30 Days of Thanks: Day 30

As I was getting ready for work this morning, I realized today was the last official day of this challenge I set for myself.  And I gotta tell you, it's bittersweet.

When I started this challenge, I felt like I did a pretty decent job being thankful for the big things like God, my house, my loved ones, my job, food to eat, etc.  But I felt like I missed out on so many little opportunities to be grateful.

And so I set off on day 1 to find something small, something I would normally not even notice, to be be thankful for.  And a funny thing happened, I found lots of little things to be thankful for.

And I found that to be true the next day.

And the next day.

And even the day after that.

Pretty soon I found myself jotting things down throughout the day, chomping at the bit to come home and drop them into that day's list.  I'm sure that nasty, negative, unfair, ugly things happened all around me this month, but for the life of me I just can't think of a single one.  My brain space is filled with a jumble of wonderful things I'm just dying to list.

And so on the eve of a new month, it's not surprising to me that today's list is long.  After this month I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have so, so much to be thankful for.  And that giving thanks for something, no matter how small, has made a big difference in my life.

Today I'm thankful for...

• my hardworking husband


• productive work days


• warm jackets


• outside recess


• parent volunteers


• my sweet students who just wanted to write and write and write some more


• the senators who voted no today


• burritos


• blueberries


• chivalry


• a quiet house


• morning prayer


• Christmas music


• conversations with my mom


• singing with my class


• the book The Velveteen Rabbit, even though it makes me cry every December


• phrases my little ones write, like "clouds prickling in the sky"


• laughing so hard I cried

and last, but not least,

• you, dear reader.  You've been great company this month and I've loved hearing about all the things you have to be thankful for, too.

30 Days of Thanks: Day 6

It's day 6 of 30 Days of Thanks and today I'm thankful for...

• the song "Secret" by Seal.  Download it now.  Thank me later.


• crossing the 10,000 word mark for NaNoWriMo


• playing ball with my nephews


• my mom's cooking

30 Days of Thanks: Day 4

I'm spending November writing by the seat of my pants for NaNoWriMo, but I'm also trying to get in the habit of daily thanks.

Today I'm thankful...

• for small acts of kindness


• for the pink sunrise sky that greeted me when I took the trash out


• that my mom is finally home from her big adventure through the lower 48


• to have attended a writing session at my local community college this afternoon.  I admit, I kinda hoped something like this would go down:

But it didn't.  What did go down was a great session and reading by Charlie Price.  Know what else went down?  A whole bunch of words on the page for this runaway novel of mine.  6,868 words down only 43,132 to go!

Goodbye, White

Labor Day is here, banishing white pants to the back of the closet for another season.  Well, I don't own any white pants, 'cause my bottom half just doesn't need that level of attention, so instead I'm writing about other white things that have come and gone.

Goodbye white lace on the baby pillow my mom stitched for me.  I loved you until you were dirty tatters framing the yellow gingham,  Come to think of it, goodbye white stuffing that filled the pillow and in the end came out in puffy lumps through the hole where I loved that pillow too thin.

Goodbye white stephanotis corsage that I wore to a junior prom.  You were so much more beautiful than the red roses all the other girls wore.  Good riddance to the boy that gave me that corsage and didn't ever talk to me again because I wouldn't smoke a joint and sleep with him.  Wait, not even good riddance to him.  Just riddance.

Goodbye Saturday morning sweetmilks with mounds of snowy powdered sugar spooned in the middle.  This isn't so much a goodbye as it is a "See you later on a lazy winter morning."  I will wipe powdered sugar from my lips and remember wiping my mouth on the corner of Grandpa's "Kiss Me, I'm Norweigan" apron.

Goodbye white seashells washing ashore in the shadows of the pier.  I keep you in a jam jar on my night stand, remembering the day I last kissed my grandmother.  I can't wait to walk barefoot in the sand and gather more shells for my jar.

Goodbye white wedding dress, all boxed up on the top shelf in my closet.  I take you down every now and then and blow the dust off the front of the box.  You made me feel like a princess on our wedding day.  You were spotless and new and so was I.  One day I will work up the nerve to free you from your box and wear you around the house.  Until then, wait for me with your satiny train all tucked in.

Goodbye blackberry blossoms, bursting white among the thorns.  It's time for you to rest, time to pull fall's burgundy blanket up to your chin as the earth breathes a sigh of relief.  It's Labor Day and the laboring is done.  For now.

Elvis Has Left The Building

After 31 years of teaching, my mom turned in her yard duty whistle in exchange for a well deserved retirement.  My step-dad invited her closest friends to join her in celebrating her devotion to children.  The house was brimming with long time friends, parents of former students, family, and Elvis.  You heard me: Elvis.  Some random Elvis impersonator, at best an acquaintance of my mom's, was mistakenly invited by another guest.  (Social Skill Note:  It's only okay to invite people to a party if you are the actual person throwing the party.)  Thankfully, Elvis did not sing.

As I coast into 70ish days of summer vacation, my mom steps into doing whatever she wants for the rest of her life.  No more early morning yard duty.  No more parent teacher conferences.  No more lesson plans.  No more staff meetings.  No more worrying about budget cuts.  No more calling me and talking about the funny/outrageous/heartwarming thing that happened in her classroom that day.

Sure, I can still call her and tell her about the goings on in my classroom, but I will miss the reciprocity.  My mother dreamed of being a teacher since childhood and so did I.  We have shared this beautiful profession my entire adult life and it's a bittersweet feeling knowing that come August, only one of us will be sharpening pencils and writing out a new set of desk nametags.  I now live in a world where I teach and my mother taught and it's kind of a lonely place.  Elvis has only just left the building and I already wish she'd come back.

The Garage Incident: A Cautionary Tale

I was hunkered down under my covers, dreaming the bizarre dreams that accompany a fever.  Suddenly, I woke up and discovered my pajamas were soaked in sweat.  I peeled them off and walked to the door that leads to the garage.  Wanting to air out my clammy skin, I'd not yet put on a second pair of pajamas.  No big deal.  Terry was on a business trip and I had the house all to myself.  As I walked to the door, I was feeling pretty good about the fact that I hadn't spiraled into a tornado of body image issues.  In fact, I was feeling pretty darn good about my natural self.

I opened the door leading to the garage and took a step toward the washing machine.  Before my feet could move another inch, I froze in horror.  The garage door was up.  I was naked.  In the garage.  For all to see.  Sweet, fancy Moses, I was naked in the garage for all to see!  I turned to hit the garage door button on the wall and as I turned, I glimpsed a white car in my driveway.  It was my mom.  My mom!  I was naked in my garage for my mom to see!  I slapped the garage door button and the garage door descended on my humiliation.  Did she see me in my birthday suit?  Was my step-dad in the car?  Dear God, make me a bird so I can fly far, far away.

I threw my damp wad of pajamas into the washer and dashed into the house to put on a fresh pair.  I figured the doorbell would be ringing any second.  Thirty seconds passed.  A full minute edged by.  Maybe she was wrapping up a phone call or something.  Five minutes passed and I ventured out to the driveway.  No car.  No mom.  Oh man, she'd seen.  I'd created an Awkward Naked Moment and frightened my mom away.  Maybe she got an emergency phone call and had to leave right that second.  Yes, that must have been it.

So I scooted back into the house and waited to hear from my mom.  After all, I wasn't going to call her and explain.  No way.  Not when there was still a slim chance she hadn't seen my business.  I certainly wasn't going to bring it up.  So, I waited.  And waited.  And fell asleep.  (It was the deep, dark hour of 9pm.)

I returned to my fevered dreams and awoke to my mother's voice on the answering machine.  She was saying something about having offended me and she was sorry and she didn't know why I wouldn't come to the door.  I staggered out of bed with a hint of lucidity and played her message.  The message only served to confound me even more.  I wasn't upset.  I was naked.  Wait a second, if she thought I shut the garage door because I was mad, then she must not have seen me.  Victory: my mom thought I was a jerk, not the neighborhood exhibitionist.  Hooray!

I'm pretty ok with people thinking I'm a jerk.  I'm not one of those people who needs to be liked by everyone, mostly because I don't like everyone.  And I'll be the first to tell you that sometimes I am a jerk.  But I didn't really want my mom to think I was mad at her.

Reluctantly I picked up the phone and dialed my mom.  Now, the trick was to explain what had happened without revealing too much.  I puzzled over how to guide our conversation away from you know what.  At first I thought I was going to get away with it.  She explained that she had knocked and rung the doorbell and upon seeing our cars at our house determined that we were home.  She'd decided to wait in our driveway until we emerged like groundhogs or something.  I filled her in on the fact that I was home alone, sick and asleep in my bed.  When she rang the doorbell, the noise must have roused me from my clammy nap.  I explained that when I saw her in the driveway, I assumed she was on her way in, not waiting for me to come out.

I thought I was totally in the clear and that I'd avoided having to confess, but no, the conversation continued and finally I couldn't do it anymore.  I just don't have the skills.  I exhaled and in one big breath laid out the entire embarrassing story.  My mom laughed and offered her sympathy.

It was a near miss, people, and we should all learn from it.  Keep your garage door closed at all times and never, ever be sans apparel.  Not even in the shower.  Ok, that might be a little drastic, but I'm still shell shocked.

I'm sure my mom will be laughing about this one for a long time.  I will, too.  In the safety of my home.  Wearing layers and layers of clothing.