JustRunJustLiveJustBe

People are getting all sentimental. Or they’re getting all goal-oriented. Or, they’re freaking out.

“Two-thousand and seven!” They scream it, as if they’re surprised it’s here.

“Two-thousand seven, no ‘and’,” I want to correct them.

I don’t really believe in resolutions, you see. I don’t believe in saying this year, this date, this calendar flipping moment will be the ONE thing that changes everything. I don’t believe my life happens that way.

I believe, rather, that when we feel something and when we want it, really want it, that is the moment. It doesn’t have to be the dawn of a new year, not even the dawn of a new day. It just has to be.

Nonetheless, I am a hypocrite. I still think about “resolutions” and things I’d like to do differently. My one rule, though, tends to be that I won’t make consequential resolutions. I want to set myself up for success. That, I believe, is the key to getting many things we want. It’s logical. If you don’t want the dog to chew up your shoes, for crying out loud, put them away. Same goes with a resolution, I think. If you want to succeed, be realistic- accept the challenge and prepare for success.

Driving home in the snow today, I was trying to make my list. First, I thought of music. I want more music in my life. And not just that, but I want NEW music- music new to me, that will open my mind yet not offend me (note: Expect demanding post in near future). Second, I want more time to appreciate new things, like art and distant shores. After number one and two, I realized that it really comes down to one goal: I want to be more aware. I want more moments in which I feel like I’m only in that moment, appreciating everything it has to offer and knowing that it was made just for me.

So, in my non-resolute but never missing a chance to join the bandwagon frenzy, in 2007 I want to do something simple, that can only reap benefits.

Take time. Enjoy. Be aware.

Look up.

I’m still ridiculously giddy about the last three days. Days spent in a fury of gift wrap, visiting, food and drink. I finished one last shopping trip on Saturday and at the sight of my last gift wrapped and ribboned, I almost didn’t know what to do with myself.

But then I did. Party, of course. A Saturday night party, a Christmas Eve breakfast, a Christmas eve lunch, a gathering at Grandmas and a Christmas Day dinner of lasagna, salad (both with excessively wonderful amounts of garlic) and cookies all made for a lovely weekend of tasting goodness. The homemade pie at Grandma’s after the football game was TO. DIE. FOR.

A four mile run on the treadmill on Saturday, twenty-five minutes on the bike on Sunday and a run yesterday in which I didn’t track the miles or time because it was just so good made for a good maintenance plan to balance out the to-die-for treats of the season.

Christmas Day began with some chai tea and the opening of a couple gifts. Then, it was off to the soup kitchen where I ended up delivering meals to several folks unable to leave their homes for a hot meal. Once again, I feel as though I’m the one who’s received a gift as I’m reminded of the pricelessness of even one day of health, family and friendship. In all the trials in this world, I truly have been spared and blessed several times over.

A friend of mine’s dad, whenever asked how he’s doing answers: “Better than I deserve and often too stupid to enjoy it.” Isn’t that the truth?

After my delivery person stint, I stopped by the parent’s house for even more Christmas cheer. In all these years, my mother still maintains the title of Slowest Gift Opener Ever. She sits and watches everyone else open gifts and then proceeds to open hers not by tearing paper from the gift itself but so delicately pulling it apart that if you didn’t see her hands on the package, you’d imagine that the paper were removing itself from the box by sheer will alone. You aren’t sure whether to be impressed by her patience and tenderness or grab the box out of her hand and do it yourself before we grow old, forgoodnesssakes!

Later, in the sunny, sunny thirty-nine degree afternoon weather, I went for a run. My knee is still quite unhappy and the side streets and trails are still covered in snow and ice but thanks to warm sun, no wind and Yaktrax I had one of the best runs I’ve had in a while and, arguably, the best Winter run I’d ever had. The snow crunching under my feet and sometimes coming up as deep as just below the knee in some spots created an interesting, yet peaceful run. Everyone was inside gifting and footballing which left the roads free of traffic and left me to run right down the middle. It’s so good, feeling as though the road is yours for a day. I could have gone on forever.

A freeing run to take time to reflect on a fulfilling day followed by a non-traditional Christmas meal to conclude all of it left me feeling thankful and looking forward to the new year and new days to come.

I went to the store, and everyone was in a good mood. No grouchy shoppers.

I took new toys to the toy drive and the line to drop off was nearly as long as the line of those waiting to get in.

I went to a family dinner and managed to get hugs from my teenaged cousins.

I saw my nephew’s first picture with Santa Claus.

I get more Chirstmas cards every year.

The sun came out and melted just enough snow.

I ran four miles with no pain.

I took the dog on a walk and a scruffy kid with too-baggy pants and an unzipped coat stopped to pet her. And said Merry Chirstmas as he walked away.

May the spirit be where ever you can find it.

Best wishes and good health to you and yours.

It may be difficult to see in this picture, but I am freaking buried in snow. That’s the “view” out of my patio door and if you look closely, you can see the top edge of the drift just before the railing. I’m taking the photo from above, so you can sort of see the drift comes about a third of the way up the door.

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In other words: it was dang snowy and windy for a dang long time.

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Thankfully, the job decided it wasn’t safe for everyone to come in today… I won’t talk about how it took them the entirety of the “delayed start” to decide this because that would just be silly. The important part is, I’m at home and I get to wrap presents all day.

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I’m happy to get this finished now because inevitably, I’ve forgotten to get someone something and now I’ll have a couple more days to get my act together. Yes, I’ve had lists -come on, who do you think I am?- but there’s just always that one little gift you forget.

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I’m also a little upset with Amazon as the CD box sets I’ve ordered for my grandma aren’t here yet and they were ordered over two weeks ago. Don’t make me hate you, Amazon, just. don’t. do it.

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The snow is probably going to throw a wrench in my plan for running this weekend, too. Following doctor’s orders I’ve taken the last two weeks off from any running, so I was hoping to get my first run in this Saturday and, if that went well, I’d then be able to do my “traditional” Christmas morning run. Last year, I was able to run on Christmas day in shorts- it was sixty degrees (F). I’m guessing this year is going to be a little less pleasant.

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Though I haven’t been running, I can’t say I feel entirely lazy. I’m glad to have taken the time off and though I thought it would be horrible at first, I now realize the purpose of rest after a marathon: to heal all the little stuff and realize what really hurts. Heh. Really, though, I’ve been strength training and stretching which are two things I neglected in the past six months.

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Also, and I feel a little silly admitting this, but the Three-in-Three challenge (Nicole’s idea that I invited myself to join in on) is going well. Better than expected, actually, as I’ve lost six pounds so far. I contribute this partly to not wanting any of the billion cookies I baked and also to finally taking the time to get to all the things I’d put off before the marathon.

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I also have gone back to the Three and Three eating habit that my trainer put me on years back (the fact that this is also a “three” thing is strictly coincidence, I promise). You eat only every three hours and not three hours before you go to bed. It’s really quite easy. It allows me to plan ahead (which I believe is THE key to healthy eating) and I’m never really hungry. If I eat at 6:00 a.m. and am hungry at 8:00 a.m., I know I only have to wait another hour before I eat again. It’s not torture to me and often, I forget about the schedule altogether. Another good tip is to make sure every meal or snack contains protein. Also, if you’re going to include a lot of breads or crackers or something, do it before noon. I don’t know why, though I’m sure there’s a science to it somewhere, but this makes a huge difference.

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This also helps in getting my head together. I feel a little more successful and a little less “stuck.” Life wise, anyway. I’m still stuck in the snow.

This past Saturday, I baked eight dozen cookies. The same ones I always bake with a couple extra batches thrown in. I never tire of baking cookies I like, so it’s always a predictable contribution from me. A friend of mine has a cookie exchange every year and while you may be thinking that a cookie exchange sounds awfully dull and boring, she also serves food and drink, and things like hot chai with Bailey’s (my personal favorite) and wine. Instead of exchanging recipes, we all sit around, eat celery dipped in dill something or other and talk and gossip and joke about all the injustices in the world. Particularly, about how designers can make clothes any size they want to and then slap a number on it and call it an 8. That way, at one store, you’re feeling dang good and the next, you want to hang yourself in the fitting room.

This bit of the holiday season is actually one of my favorite parts of all of it. I’m at home, in comfortable clothes, mixing and blending and rolling and measuring. I have the Christmas music annoyingly loud and the entire house smells like a big blanket of sugar and spice that you want to wrap yourself in for the entire Winter, only leaving for more warm-from-the-oven goodness. I feel quite domestic in times like this and not so much because I didn’t burn one single batch this year, but because I answered the door and greeted the UPS man while wiping my hands on my apron. What, I ask you, is more domestic that that?

This is also the first year I didn’t feel the need to eat every single cookie I’d baked. Usually, I have to eat one of each batch (I know, I know) but this year, after eight dozen cookies plus two experimental recipes (not pictured), I was so sick of cookies I could have thrown them out and not blinked. But I didn’t, I sealed them all tightly until the next day when I transferred them into a tissue paper lined basket and presented them at the party. (Presented in a basket. That sounds ridiculous. I can’t even spell Longaberger!)
I also was careful to save a few cookies for the constructive criticism of the best cookie baker this side of the Mississippi. Which side of the Mississippi, you ask? All sides. Grandma, of course. I always want her opinion and even more so in the last couple years. You see, I’ve developed quite the competition of cookie baking with Uncle Joe. Uncle Joe, forester and lumber guy by day, is a baking dynamo. He bakes pies from apples grown in his back yard, for crying out loud. Anyhow, a couple years ago, he shared some cookie recipes with me. Particularly, Snickerdoodles. Everyone has always ooooed and ahhhhed over Uncle Joe’s Snickerdoodles, including me. (Chocolate hater = HUGE fan of the non-chocolate cookies.)

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It wasn’t long, though, before I hated waiting for Uncle Joe’s cookies. I wanted to make my own, all the time. So, I started with the exact recipe, an approach which lasted batch after batch for a good year. Then, one day when I was feeling particularly critical of the World’s Most Perfect Non-chocolate Cookie, I decided to use half the shortening required in the recipe and make up for it in butter. I did the same with the Peanut Butter cookie recipe.

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Best and likely the most important decision I’ve ever made in the kitchen.

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So this evening, at Grandma’s, I nervously handed her the tin of cookies. She opened it, removed one, took a bite and thought carefully. I, sitting on the edge of my chair for what seemed like a good ninety to 100 seconds, leaned forward.

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“So, are they good.”

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She just sat, took another bite, leaned toward me and whispered, as if we weren’t alone, “Better than Uncle Joe’s.”

Christmas miracles come in many forms.

You know, it never ceases to amaze me when you get to have these little “epiphany” type moments at the most random times. Really, it’s just incredible that we get to grow and progress enough from time to time so that we can really see the purpose or value in a moment.

My moment, just the other day, was completely unexpected- as they often say the best ones are. I was reading Michelle’s blog and this post. To most, it would seem like any other post. We had a storm, a power outage, a run, etc. What’s extraordinary about that, right? Admittedly, while I always enjoy Michelle’s posts (really, her ability to find just the right mix of enthusiasm and laid-back is incredibly admirable), I thought the same. It’s good to hear the perspective of a storm and outage like that from someone who’s in it, rather than the news but that’s it.

Until I read this part:
Today as I was walking the dog, I took a good look at our trees and decided that I had underestimated their height. I’d say they range from 75 to 125 feet. I also counted - three in the front garden, ten in the backyard. Of these, there are probably eight that I cannot fit my arms around. The middle one in the front is a skinny, woodpecker drilled thing that is mostly dead. Eric and a neighbor have grand plans to take it down on their own. It’s probably an okay plan because it is one of the shorter ones. I guess we’ll find out next summer.

This is where my “moment” occurred. Big, almost dead tree removal? Epiphany? Wait… what?

Yeah, I know. But stay with me, it all sort of flooded into my head. I pictured the trees in my mind. I pictured this “almost dead” tree in a front yard, in front of a house. I pictured the front windows, a driveway, the street in front of the house. I pictured the family that runs (ha, pun sort of intended) in and out of that house every day. I pictured the hustle and the rushing around, and the quiet moments, too. Not necessarily of Michelle’s family, but just of a family. Lives running in and out of the house, past the old, almost dead tree. And then, when she says “Eric and a neighbor have grand plans to take it down on their own. It’s probably an okay plan because it’s one of the shorter ones. I guess we’ll find out next summer.” Just like that, so easy.

“I guess we’ll find out next summer.”

And that’s where it happened, and something clicked in my brain. There’s a feeling there, something I can’t quite point out. I can’t explain it. But, at the same time, I want it. I want that part of life where you have a big huge tree in the yard that has to come down and it has to happen next summer and somehow you’re just “eh, it’ll happen… whatever, no big deal.” Because now, in my current state of mind, I would be something more along the lines of “tree? Old? Dead? Has to come down? When? How? You? You’re going to remove it? Isn’t that dangerous? Won’t it be difficult? And when is there time for it? And what and how and when and you, mere mortal man and tree, huge ten-ton tree? HOW?!” Relaxed, don’t you think?

Wanna know what I think? I think I’m a little nuts. I think my brain has to slow the heck down for five seconds and take some time to realize I don’t have to figure out the entire world of tree removal (or anything else that’s going on in my little reality) RIGHTTHISVERYSECOND, ORELSE!! Because that feeling of nonchalant, no worries, comfortable right where you are, dealing with life as it comes to you sounds a whole lot better. And, the best part is, I’m totally capable of that. A little more so every day.

Don’t you hate when you’re tired and worn out and you’ve already made plans and you don’t have a good excuse to get out of them -or at least one you can live with- so you go anyway? And you hide your yawns and you try to concentrate. You laugh and joke and do your best to engage but your mind still slips to thoughts of your home, and your bed.

This was my night. I’d already made plans. I came home from work, rushed around, showered and got ready to go. Then, on the drive, it hit me: I am too tired for this. But, I couldn’t go home now, so I showed up. Right place, right time, wrong person. Me, of course. I just wasn’t there.

I played with my brain a little. Trying to repeat things that were said, so I’d remember. So I could remind myself I cared. So I could stay awake. I looked at the lights, squinted a little. I watched the kids running around, hoping their screams would keep me awake. I gazed out the window, and at the television. Hockey on one, basketball on the other. It’s that time of year, I told myself.

Two hours in, I couldn’t hide the yawning anymore. I yawned, politely. I stretched a little, drank more water and was glad when the check came. I had laughed, I had asked questions. I tried to be engaged, and engaging- figuring the entire time that it seemed so fake. The bad news is, I don’t know if it worked. The good news is, I’m still too tired to care.