It involves a lot of laundry. Meal prep, sweeping. Staring at the cupboards thinking, "What now?" Staring into the fridge thinking, "What now?" Staring into the sink thinking, "What now?" Standing in the kitchen. My early retirement involves a lot of assessing. This room needs this, this room needs that, this thing needs washed, this thing needs repaired. And then, just choosing a couple. I don't want to overdo it. I mean, I'm in early retirement. It involves a lot of self discipline. Who knew? No alarm to wake me, just my inner voice screaming, "Better get up!" The free expanse of the late night hours closed to me still. What good happens at that time anyway? Even in early retirement? Better go to bed. Remember, the morning. (But 1am is fun too.) A bit of not doing the things I thought I'd want to do, that's part, too. That sewing project I'd been putting off? For retirement? Ugh, who cares! I c...

I think we can connect this topic to COVID too. But I'll leave it at that. So,  in recent news...yet again...another shocker. Only, none of us are really that shocked. Is it THAT important to stand your ground? Save face? Show who's "boss"? How many times in history has a person's hunger for power and control--motivated by fear and insecurity--led to the types of horror we were reminded of the other day? **This thing from the other day(s!!!) is undeniably a race problem. This thing from the other day(s!!!) is undeniably an American problem.  When is the country going to WAKE UP TO ITS PROBLEMS AND ACTUALLY DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SOMETHING RADICAL AND HELPFUL AND DEEP ABOUT THEM?** But also, this, what I'm writing about--Saving Face-- this isn't only a race problem, this isn't only an American problem. If you are a parent I'm sure you've gotten caught in the trap of power. Grasping for it as it sneakily snuck out of...

I was going to have this post be all about jobs. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew what I'm really thinking about is: Identity. And Identity is much more than the job you do. Working as a college instructor I used to teach this Communications class. The textbook we used has a whole chapter on how the way we communicate effects our identity and how the way we communicate is affected by our identity. There's a little exercise in there where you're to think about yourself, your identity, your self concept--whatever. And write down the roles you play or the words that come to mind when you're describing yourself. Words like: father, son, teacher, wife, stay-at-home parent, real estate agent, singer, funny, smart, good looking, healthy...you get the idea? Write down maybe 10 things. Then, rank those things. Which ones are most important to you? If you had to rank them, how would the order go? Then. Then take away one of them. Take away that top one; im...

I have a family blog, where I keep more of those memories. This is the birth story I wrote for on there, about Therese's birth 9 years ago today! I've edited it a bit for here. This story came to my mind recently because her birthday was coming up, of course. But also in light of my own thoughts about death, with this current world crisis happening.  I know I'm not high risk, but...I also know that you never know. During Therese's birth I felt the closest to death I've ever been! I don't know if it was REAL but the thoughts and feelings sure were REAL. So, for those of you who love a birth story (like I do!), here you go: Therese Marie's Birth Story As I seem to recall, Matthew told Greta's birth story on our family blog. This postpartum period I have more of my wits about me and would love to tell the story of Therese's birth myself. It all started last Saturday with a fitful sleep that woke me with contractions at about 5:20 am. I ...

Today many of us will see portraits of happy families, all dressed up for Easter. I commend you, given the current state of the world, for carrying on in light of the restrictions. For carrying on the joy in light of the restrictions! It IS, I think, the most joyous day of the Christian calendar.  But just like anything we see on social media, these images can be a trigger to some. I've never much liked Easter. As a holiday.  Gaspppppppppppp!!! Well you know, compared to other holidays. Sure I have those memories as a kid of decorating eggs, getting a basket, going on a hunt through my house with my sister, and then usually at my Grandparents' place too, with all my cousins. My cousins and I would wait upstairs while the "Easter Bunny" got everything ready, and then we'd run around outside trying to find the most of those little shiny wrapped eggs.  I always preferred the jelly beans, though. We also did the thing, the dress up thing. And, when I...

I'd love to give this one a fancy title, but here in this blogger land I'm realizing the titles that are more explicit...well they lead to more reads. If I were to give it another title I might call it: Love After Divorce but see, I wasn't technically officially divorced yet. I was just separated. And: Love After Separation doesn't really sound all that great. See, really what it was, was: My Second Worst Break Up and so much more. If you read here at all you may remember that I met someone on my very second post-marriage date. And here I will call that someone PE. PE I've written another story about, a story that's a little more emotional, a little more juicy, a little more revealing...to publish under my pseudonym someday! With my other stories. That you may or may not ever get to read. This story for here , though, for you , like the juicier one, begins 4 years and a bit ago. On a dating site. I'd only met one other person from a dating si...

I'm not a gardener (or a cook, or a baker, or a...), but sometimes I try. Several years ago these little garden plots became available, just a few blocks from my old place. So we snagged one. The kids were little, and we only had two of them at that time, so it was for their benefit--in theory. We planted things. Easy things like lavender, kale, strawberries, peas. And then we'd water them. That's just about it. I have sweet little pictures of the girls all little, walking holding hands to the garden on a summer night. The garden plot was another place in my community I'd love to go to with them, even once Hosea was born too, all of us as a growing little family, growing little plants. Hosea would be in a baby carrier and I'd lean over to water things and his face would go into them, or he'd grab them. Later, I'd put him down hoping he'd stay put...but he wouldn't. So I'd water and wrangle, water and wrangle... People would walk by and chuc...