I am not sure what to call it or even what to think about it yet, but I have been dodging and chucking some wicked curve balls this week. I usually enjoy dancing in that line of fire, but one too many of those swirly curve balls have struck square onto my vulnerable heart. Others are joyfully dancing in the air just waiting for me to catch them. Plus, there are a few that I have launched into the universe, and I have had the pleasure of watching those soar to unimaginable heights.
Luckily, I am a good catcher and thrower!
I thought I wanted to write more here, but I don't (or can't) yet.
I do know that I depart for Costa Rica on September 5th, and that seems like eons from now.
Let's play "Name That Tune":
"I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know if I'll be back again..."
(I would like to know who is the original singer, so share if you happen to know.)
Showing posts with label ranting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ranting. Show all posts
Friday, August 24, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Car-heads!
With a bit of nostalgia, a newfound fear, plus time to kill, I stumbled
upon this interesting experiment and story. It has been almost 8 years since I owned a car--without a longing to go back to those gas-pumping days-- and biking is
my preferred means of transport. But, city-living and me-on-a-bike
don't always mix. My adult years (worthy of distinguishing from my childhood years, for I am sure there were many more spills back in the day...) on a bike have landed me with an uncountable amount of bruises, painful stitches, a bumpy-lumpy nose, an irrational fear of SUV's driver-side doors, and a love for clearly marked Bike Lanes. I do like
to "put the fun between my legs" as my comrade likes to jest, but there really should be an easier way to please all road-based travelers. I once thought DC took the cake for the Worst Biking City, but after today, Baltimore wins this prize!
upon this interesting experiment and story. It has been almost 8 years since I owned a car--without a longing to go back to those gas-pumping days-- and biking is
my preferred means of transport. But, city-living and me-on-a-bike
don't always mix. My adult years (worthy of distinguishing from my childhood years, for I am sure there were many more spills back in the day...) on a bike have landed me with an uncountable amount of bruises, painful stitches, a bumpy-lumpy nose, an irrational fear of SUV's driver-side doors, and a love for clearly marked Bike Lanes. I do like
to "put the fun between my legs" as my comrade likes to jest, but there really should be an easier way to please all road-based travelers. I once thought DC took the cake for the Worst Biking City, but after today, Baltimore wins this prize!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
It's what?
Teacher Appreciation Week
The ever-present humongous knot in my back -- affectionately named different scholars at varied times of the day -- reminds me of how much I am appreciated. So does this article.
Yup...sure am feeling appreciated.
I am also not thoroughly exhausted and full of sarcasm, nope not one lil bit, totally sincere.
I keep telling myself, "Kerri, just remember, 'It is no secret that teaching is one of the hardest jobs in the world and, undoubtedly, one of the most important.'"
The ever-present humongous knot in my back -- affectionately named different scholars at varied times of the day -- reminds me of how much I am appreciated. So does this article.
Yup...sure am feeling appreciated.
I am also not thoroughly exhausted and full of sarcasm, nope not one lil bit, totally sincere.
I keep telling myself, "Kerri, just remember, 'It is no secret that teaching is one of the hardest jobs in the world and, undoubtedly, one of the most important.'"
Monday, May 07, 2007
Our Scariest Day
Our lil family went through quite a scare on Saturday! A. and I decided to venture down a block for some lunch. We were both being picky and indecisive, but final selected the Dogwood Deli. Due to lack of seating, we took our sandwiches home to dine on the front porch. The day was just lovely: sun shining; cool breeze; neighbors milling about; Keba chilling with us on the front porch. But, all the sudden A. went into scream-mode with "Stay, Stay!", however Keba's merry self sauntered down the front porch steps, then A.'s screams increased and his voice changed into a voice I have never heard before...Then, I saw the cause.
There was a woman, about my age, walking with her TWO pit bull dogs. I froze, A. screamed more, and Keba began to detect his master's fear. He turned his head back to A. to see why he can't say "Hi!" to the dogs walking down his sidewalk. As he turned to judge the seriousness of A.'s scream (and they were blood-chilling), one of the TWO pits launched and bit into Keba's neck! OH MY GOD! I was still frozen on the porch, but now A. was punching the dog, screaming, the pit owner was screaming, neighbors were gathering and screaming. I finally realized that this dog may kill my essence of pure joy--my puppy--and I joined the fight. Through teary eyes I hooked onto Keba's collar and pleaded for the pit to give me my dog back. This evil pit seemed to have Keba's ear and much of his lower cheek tightly secured in his jaw. OH MY DOG!
A kind neighbor, who was gardening with a smile moments before, grabbed his shovel and began to smack, with the shovel's edge, the pit on the head. This sound haunts me still. There seemed to be no releasing my beloved pet. Then, like an angel, a woman appeared out of thin air, and dropped a bucket of water in the middle of the chaos. This freed the pit's jaw a bit and since all of my body, mind and soul was desperately trying to pull Keba for clutches of this horrific jaw (I was more than willing to give the pit Keba's ear in exchange for my puppy back), I launched backward with Keba in my lap. I scooped him up, ran him inside and couldn't stop his tears or mine. We hugged, cried and shook while A. talked to the girl with the TWO pit bulls.
When A. came inside, after chatting with the pit-owner, we knew we had to drive to the Animal Hospital, even though neither of us was prepared for another one of life's curveballs...Keba did seem fine at this point, but better to be safe, right? Right! Keba's cheek, extremely close to his eye and throat, was seriously cut. There was much blood hiding under his deep golden fur. But, we braced ourselves as the vet explained that Keba needed to stay the night, be put under anesthesia for many stitches and a drain had to be attached to avoid infection. We said our teary-eyed goodbye's and left him for the night.
We woke super early on Sunday to bring Keba home. Showerless and decaffeinated, we drove up Falls Road to bring our baby home. Neither of us was ready for the mangled cheek we were about to see, the teary fur from his night-long cries or the sad look in his eyes, but I guess nothing can prepare one for such hardship. We thanked and thanked the vet, gently lifted Keba into our borrowed ride and took him home.
He will heal physically, and we are keeping our fingers crossed for mentally. He is not perky yet, hating the Elizabethan collar and seems slightly more aloof than normal. He is on pain pills and antibiotics and has an uncountable amount of stitches. OH MY!!
There was a woman, about my age, walking with her TWO pit bull dogs. I froze, A. screamed more, and Keba began to detect his master's fear. He turned his head back to A. to see why he can't say "Hi!" to the dogs walking down his sidewalk. As he turned to judge the seriousness of A.'s scream (and they were blood-chilling), one of the TWO pits launched and bit into Keba's neck! OH MY GOD! I was still frozen on the porch, but now A. was punching the dog, screaming, the pit owner was screaming, neighbors were gathering and screaming. I finally realized that this dog may kill my essence of pure joy--my puppy--and I joined the fight. Through teary eyes I hooked onto Keba's collar and pleaded for the pit to give me my dog back. This evil pit seemed to have Keba's ear and much of his lower cheek tightly secured in his jaw. OH MY DOG!
A kind neighbor, who was gardening with a smile moments before, grabbed his shovel and began to smack, with the shovel's edge, the pit on the head. This sound haunts me still. There seemed to be no releasing my beloved pet. Then, like an angel, a woman appeared out of thin air, and dropped a bucket of water in the middle of the chaos. This freed the pit's jaw a bit and since all of my body, mind and soul was desperately trying to pull Keba for clutches of this horrific jaw (I was more than willing to give the pit Keba's ear in exchange for my puppy back), I launched backward with Keba in my lap. I scooped him up, ran him inside and couldn't stop his tears or mine. We hugged, cried and shook while A. talked to the girl with the TWO pit bulls.
When A. came inside, after chatting with the pit-owner, we knew we had to drive to the Animal Hospital, even though neither of us was prepared for another one of life's curveballs...Keba did seem fine at this point, but better to be safe, right? Right! Keba's cheek, extremely close to his eye and throat, was seriously cut. There was much blood hiding under his deep golden fur. But, we braced ourselves as the vet explained that Keba needed to stay the night, be put under anesthesia for many stitches and a drain had to be attached to avoid infection. We said our teary-eyed goodbye's and left him for the night.
We woke super early on Sunday to bring Keba home. Showerless and decaffeinated, we drove up Falls Road to bring our baby home. Neither of us was ready for the mangled cheek we were about to see, the teary fur from his night-long cries or the sad look in his eyes, but I guess nothing can prepare one for such hardship. We thanked and thanked the vet, gently lifted Keba into our borrowed ride and took him home.
He will heal physically, and we are keeping our fingers crossed for mentally. He is not perky yet, hating the Elizabethan collar and seems slightly more aloof than normal. He is on pain pills and antibiotics and has an uncountable amount of stitches. OH MY!!
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Explor-a-bike Part 2
Explor-a-bike day faced a detour when the words "hot springs" summoned my soul.
Steamy bathing was needed, good, and worth another trip. So not too much dirty spray on the butt today, but rain (and, what, SNOW!) is in our forecast, so hope for dirty dirty butt lingers.
Restless. Restless. Restless...Incredibly RestLESS.
Lately, full of unrest.
Maybe it is the moon and its almost-fullness. Maybe it is the fact that I need to start something new. Maybe I miss someone. Maybe there is a void or a craving I am missing. (Like when I just want some chocolate and think a cup of tea will suffice, yet it never suffices. Sometimes a girl just needs a bit of dark chocolate...)
Yep. Something new. I think I want to write a zine.
Steamy bathing was needed, good, and worth another trip. So not too much dirty spray on the butt today, but rain (and, what, SNOW!) is in our forecast, so hope for dirty dirty butt lingers.
Restless. Restless. Restless...Incredibly RestLESS.
Lately, full of unrest.
Maybe it is the moon and its almost-fullness. Maybe it is the fact that I need to start something new. Maybe I miss someone. Maybe there is a void or a craving I am missing. (Like when I just want some chocolate and think a cup of tea will suffice, yet it never suffices. Sometimes a girl just needs a bit of dark chocolate...)
Yep. Something new. I think I want to write a zine.
Friday, March 16, 2007
No wonder I got the flu!
70 degrees on Wednesday ---> Snow falling on Friday.
Dare I ask if Spring will come?
March's fickle self can bow down, and springlike sunshine can flow any day now.
Hello, Spring? Can you hear my plea? Please come back, please! We will welcome you with blooming buds, tee-shirted arms, and backyard blasts. Come again, won't you please?
Dare I ask if Spring will come?
March's fickle self can bow down, and springlike sunshine can flow any day now.
Hello, Spring? Can you hear my plea? Please come back, please! We will welcome you with blooming buds, tee-shirted arms, and backyard blasts. Come again, won't you please?
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Bring the snotty tissues back, please!
Oh, I wish I had a head cold, but NO! I GOT THE FLU!
On Tuesday, A arrived home and immediately decided that my pain needed more than his abundant supply of TLC. He was right, for all day I suffered through aches and chills, waves of nausea, and that same killer headache. Then, as he touched my face to soothe my pain, he noticed that I was burning up. So, he drove to me to the nearest Patient First where gentle nurses and doctors cuddled me, offered me Matzo Ball soup, swabbed up my nose and deep into my throat, and diagnosed me as the tenth flu case that day. I was running a 103 fever and "looked awful". Now, two days later, I am taken TamiFlu and feeling a bit more normal, but still unable sit upright for more than 10 minutes.
First warning sign of the Flu: an unbearable headache.
If this happens, head straight to a health care professional.
On Tuesday, A arrived home and immediately decided that my pain needed more than his abundant supply of TLC. He was right, for all day I suffered through aches and chills, waves of nausea, and that same killer headache. Then, as he touched my face to soothe my pain, he noticed that I was burning up. So, he drove to me to the nearest Patient First where gentle nurses and doctors cuddled me, offered me Matzo Ball soup, swabbed up my nose and deep into my throat, and diagnosed me as the tenth flu case that day. I was running a 103 fever and "looked awful". Now, two days later, I am taken TamiFlu and feeling a bit more normal, but still unable sit upright for more than 10 minutes.
First warning sign of the Flu: an unbearable headache.
If this happens, head straight to a health care professional.
Monday, March 12, 2007
From a pile of snotty tissues
Just as I praised my body's immune system this winter, wouldn't you know it-- A full-fledged-not-getting-out-of-pajamas head cold strikes. Despite all efforts to avoid this hardship, I was unable to go to work and even less able to keep the fragile area below my nose and above my upper lip dry today.
On Friday, I was sent a vicious warning sign: the headache to top all headaches. Yes, this headache was the Queen Bee of Headaches, the not to be disputed champ! But, the weekend offered a mini-reprieve (for the headache dulled after 12 hours of slumber): Saturday contained a hard running workout under sunbeams; long, slow Sunday brunch capped off with sunbeams on our back deck; Sunday slow run---- AND---- this is where my current plight began. For, it was on this run when I was forced to acknowledge my lethargy and snot production.
I ended my run early, and defiantly returned home to challenge my body to bring on the cold as I gulped echinacea like a fiend. But, alas, to no avail. I am sick and after one day, I am sick of being sick!
I already long to be back with my scholars:
On Friday, I was sent a vicious warning sign: the headache to top all headaches. Yes, this headache was the Queen Bee of Headaches, the not to be disputed champ! But, the weekend offered a mini-reprieve (for the headache dulled after 12 hours of slumber): Saturday contained a hard running workout under sunbeams; long, slow Sunday brunch capped off with sunbeams on our back deck; Sunday slow run---- AND---- this is where my current plight began. For, it was on this run when I was forced to acknowledge my lethargy and snot production.
I ended my run early, and defiantly returned home to challenge my body to bring on the cold as I gulped echinacea like a fiend. But, alas, to no avail. I am sick and after one day, I am sick of being sick!
I already long to be back with my scholars:
Friday, February 09, 2007
Bliss on a brutal morn
This morning we were greeted with a horrid sign, "7:00 MARC Local-----CANCELLED"
Ok, no stress, we are world-travel-savvy and able to persevere-- or so we thought. We ended up taking the 7:15 EXPRESS MARC with about ONE MILLION other people, landing us at Union Station and then 20 minutes late for school. I lost my love aboard the Red Line, but we were reunited on the Orange Line. Whew!
Commuters are great people. This morning as my face aligned with this friendly woman's crotch, a man's shoulder and another woman's sleepy eyes, I noticed how pleasant everyone can be when stress strikes. We commuters quickly form an alliance against all conductors when our schedule is rudely interrupted. Poor conductors. But sarcastic, thus sane, commuters are a blast first thing in the morning.
Deepish Thought: Women commuters all carry at least two bags (I have data to prove this, yet I am the exception.), and men carry only one large bag. Why is this? Are woman just destined to carry more of the load, regardless of what the load may be? Or, do women need/want more things to get them through a day? This was this morning's deep question...
Other deep thoughts lingering from last night:
The Wire is the greatest show EVER! produced and should be mandatory viewing for all citizens of the USofA.
Owning a house makes us feel like we are trapped in a virtual game of "house" all the time. (And, we so do like playing house!)
I have a good gym partner now who assists my struggle of staying fit and warm at the same time.
Ok, no stress, we are world-travel-savvy and able to persevere-- or so we thought. We ended up taking the 7:15 EXPRESS MARC with about ONE MILLION other people, landing us at Union Station and then 20 minutes late for school. I lost my love aboard the Red Line, but we were reunited on the Orange Line. Whew!
Commuters are great people. This morning as my face aligned with this friendly woman's crotch, a man's shoulder and another woman's sleepy eyes, I noticed how pleasant everyone can be when stress strikes. We commuters quickly form an alliance against all conductors when our schedule is rudely interrupted. Poor conductors. But sarcastic, thus sane, commuters are a blast first thing in the morning.
Deepish Thought: Women commuters all carry at least two bags (I have data to prove this, yet I am the exception.), and men carry only one large bag. Why is this? Are woman just destined to carry more of the load, regardless of what the load may be? Or, do women need/want more things to get them through a day? This was this morning's deep question...
Other deep thoughts lingering from last night:
The Wire is the greatest show EVER! produced and should be mandatory viewing for all citizens of the USofA.
Owning a house makes us feel like we are trapped in a virtual game of "house" all the time. (And, we so do like playing house!)
I have a good gym partner now who assists my struggle of staying fit and warm at the same time.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
I just gotta say...
I am procrastinating now. My grades are due for the second marking quarter this Friday and there is still a stack of research papers needing my red pen's flare piled on my desk. I just can't seem to find the grading-drive right now. I just completed flaring a huge pile of Midterm Exams (which my scholars performed well on for the most part), and the drive has exited my entire being. Maybe on the MARC I can knock some out, or maybe I will fall asleep.
Sleeping on the way home is a newfound joy. I like commuting on the train, for its gentle rock ebbs me to dreamland with ease. The regular conductor, Mark, rouses me at Penn Station and we gently smile each other a good night. But, grading papers produces no such ease. Grading is undoubtedly the most dreadful part of a teacher's job. At my ambitious school teachers design their curriculum basically from stratch, teach multiple classes a day containing non-tracked scholars, incorporate public policy into daily lesson plans, meet with colleagues to collaborate, attend meetings on the regular, and then ARE EXPECTED TO GRADE EVERYTHING in a timely manner. This is not out-of-the-ordinary and I don't want to come across as negative towards my challenging job, but my MUST BE DONE by FRIDAY TO DO LIST is daunting and has me cringing constantly.
Sleeping on the way home is a newfound joy. I like commuting on the train, for its gentle rock ebbs me to dreamland with ease. The regular conductor, Mark, rouses me at Penn Station and we gently smile each other a good night. But, grading papers produces no such ease. Grading is undoubtedly the most dreadful part of a teacher's job. At my ambitious school teachers design their curriculum basically from stratch, teach multiple classes a day containing non-tracked scholars, incorporate public policy into daily lesson plans, meet with colleagues to collaborate, attend meetings on the regular, and then ARE EXPECTED TO GRADE EVERYTHING in a timely manner. This is not out-of-the-ordinary and I don't want to come across as negative towards my challenging job, but my MUST BE DONE by FRIDAY TO DO LIST is daunting and has me cringing constantly.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
To Do Lists
I have no choice but to be an organized list-maker with my job. In fact, I have no idea what to do first when I walk into my workplace if my To Do List is not on my desk from the day before. My colleagues all have unique methods of keeping To Do Lists. For example, Kyle types his at the end of every day, Simon keeps a running (and long) list in his composition book, Aaron and Sarah use post-its. I have a two-fold method. First, I compile tomorrow's To Do List before I depart each evening. When I enter with coffee in hand, I quickly grab my pen and prioritize the To Do List that is eagerly awaiting my attention. Step two--After the priorities have been set, I then take my nifty pen and transform the To Do List into the Hit List. The Hit List is then scribbled onto the back of my right hand (I am left-handed).
My scholars have noticed this system of organization and they think I am crazy, especially when I ask them to add to the Hit List during the day. (I guess it is weird to write on your teacher's hand, but my scholars are growing accustomed to my bizarreness, or they humor me enough to think so.) But, my scholars know that if they need me to do something for them that day, it must be on the Hit List. For, there are many items that just stay on the To Do List forever, never ending up crossed off and continually wondering why not.
I do feel sorry for the items that never make it to the Hit List. These are the items that tend to leave me tossing-and-turning in the wee hours of the morn. But, even my sleepless nights don't motivate me to "hit" everything I should take care of in a day. Also, it is unfortunate for me when an eager scholar grabs a red Sharpie marker (not the ones for the overhead, but the permanent ones) and adds to the Hit List as I am looking the other way. Those really are permanent markers, trust me.
My scholars have noticed this system of organization and they think I am crazy, especially when I ask them to add to the Hit List during the day. (I guess it is weird to write on your teacher's hand, but my scholars are growing accustomed to my bizarreness, or they humor me enough to think so.) But, my scholars know that if they need me to do something for them that day, it must be on the Hit List. For, there are many items that just stay on the To Do List forever, never ending up crossed off and continually wondering why not.
I do feel sorry for the items that never make it to the Hit List. These are the items that tend to leave me tossing-and-turning in the wee hours of the morn. But, even my sleepless nights don't motivate me to "hit" everything I should take care of in a day. Also, it is unfortunate for me when an eager scholar grabs a red Sharpie marker (not the ones for the overhead, but the permanent ones) and adds to the Hit List as I am looking the other way. Those really are permanent markers, trust me.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Ranting and Raving
I have nothing to write about, I don't want to share, and I surely don't want anyone to listen to me anymore...I am struggling these days to make sense, to gain control, to smile, to see my friends, to do my jobs, to love my dog... Whew! there is much-too-much complaining emminating from my fingertips onto this innocent keyboard.
So, in order to gain control, let's gain positive perspective:
PRO's:
1. I get to hold Aaron's hand everyday after school (work)
2. I get a cold lick from Keba's strangely spotted tongue daily as I cross my portico
3. I had coffee with Anna and Emily (AND, we escaped school early today to get this done!)
4. I work with some incredible teachers (who are also my great friends and lifelines)
5. My brother's birthday is today and he is a ball-full of fun lately
6. I saw my mom, sister, grandmom, and all of my aunts this weekend
7. I now know all of my new students' names
8. I am teaching a great teen read to my scholars at Chavez: Tears of a Tiger by Sharon Draper
9. I shall run tomorrow
10. AP and I are starting Yoga three days/week
Ok...this is therapeutic...
I could actually go on and on...11, 12, 13, 14...
But, suddenly there is no need. I just smurked (like a smile), re-read the PRO's and a needed surge of long-awaited contentness overcame. I needed that surge and smile-like smurk. This is why I started this ridiculous blog-- To have a forum (other than Aaron's exhausted ears) to sort through my fleeting thoughts. Now, I will floss, brush and swallow more water as I contemplate the sleep that will easily induce my weary (now happier and smurky) mind.
11. Good sleep and smiles
The above PRO's list goes on and on...
So, in order to gain control, let's gain positive perspective:
PRO's:
1. I get to hold Aaron's hand everyday after school (work)
2. I get a cold lick from Keba's strangely spotted tongue daily as I cross my portico
3. I had coffee with Anna and Emily (AND, we escaped school early today to get this done!)
4. I work with some incredible teachers (who are also my great friends and lifelines)
5. My brother's birthday is today and he is a ball-full of fun lately
6. I saw my mom, sister, grandmom, and all of my aunts this weekend
7. I now know all of my new students' names
8. I am teaching a great teen read to my scholars at Chavez: Tears of a Tiger by Sharon Draper
9. I shall run tomorrow
10. AP and I are starting Yoga three days/week
Ok...this is therapeutic...
I could actually go on and on...11, 12, 13, 14...
But, suddenly there is no need. I just smurked (like a smile), re-read the PRO's and a needed surge of long-awaited contentness overcame. I needed that surge and smile-like smurk. This is why I started this ridiculous blog-- To have a forum (other than Aaron's exhausted ears) to sort through my fleeting thoughts. Now, I will floss, brush and swallow more water as I contemplate the sleep that will easily induce my weary (now happier and smurky) mind.
11. Good sleep and smiles
The above PRO's list goes on and on...
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Rhythmic?
How seriously should I take the word rhythm? Supposedly the human body longs for rhythmic patterns in food, exercise, breathing, sleep and many other bodily functions (What about sex? I am not sure…). But how literally should I take this longing? This has always been the essence of my existence: A weekly schedule of “practice” (be it track, softball, swim team, soccer—it depended on the season). But, change is good, right? Maybe spontaneity and surprise makes one more joyful and relaxed? Or, maybe even my love partnership should be based on a contrived schedule of “nights when we…”? I have battled with this concept every minute since I returned home, for my life has shifted to a rigid routine of agenda-ful ways for me to spend most waking hours.
Over the summer this was not true, in fact as we traveled in South America there were many days when we woke and decided to hike and see the sun (and that took us until the sun decided to call it a night), but there is no time to chase the sun now. In fact, there are not enough hours for me to even cross off more than one agenda-item. I find that my list jumps along the calendar as each day passes (figuratively for I refuse to own/use an agenda). So, back to the topic at hand…should I make each day of the week a “make-my-body-more-rhythmic” day? Meaning, should Monday night be yoga night, Tuesday be morning run and long walk, Wednesday be morning run and yoga, Thursday evening be peaceful run with Anna and Emily, Friday be THE DAY OF REST, Saturday be morning bike ride, Sunday be long run and then hit repeat.
Oh, and this is just the schedule I would use to organize my exercise rhythm. What about my personal rhythm? I could have Monday be yoga with Aaron and Jaime night, Tuesday be a long walk with as many peeps as possible, Wednesday night be just me time at yoga, Thursday evening with my life-long running partners with long slow meal afterwards (this is already confirmed for the duration of the school year), Friday will be when I make dates with my friend-circles, and then the weekend will include varied exercise times plus more than two days worth of desired activities.
Oh, but hold up one more time... We didn’t remember the fact that I am a teacher, thus I work about 15-20 hours a week at home (after the school day ends). So now, should we go back through the schedule again to add to the daily lists…no need, right? My inner conflict is obvious: What does one do when there is just too much to do everyday? I am battling with the letting go of my free spirit, giving the freedom up for days full of a basically unattainable schedule of events? Yet, I feel disappointment and regret when I do not accomplish all of the “things” that flutter around my mind constantly. Maybe I will start with a regular sleep schedule, for sleep really is the only needed body-rhythm…well, I should say, sleep is an all-too powerful rhythm at this point in time, for me…maybe we can get together between 2-4 am on Thursday morning, are you free then?
ZZ ZZZ Z Z Z Z z z z z z z z z z z!
Over the summer this was not true, in fact as we traveled in South America there were many days when we woke and decided to hike and see the sun (and that took us until the sun decided to call it a night), but there is no time to chase the sun now. In fact, there are not enough hours for me to even cross off more than one agenda-item. I find that my list jumps along the calendar as each day passes (figuratively for I refuse to own/use an agenda). So, back to the topic at hand…should I make each day of the week a “make-my-body-more-rhythmic” day? Meaning, should Monday night be yoga night, Tuesday be morning run and long walk, Wednesday be morning run and yoga, Thursday evening be peaceful run with Anna and Emily, Friday be THE DAY OF REST, Saturday be morning bike ride, Sunday be long run and then hit repeat.
Oh, and this is just the schedule I would use to organize my exercise rhythm. What about my personal rhythm? I could have Monday be yoga with Aaron and Jaime night, Tuesday be a long walk with as many peeps as possible, Wednesday night be just me time at yoga, Thursday evening with my life-long running partners with long slow meal afterwards (this is already confirmed for the duration of the school year), Friday will be when I make dates with my friend-circles, and then the weekend will include varied exercise times plus more than two days worth of desired activities.
Oh, but hold up one more time... We didn’t remember the fact that I am a teacher, thus I work about 15-20 hours a week at home (after the school day ends). So now, should we go back through the schedule again to add to the daily lists…no need, right? My inner conflict is obvious: What does one do when there is just too much to do everyday? I am battling with the letting go of my free spirit, giving the freedom up for days full of a basically unattainable schedule of events? Yet, I feel disappointment and regret when I do not accomplish all of the “things” that flutter around my mind constantly. Maybe I will start with a regular sleep schedule, for sleep really is the only needed body-rhythm…well, I should say, sleep is an all-too powerful rhythm at this point in time, for me…maybe we can get together between 2-4 am on Thursday morning, are you free then?
ZZ ZZZ Z Z Z Z z z z z z z z z z z!
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