I was this many days old when I learned it is actually Daylight Saving Time and not Daylight Savings Time. Live and learn. I think the entire concept of daylight saving is ludicrous. You’re not saving daylight. You’re switching when it is daylight. It’s not as if we hit 2 a.m. on the second Sunday in March and suddenly the sun starts offering up more sun for us to tuck away in our piggy banks and save for a rainy day. Ridiculous!
There is debate to be had about whether it’s better to have a sunnier morning or a sunnier evening. In Arizona, where they don’t observe this daylight saving nonsense, summer makes hella more sense with an earlier sunrise time (when it’s still somewhat bearable outside) and an earlier sunset time (when the temperature is hovering somewhere just below Hades hot). When we lived there, I didn’t enjoy waking up at 5 to get in a walk before it got so hot the soles of my shoes warped, but I sure did enjoy sitting on a hose-misted patio in the moonlight when it was still 95 out but felt much more pleasant without the sun’s brutal rays.
I’m not sure which time I would prefer we stick with but, good goddammit, I really wish we would stick with one. I would not miss this heartless, exhausting, spring-forward nightmare. I mean, going to bed when you are not yet sleepy and waking up a full hour before it makes any sense to be awake is vicious and unnecessary. And yet we repeat this stupidity annually.
I have zero motivation to write lately. Zero. I don’t know why. I was doing really well for a while there, but lately I just can’t seem to care. I’ve been trying to determine where my writing energy went, but I have no answers. I am going to recommit myself to this tomorrow. For now, though, I’m going to get some rest. Oh…and finish watching stupid videos on YouTube of multimillion dollar homes for sale.
Adjusting to our oldest going off to college has been a journey, but it hasn’t been as horrible as I imagined it would be. Yeah. I was pretty sad for the first month he was gone last year, but then he made friends and my sadness was replaced with comfort that he was not alone. Later, as his grades came in and we realized he was holding his own, I began to feel even better. This year, he started dating a friend he made during his first semester last year, and that too added some peace of mind because I know he is happy. Next year, his brother will be joining him. Although I will be without both of them, they will be together, and I can’t think of anything that makes my momma heart happier than thinking about them starting their own lives separately but still together.
I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster lately. I have worked so hard to determine my boundaries, to believe in my agency in my life, and to have faith that I can move beyond the things that have held me back. One day I am 100% confident I am on the right path. The next day I am terrified about my ability to do the most basic things to move myself forward. And on top of all this, my emotions are raw, and I can cry about anything at any moment. I’ve never been like this before. I used to feel in control of my path and my heart. These days, I am a bag of mixed nuts. I feel like a train wreck, but in the best way. I’m embracing the uncertainty of it all. I’m feeling every feeling. I’m excited. I’m nervous. I’m laughing. I’m crying. I hopped on this ride, and I’m here for it.
“The key to being happy is knowing you have the power to choose what to accept and what to let go.” ~Dodinsky
I am working on this now as part of my experiment with boundaries. There are things I have chosen in my life that have not been making me happy. So now it’s time to choose happiness over obligation, over fear, over what others think is right. For some people, choosing happiness is easy. I struggled to recognize what happiness was. What I choose to accept now is that I get to choose. It’s not about what others think is right for me or what others want for me. Now I get to choose what I want for myself.
I’m excited to get my life on track. My life. Not the life others chose for me.
Our seven month old corgi puppy has been getting more and more free time out and about in our house. We started with thirty minutes to an hour of supervised run around time. As time has gone on, we’ve worked to stop watching him so closely. Often, after an initial trek around the house to check out his usual haunts, he settles down with some toys and plays nicely by himself. So we have slowly allowed him more freedom.
Tonight we let him out after dinner and a visit to the yard. He did his usual rounds and then ran off towards Luke’s room behind Luke. With Luke watching Loki, I was free and so I went back to practicing my Italian on DuoLingo. Awhile later, I looked up and saw Luke at the kitchen counter. He and I began having a conversation. About five minutes into said conversation, it occurred to me. If Luke was in the kitchen, where the hell was Loki? Crap! We had a left our puppy unattended for at least five minutes. Do you have any idea how much damage a freaking corgi puppy named after the Norse trickster god can cause in five minutes? You should see what he can do in thirty seconds. Let me enlighten you. His usual run once he gets free is first to pull down all the dishtowels that hang in the kitchen. Then he runs straight for the hall bathroom where he unrolls some toilet paper and drags it through the house. Then he will tear over to the entry bench where he will grab any glove or hat someone has left behind and run away with it. After that it’s off to his toy bin from which he will pull every single toy out onto the floor. In. Thirty. Seconds.
We tore down the hall to Luke’s room and from the doorway we began to see the carnage. Some cardboard had been gnawed near the door. The roll of toilet paper that had been on the wall was shredded all over the bathroom floor. He then broke into Luke’s Closet of Shame (which is filled with Legos), and that was where we found him. We’re not sure if he ingested any Legos, but we’re impressed that he realized that plastic Legos were a higher value prize than the cardboard and toilet paper. As soon as Loki understood he’d been caught up to no good, he got a case of the zoomies and sped out of Luke’s room. When we finally managed to recapture him, he was panting heartily. And, if I’m being honest, looking a bit smug.
Puppies are something else. Loki is somewhere between a cranky toddler and a rebellious teenager right now. Sometimes he’s one, sometimes he’s the other. Either way, he earned his trip back to his pen after his free-for-all in Luke’s room. Loki tells other dogs he gets put into puppy jail after he tries new things. But, he’s just being dramatic.
I first saw the quote above maybe seven or eight years ago. It hit me hard then because I knew that was how I operated. Raised to believe I was something to tolerate, when others didn’t meet me halfway or make much of an effort at all, I went out of my way to keep them around anyway. I didn’t question their lack of effort or their lack of respect for my boundaries because I knew I was a lot to tolerate, and this meant I had to work so they would continue putting up with me.
In the years since I first read the quote, though, I have worked to increase my self-esteem. I have at last come to the place where I am able to see my negative qualities without allowing them to convince me I am worthless or worth less. I don’t want to offer a discount on my company anymore. I have a lot to offer my companions. I’m not especially bad, as I previously thought. I’m especially human. And that is awesome because it means I am like everyone else after all. I don’t have to accept less from others in our relationships. I have agency. I can decide what works for me, and I can let other people walk if they aren’t comfortable with what I need to stay in relationship with them.
So now I am at last in the place in the quote. I am finished allowing people to treat me a level below my worth. I am not on clearance. I’m not handing out coupons. This isn’t Goodwill. If what I want is too much, if you don’t want to make the effort, move along. I’ll be better for it.
He doesn’t look like a cannibal, but don’t let that fool you
My husband lost his taste to Covid-19 in late October 2020 when our family got coronavirus. Luke got all his taste back right after he felt better. Joe’s taste came back too, although he discovered that coffee was no longer enjoyable for a while. My sense of taste also mostly returned, although I lost my interest in cilantro, peppers, and soda because they tasted either weird or gross. I am still avoiding cilantro and peppers, but I can drink Coke again so that is both a blessing and a curse. But Steve, well, he figures he has about 25% of his pre-Covid smell and taste back. That is it. Still. He hasn’t had much improvement over the past year. This is incredibly frustrating for a guy who really enjoys eating and who asks me at breakfast what is for dinner. As it stands now, Steve can get the subtleties of salt, fat, acid, heat, and sweet in most food, but he cannot taste the flavor of an apple, for example. He enjoys the crunch of an apple and its sweetness, but he can’t taste a Honeycrisp or tell it from a Gala or a pear. So frustrating.
Steve has discovered that full-bodied red wines actually have some flavor for him. So tonight he was researching flavor profiles in wines. This made him think about the movie Somm, which is about people studying to become Master Sommeliers. These people spend their lives smelling everything and tasting wines to describe their flavors. Some articles have suggested that people like Steve need to retrain the brain post Covid. This led Steve to a deeper curiosity about the science behind how people are able to taste, how the brain works in concert with the nose and the tongue to assess flavors. To learn more, he actually Googled this phrase: “How do people taste?” This search did not yield the exact results he was hoping for.
Now, I have to admit that it would not have occurred to me either that there is actual information readily available about what a human being tastes like when consumed, but there is. And, just like that, my husband’s search history will now reveal that he searched the Internet for a flavor profile of a human being. I find this a bit concerning. Can you imagine him trying to explain his way out of it if I suddenly went missing? Furthermore, would he grill me or pan fry me? Would he grab the buffalo, barbecue, or sriracha sauce? I’m not actually afraid he will kill and eat me, but I am wondering what other searches are on his laptop. And, beyond that, I am now curious about how people taste. Who tasted people, typed up the flavor profile results from their experiment in cannibalism, and uploaded them to the Internet? Are we like alligators? Do we taste like chicken too. So, so many questions here.
An article in Smithsonian Magazine published in February of 2014 states, “According to the testimony of people who have actually eaten other people, the taste of human meat does not reflect its beef-like appearance. Both serial killers and Polynesian cannibals have described human as being most akin to pork. But not all cannibals agree with this description.” So, there you have it. We do not taste like chicken as I suspected. We may taste like pork, but not all cannibals agree on this. There’s a sentence I never thought I would type, twice. Still, good to know, I guess, in case you’re ever in a plane crash in the Andes and your buddy tells you it’s okay to go ahead and eat him. At least you will know that buffalo, barbecue, or sriracha are all acceptable condiments to pair with Brian. You might just discover he was a lot tastier than he looked.
As for Steve, I’m not too worried about him. He could try to eat me, but he probably wouldn’t go to the trouble since he wouldn’t be able to taste me anyway. And I’m gonna be in trouble with the Feds now too because my search history also shows an inquiry into the taste of human flesh. If anyone’s looking for a plot for their true crime novel, how about a cannibalistic serial killer eats his victims and then, to escape suspicion, tips off investigators to a couple of dummies who searched Google for “how do people taste” and then wrote a blog post about it?
If I go to jail for cannibalism, it’s Steve’s fault. Stupid Covid.
Well, it’s a done deal. After flying to three different states, touring five schools, revisiting two of the schools, and receiving four acceptance letters, Luke has chosen his college. It was a tough decision for him. He got a sizable merit scholarship from St. Olaf in Northfield, Minnesota, but ultimately decided he didn’t want to be Minnesota-level cold. He received a similar scholarship from the University of Denver, but decided he couldn’t go to college two miles from his high school because that wasn’t enough of a stretch. That left Reed College in Portland, Oregon, and Whitman College in Walla Walla, Washington, pulling his attention.
Luke chose Reed College for himself his freshman year. He glommed onto it as a good fit for him right away. It’s a self-described college for eggheads, the kind of place kids go because they love to learn and not because they have a lovely campus, amazing dorms, or good football team. In fact, Reed has no sports and no Greek life. There is nothing to get in the way of learning for learning’s sake. It’s that kind of place. Reed is ranked sixth in the country for producing candidates who go on to doctorate degrees. The campus is amazing. Luke loves their adopted motto: “Communism, Atheism, and Free Love.” It is a funny motto, especially considering the school took it on as a tongue-in-cheek nod to the reputation they had earned as being a little bit more liberal than most places. I was a little nervous about the exceedingly rigorous educational practices at Reed, but once we toured it the second time (which was actually my third time as I also toured it with my oldest) I felt better. It’s impressive, and I definitely could see Luke there.
Luke’s brother chose Whitman College. Joe ended up at Whitman because his savvy mother found it for him and thought he should see it. Whitman, while being somewhat isolated in a small town in rural, southeastern Washington, is a great school with a solid reputation. It’s academically challenging but it values work/life balance, so there’s no busywork for the sake of looking impressive. Whitman aims to create well-rounded adults. There are tons of opportunities to get outdoors and to volunteer in the community, and charming downtown Walla Walla with its boutiques, wineries, and restaurants, is just a five-minute walk away. While Joe was a little apprehensive about going to school in such a small town, Whitman has been everything we expected it to be for him…challenging but fun. He is happy there. Having a brother going to Whitman could be a blessing or a curse for Luke. We wondered if that would enter into his decision.
In the end, Luke had two wonderful finalists and a tough decision. Did he want to push his academic limits at Reed, knowing its reputation for cranking out future post-grads? Did he want to attend the same college his brother chose? When he weighed his life goals against the pluses and minuses of each school, he felt he had a clear choice. He chose:
The two boys will both be at the same college next year, which works because it just does. This is the most Joe and Luke thing since Joe and Luke became brothers. The motto of Whitman College, which I loved so much for Joe, also is apt for Luke. Per ardua surgo roughly translates to “Through adversity, I rise,” which certainly fits both these kids who started their school careers struggling with their learning disabilities and yet worked hard and thus landed at a highly respected liberal arts college anyway.
Here’s hoping their next adventures together won’t involve Lego gunships broken into hundreds of pieces or empty deals made to persuade the other to do something they don’t want to do. If war breaks out between the two of them this time around, they won’t have their mother to appeal to for mediation.
Live Now and Zen 