Random Thoughts

So far, so good at the office. I'm a weird combination of vigilant and forgetful. Following the arrows and washing my hands and wearing a mask are all going well, and my coworkers are largely compliant. But I also think we definitely have "pandemic fatigue," myself included. Last week I had two different people sit down in my office for informal meetings -- and I only realized afterwards that even though they were sitting 6 feet away and masked, we exceeded the recommended 15 minutes of talking and laughing, both times. I'm tired of being suspicious of everything, including the air! Ugh.

Covid cases are skyrocketing again here, but Florida will never lock down again. There are still plenty of people who prefer to travel and socialize and drink in the bars as though the virus doesn't exist. The rest of us are just going to get through it, trusting our precautions and the luck of the draw: smart or lucky or a little of both.

Meanwhile, I didn't mean to buy a new water heater, but I did -- after the old one leaked all over the laundry room floor.

I also didn't mean to get another crown, but I did -- after my cereal became unexpectedly crunchy from a broken tooth. Dentistry has come a long way since the last crown I had! Instead of doing the mould thing, having a temporary put on, and then returning to have the permanent crown installed, and maybe it fits and maybe it doesn't, the dentist scanned my tooth with a computer wand, which created a 3D picture on the screen. Then a little block of porcelain is carved by a machine into a replica of the scanned image. That's the crown! I went from tooth to crown in under 120 minutes and $1500, but no pain and no complaints now that I'm on the other side of it. Thank goodness for modern technology and dental insurance.        

New kitten LP has settled in and is growing up boisterously. I still need to write about him and share his adorable photos. He's hardly recognizable now, going from skinny pitiful kitten to filled-out teencat in just a few short months.

Fall has finally arrived, with temps in the 50s at night and high 70s during the day. That's a welcome relief from summer's heat and humidity. My nostalgia for New Hampshire has peaked and passed, but I am still watching the webcam for the first real snow.

Holiday menus are going to be different this year. Nothing else has been traditional, so why should that be? Meanwhile, the neighbors have their Christmas tree up already. They put it up right after Halloween. Normally I would be all, "Nooooo, it's too early!" but I can't say that I blame them for wanting to just get the year over with, already.

Strange times.

Re-Returning

(But from where? The ether, I suppose.)

Vacation was wonderful! But it knocked me out of any habits I might have acquired (good or bad) and put me behind on everything. I guess that's the story of my life and I wonder if it will ever change. Probably not, unless I develop some better habits!

I've said yes to teaching again this semester and the Tuesday/Thursday schedule keeps me hopping. Added to my regular 30-ours-a-week job, it's been a struggle to balance everything. The manager of the book store took a two-month vacation herself, and I shared coverage duties with another volunteer -- to add to the schedule. So . . . It's been a busy late-summer.

Now, what's the upside?

Home improvements peaked this spring and then lagged, but in a burst of my usual fall energy I unpacked the last of the boxes in the living room and hung pictures throughout the house. The living room and master bedroom are settled now. The bath is mostly settled while I await the arrival of a shockingly expensive but irresistible new shower curtain that will change the look completely. The kitchen and guest room still need some work, as do the porch, the shed, and the yard. But it's all good and I'm enjoying the process.

(Well, I should say I'm mostly enjoying the process. I had a falling out with the lawn guy who mows all the yards in this part of town. Before I went on vacation I planted some large, native firebush shrubs that a friend had given me. I thought something so mature and so obvious (and surrounded by freshly turned dirt) would be unmistakably intentional, but the lawn guy thought . . . well, who knows what he thought? He tore them out and I returned from vacation to find them missing. I was heartbroken and angry -- not only for the loss of the plants (they were about 3 feet tall and blooming like crazy) but for their sentimental value. Considering my mental state, I left a very reasonable message on his answering machine. I definitely said, "I'm very upset about this" but I didn't shout or anything. In response, he left me a note saying he didn't want to mow my lawn anymore. Well, okay then. I'm now in search of a lawn guy with a clue about native plants and customer service.)

The cats are much happier in the new place. They have multiple views from multiple windows, and I've contrived to arrange the furniture so they have lounging places where they can watch the street and the birds. That's a big plus.

I'm getting more exercise than in the past year or so. That's definitely a plus.

I've cut WAY back on my Facebook time and I like it. It's certainly helped me find a few more hours that can be used in better ways. Thanks to a recent cool snap, "better ways" includes reading on the porch with a cup of coffee.

Hurricane Michael zoomed by to the west and gave us just a breezy day with a few rain showers. We were very lucky. Seeing the destruction in the Florida panhandle confirms my decision to avoid living on the coast and to evacuate if a big one comes this way. Even so, everyone here is still keeping a wary eye on the weather right now. 

Kayak Guy and I are still spending quite a bit of time together and having fun adventuring. Maybe it's just the daily life that taxes us? What an interesting thought.

I'm turning the corner on some of my reading challenges and think I might actually finish a few this year. That would be huge!

Here's to keeping this fall energy thing going as long as I can. Maybe it will help me write all those reviews that I'm backed up on . . . .

Still Summer

Despite what most folks might say about Florida, August 1 ushers in an ever-so-slight shift in the light that means fall is on the way. Our days are definitely growing shorter and the blazing heat of high summer has moderated by a miniscule amount. It's nothing like northern climates, but it's what we have.

This hint of fall's approach isn't enough to make me want to eat anything cooked, however. It's still salads all the way until the heat really breaks. 

Meanwhile, there's gazpacho. I love stacking everything up in the bowl before I mix it together into what one of my school friends calls "If salad was soup."

To complete the effect, after sunset tonight there was a tremendous thunderstorm with pelting rain, a spit of hail, ear-splitting thunder, and lightning directly overhead. Yep, still summer.

Two Worlds

Juniper Creek

Last week we stayed in a remote cabin in the Ocala National Forest, and filled our time with kayaking, tracking, exploring, woodcrafts, campfires, relaxing, and time with friends.

Now I've returned to the busyness of pre-holiday plans and lists, e-mail, projects, and the distractions and pressures of so-called normal life. I'm trying to maintain my cabin serenity even during re-entry. (It isn't easy!)

One of the things on the To Do list is creating our holiday card. Choosing the photos is fun and time-consuming. This is one of the leading contenders. The salt bush blooms profusely along Juniper Creek this time of year, giving us the nearest thing to Florida snowdrifts.

We had a lovely paddle that day. Holding that memory . . . .

Crazy Days

Well, this week certainly turned out to be one for the record books.

After my volunteer time at the library, I came home with only 2 books, which is an incredible demonstration of restraint for me.

The gregarious and affectionate Clouseau got his annual shots and felt very pitiful for the next day and a half. It was so sad to see him moping around. But it was good in a way, because it reminded me how dear he is and how much I love him -- something that's easy to become complacent about, even with those we love the most. Fortunately he's now back to his usual charming self.

We had friends in town but my back was hurting something fierce and radiating around to the front of my chest. Normally I'm rather stoic, but it's been going on for a while and reached some kind of a peak that made me wonder if I could be having another heart attack. (In case you don't know, women's heart attack symptoms can be very different from men's elephant-on-the-chest symptoms, so it pays to be cautious.) So after a delicious Thai dinner Kayak Guy and our friends dropped me at the Emergency Room. Better safe than sorry, right?

I can promise you that when you show up with a history and complain of chest pain, the ER staff gets very focused, very quickly. An EKG and some lab work later and they confirmed I was not having a repeat episode, so we're looking at back pain and the usual treatments of moderate activity, heating pads, etc. And I was home in 2 hours, after promising to see my cardiologist the next day. She was concerned but also thinking back pain, so it's all good. Hooray for tests that can give real answers to important questions!

With the "all clear" safely in hand, we went kayaking. (Kayaking doesn't bother my back at all. Go figure.) The wild sunflowers bloom extravagantly along the shores of Lake Jesup this time of year, and we hoped to paddle among them as we did last year. Unfortunately, the water levels did not allow that, so we were forced to look from afar.

Too deep to walk, too bushy to paddle. Sunflowers in the distance. 

You can't get there from here.

Near the parking lot, a clump taller than my head.

Narrow-leaf Swamp Sunflower, a Florida native.

A thunderstorm that passed just south of us made for some exciting wind and water on the way home, but all's well that ends well. It makes a better story when you have a little drama to go along with your adventure.

After the week I've had, you can be sure I'm giving Friday the kind of side-eye that says, "All right, come on, but no funny business, okay?"

A Change in the Air

Fall is coming.

Fall in northern climates shouts and waves. Here it tiptoes in, whispering hello.

Since August began, there's a change in the light. It's softer, more yellow, less blazing white-hot than before. Temperatures have moderated into the high 80s from the high 90s, and we've had several afternoons of scattered showers instead of the huge, 20-minute thunder-and-lightning extravaganzas that characterize summer.

It's a welcome change.

Summer's Close

Last night was my final opportunity to see baseball in my own neighborhood. All summer, the local collegiate wood bat league has played within walking distance from my house.

The same league plays near my future neighborhood, which is an essential. I'm not sure how I would function in a town with no summer baseball.

It was raining at game time last night, so the start was delayed. My friend and I had dinner instead of heading to the ballpark. At the end of the evening, on my way home, I drove by my future house, enjoying the peacefulness of the neighborhood and imagining myself living there in the near future.

And then I thought, well, maybe I'll just swing by the ballpark and see if the lights are on. It's only about a mile away.

The rest is easy to guess. Once I saw the lights and the number of cars in the parking lot, it was easy to decide to go in and just see what the score was.

(Sometimes my powers of rationalization and self-deception amaze me. I could probably get a lot more laundry done if I used the same method. I'll just sort the clothes and see what's dirty, followed by why not do just one load. Voila! I'd be hooked.)

Once I saw my favorite team was leading 2-0 in the 6th inning, it was a foregone conclusion that I'd sit down and watch the rest of the game.

And what a game it was! Lots of scoring from then on, with the lead changing hands practically every half inning. Bases loaded jams, runs walked in, a couple of hard-to-believe errors, and a trip to the championship on the line. Winner advances. Loser goes home. See you next summer.

Because I arrived late, I wasn't keeping score on my personal scorecard. Therefore I was not able to record the triple play that unfolded just a few minutes after I sat down. Thrilling to see -- disappointing not to capture!

That's the second triple play I've failed to get on my scorecard. Years ago I missed one because I was out of my seat. At least I saw it this time! Getting closer . . . .

(If you must know: With runners on first and second, the batter hit to the pitcher (one out), the pitcher threw to first base before the runner could get back there (two outs), and the first baseman threw to the shortstop covering second base before that runner could return (three outs). Just like that. Inning over.)

The end of baseball means fall is practically here, bringing the sense of ending and loss that comes with September's shorter days and mellower light.

I'm glad I caught and savored that last bit of summer, while it lasted. No summer should close with a rainout.

Outdoors in Fall

I'm going hiking this weekend! It has been ages and ages since I walked anywhere significant that wasn't in a city somewhere, so this is thrilling just to look forward to. Actually doing it will be even more amazing.

Florida can be viewed as relatively non-scenic, especially by folks who are used to mountains, rolling hills, stone walls, brooks, and the scenic vistas such things offer. I've fallen into that trap myself -- my natural impulse is to prefer the classic New England view to a Florida scene.

But Florida has its own intense but subtle beauty. You just have to know where to look, and how to look. Right now in my own backyard the quality of the light is mellowing, certain fall flowers are coming into bloom and inundated with butterflies and bees, and the plants whose leaves change color are beginning to change with the cooler weather and shorter days. Lots remains green. Lots unmistakably whispers, "Fall."

This weekend I will be tramping in a local preserve and seeing the various Florida habitats from ground level, on the way to visit the origin of a spring that feeds the Wekiva River. I realized this would be an extra-special treat when I learned the walk requires a permit and access to the secret combination that opens the gate.

Something tells me that this isn't your ordinary nature walk. And anytime I get to cross a threshold that requires some degree of special access, I feel connected to the great journeyers of time and literature. From Lief Ericson to Captain Kirk, there's something both visceral and spiritual about going where none (or few) have gone before.

On Pace for an Epic Fail

I just haven't been doing any reading.  Work has gone crazy busy (I mean, really, how many nights in a row can I stay up until 2 a.m. trying to finish something?).  The volunteer causes I'm involved in have developed a string of Saturday morning meetings and events that has remained unbroken for a month and will continue through the end of October. And those meetings are accompanied by a ton of organizing and e-mail correspondence.

I looked at my reading challenges list last night with some dismay.  Remember when the year was new and there were 12 whole months ahead, pristine and inviting, and reading a small library of books seemed blissfully possible? Wasn't it only a few weeks ago?

It's like one of my favorite Peanuts cartoons.  Linus says to Charlie Brown (I'm paraphrasing here), "School starts next week. Kind of makes you wonder what happened to summer, doesn't it?"  And Charlie Brown says, "What happened to spring?"

Now rather suddenly it's September.  I love fall and dream of the day that it once again means apple picking, blazing leaves, and sweaters and corduroys.  Meanwhile, I have three reviews that I should be writing and posting, of books that I read back in  .  . . uh, May.

Somehow I need to find a way to take back my nights and weekends, and start drawing some lines through the titles on those ambitious reading lists.  Otherwise, this year's challenge wraps are going to be seriously lacking.   

Time Change (Not)

It's taking me a long time to adjust to the time change. It happens every fall. Is anyone else having this problem?

I changed my clocks immediately. Including the one in the car, which requires me to refer to the manual every time--I even dog-eared the page, finally, despairing of ever being able to learn that skill when I only practice it twice a year.

I stopped thinking, "Yeah, but it's really . . ." almost as quickly. In short, I am doing my best to acclimate.

But I still wake up consistently at 5:00 a.m. This morning I gave up on trying to get back to sleep and just got up. Perhaps this extra hour's start will mean I'll have a good Monday.

After all, I'm blogging. That's a good sign!

Tonight by 8:30 p.m., I'll be so sleepy I'll struggle to keep my eyes open. After all, it will have been dark for a couple of hours, so it will "feel like" 11:00 p.m.

I'll make myself stay up to a more reasonable bedtime hour. But this strategy doesn't seem to help. It isn't the amount of sleep. It's the timing that's off.

On the other hand, the time change means nothing to the Princess. As long as she gets her 22 hours of sleep per day, she's bright-eyed and good to go for the other 2.

Where I'd Rather Be

It's all sunshine and palm trees here, with "cooler fall temperatures" in the high 80's, which probably makes anyone north of the Mason-Dixon line jealous right now. This weekend it is predicted to get chilly. That would be in the low 70's during the day and the 50's at night.

"Chilly" is a relative term.

With my thin Florida blood, I'm donning sweaters and turtlenecks as soon as the thermometer dips below 70. I love those kinds of clothes and never miss a chance to wear them.

Meanwhile, this photo shows where I'd rather be. This is a shot from the webcam at Plymouth State College in Plymouth, New Hampshire. I lived near Plymouth for two years, ten years ago, and fell in love with the climate. Even the snow.

Don't we always want what we don't have?

I got C.S. hooked on watching the seasons change via this webcam. We watch for the first fall color, the first snowfall, and the first spring day that you can't see the sidewalks anymore because the trees have leafed out at last. We sometimes see the students having a prayer meeting on Sunday mornings under the trees, standing in a circle and holding hands. We often see games of catch or football. Occasionally a snowman appears. It's a great window.

Now C.S. and I are relishing the last of the fall color. It sure beats the heck out of palm trees.

No Leaves Left Hanging

Here's one last snapshot before we turn the page on autumn and brace for winter. The last leafy holdouts in this frame (click on photo to enlarge) relinquished their hold and fluttered to earth within the past 24 hours. J.G. says snow should be right around the corner in upper New England.

"Past Peak" Still Looks Good to Me

The Opposite of Nesting

Nesting is making a cozy home by gathering things together, right? I'm busy doing the opposite, in kind of a mid-fall rite of passage to mark my transition into the world as a lawyer. I tossed all my law school notes. I culled my fiction collection (and posted over 100 books on PaperBackSwap.com for others to browse and request). I cleaned out the refrigerator. I even scrubbed, dusted and vacuumed my apartment, so this is some serious stuff.

It feels good to lighten the load as I enter this new phase. I'm thoroughly enjoying my work in Earth Jurisprudence, and sending many good thoughts into the universe for the funding that will transform it into a full-time job. Today I formally agreed to be a Writing Coach to graduate students at a local college. I know I will love that, and perhaps it will lead to other creative things, or other teaching work. This weekend I'm making a budget that reflects the financial realities of my new life, with an eye toward those looming student loan payments.

Many years ago a palm reader told me I would have two lives. Apparently my life line breaks and then resumes as it crosses my palm. Whenever I experience major life changes, I always wonder, "Is this it? Is this my second life?"

From what I have been through, I may have already started my second life long ago. Really, how can I be sure what's a change and what's a continuation of what came before? Isn't everything really both a change and a continuation? But if I haven't already started my second life, I'm definitely starting it now.