Suburban hell

And I don't even live in suburbia.

After my long run this morning, J and I schlepped down to Ellicott City to J's haircut place (oh my GOD does she look cute with her little bob hair). JBL and K met us for lunch at Einstein Brothers', then we went to the mall to pick up some good towels, and to look for some clothes for JBL.

After lots of circuitous searches for parking, aimless wanderings, and 'excuse mes' through throngs of hapless afternoon shoppers, we took the girls for a frozen yogurt. There we parted ways - JBL to take K up to Towson for a sleepover, and me to drag J to the car wash and grocery before returning home for some down time.

At one point I told J to hurry up and finish her yogurt so we could get to our next stop- I could feel myself breaking out in hives, surrounded by the teenagers and harried parents and minivans and bad pop music - and JBL said, "Oh no - you get to experience the full suburban deal today. At least you'll have something to blog about."

I just feel dirty.

Looking back

JBL, J and I had dinner last night with JBL's grandfather. Knowing of Grandy's interest in astronomy, I brought an assignment from J's science class regarding the solar system (it's kindergarten, people, so of course crayons were involved). He helped J fill in missing vowels from some words in a paragraph about Jupiter. He was obviously delighted - both by his great-granddaughter, and by the subject matter.

I volunteered that Jupiter is the only planet in our solar system that emits more energy than it receives from the sun. Grandy paused and smiled, staring off into the distance. "Jupiter was almost a star, you know." (pause) "It may be hard to understand, but when you are seeing light from a star, you're really looking back in time." His sparkling eyes settled on me and his smile broadened. He lovingly shared his knowledge with me the way you may offer a bouquet of flowers to a friend.

"That's amazing," I replied. "It IS hard to wrap your mind around." Of course I am well familiar with this information - astronomy was one of my father's favorite subjects, and he had also delighted in sharing the universe's secrets with me in the same reverent fashion. Though I ended up in business, science has always held a special place in my heart because of the happiness it brought to my dad.

I wasn't being patronizing when I told Grandy that it is difficult to really grasp the concept of viewing history as you gaze into the night sky. It is a tough concept, even when you can easily understand that the photons of light striking your retinas have traveled across the universe for possibly billions of years before reaching you. At this exact instant. You are viewing an image of the star as it was those many years ago as the light began its journey. The image literally is something from the past. That star might not even exist anymore.

Isn't it a gift to look back in time? It can be.

Earlier this week, I drove through the city after a meeting on the way to lunch. My boss and I ended up in an area of Baltimore near the water called Canton - known for its funky shops, pubs and restaurants. Along the way, however, I was struck by landmarks in some familiar old neighborhoods. These were some of my favorite running routes when I had worked downtown.

I imagined the heat of a summer day, even in early evening, emanating up from the sidewalks. The haze that hung in the air over the distance between this grid of streets and the overpasses of I-95, visible in glimpses at various intersections. The permanent smell of beer and dirt carried on wafting cool air that spilled out of propped-open doorways of neighborhood bars.

This was back before I listened to music on most every run. My soundtrack was the sound of the city - sirens, horns blaring, people talking - and the sound of my breathing. This was also way before J and even JBL. The end of the week meant closing down my desk, heading up to the corporate gym, working out or running the streets for an easy 3-5, then heading over to Water Street for happy hour before going home for dinner.

I could hear all the sounds, smell the odors, even feel the way my body felt then. A bit stronger, a bit leaner. Just as much fire in the belly. Not quite as sad. But not quite as happy, either.

A glance at these streets instantly transports me back in time, and it is like a bittersweet gift. If I could reach back and touch that girl that loved to run in the city, oh the things I'd tell her. But the memories are like the image of a long-burned-out star. There is no way to actually hold them in your hand. All you can do is capture and savor them.

Maybe I'll send out a few photons later today for the me yet to come. I hope I can shine bright enough to carry me long into the future...

Morning churning

There is so much I want to do today.

I want to get back from my meeting with enough time to clean the bathrooms and vacuum the basement before I exercise and pick up J at the bus stop. I want to run before I do my boot camp video. I want to run from here to the city and back, going through every park, and the Baltimore zoo.

I want to repaint my toenails. I want to water the plants and put the grill cover on. I want to write more of the two stories I have been creating. I want to write about everything I am thinking and experiencing. I want to experience more than what I could ever write about.

I want to read more of my current 'daytime' reading book. I want to read all of the news in print for today. I want to re-read every book on my bookshelves. I want to re-read all of BHJ's posts. I want to read everything ever written. I want all this reading to make me the writer I want to be.

I want to spend time on the indie music site Kyle told me about. I want to find that song I heard on The World Cafe while waiting for J's bus on Monday. I want to hear every great song by every small band at every great small live venue that is happening tonight. I want to be sipping a cosmo at each one, and have JBL at my side. I want to attack JBL.

I want to shovel the snow covering the part of the yard where the spring bulbs grow. I want to check on the progress of those already begun, out by the mailbox. I want to map out my plan for this year's vegetable garden. I want to repaint the patio furniture and clean the glass table tops and weed around the bricks. I want to lay on the bricks and feel the sunlight on my face and place a bet on the first day I can lay there again in my bathing suit. I want to map out a plan to replace all the landscaping around the sides of the house. I want to learn everything there is to know about landscape design and horticulture.

I want to practice meditation. I want to be completely empty and quiet. I want to be absorbed into my yoga mat or into the sky above my house. (I would only want the latter if it's guaranteed I would be warm, though.) I want to watch hawks hunt in the snow. I want to find the first robins and experience their research of new nest sites. I want to follow the geese that seem to move in aimless groups from cornfield to lake and back again. I want to know what the point is.

I want to find my way to J at school and follow her around for the rest of her day. I want to smell her hair and see her easy smile. If she is ever sad or insecure, I want my spirit to wrap around her like a bathrobe fresh and warm out of the dryer. With her Bunny tucked in the pocket. I want to hear her neurons firing with every new thing she sees and learns and feels. I want to watch her grow each infinitesimally small bit and hear her heart beat and feel her weight in my arms during rest time. I want to sit beside her and hold her hand all the way home on the bus.

I want to roast a rack of lamb for dinner and try a new potato recipe. I want to figure out every recipe that intimidates me. I want to learn to cook every food that intimidates me. I want to experience all the wine in our cellar. I want to travel to wine and food destinations all over the world with JBL. Starting with San Fransisco.

I want to fall asleep tonight content, with my family already sleeping peacefully in the house, with all the lights turned out and crumbs of two chocolate chip cookies on my nightstand. And I guess that's really all that matters.

From the WTF files

So last month K was scheduled for her semi-annual dentist check-up. No biggie - we've been to this office - Dr. Kim - a half-dozen times before. Everyone who works there has been exceedingly kind to both girls, and the actual dentist himself? Aside from being a former Navy guy (which means I immediately respect the crap out of him), he is wonderfully calm and soothing, which are two characteristics you hope for in someone who might have to take a drill to your teeth.

But then on the day of this appointment I received a phone call from the dentist's office. Can we reschedule K's appointment? Yeah, it might snow later today, so we are closing early. WTF? Um, it's not supposed to start until around 5 (you are not calling Jim Cantore a liar, are you?), and her appointment is at 4. To change her appointment, I have to call K's mom to make sure she can meet K at the bus stop instead, and call the school to make sure K knows to get on the bus. I had changed my work schedule to make sure I could drive 3o minutes in one direction to pick both girls up from school to then drive 30 minutes in another direction to get K to the dentist before dropping her at her mom's and taking J home for dinner. Tragedies? No, but does this really need to change because it might snow earlier than predicted?

But I am a sucker, so I changed the appointment. Fast-forward to yesterday, D-1 for the New Appointment. Dr. Kim's office calls to confirm the appointment date (today) and time (4:30). Yes, I declare, that is fine. The usual arrangements are made with K's mom to send a note to school, corresponding to the one I send for J, that the girls will be picked up in the carpool lane. I am at a breakfast meeting this morning when I get the call. Can K come in at 2:30 instead of 4:30?

Um, WTF?? Well, the only other appointment we have this afternoon is at 2pm, so.... Absolutely not, I reply. They counter with 'How about 4pm?'. Nope. I don't mean to be a hard-ass, but it's just not a simple thing to change what time I do everything relating to K and school and whatnot. The dentist's receptionist then explains she can try 'a couple other things' but may need to call me back. You do that, honey. Now I am fuming.

As my meeting wraps up, here comes the last call. K's appointment now MUST be canceled. Why? Because their equipment just FAILED A STERILIZATION TEST. And so, you know, someone has to come in and sterilize everything. But we can see K tomorrow at 4:30! (How many people came in before they realized the equipment wasn't sterile, one wonders? Eww.)

So, what is worse, I ask you - a doctor's office coming up with a convenient lie to cancel an inconvenient appointment that they confirmed yesterday, or that they would ever FAIL A STERILIZATION TEST?! I think I'll go with #2. Either way, I am in the market for a new dentist, ne c'est pas?

Icing on the cake - just what I needed. It's another excuse to look like a dolt in front of JBL's ex. She already knows I am an idiot, but now I am an idiot that can't even pick a good dentist. Sheesh. And, no, I didn't do any breathing-awareness exercises during all of this.

Waiting to...

I am sitting on the floor of my office. It is ridiculous to call it my office, really. I mean, there's a desk in here with a computer on it. In its drawers are files with Important Papers, and books of stamps. Next to the computer there is a phone that I can put on 'speaker' for conference calls, and sometimes I do.

Across the room there is a bookshelf filled with all sorts of books - from Tufte's The Visual Display of Quantitative Information to Bronte's Wuthering Heights, from Churchill's series A History of English Speaking Peoples (I've only read one of those) to Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude.

The walls are adorned with diplomas - mostly JBLs - with my lone MBA certificate among them.

But I never use this room. Instead I prefer to spend most of my day hunkered over my laptop at the kitchen counter. The kitchen is the heart of the house, is it not? I can be near my family (when they're here) from this perch. Also I can eat while I read and work!

So why am I in the office today? For one, it's not part of the rest of the main level's open floor plan. Its walls and french doors offer a sense of coziness that is lacking in the rest of the house. And why on the floor? Here on the floor, I am on the soft rug nestled among houseplants crowded along the room's south-facing windows. I am sitting in the sun on a winter's day.

From my vantage point, I can see the clouds gathering on the western horizon. I can see the back woods and the fields beyond them, still blanketed with snow. I see our corkscrew willow - JBL's favorite tree, I think - whipping around in the stiff breeze. It has started to take on 'shadow' as my friend Sarah calls it. It won't be long now until leaves appear on its delicate branches.

But I am not thinking about the impending season. I am thinking about breathing.

Any practitioner of yoga can tell you the understanding of your breath and its relationship to your body is the pathway to enlightenment. Any student of public speaking knows focused breathing can calm the run-away pulse. But it came to may attention today that breathing is not just a tool - rather, it is truly the one constant in your life, from birth to death.

In all aspects of our life, our breath is there to mirror our emotions. Great gasps accompany both the deepest laughter and sobbing cries. Calm, deep breathing is associated with peaceful sleep. Shallow, short breathing can follow inattention or the seemingly endless buzz of low-level anxiety. What sort of breathing to you use throughout the day?

It is my hope that breathing can not only mirror my emotions, but help conquer (if not at least smooth) them. My great nemesis, emotionally speaking, has always been my quick-fire, lightning-hot temper. Frustration and anger well up in me suddenly and sometimes unexpectedly, and only the torrent of harsh words or other demonstrated displeasure quenches the fire that emanates outward from my mid-section. This shower of fireworks deflects hurt or fear, shooting the blame far from my insides, scorching all nearby. Unlike my mother's eruptions that could simmer on for days, mine are often over quickly, leaving a fog of remorse and pain in their wake.

Can I really use my breath to stem the tide, to even-out the amplitudes of my reactions? Is it possible that a calm mind can then redirect the emotion so the intuitive self can reign and find safe harbor? Can breathing temper all, or will it simply mask the real issue - flaws that exist deep within?

I sit quietly in the waning afternoon light amongst oxygen-producing greenery and wonder. And breathe.