Saving Daylight

My dad died 20 years ago today.  I’m appropriately blah and fast-track grumpy as a result.  So, I decided to draft a list of 20 people and things that have helped me feel less blah and fast-track to grumpy town over these last two decades.  This is extremely rough draft-y and quick reflection.  I could easily write an entire piece about all twenty (plus two) of these. Here goes: My mom, who just knows and who has picked up all the slack, all the time, since 1977. My grandparents, particularly my grandfather who always had a patience and a kind word when it came to my dad. My friend George and his wife Abbey, who drove 3 hours round-trip, twice in one week, like it was nothing, to attend funeral-related stuff.  Both have also been down this path.  My friend Kevin J., who called and asked what he could do and followed through with exactly what I asked.  My husband, who always treats this topic gently and with kindness and patience.  Michelle, w...

 Our garage door broke again.  I'm not even mad about it anymore.  This is the fourth time in eight years, the achilles heel of our house.  I grew up without a functional garage, so whenever it breaks I remind myself that having a garage with a working door is an extra tidbit, untethered to happiness.   I was kinda proud of my limited reaction to its breaking.  I said one small string of curse words then immediately switched into problem-solving mode and cruise-directed our taking turns holding it up for the other to back our cars out - unlike the time where we had to take Ubers to work and back.  I think part of me expected it would break. I was significantly less surprised.  More surprising was my lack of day-slumping reactive mode.  I almost behaved as someone with...maturity.  Grace, even.     *  *  *   This week marks one year since experiencing my first ever panic attack.  It was no...

 My dear friend Caitlin told me about it over a Marco Polo.  If you don't know what 'a' Marco Polo is, even though you know 'who' Marco Polo is, it just means you're not young, or young-at-heart, or some other cliche' that indicates how not-young you are.   Marco Polo, an app that allows you to video text with friends or family without the need to be live or have matching schedules, was a pandemic bright spot.  It's like leaving a video voicemail for someone, and they're free to look at it whenever it's convenient for them.  You can get to the point, including tone, very quickly rather than pouring over text messages trying to say just the right thing.  That might be something I do that no one else does.  Anyway, I like it.  I plan to continue using it.  It's how Caitlin and I primarily stay in touch.  Something will happen that I know she'll appreciate, I turn on the app, tell her about it, and move on with my day, excited to eve...

New Year's Eve is my favorite holiday.  Has been since my days at the Skate Center of Roanoke Valley, rolling around repeatedly for hours and hours with my friends in our favorite new clothes from Christmas, having nothing but time on our side.  Skate Center always hosted an All-Nite Skate ( spelling intended for pop culture purposes, or maybe in the interest of fitting on the changeable letter sign at the street ) from 7pm to 7am.  We frequented the rink at least five days a week - most of us worked there part-time at some point - and definitely accumulated more than 12 hours over those days, but to just park it there socially for the whole twelve hours in one shot seemed a daring, challenging, privileged treat.  Something about having a place to be, where all your friends would already also be, was comforting and eased the pressure of adolescence social life for a bit.  I've always loved the energy of New Year's Eve.  I'm usually nostalgic when things mov...

I started doing these "ta-da lists" (vs to-do) a couple years ago in a halfway, inconsistent sorta way - always appreciating when I did.  The idea is from Gretchen Rubin's podcast "Happier" - implying that you will more often get a positivity boost from making a list of things you did after   you did them than before you did them.  For me, it works.  To cure the halfway-sorta-way of doing them, I've recently decided that I'll try doing them monthly, rather than weekly or daily.   So here's October.  Some of these include pictures, which are also a happiness boost for me.  These are in no particular order, by the way.   1 .   Bike ride / walk four miles round trip to patio lunch at Founding Farmers.  This was an excellent way to spend an afternoon with otherwise no plans.  He was a real trooper on the bike for this long. 2.  Related to bike rides and general around-the-town, there's been at least ten playgrou...

Some Sunday mornings, something stupid snatches the rested part of my weekend brain, now two days removed from the workweek, sprinkled with motivation for the week ahead but not before an intentional pause.  But other Sunday mornings, I harness the power of future-me regrets and decide to chase away the stupid with something more thoughtful. There is nothing more consistent than the positive outcome of this decision.    A guy I dated in college had a family life I always admired, with two high-energy, ambitious sisters, and parents who were very active in their community, well-read, hilarious, with deeply-rooted family traditions.  His dad regularly had “Beethoven Sundays”.  It’s as simple as it sounds.  He listened to Beethoven on Sundays.  Because it brought him joy.  We’re no longer in regular communication, but I’ve always hoped that he still does it.  This idea has stuck with me and marinated for a long time.     A couple ...