Days start early in this dojo. Martin plunged into two back-to-back classes at the shipyard, which gets him on the road at 6:30 every morning. Merry is off to jazz band practice just twenty minutes after his departure. As a result I am having to rethink my night-owl tendencies. Just two days of early mornings and I have a headache.
None of us were prepared, though we are all making it and making it well. Martin is in the throes of a horrible head-cold and the rest of us are playing variations on that theme. Bea was home yesterday with her asthmatic chest rattle and she and I read the fabulous new book "The Mouse Mansion" and then worked on one of our own. It was not the dive back into writing that I imagined, but it was a precious day.
Now, I know most of the world rises at least that early every morning and it is not significant in any way that we are doing the same. But after our stay-up-until-two and sleep-in schedule of the holidays, it is an adjustment. It is very dark here at 6:30 in the morning. I have been seeing the early-risers, though, the mysterious people who roll out of bed at dawn or before and have drunk two cups of coffee by the time I have sipped my first shaky cup of tea. I'm impressed by the early-risers. There's one lady in particular whom surprises me every morning as I roar around the corner, still half-dressed in pjs, from dropping Merry at school--she is always walking down the street placidly in her reflective jacket,( and this morning with a flashlight in hand), and she appears as if she has been walking a good mile or so by the time I see her.
Right now my head feels as though there's a big obese goopy monster perched in the inside of my eye sockets. Sinuses. Yuck.
Thank you all for the Christmas cards--they waited for us in big, sloping stack on our return from Texas. We had a wonderful time there, doing simple things like sitting around in our p.j.s, eating cereal, watching Murder She Wrote reruns. We threw some parties--birthdays and Christmas. We shopped, walked the neighborhood on Christmas Eve in a balmy breeze with the scent of barbeque floating down the street. It was good to see the sun and Martin got two days in shorts before the weather turned. Martin's mom had just returned from the hospital and it was so good to be with her and with the rest of the family.
We came back, mightily refreshed in our minds, and then we got sick. But at least there was a refreshing there. It was good not to talk about our friend's death for two weeks. It was good for the girls and it was good for us, too. I'd worked so hard through grief before we left, through all the bewilderment and confusion and sadness, that it was so good to have a break, geographically and mentally. I felt a little nervous about returning home, but it was good to be home in our sweet house, and even better after I'd spent a day cleaning out and purging. Someone said that if there's anything more wonderful than seeing all the Christmas stuff come out, it's seeing it being put away again.
And now I need to get back to my writing project. This is always the hardest thing--to put my toe in the water, test the temperature, and ease myself back in. I've never been a jumper--I leave that to braver people. I like to go slowly and curse the fool who pushes me in before I'm ready.
I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas. One of these days I'll actually get photos back on the blog. New Year's resolution!
None of us were prepared, though we are all making it and making it well. Martin is in the throes of a horrible head-cold and the rest of us are playing variations on that theme. Bea was home yesterday with her asthmatic chest rattle and she and I read the fabulous new book "The Mouse Mansion" and then worked on one of our own. It was not the dive back into writing that I imagined, but it was a precious day.
Now, I know most of the world rises at least that early every morning and it is not significant in any way that we are doing the same. But after our stay-up-until-two and sleep-in schedule of the holidays, it is an adjustment. It is very dark here at 6:30 in the morning. I have been seeing the early-risers, though, the mysterious people who roll out of bed at dawn or before and have drunk two cups of coffee by the time I have sipped my first shaky cup of tea. I'm impressed by the early-risers. There's one lady in particular whom surprises me every morning as I roar around the corner, still half-dressed in pjs, from dropping Merry at school--she is always walking down the street placidly in her reflective jacket,( and this morning with a flashlight in hand), and she appears as if she has been walking a good mile or so by the time I see her.
Right now my head feels as though there's a big obese goopy monster perched in the inside of my eye sockets. Sinuses. Yuck.
Thank you all for the Christmas cards--they waited for us in big, sloping stack on our return from Texas. We had a wonderful time there, doing simple things like sitting around in our p.j.s, eating cereal, watching Murder She Wrote reruns. We threw some parties--birthdays and Christmas. We shopped, walked the neighborhood on Christmas Eve in a balmy breeze with the scent of barbeque floating down the street. It was good to see the sun and Martin got two days in shorts before the weather turned. Martin's mom had just returned from the hospital and it was so good to be with her and with the rest of the family.
We came back, mightily refreshed in our minds, and then we got sick. But at least there was a refreshing there. It was good not to talk about our friend's death for two weeks. It was good for the girls and it was good for us, too. I'd worked so hard through grief before we left, through all the bewilderment and confusion and sadness, that it was so good to have a break, geographically and mentally. I felt a little nervous about returning home, but it was good to be home in our sweet house, and even better after I'd spent a day cleaning out and purging. Someone said that if there's anything more wonderful than seeing all the Christmas stuff come out, it's seeing it being put away again.
And now I need to get back to my writing project. This is always the hardest thing--to put my toe in the water, test the temperature, and ease myself back in. I've never been a jumper--I leave that to braver people. I like to go slowly and curse the fool who pushes me in before I'm ready.
I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas. One of these days I'll actually get photos back on the blog. New Year's resolution!
Comments
I'm so very sorry to hear about your friend. Thinking of you as you continue to grieve her loss.