week seven: small pleasures

Sharon Olds & me

I used to do this every week, make a running list of all the things that happened on each day of the week that were wonderful, that made me smile. I want to start doing that again, start reminding myself of the small pleasures.

Sunday: Dashing up to the Twin Cities to return a sweater and a dress to Bibelot; I now exchange for little treasures--an intricate sweater, a wool skirt, an apron, oven mitts with little birds. I am sad the gifts my husband gave me didn't quite fit--too small, too big, both--but glad I can replace them, and just in time because the gift receipt expires today. This afternoon: book club with three girls I adore, lovely conversation, tea in a jar.

Monday: Leaving for Palm Beach. Everything such a surprise--the heat, sweating, the palm trees wildly tilting out of the ground. My hotel room is bright but lovely. I am completely alone, on my own, for the first time in my life. This isn't true, especially when I lived in the Twin Cities without my husband, but this is my first time when I know no one and have no transportation--I love this feeling of independence, a small test. Also: I've discovered a small organic grocery store / coffee shop, and I've fallen in love with their turkey and brie on a croissant. This could be my every meal here.

Tuesday: First workshop, so many wonderful comments for revision. I am anxious to start tweaking, to revisit the images and make this poem stronger. There are a few poets I admire in class, too, which is nice. Tonight's reading is wonderful.

Wednesday: I get a notice from schmap that they would like to pull one of my swan boat pictures from our May trip to consider for their next Boston edition. I am flattered, amongst all this poetry, more good news, this from a photographic standpoint.

Thursday: My husband joins me and we eat outdoors, holiday lights strewn on palm trees and spiked shrubbery. We have beer, we celebrate our being in another state while our home grows colder. This is a beautiful place to be.

Friday: The beach, my feet in the sand. I love taking pictures with my long lens, capturing the birds, though I think some may have been frightened by this white blob toddling behind. Tonight, Claudia Emerson, a poet I hadn't heard of until now, a poet whose books I will order from our independent bookstore as soon as I get home. I've fallen in love with her voice, her imagery, the stories she tells in that warm Southern accent.

Saturday: I meet the one living poet I admire beyond all others. Actually, the one poet period that I admire above all others--the person who introduces her calls us "groupies." I can relate, this shadow worshipping. The panel discussion today was also fantastic; me, in the audience, scribbling notes and taking quick pictures.

What were your small pleasures last week?

week six: small pleasures

Sunday: Penelope and Zephyr have day two of a play date weekend. Logger is like a dog track rabbit--a temptation for the bigger dogs to chase after. That night, K and I spend hours in the garden, transferring seedlings to little caves in the ground. Neighbors walk by, greeting our leaping dogs, and wish us good luck on the corn. We are astounded at how many mushrooms we find in the grass, pressed between green stalks.

Monday: Chaos in the classroom leads me to call the yoga studio, reminds me that I am still learning to breathe in a way that is calming. I woke up late today, but it doesn't cause me to panic; instead, I am glad at the extra time I have in bed. I have found motivation to start packing my classroom, something I had been previously lacking. This is my last chance, my last week, my last Monday in this place. And: this video.

Tuesday: Last day with seniors and first day of several in saying good-bye. Sad, but also moving on, finding a new place in my life. The joy of saying good-bye to a group of kids I've truly enjoyed working with, carrying that memory with me

Wednesday: Exam day one. Discovering how quickly boxes can be filled. Remembering, over the sorrow, that this is freedom.

Thursday: Late night celebrations--surviving my last day with students at This High School.

Friday: Saying good-bye gracefully, or with moderate grace, keeping tears back as best I can, and knowing Emily is one of my most precious friends as I make my way through this afternoon. Then, the thrill of camping, something I haven't done in so long, like riding a bike.

Saturday: Two hikes, slick sweat, making it through, back up to the top. Having another good friend help me up, knowing these are the best people to do this with, Angie and Lane and Chad, our trio from Winona. The slowness of meals, slowing us down for true conversation, and not being as afraid of ticks or sleeping on the ground or the ghostly shape of what's in the woods. And the foursome in the tent: me and K and the dogs, a little family with another branch of the family across the way in two tents.

week five: small pleasures

Sunday: Driving home, four and a half hours, K periodically telling silly stories and reading. Stopping by the roadside for my weekly sister picture, K involved in solving the mystery of "cuisine." A long walk downtown in the summer heat, taking pictures along the way, Penelope leaping into the Mississippi while boats cruise by. Live music floating from across the river in Wisconsin, boats lined at the bar's dock, Harbor Bar where Jamaican food is served. K unfolding a present from his mother, a strand of pearls to be worn on my wedding day.

Monday: Memorial Day. Sleeping in past ten, K coming in smelling of freshly mowed lawn and sweat. Methodically working my way through long accumulated clutter, surprised at how quickly a paper shredder can fill. Shishkabobs on the grill and dogs curling at our feet.

Tuesday: First poetry writing group meeting. Lamps as the sun fades, the sound of rain, and notebooks balanced on knees. Round cake, glasses of water, poetry being dissected on the table. Feeling safe, quick, feeling as if we knew what we were doing immediately, falling into a pattern that made sense. A surprise gift at the bookstore, though two days too early, not knowing who it was from just yet.

Wednesday: First email from my new principal. She's going to give me the twenty five cent tour. :) Finding out my department chipped in for a gift certificate so I can buy more books (as if I need them, I can hear K thinking, and my protest: of course I do!).

Thursday: The department party in Northfield. A card saying goodbye, presents wrapped in glitter to wish us happy marriages. Addictive slow cooker dip and a beautiful spring afternoon to chat. Speaking with a printmaker on his beginnings. After, going to Uptown (Minneapolis) and listening to a poet's voice over espresso grinders, sitting next to her, listening, carefully, to words living out loud.

Friday: The last staff party of This High School that I will attend. Sad, but even better, it was fun shopping with Emily for R's wedding shower gifts. We made a great big pile o' themed gift, and being mundane with good friends is nice. Reminds you that you are human. Also, the opposte of a small pleasure--Penelope ill--reminding me of how K and I must work as a team in life, and how I accepted his choice, and how tomorrow we will take her in and this hope: she will be better, vibrant again. I am reminded just how much I love this dog. So fiercely.

Saturday: Penelope and Zephyr have a play date in the woods. I am so relieved that she is recovered, can fly about as she did before, and am thrown by her sickness the night before. I won't question it, though I did miss a shower because of it, and hope this is it--whatever was upsetting her was expelled before. In the woods, she attacks the water as if it were a still object and we see mushrooms, flowers, and birds. Plants bloom up in the soggy earth.

week four: small pleasures

Sunday: Large steps in cleaning, preparation for Kelly's arrival. A postponement of her visit as her car is being cranky, another rain check, a promise to consider a tattoo in celebration of our friendship. A chilly day, but productive. Flower bulbs in the earth, a new header for the blog, and K being charming on the sofa, goofy commentary as I watch Little Miss Sunshine for the first bemused and happy time.

Monday: A quiet day. Watching the puppies chase each other about the yard from the window, eating strawberry ice cream, kissing K as the sun sets.

Tuesday: On the way to work, watching dust rise as two horses are at play, feeling my slack face creak into a morning smile. Ordering a fistful of blue irises for my beautiful friend who deserves and needs a little sunshine in her life.

Wednesday: A fabulous, enveloping thunderstorm, the threat of a tornado, sirens wailing. I love these kinds of storms, as long as everything is all right in the end.

Thursday: The sound of rain as my freshmen watch Romeo and Juliet. Accepting the Local High School position (and screaming just before doing so).

Friday: Telling them I got the job. The principal coming upstairs to shake my hand, telling me how happy he is and that he couldn't just tell me in an email. The principal's secretary following shortly after, giving me a big hug. Emily rushing to me to hug me after telling her in the morning, her happiness spreading throughout the wing and floor. My own relief becoming more real: I didn't just dream this.

Saturday: A nap that stretches longer than a bout of sleep. Seeing my parents, seeing my parents' dogs. Knowing that Maddie is hanging in there, even though she is old and arthritic. Penelope crawling into bed with me, her soft fur against my face, and in the morning, she licks my arms and hands, wanting to be social, wanting to greet the day. Penelope off her leash and not worrying, her bounding around the yard and listening when we call her back. The way K comes to me from his parents' house, twenty minutes away, when I need him to, his arms around me, and I can breathe again.

week three: small pleasures

Sunday: Sleeping in until the sun was high in the sky after staying up late, watching movies with the puppies. And a thunderstorm so surprising it woke us up again and again. Pressing our noses against the screen next to the orange tabby as the rain came down in sleeting buckets. Then, gardening, pressing small seeds into the earth, anticipation of what will grow this year.

Monday: The joyous news of a phone call: an interview with the Local High School. Knowing I'll miss This High School, but also knowing those two hours I might gain back from commute time would be a blessing both on my heart and on the environment. Mother Earth must be pretty crabby at K and myself for our gas guzzling ways. Also, the start of a project with my baby sister, a talented photographer. I expect to learn a lot from her.

Tuesday: Decorating my once-lost planner with flower cut outs from glossy magazines: ranuculas, peonies, dahlias. Favorites. Learning how to breathe again--deep, from the stomach, covering anxiety with peace. An email in the in-box waiting, two weeks away and we'll have a writing group with this poet.

Wednesday: A writing marathon with my students, returning to the page again and again. A quiet night at home, even with Zephyr back, cone-headed. Spotting what appeared to be a gray wolf on the way in to school this morning, a quick flash across the highway, making eye contact as it vanished into the brush.

Thursday: Writing poetry, learning how tricky watercolor can be, going to bed early so I can be ready for a morning interview.

Friday: Not eliminating myself in the interview, feeling good about it in the early morning rain. Crawling into bed with my book, falling asleep not long after. An email from a favorite poet, a decision to help each other write again, to help each other be the poets we're supposed to be. The thrill of anticipation of poems in the mailbox, of finding ways to critique and create as we once did. Using each other as a barometer for discipline.

Saturday: The day of Emily, meeting her good friends, celebrating her upcoming marriage in a shower and bachelorette party. Playing Girl Talk and having my hair braided. Eating fajitas and talking about taking care of our bodies. Enjoying frank conversation, being a quiet observer among a wonderful variety of women, all there to celebrate a new close friend of mine. A great thunderstorm in the distance, brilliant snaking lightning keeping me company on the drive home.

Week two: small pleasures

Sunday: a wandering tour of Boston with K, hands snaked together. Two more tshirts to add to my growing cotton collection, postcards to shuffle through, and a swan boat ride around a pond, K allowing me to take photographs of us, hands stretched out. Genuine New England clam chowder, incredible and creamy, perched on stools just next to K, pushed up against the counter in a busy market. Bagels balanced on my knee, juice in a cup, plotting out our day on the map.

Monday: online catching up on Grey's Anatomy and Desperate Housewives. No rehearsal (any more, strike last Saturday and a band concert tonight, which means it is all gone, only traces stacked in the scene shop. Penelope and Zephyr, home again, leaping about with muddy paws, home again. Reading in bed for an hour before sleeping, able to stay awake beyond a page or two, light on until I am reading for slumber. Not wanting to put the book down. Reading can be so difficult when you are stripped of all else, exhausted from fourteen hour days at school.

Tuesday: Teacher Appreciation Day. Allowing myself to realize that I am not terrible at this job.

Wednesday: Took a luxurious two hour long nap. Woke up sweaty and mildly distressed that I would have to find a way to fall back asleep in order to teach the next day, but I needed it. I came home cranky and exhausted. I woke up in a much better mood, not even annoyed that I would have to clean up dog diarrhea. (Which is, by the way, the grossest thing to scrub from a carpet.) Realizing patience when I also had to clean up more dog sick, celebrating what maybe would have dissolved into tears of frustration before, but now, another part of life, another moment that allows me to take care in the dogs and the surroundings.

Thursday: The color of the sky as I drive in, such a perfect multitude of blues, the kind I hope to see at my wedding. Puffs of white clouds sifting through the sky. An early release day today. Little bursts of color along the edges of the road, the edges of our lawn.

Friday: Quiet respect, standing at the edge of the school, watching as those in mourning circle around the rock. Standing next to a friend I am so glad has entered my life, so glad I can talk to about these things, so sad I will have to say good-bye to being a colleague. Every once in a while, the thrill of a Friday strikes me, as it did when I was in high school myself. This was one of those Fridays, full of anticipation. K and I celebrated our three months-away-from-our-wedding day by visiting the place where we will get married (it was the same on our one year away). We watched the sun set and danced in the sand.

Saturday: So much today--letterpress invitations, visiting campus, buying poetry for our walls, walking by the theatre, buying honey in a glass jar and lavendar soap, petting small dogs. Taking our own dogs into the woods, watching Penelope leap about without our hand tugging back at the leash, small butterflies in the forest. Dreaming of one day, when we might move there, our house a cabin, a light burning bright at the end of the night. Eating out at a fancier restaurant, ordering a martini bearing the name "Mississippi" and gazing across the table at the man I adore.

Week One: small pleasures

I'm on board with the M.O.M. (Month of Me) coming from a newly discovered blogger. Here is my week of celebrations, in summary:

Sunday: Gardening. Picking out seed packets, lining them up. Plans for: morning glories, poppies. Trying my hand at flowers, returning to vegetables, flesh damp, smooth and slick skin. Tilling by hand, K's blister rising, standing next to him, beating and tamping the earth.

Monday: Musical meeting, then the first day without rehearsal in a long while (I have begun to feel I live there now, in that auditorium, there is nothing else but this). I go home and read and fall asleep at 8:20. An entire hour of reading on a school night.

Tuesday: A beer at home. I drink rarely now, only on special occassions. Not even for the bachelorette party, and a little for the wedding. I think I needed to celebrate: three poetry submissions in one week, another almost-on-time submission to my poet-friend, and most importantly: getting the two applications finished for the local school openings. A little bit of hope in the mailbox and relief. My observation went well, too, I think.

Wednesday: A day home to rest. Sleeping so much I cannot fall asleep at a remotely decent time that night, but still relishing the slumbering between cotton sheets. Delicious as the sun has risen, dogs waiting patiently for me to join them. Allowing myself to be enveloped in the dreams. Recovering. An afternoon putting together a care package for a dear friend, ready to post, full of summer goodies, paper gifts, and love. A bucket of fried chicken on the patio, dogs at our feet. K asking me to drive and being happy at small favors. Buying two new CDs (Feist and Tori Amos). Dancing around in the car.

Thursday: Teaching in costume to promote the musical. A fridge full of Vitamin water. Taking photographs. Always a driving pleasure. Students running to the printer to collect poetry, still warm, written for in class workshop.

Friday: The anticipation of flight. The shocking luxury of a hotel in Boston: Crabtree and Evelyn, brushed steel, the tink of wine glasses, deep red wood, pillows to sink in to, fresh flowers in the lobby. Adding another state to our list. The thrill and self indulgence of travel.

Saturday: Three glasses of wine: one at dinner, two at the end of the night. Walking streets earning the title "cobblestone." Holding a baby, my soon-to-be nephew, K's sister's son, the warmth and giggle of a fistful of hair. Noticing things: violets in bloom, pigeons cooing, exposed brick, statues depicting famous Bostonians. Pubs, so many of them, with the lacquered wood and soft lighting. Pubs, all Irish, with corned beef and clam chowder. I am in heaven here. K's mother already knew it before I said it--I would want to stay here. But K hates the big city, and this one has transportation issues. I will settle for our home; after all, it is a little paradise too. A wedding, complete with frothy cake and vegetables on the side of dinner that melted in my mouth. K's aunt, stunning, watching her daughter marry the man of her dreams. A beautiful bride, a lovely ceremony, sitting in the pew with the family and not flubbing (much). The sun out and me away from the hum-drum of this daily life, if only for a while.