Meaningless questions

I saw the moon out today. Midday. Big and fat though waning, close to the horizon. It was so pale I was sure I was the only one who noticed it. Everyone else, surely, thought it was a distant and small cloud. Did the moon care that I saw it?

Today

I am that woman. I am the woman you saw today on the side of the road. Or maybe I was crossing the overpass as you drove under it. I am the one who glanced over her shoulder as she crossed to the other side, avoiding the blind turn.

I am the woman with the pony tail that slapped the back of her neck. The one with the white hat, bill pulled low over her eyes. I am the woman with the foolishly-donned windbreaker, tied now around her waist. It was flapping and snapping above the Nikes kicking behind me as you passed by.

I am the woman you saw gritting her teeth, trying to maintain her pace up the hills that you crested. And I was the one taking in big gulps of cool fall air coming back down. I am the woman you veered unconsciously toward as you watched me run, then straightened away from as you realized your drift. (You always do that.)

I am the woman with the calm, determined and content look on her face running past you as you drive along on the road. And it doesn't matter if you haven't run in three years, or if you logged a run this morning. I am the woman you saw who made you think, "Man, I wish I was running."

Funny quote from the weekend

J and I head to the ladies' room at a local cantina. Now keep in mind she has been taking Spanish in first grade, so she feels she has some expertise in the area of things Latin. Just inside the bathroom she stops.

"Phew, it even smells like Mexico in here!"

Updated: Another funny. J takes piano lessons from a very proper and unsmiling neighbor named Mrs. Parks. We were discussing the lessons over dinner one night, and J piped up, "I wonder if any of her friends call her 'Amusement'?" JBL and I looked at each other for an instant before we got it, and promptly laughed out loud. J probably didn't understand the irony, just the play on words. But it was still remarkably funny...

Fleeting

We are in the midst of perfect fall weather - not surprisingly - it is the middle of October after all. For yesterday's run, I headed down the street into a neighbor's wooded driveway (thus delaying the slog up Heart Attack Hill, leading out to the rest of the neighborhood), and was surprised at how much the leaves had changed. From our house perched atop a smaller hill, my view still affords me lots of chlorophyll, but in the woods I was surrounded by golds and oranges as the afternoon sun streamed through the canopy of branches. Stunning.

This morning I am hunkered in the dark kitchen with rain pounding on the windows. The heavy boughs of the trees beyond the deck hang listless and sodden. Yesterday's jewel tones look drab in front of the steel-gray sky. The passing train down the valley had sounded jovial, convivial in the bright summer mornings, but today is lonesome and wistful. This, however, is a good feeling, surrounded by autumn. Inside the quiet house, surrounded by the spicy smell of pumpkin bread baking in the nearby oven, I am warm and content. I know this season, like spring, is about fleeting moments such as this. Next month at this time the leaves will have fallen from the trees and the air will be much colder. The memory of yesterday's run through the warm breeze of mid-fall will be distant.

Fading memories of dark autumn mornings not so long ago call to me now. I can feel distinctly the soft wool of the family room rug under me, and the cool wood of our coffee table supporting my back as I watch J in her snap-up footie pajamas. Her hair is still fuzzy and limited on the crown of her head. She is busy, opening the table's many drawers to discover the tiny stuffed animals I have hidden there. She is putting them in her mouth. She is smiling at me with her dark sparkling eyes and testing out her consonant sounds. Now she is in her exer-saucer, working all the springy and spinning parts. I sing to her. I play the little tunes that come out of the safari truck attached at the top. Her face lights up as her favorite song comes around again - for the 5th time.

Though I am anxious and somehow still adjusting after 8 months to being a stay-at-home mom, I am filled with the distinct thrill of love as I pick J up, ready to carry her to her high chair for the next meal. The terry cloth covering her body is warm over her solid little frame. There aren't words to describe the feel of her soft, fuzzy head against my cheek. She is babbling as her chubby fist clutches at my sleeve.

I blink, and it is 6 years later. She gives me a hug absentmindedly in the morning before getting on a bus that takes her away for almost 10 hours before returning in the late afternoon. So as I work and cook and clean and run, I wait for her. And today I watch the rain and know all this will change, too.

Buying time

Yesterday was the first of what will surely be many classmate birthday parties for J this school year. It was a sweet event hosted by a down-to-earth family for one of my favorite girls from J's kindergarten class. Even still, I tried not to be intimidated when JBL and I arrived at the end of the party.

The birthday girl's home, in a coveted area of Baltimore County, has been newly renovated. Its warm and inviting interior is tastefully decorated with a mix of modern and traditional furniture, finishes and accessories. Both daughters' rooms are thoughtfully designed and are whimsical without being cloying or gaudy. The party, after including a bead activity, and a station where the guests were pampered with manicures and pedicures, involved tea and cupcakes on beautiful serving pieces surrounded by fresh flowers and lush table linens. In addition to the usual goody bag, each attendee received a smaller cupcake to take home, stored in a pretty little box tied with a ribbon.

Need I remind myself that last year J's party included family only? Or that our recent cookout for her friends' families made me coil tensely with worry over my (then) mismatched kitchen and dilapidated basement? Surely J will begin to wonder about the differences between what she has, and what her peers have. How will that make her feel? My worries are more like twinges of concern, but surely she will feel the differences with more weight.

But on the ride home, J simply hummed happily in the back seat as she rummaged through her goody bag, and occasionally exclaimed with delight over a sticker or ribboned trinket. When I remarked that her friend's bedroom was pretty, J replied that she preferred the room of her friend's sister. No further remarks were made.

This morning she piped up over breakfast, "You know what I want for my birthday?" I steeled myself for the answer - would it be a spa party like Elle's? Would it be a redecorated bedroom? "What?" I asked. "You know," she quipped with a sparkle in her eye.

And the tight band around my heart loosened as I realized I did in fact know. "Spaghetti with Mom-Mom's meat sauce?"

"Yes!" she declared happily, rubbing her hands together in anticipation of the very common meal awaiting her more than 3 months from now. And I wonder why I ever worry. I am so goddamn lucky...

Another string of random

Still have the PI. I realized this morning that the steroid foam I've been using has expired, thus has been ineffectual. Maybe the expectation that I should be recovering, only to find that the rash is actually spreading, has lead to my emotional roller coaster. A tragedy? Hardly. But still, it's like this annoying little brother poking a wet finger in your ear. 24 HOURS A DAY FOR DAYS AND DAYS. At first you're irritated, then you explode with anger, then you admit defeat dejectedly, then you rock in the corner and suck your thumb.

But enough about you.

The birds are going crazy outside this morning. Crows, cardinals, robins, chickadees, bluebirds. Why are bluebirds portrayed in children's movies as beautiful songbirds? They sing what amounts to a garbled throat-clearing of notes. But they are beautiful, so they have that going for them. Lately, though, when I see them tussling on the deck railings or sitting stoicly on branches I get singing this, which is somewhat infuriating. Besides the fact that the song is actually about light, I just can't make it stop going over and over in mind. (I do love the line where he sings, 'Even though I respect that a lot, I'd be fired if that were my job...' That sentiment just seems...familiar to me.)

It's going to be warm today - in the low-80's - and I'm conflicted. I've accepted the idea of fall like an impending death, so to have a reprieve that harkens back to summer and relaxing days surrounded by color and song and life, well it's almost jarring. I'll suffer through though, and gladly. J and I will walk to her piano lesson again, after spending last week in the car in rainy, 50-something degree weather. Dinner will be enjoyed al fresco. And even with an early sunset, we'll go to bed with open windows.

In the meantime I will chew happily through another day of work and running. Random life is good sometimes.

The itch

Today I am feeling scattered. Ever have one of those days? I can hardly sit still, am picking at my skin and hair, but can't concentrate on anything. Maybe it is because I have been fairly focused with work over the last week or so, and need a mental break. Or maybe it's because I have yet another rollicking case of poison ivy.

Unlike previous PI battles, JBL is in this one with me. He actually has a small patch, and he has never reacted to it before. He is surprised to find it so itchy (VINDICATION! ahem, well, actually, he's never accused me of exaggerating the itch level...but at least now he can say he understands).

This afternoon, before he left for a meeting, he applied yet another layer of anti-histamine goo to his wrist. We lamented that PI cannot be eradicated by simply breaking open the blisters and slapping some alcohol on them. I'd put up with that pain right now. I counted. Fifteen patches of blisters, mainly on my forearms. I'm on day 3, which means I have at least one more day of severe itching...and I think that's what gets me. The DAYS AND DAYS of it all.

I should wrap this up neatly with some analogy about parenting and phases, and philosophies about life in general, but I'm just too fidgety now. And I need to get back to work.