Day 302

The other day Jules asked me if we knew everyone in Vermont. 

It's a funny question because sometimes it feels like the answer is yes. Burlington, in particular, is a relatively small community and, because our lives right now are focused on places and activities that are family-friendly - farmer's markets and farms, playgrounds and the ECHO - we tend to keep running into the same people over and over. And for better or worse, I'm the kind of person who believes that, if our paths have crossed (in person or otherwise), two or more times, I should know you. So I introduce myself. (If you've been a target and felt accosted, um, I'm sorry.) In any case, we know a lot of people in Vermont--or at least this little corner of it. 

But what constantly surprises me is how many new people I keep meeting - many of them friends of friends who've been moving in circles concentric to mine for years. Which seems crazy. And then I remind myself that, for almost half a decade,  I've been living under a little rock that is a needy young family. (Don't get me wrong, this has been awesome. Most of the time.)

I'm a classic extrovert, and I need to be connecting constantly to keep happy. Hunkering down at home, no doubt, is a big part of why I have felt so ambivalent about staying in Vermont these last few years. But lately I've been able to dip back into the worlds that feed my spirit: I'm dancing again. I'm going to out to hear live music, to book readings and art exhibits. I'm lingering over long dinners with old friends: irreverent ones with creative tendencies, my favorite kind of people.

And I remember now: This town, this state, is packed with passionate people who make me feel normal. And engaged. Inspired. 

So, no, Jules: We don't know everyone in Vermont. But the more people we meet, the more I love this place. 

Day 292

He was screaming my name as I walked through the door after dance class.

First thought: Oh no... One of those nights. It was 9:30. And we'd already had one of those mornings.

I headed for the stairs, preparing for requests for water, the fan, more music... in whatever the night's random order might be.

"He has something for you," Jon called to me from the other room.

Jules met me in the doorway of his bedroom, where just outside - in the fully lit (!) hallway - Demps stood guard. He was beaming, in avocado-green lumberjack-monkey PJs. Sort of shyly, he extended his little hand which held a carefully taped purple package.

"I made it for you, Mama. It's art for your work. And I wrapped it so you couldn't see it. Like Christmas."

Wrapped it he did. When I gently unfolded the Scotch-secured construction-paper outer envelope, there, inside, was another present, packaged up in a gold-embossed elephant design, paper I purchased years ago when my friend Beth was selling it as a fundraiser for little Marty's pre-school. Marty will be 11 in a couple of weeks. Damn.

While Jules leaned in proudly, I got to the center of my surprise: a piece of driftwood, artfully colored with what looks to have been lush oil-based crayons. Apparently he made it at school, "the end of the day, Mama" and, according to Jon, insisted on spending most of the evening wrapping it up. For me. (Which means a lot to this Mama of a Daddy's boy.)

I will cherish it forever.

Day 243

I got a handful of compliments on this dress today: 

Here are its secrets:

I bought it for $7 on the sale rack at TJ Maxx. When I was 7 months pregnant. And then proceeded to wear it at least twice a week during weeks 36 to 40 of my pregnancy. At the time, my big belly filled out the drop waist, the fabric of which now drapes nicely the way it was intended to hang. The top is a little too big. Unless I wear the dress backwards. Then, it's just right. #reinventyourcloset #lovewhatyouhave

And... today, I am grateful for my date with Mike B. and Kristen, and also the fine folks who took the stage at the Anecdote Storytelling event tonight (so many cool and creative peeps in Burlington!), to Jon for making sure I could get there and for the two little boys who gave me giant hugs on my way out. 

Day 140

I've been in a surly mood for the last couple of days. I suspect it's because I'm spread a little thin and shadowing behind my own expectations of who I should be: a laid-back (HA!) witty, calm woman who excels at work and at home, who doesn't lose patience with a curious kid, who writes thank you notes on time, who returns wine glasses and casserole dishes and always remembers a birthday. Falling short, I am.

Cheers.

Last night, while working and a tiny bit miserable about it (I'd wanted to watch a movie... or simply go to sleep), I asked my Facebook friends to tell me how to bust out of a bad mood. Immediately dozens of great suggestions came pouring in.  They ranged from porn to Stevie Wonder; yoga to - my favorite - this incredibly entertaining video (thank you, Shana!)  Instantly, I was happier. (Less productive but happier.) Ah, the power of social support. 

Tonight, I did watch a movie (Young Adult, with Charlize Theron- excellent film, I thought) but, again, am settling into some work. Grrrr... I want to go to bed but I know I'll be even more annoyed if I don't plow through. So... I'm relying on a few little things to boost my mood. Right now, they are

1. Red wine

2. Poppy-painted nails

3. Remembering that abundance is a good problem to have

And...

4. Replaying this one-of-a-kind request, made by Jules at 9:14 or so, when he called me up for a final back pat (and a restart of his Elizabeth Mitchell CD): "Mom, can you please make my Cheerios soggy right now while I sleep? While the moon shines and there are stars? Can you?"

Why, yes. Yes, I can. 

Day 93

Today, Mike B. and I met for coffee, a catch up and our first session of play-making. First conceptualized in oh, maybe 2007, the concept is brilliant, the characters are already cracking us up and the artistic direction is gonna be out of this world. Never mind that we know absolutely nothing about writing a play (likely as evidenced by my using all the wrong terms). We'll learn. Maybe it'll suck. Or maybe it won't. But it's happening, yo. Tips welcome. More soon. 

Today: Grateful for Mike B., my creative co-conspirator. 

Sketchy business.

PS: All of my books on the Algonquin Round Table will be making the (cut-the-clutter) cut. Oh how I've missed you, Mrs. Parker, Mr. Benchley, and friends.