La Uva

I've been in hyper drive the past week. I am not quite sure what happened (well, Mercury went direct), but I am suddenly obsessed with creating order. I feel freed from the end of winter blues, and am spring cleaning in my own odd fashion. (ie. the house is a mess, but all the shredding is done...)

I've mainly been focusing on paperwork and gardening. They balance each other nicely. The shredding was a monumental job. I sorted 3 years worth of financial records and "essentialized". Basically, if it didn't relate specifically to our taxes, it was shredded. I did most of this when my husband was NOT around. He is a packrat. I used to be a packrat, but once married, there can be only one and he is far more invested. With regards to paper, packrat means not only is the bill kept, but also the original (torn) envelope, the advertising flyers that arrived with the bill, the return envelope... Multiply this by 3 years, and this has been my shredding.

Andy walked up during the tail end of the last round, and started panicking. "You are going so fast." Yes.

Gardening has been more rewarding. I've finally begun to appreciate our yard, and the plants which are there. At the moment there are tons of blue flowers: English bluebells, forget-me-nots (which I think are named because they tend to take over and be hard to forget...) and grape hyacinth. I have several rhodies, and the apple tree looks beautiful. At the moment there is morning fog drifting between the branches. The only thing missing is a blue hydrangea.

This has been such a peaceful way to wake up. Looking out the window, watching the backyard world begin to stir.

La Uva

I am exhausted. I've been contemplating blog entries for days now, and wishing I had Dragonspeak so that I could simply dictate while doing dishes.

I feel exhausted. Today was the absolute strangest day I have had in a long time. I decided to look into replacing the windows in the basement. I received an innocuous looking flyer in the mail offering free estimates. I set up the appointment for 7pm so that we'd have time for dinner and transition from the day. Of course it didn't work that way.

Dinnertime was spent fighting traffic, and 7pm is when we all arrived at home to see the window van in front of our home. Two hours later the window salesman finally left. I feel drained and exhausted. I'm not sure I've the energy for anything but sleep.

La Uva

There are so many moments, even approaching the midst of my life, where I still wonder what I will do when I grow up. It seems absurd.

When I was 12, I wanted to be a neurosurgeon. At 20 a counselor in addictions. I became a counselor in addictions. I have always attained my goals, once stated. I simply am unsure of what my goals presently are.

I love my daughter, but eventually, she will be ensconced in her own life. Where will I be then. What passion will move me. What will I be accomplishing.

I don't regret the pause in my career. It feels clearer to me to be a mother than anything I've yet done. And what is next?

I feel at a crossroads.

Armed and dangerous

Mike, my first cyclist, was also an amazing hiker. We spent many, many afternoons hiking the trails and back country between Big Sur and Carmel Valley. I still think of that area as one of the most beautiful places I have ever been.

When I first began hiking, though, I was wary of the landscape. I had just moved to California from Florida. In California, nature is benign. In Florida, nature is well-armed. Growing up in Florida, everything bites. My childhood memories include mosquitoes at twilight, alligators sheltering under the dock, and invisible chiggers in the beautiful green grass. Fire ants, sharp stickers, and burning hot sand made walking barefoot across a field inadvisable. All the above gave me a healthy respect for 'nature'.

When I first began hiking with Mike, I would jump at the sight of a bug. If I sat on a log, I would be poised to leap at the first nibble. The idea of wading into a river was viewed with extreme trepidation. Mike found all this hilarious. I tried to explain that in Florida, between the alligators, cotton mouths, chiggers, fire ants, stickers, and goodness knows what else... that nature was NOT relaxing.

It took months for me to calm down and finally enjoy the wonder of the coastal forests and beaches. One day, resting on a trail, I observed a beautiful furry ant. Yes. Furry. It was the oddest ant I had ever seen. A vibrant orange-red, it was also super-sized -- literally twice the size of any ant I had ever seen. I was quite captivated watching this wonder of god's creatures. For some reason, I was compelled, I reached out and touched it. To this day I still feel the shock of when it bit me.

Cycling

Happy and Blue 2 (link on the side) has several stories about cycling. Funny and well-written, they have reminded me of a time when the men in my life were almost exclusively cyclists. During my twenties, dh was the *only* "non-cyclist" I dated.

I never sought them out. We'd begin talking, start dating, and then I'd be introduced to their Bike.

These young men were very serious about their sport. They rode centuries on the weekend for fun (100 miles in one day). Their bike would often rival the cost of my first car. I was encouraged to admire their bike, but definitely not encouraged to ride it. My first cyclist had a beautiful blue Miata. He once let me ride it **for one short block** if I promised not to go up and down any curbs.

On the other hand, they always encouraged me to ride. I would buy mountain bikes, and we'd climb steep grades, and barrell down dusty trails. I liked riding bikes, but never became a cyclist, much to the disappointment of my first (cyclist), Mike.

Why did I date so many cyclists? Mike explained it best. He loved my calves. He thought they were the most perfect shape for riding. He would admire them, and wish his own legs (honed by many centuries) featured as developed a muscle as my lower calf.

I'm still not sure, as sincere as he was, whether I feel sexier knowing this...