Focus and Refocus

On Saturdays, I always look forward to the Morning Newsletter sent out by The New York Times, because the essay at the top is usually by Melissa Kirsch. Her writing style is warm and friendly, and her observations resonate with me. 

For example, last Saturday, she wrote that July 2 is the day at the exact middle of the year and wondered if perhaps it would be a better time, given the light and pace of summer, to make the resolutions traditional to January 1. At any rate, she suggested that it would be a good time to review and revise any goals set for the year, which makes sense. 

My birthday happens to fall around this time, too, and on that day, I often find myself reflecting on the year past and pending, both calendar and personal. Listing the joys in my life is an excellent lens for that exercise.

To You and You and You and You

A friend and former colleague has told people for decades that when we first started working together, she used to say hello to me and I ignored her. “I just thought she was stuck up!” she always ends. I dispute that memory: I’m shy, not stuck up, and so I probably never greeted her first, but I know if she had said something to me I would have responded. 

Even so, I realized years ago that the way to avoid any such perception of aloofness was to proactively greet folks, which I do regularly, especially early in the day. I love to say “Good morning” to anyone I see before noon. It was my habit to stand outside my classroom door and greet as many kids by name as I could, but also to smile and say good morning to all who passed.

But the satisfying specificity of that particular greeting doesn’t carry over to the afternoon or evening. Hey there and hello are fine when you know someone, but a little weird if you’re greeting strangers. Ciao works if you’re in Europe, but not so much walking the streets of Arlington, Va, and good afternoon and good evening are not very colloquial, either. 

In those situations I usually resort to a nod and a smile, and that seems to work. I wish I had a little more, though, because I really am friendly, despite what anyone says.

Ask the Dogs

“How did it go?” I asked Heidi this afternoon after the wedding rehearsal. 

“Shit show,” she scoffed. “They changed what I was supposed to do about 5 times.”

“I guess that’s why they have rehearsals,” I said.

“For sure,” she agreed. “But it’s pretty organized now, and the groom kept thanking me for being there. He said they felt much better about things.” 

Heidi loves dogs and all the dogs seem to know it right away and return the affection. This weekend, for the second time in a couple of years, she has been asked to be the dog wrangler at a friend’s wedding. Adrian and Andy wanted Leo to be part of the ceremony, but they were worried he wouldn’t listen to the wedding planner and on one of their recent walks, Adrian asked Heidi if she would be willing to help. “You know him,” she pointed out, “and you have such calm energy.”

Heidi laughed when she recounted the story to me later. “I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of having calm energy before,” she said.

“That’s just because dogs can’t talk,” I answered. “I’m pretty sure all the canines would agree with Adrian.”

A Solid C

I love movies and I love a countdown, so when I saw the NY Times feature naming the 100 best films of the century so far, I was all in.

According to the Times, the list was compiled by "polling more than 500 filmmakers, stars and influential film fans to vote for the 10 best movies (however they chose to define that) released since Jan. 1, 2000."

The pictures were revealed 20 a day starting Monday, and readers could view a synopsis and a rationale for recognizing each one. We could also check a box if we had seen the movie or another box if we wanted to see it. At the end of each day, two poster graphics were created, one for the films we'd seen and another for those on our wishlist. 

It was a fun way to wile away ten minutes or so each morning, and today I got to see my final tally. Of the hundred? I've seen 60, and I have some solid suggestions for another 15 evenings when it seems like there's not much to watch. 

Be Our Guest

I had just finished cleaning off the deck when a shadow crossed the sun. It was a curious crow, and it cocked its head when it landed on a branch of the birch tree that shades the balcony. 

Lucy was inside, and she saw it, too, so I slid the door open and let her out. She trotted to the corner and stood with front paws on the deck box, watching the big bird. The crow was not intimidated, though, and the two stood eye to eye for a few minutes. 

"Let's feed it!" Heidi suggested, and I reminded her where the birdseed was. "It looks thirsty," she added, and I fetched some water and a couple of shallow containers from the house. She filled them and placed them on the railing.

We brought Lucy inside, and the three of us watched as the crow ate and drank. Despite my worry that it might make a mess of the recently cleaned deck, it was a perfect guest, enjoying the refreshments neatly, with one eye on us as we observed. A little while later, it bowed politely and flew away.

911

Our community garden is located just a couple of houses from the fire station. Over the years, countless quiet mornings or afternoons there have been interrupted by the screaming of sirens responding to one emergency or another. The noise is loud enough that if Lucy happens to be there, I cover her ears because I know they are more sensitive than mine, and mine are hurting.

As unfailingly jarring as it is, it is of course impossible to be annoyed, knowing the essential duties the firetrucks, ambulances, and their occupants are engaged in. I do flinch, though, every time. 

And then I take a deep breath and send out positive energy to anybody who needs such help and gratitude to those who willingly offer it.

That Day

For me, it's always been impossible to understand what makes a moment, or an experience, or a day indelible. For example, it's no secret to those who know me that I love visiting Maine in the summer, and many of my happiest adult memories have taken place there. My family has been kind enough to travel there for my 40th, 50th, and 60th birthdays, and I treasure those weeks spent in my favorite place with the people I love. If it were up to me, we'd all go there every summer. 🤞🏻

There was a day, though, that for some reason stands out even among those amazing memories. Heidi and I and our first dog, Isabel, had driven up for just a few days at the end of the summer to stay with my friend Ruth. The year was 2005; Isabel was 2, Heidi was teaching swim lessons and lifeguarding, we spent many afternoons visiting my Aunt Sis in the hospital, and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince had just come out.

On our way home, we decided to stop in Stonington and take the mail boat to Isle au Haut and then spend the night in a harborside hotel before getting on the road the next day. We left Ruth's at the crack of dawn to make our boat, and the morning was still a little chilly when we boarded. Isabel had never been on a boat that size before, but of course Heidi was able to lure her aboard. The voyage was about an hour, and when we were dropped off at the ranger's station, we understood that we would be on the island for the next six hours, until the boat returned. 

Conditions were primitive: there was an outhouse and an information kiosk, but the town, such as it was, was two miles down a narrow road, but we had packed food and water, and we were ready for the experience. We let Isabel off leash, and she dashed out of sight immediately. Fortunately, we found just down the path, standing in the water of a little inlet.

The next hours were just the three of us exploring the trails and cliffs and cobble beaches of the island. We ate lunch on a boulder looking out to sea, and I fashioned a dog toy from nylon rope and the remnants of a lobster trapfor Isabel to fetch. Near the end of the afternoon, we found an overlook above the sea, and there was something about that rocky outcropping that reminded me for all the world of the place where Dumbledore takes Harry to retrieve Slytherin's locket.

Almost too soon, it was time to return to the mainland, but once checked into our little efficiency we realized we were famished. A place around the corner delivered us a couple of fried seafood platters, and we ate clams, fish, and shrimp in front of the TV as we watched The Closer. 

It was one of the best days of my life.

Stay Cool

 

It was still 97 degrees at 5:45 this afternoon when I went up to check on my garden. After ALL the rain we've had in the weeks prior, things are still looking pretty healthy despite this hot, dry spell. In fact, I didn't even need to water; I'll take care of that tomorrow evening. 

I did pull a few weeds, though, enough to get some dirt in my Crocs, which was uncomfortable once I was ready to drive home. From the driver's seat, I slipped my dirty feet out of the shoes and dumped them onto the pavement, but rather than put them back on, I decided to drive home barefoot.

It had been a looooong time since I'd driven without shoes, and I had to adjust the seat to reach the pedals. Even so, it took me back to those days in my early 20s when I lived at the beach. We did everything barefoot then-- walked on blistering pavement to searing sand, rode beach cruisers down the boardwalk, and drove my yellow, 1976 Volkswagen Rabbit all over town. I'm sure I had a pair of Vans or flip flops thrown into the backseat in case I needed to go inside anywhere, but other than that? It was sandy toes to the metal all summer long.

It was a short ride home from the garden, but despite the heat, I rolled down the windows and blasted the 80s station. It was never my favorite decade, but today it was just right.

Ha Ha Funny

"What are we going to watch tonight?" Heidi asks me almost every evening. I'm not sure how I got to be in charge of our viewing-- I hope it's not because I'm a big brat-- but that's how it is. 

Lately, we've been watching Nobody Wants This, with Kristen Bell. After we finished all five seasons of The Good Place, I wasn't ready to completely let go of Eleanor Shellstrop, so. The shows are different, but thematically very similar. They both explore what it means to be a good person, and they do it through comedy. While not exactly classic sitcoms, the writing is smart and funny, and the acting is, too, and they make us laugh.

So tonight, when Heidi asks me her standard question, I know what the answer will be.

The Sound of a Closing Door

"How are you feeling?" I asked my former colleague, Deisy, on the morning of the last day of school. I was there subbing, and she was in her usual spot in the lobby, ready to dispense tardy passes to any laggard students. 

I had known her for nearly 30 years, and I also knew she was retiring. This was her very last day on the job.

She smiled ruefully. "I feel a little sad," she confessed. "Everyone here gave me a nice party and gifts, and I couldn't finish my thank-you notes because I kept crying."

"I know," I told her. "And everyone expects you to be so happy, right?"

Her eyes widened. "I think you're the only one who understands," she said. 

"Give yourself a lot of grace," I advised her. "As much of a privilege as it is, retirement is a huge adjustment."

We were both a little choked up. 

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome!" I laughed. "And look at me! Obviously, you can always come back."

Berry Picking

When I read this prompt, my first thought was to go berry picking, something I haven't done in decades. Blueberries, a fruit we picked gallons of on our way home from the shore during my childhood summers, are in season at local pick-your-own farms, but in this case, "local" doesn't really translate to "nearby." 

Plus, I had promised to help my friend Mary and Heidi today pack up their classrooms for retirement and relocation, respectively. Still, returning home at around 3:30, that hankering to pick some berries was strong, and I knew today would be the most pleasant for a while, with that heat dome approaching. It occurred to me that there are several wineberry bushes skirting the woods on our property, and I know they ripen in late June. 

So I grabbed an empty pint container saved from the farmers market and walked to the edge of the complex, following the woods around and up the big hill until I found a patch of berries in the sun. The direct sunlight had ripened several berries ahead of the ones a little lower on the hill, and I was able to pick about half a pint. They didn't really make it home, though, because I ran into a few neighbors on my way back, and I was eager to share my foraged goodies. 

That part of the experience was predictable, though, because it seemed like we usually ate as many blueberries as we picked when we were kids, too.

Active Enough

"Do you have any ideas for meals I can make without turning on the stove?" a friend of Heidi's asked me this morning. They had just finished a morning walk with the dog.

"A few," I answered, "but what's going on? Is your a/c broken?"

"I haven't turned it on yet," she replied, and seeing my raised eyebrows, elaborated. "I just don't really like the way air conditioning feels," she shrugged. "I have my windows open and fans running. It's not that big a deal, especially since I'm at work all day."

I thought back to summers when I was a kid. We never had air conditioning, and I remembered both the pleasure of a fan blowing mild air on warm days and the misery of having to take a cool shower just so we could sleep on sweltering nights. It was all we knew.

"Do you have good cross-ventilation?" I asked. "Because these places," I gestured around the living room, "were built to be air-conditioned. I love to have them open, but we do not have very good airflow from our windows."

"It's not bad," she said. "But this is Virginia, and a heat dome is coming, so I'm going to turn my a/c on tomorrow."

Later, when we stepped outside to see her off, I looked up at our second-story windows and saw the condensation on them. The close, warm air felt good on my refrigerated skin, but I looked at my watch and saw that the temperature had already reached 87. I may have missed my opportunity for vigorous activity, but sitting in a lawn chair on the deck with a tall glass of iced tea and spending some time reading and writing seemed like a great idea.

Record Setting

I didn't think twice about saying yes when a friend asked me to sub on the last day of school. I knew it would be an early release anchor day, so I would have about 23 minutes with each class. Plus, they were the science classes I had spent four weeks with when she was out for surgery.

Even so, as the day approached, I began to question my decision. She had told me I could do whatever I wanted, but the last day of school is, well, the last day of school, and there's always a chance of shenanigans.

As it turned out? I needn't have worried. The relationship I had forged with the kids held, despite not having seen them in a few weeks. And the activity I chose, trying to beat the world record for stacking M&Ms (it's seven), along with an optional Kahoot about the history of the candy, was just right for the time we had. Behind our closed door, kids were calm and engaged, despite whatever chaos was outside.

A Promise for the Future and a Blessing for Today

"This is the first time I've ever been to this," I said to an assistant principal as I entered the gym for eighth-grade promotion.

"Right," she nodded, "because you were always in sixth grade."

"A couple of former students asked me to come," I told her, "and since I could? Here I am!"

"You should sit with the teachers," she motioned. "There are open seats right there." 

I took the last seat in the back row. I was at an angle to the stage, but within full view of a jumbo screen. Best of all? I could see all the kids sitting in neat rows, waiting to be promoted. When it came time for them to file up to get their certificates, every student walked by, less than ten feet from me.  My heart swelled with pride and hope as I remembered the children they had been when I met them nearly three years ago and marveled at how much they had grown.

And I was so glad I had come.

A Regular Dale Carnegie

I spent my day volunteering at the end-of-the-year field day for my former sixth-grade team. Because of my stint as a science sub, I knew most of the kids, and as it turned out, the few I didn't weren't hard to remember. One such student was a guy named Nicholas, whom I first encountered sitting alone at a picnic table. "Are you in trouble?" I asked. "Is that why you're here?"

He shrugged, and I introduced myself. "I used to be a teacher here," I told him. "Who did you have for English this year?" I nodded when he told me. "So, what was your favorite class?"

"PE," he answered predictably.

"Great class!" I agreed. "What about your favorite core class?" 

"English," he said.

"My old subject!" I said. "We have that in common!"

From there, we chatted about elementary schools he had attended (3 in 4 years), when his family came to the US from Bolivia (just 5 years before), what he missed most about his home (family, of course), and his favorite Bolivian restaurant in town. "Have the carne asada!" he advised. By the time the teacher let him off the hook for goofing off, we were fast friends. 

And it paid off, too, because I crossed paths with him several times over the course of the day, and even if he wasn't on his best behavior at that moment, he was soon after.

Root, Root, Root

A cold and rainy Sunday might not be anyone's preference. But to be honest, we've been so busy lately that, with plans to go to the baseball game today, it has been a blessing not to have to worry about the garden. Sure, there will be weeds when I finally make it up there, but that's an easy fix, and hopefully all my plants are thriving in the cool, damp weather.

Plus? It wasn't too hot at the game, and we had a fun time in our free Hawaiian shirts, even if the home team lost.
 

Luminous

We were relaxing in rocking chairs on our friends' front porch in Virginia Beach last Saturday when I noticed an insect making its way across the railing. "Is that a firefly?" I asked Heidi.

"It just looks like a bug to me," she shuddered.

I laughed and went to investigate. Sure enough, it was indeed a little lampyridae. "Did you call them fireflies or lightning bugs?" I said to Heidi.

"I just called them 'bugs' and left them alone," she answered.

Later, at dinner, I reported my discovery to our hosts, Traci and Rob. "I love fireflies," Traci said. "We didn't have them in Florida."

"They're lightning bugs," her husband corrected her, and he smiled at me, because he's from Upstate New York near where my dad grew up.

"We called them both," I said, "but they were definitely lightning bugs to my dad."

We looked out the window at the dusky summer evening. "I think I just saw one!" Rob said, and we grabbed Liv, their three-year-old daughter, and a jar and headed out to the front yard. 

It took a minute, but we saw a couple blinking near the garden and jogged over. Once my eyes had adjusted, I was able to chase one down, capture it with loose hands, and carry it over to the jar. Liv was enchanted, and we showed her how to gently tip the jar so that the little beetle wouldn't keep dashing himself against the lid. 

I turned back to the lawn in search of others, but there was barely a twinkle. "I read somewhere that the population is in serious decline," I told the group. "It's loss of habitat and light pollution, mainly."

We waited for a while, but we were bound by the attention span of a toddler, and so we released our prisoner, and everyone else went back inside. 

As I sat on the front stoop, I remembered countless summer evenings spent with my brother and sister chasing lightning bugs. We had a coffee can or a peanut butter jar with holes punched in the top, filled it with what seemed to be dozens of them as we ran around the backyard in our pajamas. The rule was that we had to let them all go at the end of the night, so we would open the container, set it down, and bang inside through the screen door to go to bed. 

It was always waiting, empty the next morning, ready to be filled again.

Last Friday

I spent the day today in middle school, subbing for a friend. Mind you, subbing on the last Friday of the school year is not for the faint of heart (Lordy-- teaching on the last Friday of the year is not for the faint of heart!), but my friend was of the same philosophy that I was, which is to keep 'em learning up to the end. That meant that there was work to do and understanding to demonstrate, organized into the familiar structure and procedures of the class. 

The only outlier in that model was me.

Some of the kids knew me from my long-term sub job in science, but some didn't. For the most part, it wasn't too hard to keep the classes orderly and productive; I came prepared with both strategies to give breaks and activities that rewarded assignment completion. Even so, (and hardly surprisingly) some of the students challenged me. 

When, after a series of obnoxious comments, one kid stole a piece of candy from another, claiming that "he didn't know it was hers," I gave him a choice of a call to the assistant principal or lunch detention. He opted for the second option and then returned to work. When he didn't give me any trouble for the rest of the class, I pulled him aside and told him he had earned his lunch back.

"Awww," he smirked, "I really wanted to come and finish my assignment."

"That's awesome," I congratulated him with a laugh, "but I don't want to spend any more time with you today!"

Thanks, Sue!

Today is my mom's birthday. She would have been 86 if we had not lost her back in 2019. I thought of her all day, and this evening, I got a message from one of her friends:

Hi Tracey, this is Sue. We had book club today, and today's your mom's birthday. We each took a turn talking about all the things we had done with your mom and how much we loved her and things like that. So I wanted to let you know we all had really good memories of her. And then we took a picture of the group, and all these people were in the book club when your mom was a member, so I'll send you the photo. Say hi to the rest of the gang, and I hope to see you someday soon.

It meant a lot to me to know that my mom's friends still remember her so fondly, and that Sue was kind enough to let me know, so I sent my appreciation right away.

Good Eats

A few years ago, a colleague and I bonded over our shared love of cooking. He's mostly a grill man, and he knows I'll appreciate his tales of brining, rubbing, searing, smoking, and saucing. It tickles him when he brings me a taste of something, and I can identify most of the ingredients. He also enjoys baking, and he and his wife regularly try out new cookie recipes.

It only made sense to us to organize a couple of staff events at school based on our mutual interest, and so we do a holiday cookie exchange and an end-of-the-year potluck barbecue for anyone interested. For the barbecue, he always does the main, and over the years we've been lucky enough to sample ribs, smoked brisket, pulled pork, and pulled chicken. I always make Heidi's mom's potato salad, a classic mayo, mustard, and relish-dressed dish with celery and boiled eggs. I also bring lemon squares, which are a favorite of that crowd.

Even though I retired, our tradition lives on, and tomorrow is the big day. He's bringing chicken and jambalaya this year, and in addition to potato salad and lemon squares, we also have brownies, corn salad, pasta salad, beer bread, baked beans, fruit, chips, watermelon, and chocolate chip cookies on the menu.

You can bet I intend to savor every bite!

Happy to Do It

My dance card was full today! I took our neighbor's senior dog out mid-morning and mid-afternoon, as I have been doing daily since the dog walker was injured. "If you don't mind doing it," our neighbor said, "I can keep paying Sarah while she's laid up."

Shortly after the morning out, I headed over to Sarah's to let her 3 dogs out and to drop off the laundry we had done for her before picking up a few things to take over to the rehab facility where she's recovering. I stayed for about an hour before I had to leave for an appointment with another friend who was feeling overwhelmed by the thought of writing a resume and cover letter. Since I had worked on mine in the fall, she had reached out for a little support.

Then it was home again to take the dogs out. I can't be sure my actions brought any joy, but I know my friends appreciated the help.

He Asked

"Excuse me?" A man approached me in the produce section as I was adding tomatoes to my cart. "How does that thing work?"

He was talking about the cart. I was at an Amazon Fresh grocery store because they had offered me a $10 coupon if I dropped my return there. Since I was doing the Amazon thing, I decided to grab a smart cart and follow the directions on its built-in screen and my app to see what it was like to shop and check out at the same time.

I explained to the gentleman that the experience had been easy to navigate and troubleshoot. I showed him the screen with the running tally of my purchases so far, which were already packed in grocery bags. The cart has built-in scanners and a scale to keep track of the groceries as you add them. Then you just push the cart through a special lane, and it totals the bill and charges you, kind of like an EZ Pass.

"That's cool!" he nodded.

"It is," I agreed, "and it was kind of fun, too!"

You're On!

I do love me a challenge, and so I was all in when the NY Times ran a five-day activity designed to help participants learn a poem. How could I resist a description that stated,  A poem can lift the spirits and nourish the soul. This week, let’s all learn one together! Heck, I even sent the link to my former 6th Grade English colleagues! And I definitely gained an immense appreciation of Edna St. Vincent Millay and her poem "Recuerdo." 

Just the opening line, We were very tired, we were very merry--, perfectly describes the punch-drunkenness of many late nights spent with friends, and the five activities the Times offered, along with the amazing gallery of contemporary authors reading the poem, made the challenge a joy.

So when I saw that they were offering a creativity challenge last week, I was all in. And although it was no "Recuerdo," I completed the doodles and the other activities with fidelity right up until Friday morning when the directions were to "try one new thing." They offered a list of options to commit to with a click, and of the 23, I felt like over half would not be new. Even so, there was one thing that caught my interest-- the 30-second dance party.

It did involve buying a doodad, but the description also seemed kind of fun: It’s an annoying toy, but on days when you can’t fit in a workout, it’s guaranteed to get your body moving. 

So, I ordered one, and it was waiting for us when we got home from the beach this afternoon. After dog-sitting for the weekend, Treat was still here when I tore into the package and inserted the batteries. He was very obliging when the strange accent ordering us to dance for 30 seconds emerged from the button's speaker, and the three of us had ourselves a hat-trick of micro dance parties before brainstorming ways we could use the concept to bring a little fun and movement to a middle school classroom.

Willa and Liv

One of the additional benefits of winning tickets to the show last night was the opportunity to spend a day and night with some friends of ours who had recently moved down here from Northern Virginia. Traci and Rob are nice, but their three-year-old and six-month-old daughters are delightful. I can't think of anything sweeter than spending time with little kids, unless it's rocking a baby to sleep. Fortunately, I've had a healthy dose of both today, and I feel great!
 

Beautiful Evening for a Show

The venue for the I Want My 80s concert was an outdoor pavilion right on the Portsmouth waterfront. There was a cool breeze blowing through the arena
as we took our seats in the seventh row, just stage left of the microphone. John Cafferty opened the show at 7 pm sharp, and it was nearly 10:30 when a shirtless Rick Springfield shredded the final notes of Jesse's Girl. 

And, although nature didn't provide the joyful experience of three hours of live music, it sure did enhance it.

The Grace of God

Witnessing the experience of our friend who was hit by a car last week has made me grateful for so many things. I'm thankful for the safety net of family and friends I know I have, should a twist of fate knock me down. I appreciate having the strength and income to manage my household and keep it running smoothly. And finally, I am grateful that I have the time and resources to help a friend in need.
 

Loved and Lost

I always knew I had hit on a good prompt when students asked, "Can I do more than one?"

This is a good prompt!

"Thanks," my brother said when I dropped off the squash and pepper plants I had grown from seed. "Emily will love these!"

We stood outside his house, looking over his garden beds. "The rabbits ate those," he pointed at an empty spot where once there had been beans. "That pepper has a flower," he noted, "but those aren't doing well at all."

I nodded, and he shrugged. "That's why I hate growing vegetables," he said. "They break my heart every time."

“But they’re so worth it,” I said. 

I spent a big chunk of my afternoon at my friend's, who was hit by a car, home. A cleaning crew was inside preparing the place for her eventual return, and I was in the yard with her three dogs, repairing the fence, adding hardware cloth to the gate, and listening to my audiobook. 

The closer I got to the end of The Good Lord Bird, by James Mcbride, the more breaks I needed to take from this National Book Award winning tale about John Brown told from the perspective of an unwillingly emancipated enslaved boy who was initially mistaken for a girl and, stays disguised as one for three years during his association with the "Captain."

Because once they got to Harper's Ferry? I knew the book would break my heart.

But it is so worth it. 

Oh, Hey

"So, how do you spend your days now that you're retired?" a friend of Heidi's asked me this afternoon.

"I've actually been kind of busy the last couple of months," I told her, and then recounted my subbing job. "This week has been busy, too," I said, and filled her in on trying to help our friend who was hit by the car get organized to be away from her home, pets, and job for at least 2 weeks while she's in rehab for her broken leg. 

"And we're going out of town this weekend, so I want to get our house ready for my nephew to pet sit," I added. "And my garden needs some attention, too."

"Sounds like you're keeping busy," she replied.

I nodded. Truth be told, I've been feeling a little stressed about everything that's happening now, as well as the end-of-the-school-year activities I've volunteered for, and helping Heidi wrap things up in her classroom. Additionally, we need to coordinate our summer travel plans, and I want to be as supportive as I can to my aunt as she faces her own medical challenges.

But then, I remember that I literally have all day, every day to take care of these details, and it all seems so much easier. And? I'm definitely not bored.

Manifesting

When I asked if I could bring anything this morning, a friend in the hospital requested a cold brew with Lactaid. She admitted it was a long shot, but I happened to have a jug of cold brew on hand and the Lactaid was not hard to come by. As I pulled into the hospital parking lot, though, she texted that she was NPO, meaning no food or drinks. I left the coffee in the car and headed up to see what was going on. 

She had been hit by a car on Friday night, and the CT scans had revealed a skull hematoma and a fractured tibia. "I guess they're going to do surgery on my leg?" she said, "but I haven't talked to ortho. I'm starving though, and I really want my coffee!"

"Hospitals have their own time zones," I told her, remembering the time I spent with my mom when she was an inpatient. "It would be nice if they were more like bus stops, though, wouldn't it?" I laughed. "Where you can look at your phone and track your ride while you wait."

Just then, the nurse came in for the first check-in of her shift. "Ask me anything," she offered, as if she had overheard our conversation. She swiped into the monitor by the bed and scanned the chart. She listened and answered every question we had, reading the chart and sending messages as she went. Before she left, she discovered that the NPO was an earlier order that had been mistakenly re-released. 

"Order those pancakes," she told my friend, and turning to me, said, "Go get that coffee from the car!"

Joyful June

I liked the structure of participating in the Active April challenge put forth by the folks at Action for Happiness so much that I'm going for Joyful June. As before, I'll complete the daily prompt and then write about it here. 

Done!

Anyone else want to join?