Dear ones
I started to title this post, Freedom Road, but feared it read a little ‘Merican flag-wavy. At our last house, Tim and I frequently discussed “taking back the flag,” hanging the stars and stripes from our sweet yellow shingles. We never did it, though. We aren’t really flag people. Do they make Jeff Tweedy flags or banners of sheep feeding ice cream to orangutans? Those are more my kinds of flags. We have talked about erecting other signs in front of our home. Our longest standing sign so far has been a tiger named Bob in the backyard, which our oldest drew at their old school. Their teacher printed it on a yard sign to place in a public park and now it belongs to us. #proud #Bobtheuniter
How’s everyone doing? What’s bringing you joy right now, and grounding? We need all the tools we can get. All the stuffies, all the crayons, all the face paint (call back to my carnival post!), all the fresh air and fresh herbs and renewable hugs.
I personally have been topsy turvy this week, but let’s be honest, at all times a graph of my mind pretty much resembles a sine wave. (This is the correct math/metaphysical metaphor, no?) The reason I feel fine writing about this is because I believe this is a deeply human experience. I also believe that my ability to be with this sine wave is directly related to my ability to produce art. I don’t like to block the pain that comes from being totally awake (or as awake as I am able to be on a particular day). The muse favors this kind of openness, in my experience.
This is not a brag, by the way, but it is an affirmation. If your psyche scalds one minute and silkily sashays like a gryphon the next, you are not alone. Some days I am Mx. Productive. Other days I lose scads of hours to weirdo tech binges. At dinner this week, after a report on my day, my daughter said it sounded like a picture book: laundry, dishes, lunch, walk, write. To be honest, it kind of FELT like a picture book. I was a dreamy little bunny in a (metaphorical) pinafore, my world glowing with domestic peace.
Perhaps the peace came from coming back down after my trip to . . . drum roll, please . . . Pittsburgh!!! I have loved this city from afar because Wonder Boys is set there. (I haven’t read the book, only seen the movie - judge me! Michael Douglas in a ratty pink bathrobe forevs.) You have also seen my affection for rust belt vibes. This is all a long winded way of saying I absolutely loved Pittsburgh, I am moving tomorrow, see ya Michigan.
I went to see my friend, Amelia, who lives in California and whom I haven’t seen IRL in close to a decade. (Q: Mom, why are you leaving us? A: I won’t drive to California but I will drive to Pennsylvania. My youngest, when they heard I was going to Pennsylvania, said: Jealous! Be sure to go to Frog Creek, which was a joke about the Magic Tree House books. Lol, jealous about a trip to Pennsylvania! Kid after my own heart.) In a stroke of great luck, I stayed with an old friend from graduate school, someone I haven’t seen since my wedding (!). I also got to see their child who was a toddling babe when we were in grad school and now makes side-splitting jokes and rounds out cultural conversations as well as fully grown adults.
Speaking of the growing process, one of the tricky parts of my life right now is that my spirit likes novelty and there is nothing more boring than middle age, lol. In some ways, spending time with my always lively beloveds in our “cozy” (cluttered) house is nothing but a blessing. I mean, it’s hard and annoying and you have to parent yourself as well as your children, but it’s full of beautiful surprises which is one of many reasons I’m here, on Substack: to document the beauty and show myself the glitter in spite of all the (boring) glue.
But I also love to travel and our little foursome does not a sleek travel machine make. The herky-jerky motion of four souls trying to agree on the same breakfast place is uggghhhhh to my fluid, Piscean soul. Part of me would rather stay home and eat tacks than spend hours, nay days, politely arguing about where to go (and tolerating someone’s tears when they don’t get their way, including mine). In a conversation with my friend, I once called this newsletter a documentation of “the project of family” which, imho, is an impossible project, a worthy project, a hot pile of burning trash shot through with love, right??
Anyway, I got to scratch the itch of a new place by myself and it was a real balm for my soul. I stayed up late chatting with my friend and her dog. I woke early to birds out the window and took myself out for coffee in the mornings, to write and snap pictures. I ate whenever the hell I wanted (and whatever the hell I felt like) and generally gallivanted on my body’s own rhythms. I like a sane rhythm but also love some flare. I got to have a lot of both.
I mean, did I return to our non-foyer splayed with soccer cleats and birthday balloons? Yes, but I was so grateful for my brief escape I hardly cared. I was stuffed with bursts of daffodils and the sun that had lit my way. Also, is there anything better than wise and smart friends? Their echos and piercing insights are the real riches of life.
Do you wish you’d been there to hear me sing along I-80? (Wow, that stretch of Ohio is ugly and truck-filled.) Do you wish, like me, you’d worn an outfit you later regretted to an outdoor dinner with your friend? Do you wish strangers had stopped at your rustic high-top and offered tidbits of funny conversation? My last day there started and ended with a weird visitation by a stranger, the same stranger appearing on different sidewalks: floppy hair, alarmed look, some mysterious mission that sped up their activity (maybe it was just drugs, lol). Amelia, who caught the tale end of this person, suggested they belonged in a short story. I agreed but neither of us are writing that one. If, however, I meet this person again in three years in Phoenix or Oslo or Frankfurt or Fort Wayne, and become their business partner or a godparent to their child, I will not be at all surprised. Something bolted through me when I saw them, a zap of energy across our non-entwined paths.
I’ve been tinkering with this post for days and my eyes are cross-eyed. They get it, Kara. You went out of town and saw things. Woopty doo. One of the weird things about *not* writing here every day is that weekly posts actually take longer, because you have to synthesize a lot of little details into one cohesive thing. (Poor you, babe. It’s called writing! lol)
Before we go, I want to say that in addition to coaching people lately, another high is that I’m reading a book of Chuck Klosterman’s mansplainy cultural essays at night, letting his thoughts about football or Pepsi commercials or [truly inconsequential things] send me right off to slumber. It is one of the thrills of my life to chuckle about something that doesn’t matter then slip quietly into sleep.
Relatedly, every cell in my body loves when Tim gets on a teaching rant at bedtime. Nothing relaxes me more than errant lectures about essays I haven’t read, which I’m half listening to while my limbs turn to hot puddles of sleep. #truelove #truestudent
Finally, last night while rolling seeds into wet paper towels, flattening them into ziplocks and then taping onto our grubby back windows, my seven-year-old said: In this house, we’re going to show care for plants. We’re going to plant lots of plants. Our windows are going to be covered. Prepare for that, Mama.
I guess we are sprouting them in this way, and then we’ll plant them in the ground or something?? Whatever it is, I’m ready, love!
P.S. my wishes for everyone right now! #sinewave #yinyang
Connecting with beloved friends is the best, no matter how many years in between! ❤️
Cooper the Handsome Rascal provides minor copy edit: talking with dog and my friend (he believes he is first in all instances;). I’m now walking around my neighborhood with Kara eyes, noticing sweet and interesting details as I go about my day 🌻