  Post pictures, if you want.
Day 27 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 28 → Something you have to forgive someone else for.
Day 29 → Something you still hope to accomplish in your lifetime.
Day 30 → Write a letter to yourself at 20. Offer some advice based on what you've learned in life.

Reinvention

My sister and niece came for a visit last week. I love having family around, and I often wish we lived a little closer to my sister and parents-but when she was here, my sister said "I know you like having some distance between us," and that caught me off guard. I had to stop and think for a moment about whether I actually like living away from my extended family or if that's just a function of the way my life has worked out.

I won't deny that I really like the way my immediate family operates as an autonomous little unit. Because Mike and I never had our parents, aunts or uncles to lean on, our four-person family team has pretty stable borders. We enjoy each others' company a lot, and my kids get along with each other really well, for the most part. People routinely comment on the fact that they're so good together--when they were younger, they walked home from school holding hands every day. (My daughter took her Big Sister role very seriously.) In fact, when someone recently gave my daughter a mini-lecture about how much she'd miss her annoying little brother if he weren't around, she came to me later and said "She obviously doesn't know me very well if she thinks I need to hear that." I had to agree.

I also won't deny that I love living in Texas. If you'd told me, ten years ago, that this is where my family was going to end up, I would not have been happy. Texas was never on my list of Places I Hope To Live Someday. I have a very clear memory of seeing the ad for the job I now have and thinking "Come on, it's a church-affiliated school in Texas. Are you really that desperate for a new job?" Because the answer to that question was a firm "Yes, I am," I went ahead and applied for the job, thinking of it as a last resort. When I got a job offer--my only offer that year, as it happened--I accepted. And I'm glad I did, because I would have missed out on many wonderful friends, students and experiences if I'd let my preconceptions about Texas get in the way.

And, finally, I have to admit that I like the way my kids have grown up, which is very far removed from the way I grew up. Because Mike and I have always worked at universities, our kids spend a lot of time around people who grew up in lots of different parts of the country (and, in some cases, different countries altogether.) These are educated people who have intelligent conversations with each other, people who travel often and view all kinds of a diversity as a strength rather than a threat. They're great role models for my children. We did more traveling when the kids were small and easily portable than we do now, but they're still great travelers. They know their way around an airport. I didn't set foot on an airplane until I was 17 years old. Partly that was because my parents didn't have a lot of money to spend on family vacations; partly that was because my parents didn't see travel as something we needed to experience. My dad spent 22 years in the Army, and my mom followed him around for 14 of those years--I imagine they'd had their fill of travel by the time they had children. I imagine they thought we could travel on our own, when we were older, if we wanted to.

Still, I didn't choose to leave my family in Idaho because of anything they did or didn't do. I left because I never felt like Idaho was where I belonged. As a teenager, whenever I was sick of my parents and angry at the world, I'd drive up to the airport and sit at one of the gates and imagine I was about the leave for wherever that plane was headed. (This was in the 1980's, when anyone who wanted to could walk through the metal detectors and sit at the gate.) I'm still not exactly sure why I felt that way about the place, and I still get nostalgic for Boise every now and then; it's not as if I shook the dust of my hometown off my feet when I headed out.

But when I go back to visit, as I've said before, I often find myself feeling claustrophobic. I always thought that had to do with the landscape, with the fact that Boise is situated in a valley, and I still believe that's true--but I understand now that it also has something to do with absent possibilities. When I left Idaho for graduate school, I had to become a different person. The role I played in my family wasn't relevant anymore; I had to figure out what role I wanted to play in the new networks I was creating. And, of course, I had to create those networks--professional contacts, yes, but also friends. I had to find people I could talk with before class started; I had to figure out which of those people I could count on to help me out in a pinch; I had to decide who I was willing to help, and who asked for too much time and energy in exchange for friendship. This wasn't an easy thing to do, since I'm not social by nature. But once I'd done it the first time, I knew I could do it again. Moving on to new places wasn't the least bit scary after that. It was an opportunity for reinventing my life, something I actually looked forward to.

In Boise, I always knew who I was--within my family and my hometown, among the people who'd known me since I was in kindergarten and the people who knew me only in high school. The place has changed a lot since I lived there, but the old Boise is always in the back of my mind--I see the absence of the old places every time I look at something new. So I have to believe that, no matter what I did while I was living in Boise, I would continue to be the person people used to know, at least in some small part of their minds.

But when I moved away, I became who I wanted to be. The girl from Idaho, who'd rather drive in snow than rain. The girl who used to sing all the time, but doesn't anymore. The girl who hadn't seen lightning bugs until she moved to Kansas. Who hates butterflies. Who never played sports and was never anything like athletic but discovered, at age 41, that she loves to run.

I love the life I'm living now precisely because it let me leave my old self, and the people who knew her, behind--and I didn't do that because I wanted to hide anything, or even escape anything or anyone. I just wanted to be who I chose to be. I don't know who I would have become if I'd stayed in Boise, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be who I am now, because there's little room for reinventing yourself in a town where people insist they already know what they need to know about you.