The Suffering

. . . of this neglected space. Poor bloggy. I'm getting to a point where I'm hesitant to post because I wonder if I have any readers anymore. Hello world! Are you there?

After seven months of full-time work, I've switched to a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule. There are finally a few moments to breathe, to catch up, to return to doing little things that were neglected or set aside out of necessity and a bona fide lack of time. Since last June I let go of all my hobbies, allowing work to be my hobby, and now I'm finding I have the luxury of idle time at home again, time when I think it would not just be possible, but nice to work on a project or something. Knit a mitten, sew a pillowcase, paint a painting. Not that I've done any of those things yet, but it's refreshing to have a moment to even think about doing one of them.

I have started reading again--that's the one thing I've picked up, and just that is a wonderful treat, almost a guilty pleasure. And I've had more precious time to play with my darling son. On Saturday I also joined my old gym again, and that has made me so happy. I've gone four times already because I love how it feels to sweat. A real detox, I think. Exercise is a very important part of my life that I neglected since becoming a parent, thinking I didn't have time. I'm making time again, even if that means going to spin class at 5:30am, and I feel refreshed.

In my spare time this month since the M-W-F switch, I also started a new project I'm excited to be a part of: I'm editing a book. Funny--filling my time off work with more work! But I love editing, and it's a special piece of writing, by a PhD even! I hope to do more of this kind of thing in the future. I really enjoy it. And there have been a few gigs. I'm playing again with the Bach Cantata Choir soon, which is a great group. That's exciting.

Right now Sam is gone on business. I shouldn't even be doing this, I think, right now because there is always so much to do. There are groceries in the car I need to bring in. I'm making chicken salad tonight for a baby shower at work tomorrow, and then gallons of New England clam chowder tomorrow night for Stake Women's Conference. At least I like cooking, right?

I don't feel overwhelmed, per se, but I do feel this constant anxiety that I can't rest or take my mind off the millions of things that need to be done. As soon as I get home from work I have to hit the ground running--or at least I think I do--and the thought of everything that must be done is enough to paralyze me and lay me down on the couch. My head spins, and I'm not sure what to do first. Change the baby, prepare the dinner, go to the grocery store, fold the laundry, wash the dishes, sweep the floor, change the crib sheet, fill the bath, write that e-mail, make that call, pick up the Cheerios, brush my own teeth, take off my eyeliner, say my prayers. You know. All of that. It's all there, waiting for me at every moment. All I can do is close my eyes sometimes and try to forget it's waiting for me.

The night before Sam left I was lying down, again, and put on Downton Abbey on Netflix from the beginning again, and for the briefest moment I was able to let go of my guilt and anxiety and truly forget about the hundreds of tasks that constantly loom over my head. I was able to rest my mind for just a moment. It was like a single gasp of air, oxygen to my lungs, after feeling like I've been breathing through fifty layers of cheesecloth--layers of the many, many things I have to do, constantly, that never end.

It's a mindset I find myself in all too often, this mind-numbing anxiety that there is more to accomplish than I am capable of, on and on into the endless future of my life, all to the point that I'm physically exhausted even thinking about it and I attempt to sleep it off. I'm known to sleep for twelve hours if I can. Last night I went to bed at 8:30, so exhausted, and didn't get up until eight this morning.

Maybe it's just the weather. I can't wait for summer because spring doesn't really exist here, if I remember correctly. Today the sun shone, and it's like a strange memory resurfacing when it does.

My Personal Portlandia

Today I'm crossing the Columbia River on the 205 into Portland. I barely make it over the riverbank when traffic comes to a total halt.

Accident ahead, apparently. Could it be caused by a reckless driver

a) colliding with a street biker changing lanes on the highway
b) operating heavy machinery whilst stoned
c) distracted by vegan, gluten-free, organic food cart wrap dripping on his burlap tie
d) looking up the nearest vintage furniture store on her smart phone to continue search for ugly sofa

Surprise, surprise! None of the above! I eventually pull up to the scene of the crime to witness two lanes of highway traffic on a shoulderless bridge blocked by none other than an entire BOAT! A boat!

The boat is flanked by a small group of men scratching their heads, wondering how on earth they will move said boat.

I miss my appointment, telling the receptionist, "Sorry, I was stuck in traffic. Some guy's boat fell off his trailer in the middle of the highway." She's very understanding. On my way home after getting sandwiches at Jimmy John's, like an hour later, I hear the traffic report. It says there's a boat [still] blocking two lanes of traffic on the Glenn Jackson Bridge near Government Island.

How do you move a 24-foot boat off a bridge? Push it over the edge? Rent a crane? Sail it away? Welcome to Portland.

Spinning into the Wall

I don't know why, but our videos lately seem to end with some sort of accident . . .

From My Eighth Grade Yearbook

[Note: I was 95% a nerdy loner in middle school.]

LIZDLE,
Have a great summer. If you wanna get together sometime or just talk don't hesitate to call. Liz maybe you don't know it but you're a great role model and hating getting mushy but your a really great friend
♥ always
Sammi

Liz-
Hay I know we didn't talk much but you wer a good friend. Have a great Summer. Maby call me!
Peace + love
Shell

Liz-
Way, I'm really going to miss you a lot! I wish we knew each other better! have a fun summer! Shannon!

Liz-
You are awesome! I hope you have a good summer STAR WARS RULZ!
Lindsay

Liz,
I may not know you well but your a Really cool person . . . somewhat quiet, but nice and a Really Good artist keep working hard hope to see you next year
-Brandi

Hey Liz!
Congrats on all your Academy Awards this year! You did GREAT! Umm. . . Just Remember: Star Wars RULZ! Esp. The PHANTOM MENACE!!
Kristin

Liz-
Am I your friend? :) J/K
Mari

Liz
I am really glad that I got to know you. You are an extremely nice and thoughtfull person. Speak out sometimes you have great ideas and talents to share w. the world. Have a great summer and work hard next year.
Linda

Hey Liz-
We were in art class together. I ♥ how you draw.
Love,
Heidi

Liz,
Clarinets are DEAD DUKS! :)
Tricia

Hey Liz,
I can't wait to see the next Star Wars w/ you. You're so cool. thx for having me over on a school night. that was GROOVY!
Clarise

[After reading these to Sam, he brought home a Star Wars Clone Wars candy cane for me from work. So sweet.]

From My Sixth Grade Yearbook

Treasured notes from my sixth grade yearbook:

Liz,
You are a great friend even if you are a little annoying sometimes. You are also a good clarinet player. Have a nice summer,
Kristin

Hi person,
Everyone likes Sarah V . . . that's me.
-Sarah V

I loved all your stuffed aminals
-Samantha

Have a wonderful summe, STAY COOL-
Stephanie

Hope to see ya, agian!
Julia

Liz,
Don't YOU HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE WRITE BIG!

Maurice Sendak on Growing Old

I was so entranced by this interview with Maurice Sendak on the radio that I stopped what I was doing to transcribe what I could of it, the end of the interview, below. I reread what I caught to Sam and was surprised my voice was getting a little shaky--he is a man so full of heart.


Maurice Sendak is a children's author and illustrator, most famous for Where the Wild Things Are, which I never personally read when I was younger. But what we did have in my home that he illustrated was the Little Bear series, which I read over and over and over--one of my favorites. I'll have to find it for our children.

I was so touched by how eloquently he could express himself in words verbally and on the spot. I lack the talent of speaking with the same fluency with which I write. I wish I could communicate this way all the time, like maybe it would be a blessing to be mute. But I love his voice. You can tell he's a seasoned writer, expressing what's deep inside with such ease.

Such an interesting old man--an athiest who never wanted and never did have children, who came out later in his life, who was solely dedicated to his work, his writing, and his art. Even is his old age, he doesn't believe in an afterlife or that he will see his many friends again. He only believes he will see his brother. Everyone else leaves him forever when they leave this life, and I can see why that makes him so, so sad.

_____________________________________

“I’m not unhappy about becoming old . . .[it's] what must be. I only cry when I see my friends go before me. I don’t believe in an afterlife, but I do expect to see my brother again . . . like a dream life . . . but I am in love with the world. I look right now out the window of my studio--I see my trees, these beautiful beautiful maples. It is a blessing to get old, to find the time to do the things, to read the books, to listen to the music. I don’t think I’m rationalizing . . . this is all inevitable, I have no control over it. The wondrous feeling of coming into my own—it took a very long time. You could be talking to a crazy person.”

“I have heart trouble. I’m very sick. I have nothing but praise now really for my life. . . I’m not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can’t stop them. They leave me and I love them more. I’m in a very soft mood, you gather, because new people have died. It’s what I dread more than my isolation. . . . [young people] if they only knew how little I know. Oh, God, there are so many beautiful things in the world that I will have to leave when I die, but I am ready, I am ready, I am ready.”


“Although certainly I’ll go before you’ll go, so I won’t have to miss you. But I will cry my way all the way to the grave. . . . I wish you all good things. Live your life, live your life, live your life.”

- "Maurice Sendak: On Life, Death, and Children's Lit," Interview with Terri Gross, Fresh Air, September 20, 2011.

Our Son Gandhi

I’m a little behind. Halloween was a hit. L was Gandhi, I was Mother Teresa, and Sam was the usual Elf.