Affirmation

 

The liturgy of last Sunday’s Mass called for the reading of the story of Martha and Mary. I settled in for a homily about different kinds of service when the Spirit made another truth apparent. I don’t know why I never noticed the affirmation of women as students, as working minds, before. Maybe it’s because my womanhood has leaned heavily toward Martha work and all the Mary work had to be fought for. I’ve felt guilty leaving those dishes in the sink so that there would be time to study. My spiritual community held very traditional ideas about men’s work and women’s work, so I have felt like a trespasser.

But there he is, my Jesus, affirming me in my work. Jesus knew the dishes would still be there in the morning, but his time was growing short. At fifty-one my time is growing short, and I find myself hungry at his feet. Women are called to be students as well. We are not only called to the kitchen. The right to grow and think for ourselves is the better part and it cannot be taken away from us.

Extreme Schedule Update

 Time has been a slippery subject for me recently. I committed to imitating Haruki Murakami’s writing schedule. Yes, I did modify it to be somewhat reasonable for me, but it was still extreme, for me. At first my body didn’t actually register that I was awake. I pulled off feats of making Coco Wheats in my sleep. I ended up going back to bed on those days, because creative work cannot be done like sleep-cooking. However, when I woke up there was still the list of other tasks on my extreme schedule. I could redeem my day through finishing those tasks. My creative work assumed a new importance. Even though, I wasn’t doing it exactly the way I wanted I was getting work done. I’m still struggling, but I’ve been up more days than not this week, and my page output has gone from three to five. I’m also appreciating the required exercise. My teacher has set such an extreme example as far as exercise goes that I feel embarrassed not to get my thirty minutes in.

One big benefit of adopting this schedule is I’ve finally moved into my office. I’ve been living and working either in my bed or on the living room couch. One of the great perks of this house was a bonus space that really only works as my office. My office looks lived in, but really it’s mainly been storage. In order to make the breakfast somewhat fancy I moved a microwave I’d bought for the rec room up to my office. Doing most things in the office maintains an illusion of being a serious writer. There is the problem that the electric wasn’t built for appliances, so I have to be thoughtful about what I turn on when. My bag of reading and writing has been pulled out and sits on its own. My big squishy chair is doing its job. I’m writing, regularly. Hurrah! Haruki!

Things are still rickety, but they are moving forward. Forward at any speed is better than sitting still, at least that’s what I’m feeling right now.

Safety Systems

 

Keeping track of six lively children was never easy, but I had a lot of fun inventing ways to keep them safe. My favorite is the monkey hats. There is a picture earlier on this blog of all my kids in monkey style baseball hats in their favorite color in matching tee-shirts. We stood out. It was obvious that they were loved. Most of all they were so darn cute. A few years later we were going to be traveling for an extended period of time. I wanted something like that, but no one was willing to wear monkey hats at that point. 

I worked at a summer day camp during college, and I remembered the power of the whistle. I also came across an article that praised the benefits of a whistle if someone should be attacked. Putting it all together I bought all the kids a whistle in their favorite color. Adults got black whistles. Boys got blue cords. Girls got yellow cords. The plan was if they heard the whistle they were to hurry back to a parent. If they got lost, or were afraid for any reason they were to blow their whistle and a parent would hurry to them. 

Turns out the one day we needed it we weren’t wearing them. Iris was fascinated by an exhibit about satellites and failed to exit the museum with us. We noticed immediately having counted noses outside, but it was still terrifying. I think it’s a good system, but it was never tested under fire. I should have started using it earlier when the older ones still liked Mom’s ideas.

Heart Ass

 I don’t play games.

I ring your bell until you answer.

It was the way I was raged.

Just ass

I don’t work here.

 

When you’re trying to do good, there are lots of ways to approach an issue. My food/diet obsessed friends are devout devotees of Whole Foods, but having shopped there the joke about Whole Pay Check is certainly true. It’s great that so much thought has been put into the eating lifestyle of the rich and famous, but they won’t be setting up shop in an area where such goodies are most needed. They can’t. No one in the inner cities can afford them, so I shop affordable—Costco, Meijer, Busches, Kroger. Yep, I shop around. I like to discover new foods. 

For a short time Costco carried the individual cottage cheese containers from Good Culture. They are delicious, and one of Kurt’s favorite things to eat. When Costco quit carrying them it was a sad day, until a lady in line at Costco told me that Whole Foods carried them. Whole Foods is right next to Barnes and Noble, so I don’t mind stocking up. Besides I’m curious. Whole Foods prides itself on having great stuff for the adventurous eater. I’ve been scouting the place for few months now. I haven’t found a lot I like, but then I can’t try a lot of things because they are so expensive.

That’s whatever. The thing that is really griping me is that every time I put my basket on the belt the cashier rather snottily, across several cashiers, tells me to empty the basket and place it under the counter. I don’t know what is so hard about emptying the basket. The containers are easily accessible in the wide opening of the basket. I’d be glad to put the empty basket under the counter. They seem to think minimizing their work load is a birthright, but it isn’t hard work. It’s ten things of cottage cheese easily accessible. No other store has ever asked me to do that. It’s so inefficient handling the items twice when they could be handled once. It’s annoying and the attitude makes it offensive. 

The bill for 10 containers of cottage cheese—24.20.

What is a Woman?

She casts new life.

She establishes new people.

Neglect her, and she sinks.

Harm her, and she’ll freeze your bones.

Found her.

Hail Murakami!

This Spring my fifth adult graduated high school. This means I only have one more kid to get ready to face the world. This was meant to be the moment when I reclaimed my life for my own work. This hasn’t been going as I expected. Cheaper by the Dozen notwithstanding raising six kids is tremendously taxing. Somewhere in there I realized I was alone in trying to meet certain goals, and I sat down. Not completely, I still demanded six hours a week to do something of my own, but even that declined when we moved away from my writing support system. I found myself struggling to get up in the morning. There are medical factors contributing, but it felt like my time was slipping through my fingers untouched. I tried all kinds of strategies to get up, but I haven’t had much luck.

Which is why when I heard about Haruki Marukami’s crazy writing routine I was willing to try it. For one thing he gets up at four in the morning, ok, I’m trying for five, and makes his breakfast after which he writes for four to six hours. I’d been trying to regain ground slowly, but I wonder what will happen if I just jump over the Maginot Line for neurologically fresh territory. It seems plausable at least. Marukami then does strenuous exercise before settling into reading and relaxing. He goes to bed at 9:30, something I am already doing in my efforts to wake up. 

So, I’m doing it. It’s only been three days, but five am is fresh territory. I’m all kinds of wobbly, but breakfast puts a positive spin on putting my feet on the floor. While my adherence to the official schedule is sloppy at best I have produced work. I’ve been a little desperate to produce work, and the work came with insight into my character and the voice of my novel. Five am is also free time because no one in my family needs me in anyway at all at that time. I’m not being selfish writing then. I’m reclaiming a vital resource. It may be crazy, but it’s worth a strong effort. 

 https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2008/06/09/the-running-novelist

Not a Damn Thing

 I like to think things through, so when I was thinking about having children I invested a lot of time in “what if” scenarios. What if they were ill and died, or got in an accident and died or were supremely selfish and died? What if they did things that hurt me or embarrassed me? What if they were exceptionally wicked? What if everything went wrong and nothing went right? Would I still want to be a mom under those circumstances? Until I was absolutely sure about the answer to that I kept thinking, and in the end I decided I wanted to be a mom no matter what shape that journey would take.

This led to a conversation I have with my children usually around middle school age. I tell them plainly and without reservation that there is not a damn thing they could do that would make me not love them. I walk them through a few possibilities until I’m pretty sure they’ve got it. I’ve been really blessed and things have gone well for me. I am so proud of them and proud to be their mother. But if anything should change, my love won’t.