Bread, Wine, Salt

I have a problem, which is that I have a fear of talking about my book because people might think it's incredibly lame that I have written a book.  So for the last couple of days when I've seen people in real life and they ask me what's been going on I'm all, "Oh, you know, the usual . . . " and then we nod at each other like "Yep, the usual, yep."  I don't say "Hey, I wrote a book, and I'm going to get serious about publishing it soon and I'm very excited and nervous and some other things, too." But it's true. I did get serious. I had it professionally edited and then professionally formatted so that it would look nice in people's e-readers and I swallowed hard and I sent it out into the world. And then I told Facebook about it and not one of my friends said "It's incredibly lame that you have written a book." At least none of them said it out loud, to me. What they said to me was that they thought it wa...

Down the Hill When I told Facebook that I was giving up driving for Lent, my yoga teach said "You're all going to be so strong!" That wasn't the point, of course, but it would be a nice side effect. Nearly two weeks in, I'm not there yet. I'll get there, I'm sure of it. I will come to a point where the last walk of the day will seem like a pleasant stroll. For the time being though, the last walk has been something to endure. The boys have started asking to ride their bikes wherever they're going. It's a very sensible suggestion, except that they need some practice before the bikes become fast than walking. Younger son and I left a bit early to pick older son up from school so the walking bike could get a workout.  By the time we were on the downhill toward home he was gliding farther and faster than he ever had before and I see many more trips on that bike for him during Lent. One of the consequences of walking is that we take longer to ge...

I was ten when I learned to ride a bike. That was late. Everyone elese I knew already rode bikes, except for my mother and my sister who had declared it impossible. There seemed to be some hope for me, so my parents bought me a bike, and one afternoon my father drove me and the bike over to the stadium parking lot so I could ride without fear of crashing into trees or cars. The fact that I might crash into the pavement was not a significant concern. I honestly don't remember much about that day, except that we spent most of the afternoon in that parking lot. I don't think I did crash into the ground because I have a significant fear of failure. I hopped off the seat and planted my feet firmly on the ground whenever there was any risk that I might go so fast as to actually lose control. I hate being out of control. I would wobble, wobble, hop off, wobble, hop off. At one point I got some actual momentum going and ended up riding over a ditch which bounced the seat of my bik...

I just finished The Practice of Writing , a 5 week, online writing course run by Alice Bradley of Finslippy .  I first started reading Finslippy when I was beginning doula work, and I ran into the funniest birth story in the history of the world .  I knew then that Alice Bradley was destined to be my very good friend. She didn't know it yet, of course. After five weeks of a writing class she still doesn't know it. But whatever, she'll come around eventually. Despite not yet being my very good friend, Alice Bradley is an excellent writer, a good teacher and a very encouraging critic. If you write anything: a blog, short stories, poetry, annotated shopping lists, then I strongly encourage you to give The Practice of Writing a try. Our last assignment for the course was to produce fifteen writing prompts of our very own.  It was Alice's little nudge to get us out of the nest. I plan on sifting through what I've written for the course and looking for gold nuggets I ...

A quick car-less update: I have walked fourteen miles in the past three days. The vests are very reflective, so are the straps on big boy's backpack. On Wednesday, when dance classes were over, I picked up the small boy and said "Are you ready to walk home?" "Yes!" he answered with great enthusiasm. "Mommy, will you carry me?"  His enthusiasm wavered when I explained that I would not be carrying him all the way home. The reflective vests were the source of much excitement, and might have kept the boys cheerful all the way home despite the pouring rain, but big boy slipped on the wet pavement and banged up his head and his knee. Neither was serious, but they did away with all sense of adventure. It's been better since then, because it hasn't rained and there's been less walking. Walking means we can stop at the signs and trace the letters. And we can use parking lots to practice balancing. I have  a dinner meeting t...

I am bad at Lent, just as I am bad at New Year's resolutions.  Specifically, I am bad at giving up bad habits, and at taking up good habits. I resist change, even change that is undeniably good. At least I am bad at the change that requires any effort at all. But I try again every year. I'm only half-hearted about New Year's resolutions, but I do usually mean what I say about Lent. As of Sunday afternoon, I'd been fairly sure what I was going to do for Lent this year, but then on Monday I ran into this article about Austrian churches encouraging their congregations to give up their cars for Lent. Reducing the amount that I drive would be a net good: I'd walk more, put less smog into the air, and spend less on gas. My kids are both in schools that are walking distance. The library, my yoga class, their dance classes, and a grocery store, all in walking distance. At the beginning of the school year when I was ambitious, I walked them to and from school regular...

I sent the first two chapters of my novel off to a respected author who wrote me back, told me my writing was beautiful but boring and those two chapters might need to be cut entirely.  The book I thought was almost ready for publication needs its nose cut off.  Even though I knew in my heart she was right, I was knocked sideways. I cried a little. I posted a flounce on Facebook, declared I would put the whole thing in a box and forget about it. I felt that way for fifteen entire minutes before I blew my nose, squared my shoulders and went to read chapter three of my novel. It turned out that chapter three could be an excellent chapter one with only minor corrections. In December I went back to yoga class after a long absence. I went with excellent intentions. And then in January we had weather-related school delays and I had a nasty head-cold and I was out of class for three weeks.  I had to drag myself there this morning, not because I didn't want to get back ...