Intro: The Un-Bucket List

It is almost a new year, and I've been thinking. There has been a lot of loss since we left Wyoming. There have been people we knew who've died young and tragically. It has weighed heavy on my mind and heart.

I think I'm one of those people who sees the glass as half empty. I hate to admit that, but I think I am. Life has been different than I imagined it and sometimes I've resented that. Sometimes I've let the letdowns stand in my way.

Lately, I've seen lots of bucket lists. You know, the things people want to do before they die. Things like: visit the Eiffel Tower, see a broadway play, or scuba dive.

I have my own list of things: watch the Northern Lights, see a firefly, write a book, visit Havasupai Falls. My list changes with time, but those are some things that have always been on it.

I haven't done any of those things.

But I have done some amazing things. I've done some things that I've seen on other people's bucket lists, but were never on my own. I'm going to tell you about them in the coming New Year of 2012. I'm calling it the "Unbucket List." I'm hoping it will help me appreciate the path my life has taken, even if the path was never on my roadmap.

Days of Infamy

Several weeks ago I attended a talk my famed children's writer Lois Lowry. She's a prolific writer with many, many wonderful books, the most famous of which is The Giver.

In her talk she spoke about her childhood and showed us a grainy photo of herself on a beach in Hawaii as a very little girl. The sky looked hazy and we focused on her, the famous lady as a child. Her father had been in the military and was stationed in Hawaii for a brief time. Just after the photo was taken their family moved away.

She moved on and spoke of other things, including the premise for the book The Giver, about a society that is sheltered from all the ill and evil and discomforts of the world as we know it. In their society there is no war and illness and the memories of those things are held only by the receiver of memories, the job that is assigned to the young protagonist (Jonas) of the story. It is a beautiful book, one of my favorites. There is a new gift addition available here.

So Lois Lowry told us of her life, some experiences she'd had, and of her books and her writing. Then, at the very end, she returned to the photo of her as a very little girl on the beach in Hawaii. She pointed it out, in the haze, on the horizon just behind her: an outline of the U.S.S. Arizona. The photo had been taken just a couple of months before the day that will live in infamy: December 7, 1941. The juxtaposition of the happy family at the beach and the ship that would soon lie sunk at the bottom of Pearl Harbor with tremendous loss of life was both poignant and startling. Lois Lowry didn't live in Hawaii anymore on December 7th. Her family had moved and were living on the mainland. Lois Lowry pointed out that in a book such as The Giver, society would have no memory of something as violent and horrific as the attack on Pearl Harbor and the war that rattled the world. And yet, the terrible moments shape us just as the wonderful moments do.

We are not one without the other.

We cannot be.

Tomorrow Morning

Tomorrow morning Idaho will execute it's first death row inmate in 17 years.

I have a public blog. For that reason, there are things I don't share here. I have something to share about tomorrow's events in Idaho. Something personal. If you want to hear it, leave me a comment and I'll send you my entry about it. You must be someone I know personally. That's it. That's the deal on this one. Just cause it has to be that way.

It's Autumn Time

I miss my mother most in the fall.

She loved autumn: the colors, the crispness in the air, and the sense of change. By autumn, freckles from summer peppered her face. They always made her look young and vibrant. She was married in October, before the snow fell. Her bridesmaids wore avocado green and shades of orange.

I, too, love fall, but my heart also aches for her this time of year. This was the winding down time; the time of year when our hope of a prolonged life for her was gone and we settled our minds instead on just being together. All the things that needed doing were set aside. There were good days then, before the vomiting and morphine and vials of medications.

We knew winter was coming with its emptiness, harshness, and stark absence. We knew she wouldn’t be there with us, to weather its storms or to smile when the hummingbirds came back the next spring.

Every year, it seems like I count down the days again. I mourn the loss of the leaves, the browning of the hillsides, and the death of my mother. She loved autumn enough to stay for it’s full duration. The first snow fell just hours after she died.

It seems fitting now, that my favorite time of year is filled with a sort of longing: for warm days and cool nights, for long slow walks, for the smell of maple and cinnamon, and to be loved the way only my mother loved me. I long for an elusive kind of peace. The kind that comes with feeling good about change; with hanging on to some things and letting go of others. It’s the time of year when I’m struck by how much I don’t have the answers. How much I miss being sheltered like a child.

All of my worries churn like the leaves rustling on the ground.

Then my children come, run through them, pick them up and toss them heavenward.

And I remember: I used to do that too.

Motivate Me: Mondays

I {heart} Mondays. I know, I'm one of the weird ones. There's something about a Monday that feels like a fresh start. It's the day I re-commit to all of my goals -- the ones I stopped working toward last Tuesday. On Monday it all feels possible again.

I'm most hopeful on Mondays. The weight of the week doesn't drag me down. It is a day for setting my sights high.

I've been severely lacking in motivation lately. The summer drained me of all my energy. Moving drained me of all my inspiration. I wanted a rest. I needed to re-group.

But today (Monday) I feel better. So here are my goals for this week:

1. Write (or re-vise) every weekday.

2. Workouts: Monday (run - 3 miles & swim - 1 mile)

Tuesday (bike - 45 min)

Wednesday (strength) oh, how I adore cardio

Thursday (run - 45 min)

Friday (short run, or bike w/ daughter)

Saturday (long run - 50 min+)

I'm thinking I should post my goals every week and then check-in at the end of the week and see how I've done. Feel free to join me, just leave your goals in the comments.

I'm focusing on these two things this week. I usually have a tendency to overestimate how much I can actually do. But it is Monday and today, I feel invincible.

Owl Right

OK, everybody. I didn't mean to announce I was coming back and then not come back. It's just that when I thought I was ready to come back, my laptop decided to die and it took a couple weeks to get it back up and running and things re-stored (thank you, my external hard drive).

((Oh, except for my daughter's photos from her camera and her trip to Kansas and 1st time ever on an airplane -- those are lost forever)).

But it could have been worse.

It could have been much, much worse. That statement seems to be my mantra lately.

So we are moved (to Hailey, Idaho). And school has started again. And we are settling into . . . well, something.

It feels OK.

It feels like things are going to be owl right, after all.

Raise Your Hand. . .

if you've missed me.

'Cause I might be coming back. Soon.