Yay 45!

There are seasons to life, yes? For me, in my mid-forties, this metaphorical late Summer is multi-faceted. Life truly is good: golden and warm and colorful for the most part.  If I live to be about 90, I am in the middle of  my years. It's very exciting to think that I have at least 45 more of those years as an actual adult to learn and try and experience all that the world has to offer.

Right now though, one thing sobers me, and that is the state of this body of mine, this fair vessel of experiential amazingness.  I need it to stay strong for another 45 years and my latest little piece of medical enlightenment has reminded me that nature is against me. I feel certain that this is why people have mid-life crises. I promise I won't go buy a motorcycle or anything, but sheesh it's frustrating to see your own super-powers start to weaken.  A few years ago my doctor took down my family medical history; it is filled with many of the baddies such as diabetes, arthritis, high blood pressure, mental illness, etc., and said, with an almost gleeful interest in my potentially fascinating case, "Well, you're just a ticking time bomb, aren't you?"  I didn't appreciate it much at the time, but feared she was right.

This week, the diminishing numbers ticked ever closer to that detonation with a straightforward diagnosis of arthritis. I've had bits of it in some of my joints for a long time, most people do. Now it is a constant thing and spreading-wrists, ankles, hips, shoulder, and most recently, back. I figured that some of the stuff I was experiencing was arthritis, and other things now make sense, such as the fact that I don't actually feel like doing anything at all in the mornings because it feels better to stay warm under my covers for a while, and that about 1 day out of 3 I just feel awful, like I have the flu. I have to admit though, it never occurred to me that the pain in my back was also the dreaded A, not something fixable, like the disc problem the doctor first suspected. Arthritis means it's permanent and will only get worse. Degenerative is the medical term. Love that.

What's to be done? Exercise (one of the great ironies of arthritis is that movement reduces pain and stiffness, but that pain and stiffness make it hard to move-thus it has been for me lately), losing weight, NSAIDs, and a positive attitude. At least until I find out if it's the Osteoarthritis I would get from my dad (and the universe in general) or the Rheumatoid type I could get from my mom. Then it would be a whole 'nuther bundle of fun, baby. Oh yeah.

I realize that as medical problems go,  this currently does not rate too highly on the metric of drama and difficulty.  Nearly everyone has or gets arthritis in some form.  I'm still walking around and I can do everything I need to do.  I know.  I just need a minute to assimilate this information and adjust, because for me, having watched the bodies of members of my family be absolutely ravaged by arthritis in various forms, this is actually a little bit terrifying.

I'll get over it, though, because the good news is that those same family members are brave and amazing and incredibly strong, so I have a really good road map for how to handle things. I still get to choose how to live each day, pain or not.

So here I am, smack in the middle of my life, trying to enjoy all the sensations of a set of bones in middle-of-life condition.  I can't worry though, I have to be ready for all the pending good times. I Am Middle-Aged! Hear Me Creak!

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A Fall 2011 Road Trip, part 3

Thursday-Sunday was Stitches East, one of the conferences where I teach. It is a fun, comfortable environment, and I have good friends there. I had fantastic students and lots of good experiences in my classes. I truly do love teaching, so I'm grateful for this opportunity that I have. Thursday started at 11 am with  a speed-dating style introduction to the teachers so I got to meet about 100 students in a very short time and give them a little information about myself. That same afternoon I taught my first three-hour class. After that I did an impromptu photo-shoot for another teacher friend who had to send a project off for publication. Some of us went out for dinner, then there were teacher meetings in the evening, then off to bed. Friday was a full day of teaching a quick succession of one-hour technique sessions in the market, then helping out at the industry fashion show. Because the whole experience involves thinking on my feet all day, being with people I like and being inspired by the beauty and camaraderie of knitting, I find these long days mostly energizing. I'm tired by the end, but in a way that tells me I've done my best all day long. I like that feeling.

The pace continued into Saturday with another full day of Market Sessions, then the student banquet, where folks show off their own knitting creations. Saturday night usually includes a little relaxing time with friends, and that was a fun time. On Sunday, the mood noticeably changes as many students and teachers have already gone home or are preparing to leave. My first class starts a little later, so the morning is slower. My Sunday afternoon class is a very quiet, relaxed class that I love teaching because it seems to actually help knitters solve some problems and feel more comfortable about certain techniques.
I admire how hard they work and how curious they are about the process.

As soon I was done teaching, I raced to get myself together and got on the road right when I wanted to-about 5:30. I saw some but not all of my pals before taking off, but it's all good-I'll see them again in February. The trip was a predictable 6 hours and thankfully, my hip behaved and the pain held off until right when I got home. That was what I was praying for since I was driving alone and didn't want to have to stop every hour to walk around. I got by with one stop for gas and lots of good music and a big bag of yummy junk food. Traffic was kind of bad in CT, but there were no problems at all around NYC and the NJ turnpike.

Getting home was so awesome. Eric and Johnathan were still up to help me haul in all my stuff, and my little house felt so warm and welcoming. I threw my stuff in a pile in the living room, let my mind wind down a bit and went to sleep, turning over all the fun times of the last 9 days, but so happy to be back.

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A 2011 Fall Road Trip, part 2

Let me pick up the story of my 9-day odyssey up and down the east coast. First let me mention that I have not forgotten that I have a husband and 3 kids at home, but they seem to be doing just fine. We tend to be an independent bunch, but the occasional text and phone call has continually eased my mind that all is well. Sara went to a concert this week and had a great time, Ev spent time with friends, but his back is hurting again, so we'll have to return to the Dr. before wrestling starts up. Eric is taking in the first days of post-Bishophood with his usual sanguine attitude toward life. I'm sure it's been emotional for him, but he's finding the good parts and keeping busy. Yesterday he helped someone in the ward move, which is exactly how he would choose to spend free time, which I love. I've hardly heard from Johnathan, but I take that as a good thing. 22-year olds actually should be too busy to call mom without a reminder, and he is busy working and being scholarly, yay for him.

After the Sheep and Wool show last weekend I simply savored life with Erin and her family for a few days. Her husband was away on business, so it was just us women and the kids. It was deliciously cozy and comfortable to be there. I love her kids and my heart swelled with happiness each time one of them would snuggle in to let me read them a story or that adorable 18-month old would reach up for me to pick him up. Oh the joy. Seriously, I don't know what I would do without little children around me. Sometimes the fact that I've never grown up is a wonderful thing. Children just feel like my tribe.

Monday I took a few maternity photos for Erin and was grateful yet again for the view I get through my camera. She is truly beautiful, inside and out, and the privilege of trying my best to let the rest of the world see that about the people I photograph is something I hope I never take for granted. 

One of my personal faves from our
photoshoot.

I thought this shot was a total failure, so
I laughed out loud when I saw the binky
in focus. What a deal!

I'm a lucky girl to have such a friend. 

Wednesday night I drove from NY over to Hartford, CT for the last leg of my journey, Stitches East, one of my regular teaching gigs. So, since I have to start packing up, I will save that report for one more post.

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A 2011 Fall Road Trip, part 1

Today is day 7 of my big autumn trip and I have 2 days more till I go home. That's a long time. It's been good times though, and the family seems to be doing fine, so it's all good. I have a little time this morning, so I'm going to try and catch up on writing about it.

Last Friday I left home around 4:30 pm and drove up to one of my favorite places to visit-West Point, NY. My wonderful friend Erin lives there. The last two years I've gone up to visit for a day or so before heading over to Hartford, CT for Stitches East. This time I spent a glorious 5 days with Erin and her family because there were two shows on two successive weekends so I just decided to stay all the days in between.
I got to Erin's around 9 Friday night and we visited till way too late, but it was so fun to see her in her beautiful advanced state of expectingness  and catch up and talk and talk and talk. Saturday and Sunday I worked at Nora's booth at Rhinebeck (the NY State Sheep and Wool Festival) and Holy Cow, was that a busy place. It brought back memories of working Cloverhill at our own MD Sheep and Wool festival. I didn't get to see a bit of the festival in full sway, only before it opened and after it closed. We were that busy. No walking around time, but it was fine-good to be busy. I had my new phone and with its extra antennas, it was the star of the show for processing all the credit card transactions, so I'm glad that worked out. Isn't Nora's shop pretty?

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66 Months

For almost exactly the past 66 months, up until this past Sunday,  my husband had the unique opportunity to be the Bishop of our Ward. That means he was the minister of our congregation, except in our church, there is no paid ministry, so he did this in his spare time, as a volunteer, in addition to working full time as an attorney. He did all the things that ministers do--gave many talks, taught many classes, counseled the ward members, performed weddings, officiated at funerals, visited the sick and lonely, helped the suffering, oversaw all the staffing of the congregation for the children, youth, women's, missionary and men's programs, spent tons of time with the youth, collected and distributed tithes and donations, etc., etc.

I think about the fact that he was doing this in the margins and tiny spaces of time remaining after being gone from about 6:30 am till almost 7 pm every day just working and commuting.

It doesn't seem possible, does it?

But yet, it was not only possible, it happened. He did it and did it well; and in ways that can only be described as being the evidence of living a life of faith and covenant, he was still successful in his work, an involved and loving dad, and a great husband to me.

Yes, he was gone a lot. It is a huge responsibility. Fortunately, he is blessed with a thick skin, an even-tempered personality and a lot of personal security about his place in the world. He loved the people he served frankly and with all his best effort. For him, it was completely a privilege to have the chance to do something like this to serve his Heavenly Father.

Since I have a thin skin, a moody personality and no personal security about my place in the world, as I look back, there were plenty of days when I was less than the perfectly supportive wife that I could have been. Overall, I did fine and things were generally good, but yes, I had some hard days.

But Heavenly Father was aware, so there was always peace in the end.

In spite of my weaknesses, the balance sheet shows an increase. An increase in love, an increase in my ability to see the best parts of my husband, an increase in family closeness and unity, an increase in our temporal blessings, and many other increases. There are ideas in religion that are hard to understand because logically they don't seem to make any sense, but to someone who lives them, they come to make perfect sense. One of those is the truth that by giving and sacrificing and not being selfish, you actually gain more real rewards than you would have otherwise. In the scriptures (Luke 9:24) it goes like this:

For whosoever will save his life, must be willing to lose it for my sake; and whosoever will be willing to lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it.

To save my own life means to act without faith, to be unwilling to see life in a broader way, unwilling to believe that there is more out there than I can actually see with my human eyes. It's to be limited to the belief that if Eric is spending 10-20 or more hours additional per week doing things for church, that there must be less time for me.

To be willing to lose your life means to live the life that God wants you to live, with the understanding that He loves you and wants what is best, just like a parent. It means to remember that my Heavenly Father's math is not the same as mine and that the time he spent serving others also somehow strengthened our marriage and brought him closer to our kids. It really, actually did.

I like that that scripture includes the word "willing." That is the main thing God expects of us-to just be willing and try. Both Eric and I were as normal and human and imperfect as we could be.  So, we just did our best. And that's the greatest tribute I can give Eric right now, is that he really, really did his best. He cares so deeply for the hundreds of people that he had living inside his head for all this time. He thought about them all the time and prayed about how to help them. He knew them all by name and could tell you something about every one of them who let him get to know them.

So, hopefully you can see, that this was a big thing for him and for our family. Culturally, in our church, people express one of two things to a Bishop and his family: Congratulations for reaching such a "prestigious" position in the church or condolences for having to take on such a terrible task. Neither sentiment fits in the slightest.  There is no prestige in it, other than knowing that your Heavenly Father trusts you with this job. And even though it is hard, it is no terrible task. It's just the simplest, sweetest, purest kind of service-the kind that asks you to dig deep but gives richly in return.  It has been a glorious time for our family, full of happy and sad experiences, spiritual maturing, opportunities to grow our faith, and chances to get better at loving other people.

He will miss this assignment a lot. Which is okay. That is another proof that he put all he had into it. I'm so proud of him for everything he did.

Here he is with the young women of the ward. He loves them
a lot, even though this is not a smiley photo. They saw his humor
and good heart. 

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The Benefits of Living on the East Coast

Just now, my younger brother and two of his kids drove off into the early morning on their way to fly to his next assignment for the Air Force. It's a far-away assignment, but luckily for us, we live a lot closer to several major international airports than they used to be at their last location, so it worked out for Phil and family to make us their final base camp for 5 days or so before the big fly-out. What a joy it was. I feel such heart-deep happiness to have seen them, to have held the kids in my arms, to have been called Aunt Kellie (or occasionally Aunt Megan or Aunt Tina-sometimes they couldn't remember at first just which aunt I am), to have talked with my brother and just felt the ease and closeness of family. We will all miss them so much, but will smile for a long time as we think of the memories of this weekend.

Sara and O got some nail-painting time. O would call us,
"My cousin Evan," or "My Aunt Kellie." It was very endearing.

\

My sister-in-law before she and O headed
toward their new home a couple of days before Phil

Phil with his most adorable youngest son

The brothers, my nephews

L took charge of this impromptu little photo-shoot. He chose
the poses and kept asking for more shots with his little
bro. 

Evan and J got along great.  As Ev left for
school today he said, "I'm going to miss
him so much!"

Holy cow this baby is delicious.

He pretty much stole all our hearts

L was a genius with the legos. He is such
a thoughtful, fun eight-year old. I love
that we got to spend some time with him,

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Late Night

Late at night

I can get the dishes done without interruption

And make sure the house is set till tomorrow

Sometimes I love the quiet and the soft solitude

Of moving singly from room to room

Puttering and placing and parsing the busy day into something that makes sense

Sometimes I feel that way

But not tonight

Only one child said goodnight, and my visiting brother, too

Everyone else just slipped away

and I was left with a vague feeling of unrest

And annoyance 

I clanged brusquely through the dishes

And complained madly in my head that no one had put the food away

But I didn't ask for help

I didn't realize I wanted it until I was all alone

And had time to think of the fact that

A particular challenge left me frustrated and isolated

And wishing for someone to talk to

Not peaceful and ready for bed

It didn't happen

No one  heard my mental cries for company

So I'll write about it and go to sleep 

And wake up to a new day

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De Plane! De Plane!

Last Christmas, my pal suggested buying our two boys Groupons for a flying lesson. They could use it as a Merit Badge for Scouts and have a fun day together in the bargain. It finally worked out to do it last week on a day off school. It was just great. We had a beautiful day, they were game for the adventure, and they had a great instructor. He took a half-hour or so to show them the fundamental parts and procedures of the aircraft itself, they they took off. J flew over the bay to Cambridge and Evan flew back over to Bowie. They were gone almost 2 hours. The smiles on their faces upon exiting the plane were absolutely priceless. It was clear that they had a great time. Thanks to M for putting it together and making it happen!

Joseph and Evan interspersed with our special guests for the
weekend.

Preston and Xavey keep the boys occupied

Till finally it's time for the lesson!

Flight Instructor Rob shows them their aircraft. 

And tells about procedures. 

They climb in and start the engines. 

We all watch excitedly as they take off!

And then land again!

You can actually see their grins from 50 feet away. 

The pilot, the students, and the aircraft. 

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A Sister's Weekend

Two weekends ago, the younger kids and I drove 540 miles to a small town in KY to my sister's house. She moved there a little while ago to teach at a local university. My other sister lives about 3 hours away in TN, so she met us in KY and we had a little Sisters' weekend together. The occasion was R.'s birthday and her desire to visit the annual Spoonbread Festival of Berea, KY. 

The drive there was a revelation to me. I have few memories of West Virginia, through which the bulk of the route winds, and other than the words of that favorite old song, Country Roads (almost heaven, mountain mama and all that), I don't know much about it. Goodness, it is glorious! You should go!  A perfect interstate (I-79) threaded through beautiful mountains, over rivers and in and out of several small towns. We saw the eponymous haze of the Blue Ridge Mountains and noticed little villages in the valleys. It really was lovely. I used to love driving mountain roads-I found it so exciting. In recent years, I've grown more anxious and uptight about it and haven't enjoyed it as much. This time, on two sunny afternoons with the wide road carving through this beautiful place,  I remembered that previous love of soaring through hills and valleys and kept my grip on the wheel relaxed and my foot off the brake. Sometimes the feeling of flying was real, complete with a wonderful swoop in my stomach when we'd crest a hill or slingshot back up after crossing a river.

I got to see my sister's beautiful house for the first time and felt happy for her success there at the university.  My other sister is a amazing cook, so some fabulous meals were also on the agenda. Great setting, good food, and family. Check. Check and Check.


The Spoonbread festival was a charming local festival with authentic bluegrass music that we could have listened to all day, lots of great arts and craft booths (naturally I found some yarn), and of course the famous spoonbread. It's a kind of cornbread, but so soft and almost pudding-like that you really do have to eat it with a spoon and get every bit of buttery, warm and melty-in-your-mouth goodness. Ask me and I'll make you some.

My kids wanted to go to see their cousins and I'm glad they came along. They had time to hang out a bit and we all went and invaded the DQ where my nephew works and had Blizzards on a Saturday night while he had his break. I went the mini-blizzard route and tried two different flavors. Yessss.

It was a super-quick trip--we drove in on Friday and home again on Sunday, but it was worth the time. With all my siblings scattered over the entire nation, having 3 of us in one spot was a watershed moment and I'm glad we got the chance.

My cute niece tries the spoonbread...

and doesn't see what the big deal is.
"It's just cornbread."

My sisters and I, on the other hand,
enjoyed it thoroughly. 

I love this picture of Niece and Sister
getting ready to watch the parade. 

The three of us. I like this photo best of me...

but this one is better all around. So you get both cuz it's my
blog. 

My kids just really, really love her kids.
They're so fun together. 

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