I’m Hooked

We’re in the midst of a deep-freeze. This isn’t exactly abnormal for Minnesota. We spend a small stretch of time most every winter in the below zero to single digit temperatures. But with the added limitation on outside-the-house activities thanks to COVID, I was desperate to find something creative and new to do with my time.

I’m not sure what possessed me. Maybe it was my pending grandmother-hood. Oh, the idea of making baby blankets, baby booties, and baby hats! And how about those beautiful afghans made out of colorful squares! Dish cloths, coffee sleeves … the possibilities are endless! Whatever the draw, I’ve had an urge lately to learn how to crochet. When I was young, my grandma tried to teach me, as did a sweet aunt. My female relatives were extremely talented with all crafts requiring needles, hooks, yarn and fabrics. Growing up, my siblings and I had an endless supply of colorful winter hats, scarves, and mittens, all lovingly created by our grandma. Unfortunately, any efforts to pass those gifts on to me mostly failed. I’ve always had a small degree of creative skill, but I never managed to advance in the art of crocheting beyond making a single chain. And even that has long since been forgotten.

I’m going to give the yarn and hook another try though. Apparently you can learn any number of skills on YouTube, including how to crochet. I watched a beginner episode to determine what supplies I’d need to get started. Last weekend I picked up a set of crochet hooks and a couple of basic yarns. Yarn balls? Yarn spools? No, wait … skeins! They’re skeins, right? See? There’s hope for me. I’m learning the lingo.

And look! I’m still making single chains! Actually, I did manage to add another row at one point, but I unraveled it and decided to continue making chains until the loops are more consistent and even. Once I really get that down, (assuming I’ll get that down,) I’ll try moving on to bigger things.

I’m Hooked

We’re in the midst of a deep-freeze. This isn’t exactly abnormal for Minnesota. We spend a small stretch of time most every winter in the below zero to single digit temperatures. But with the added limitation on outside-the-house activities thanks to COVID, I was desperate to find something creative and new to do with my time.

I’m not sure what possessed me. Maybe it was my pending grandmother-hood. Oh, the idea of making baby blankets, baby booties, and baby hats! And how about those beautiful afghans made out of colorful squares! Dish cloths, coffee sleeves … the possibilities are endless! Whatever the draw, I’ve had an urge lately to learn how to crochet. When I was young, my grandma tried to teach me, as did a sweet aunt. My female relatives were extremely talented with all crafts requiring needles, hooks, yarn and fabrics. Growing up, my siblings and I had an endless supply of colorful winter hats, scarves, and mittens, all lovingly created by our grandma. Unfortunately, any efforts to pass those gifts on to me mostly failed. I’ve always had a small degree of creative skill, but I never managed to advance in the art of crocheting beyond making a single chain. And even that has long since been forgotten.

I’m going to give the yarn and hook another try though. Apparently you can learn any number of skills on YouTube, including how to crochet. I watched a beginner episode to determine what supplies I’d need to get started. Last weekend I picked up a set of crochet hooks and a couple of basic yarns. Yarn balls? Yarn spools? No, wait … skeins! They’re skeins, right? See? There’s hope for me. I’m learning the lingo.

And look! I’m still making single chains! Actually, I did manage to add another row at one point, but I unraveled it and decided to continue making chains until the loops are more consistent and even. Once I really get that down, (assuming I’ll get that down,) I’ll try moving on to bigger things.

LuLu’s New Jacket

The real Minnesota winter is making an entrance this weekend. The snow that has fallen so far has been nothing to brag about and spending time outside hasn’t been unbearable. I have very much appreciated being able to go outside for my daily walk all the way into February. But the honeymoon might just be over. The temps are dropping and they aren’t expected to climb back up over the next week.

And so I did what any responsible dog mama would do. I got my baby a new jacket.

“I am a fashionista!”

She looks less than thrilled, doesn’t she? She’s a dog that clearly needs a winter jacket, yet still manages to look put off when I put one on her. But she’ll be thanking me tomorrow when the temperature is expected to be … lemme check … ZERO! Zero degrees tomorrow. That’ll be fun. Where’s the sarcasm font?

Lucy is a mix of breeds of which we’re not entirely sure. She’s got some Boxer and Pitbull for sure but beyond that – who knows? She can howl really amazingly, so she might have some kind of hound in her as well. Regardless, whatever breeds contributed to the making of this beautiful girl, they did not provide her with the genes for thick, warm fur. She gets cold easily, the benefit being that makes her a great cuddler.

Sometimes LuLu will scratch at the door to go outside. When I slide it open if we’re greeted by a sudden wall of cold air, she’ll pause, sniff, drop her head, and walk away from the door as if to say, “Forget it.”

So we learned long ago that she would need a coat for chilly winter days. With her broad chest, skinny back end, and only medium height, it took a few tries to find one that fit her well. But we did find one eventually. It was designed just right for a girl like Lucy, with Velcro on the straps so that we could snug her into it perfectly. The colors were a bit on the boyish side, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Unfortunately, the Velcro parts that held that boy-coat in place have begun to lose their stickiness. Sometimes after a good romp around the back yard, racing the neighbor dogs up and down the fence line, and chasing squirrels around the shed, LuLu returns to the door with her coat hanging on only around her middle, the front straps flapping around uselessly.

So it was time for a new one. She’ll be warm and fashionable. All the neighbor dogs are going to be so jealous!

Moot Points/Mute Points and the Expansion of my Vocabulary

I have frequent meetings at work with a person who commonly says, “It’s a mute point.”

Before the words are even out of his mouth, the voice in my head insists, Moot! I never actually say anything out loud, though sometimes it’s tempting to respond, “What? Can you repeat that? I couldn’t hear your mute point.” But any attempt to correct his misuse of the word would likely fall on the same kind of deaf ears as my husband’s when I try to correct him when he says “Not doing nothing.”

Me: “Then what are you doing?”

He: “What? I said … nothing … ?”

Me: “Then that means you are doing … Oh nevermind.”

He (cheekily): “Nothing!”

Jack and I have had this conversation so often, that I know he gets it. I just think his use of the phrase is so ingrained that it comes out of his mouth before he can think twice about it. Or more likely he simply refuses to let me win this battle.

Anyway, the mute point guy makes us our meetings fun and we laugh a lot at his many “-isms” so I think I’ll just leave him be. Besides, who am I to be poking fun at others’ use of the English language? I don’t even know what I don’t know! I read a new book over the past week and found myself periodically happening across a word that, although its meaning was obvious to me by its placement and context, was unfamiliar. I appreciated that because I was reading on my Kindle I could just press my finger to the word on the screen in order to link to a definition and pronunciation. I really love books like this! Fifty-four years old I’m still learning new things every day. Keeps the ol’ brain from getting too rusty!

It was a fantastic book, by the way, called This Is How It Always Is, by Laurie Frankel. The story surrounds a family with five boys, the youngest of whom at a very young age displays signs of gender dysphoria. It was such a compassionate perspective on how and why any parents might decide to not only allow, but encourage their son to live his life as a girl. In addition, I love the way this author writes, with words that are so colorful and descriptive, flowing and beautiful. It gave me insight and perspective I could never have otherwise known, and I often felt gut-wrenching sympathy for the characters in their various experiences. The book frequently inspired jealousy that my brain isn’t able to craft such artistic, impactful combinations of words. And I was so disappointed to arrive at the last page. Five stars for this book! Highly recommend!

It occurs to me that I often also learn new words and phrases in my job. A few years ago, before I started working with lawyers, I thought I had pretty strong skills where words are concerned. It didn’t take many conversations with my new teammates before I started jotting down words in my notes that I intended to look up after the meeting. Talk about humbling!

So the moral of this story is that I, myself still have a lot to learn, and I should stop making fun (even only in my head) of the way others express themselves.

P.S. Do you know what a “stuffy” is? I read this term in my just-finished book and honestly couldn’t work it out in my head at first. If you’re in my age range, and/or you haven’t had young kids around for a while, you may also have missed the movement toward equality among stuffed toys. No more “stuffed animals,” just “stuffies.” Now maybe you’ve learned something new today too. Or quite possibly, I am just behind the times.

This is me not sleeping

Thoughts that daily make their way through my brain…

When this is over

When things are back to normal …

Maybe it will never be truly over. Maybe fragments of where we are now will stay with us forever. Normal might never be again what we once believed it to be.

I don’t always sleep well. Probably a symptom of my age. But sometimes I wonder if I’ve developed a permanent low level of anxiety (thanks to a virus) that prevents me from truly letting go long enough to sleep through the night. Maybe I haven’t. But maybe I have. Sometimes I can’t fall asleep for a long time, or I wake up in the night and can’t get back to sleep. My brain doesn’t want to shut down. I think as normal as I try to make things, there’s a part of me that knows that none of this is normal and it makes me feel so unsettled sometimes.

I go through the days and I do my normal things. It’s kind of nice to be able to work at home, to have those extra minutes to get something done beyond driving to and from an office. I can toss a load of laundry in the washer in the middle of the day. Put some outgoing mail in the mailbox. Pull something from the freezer for dinner. Stop for a minute to hug and kiss my dog. All things I couldn’t do if this was the old normal and I was away from home for nine or more hours a day.

Sometimes I wake up in the night and my brain immediately wants some kind of reassurance that just isn’t to be found. No matter how much I try to tell it calming, fun, happy things, think about the best things in my life, or just breathe deeply in and out, my brain goes into overdrive and sleep won’t come back. When will I stop wondering every day if I’m going to catch the virus and – not that I’m very worried for myself – but what if I pass it on to someone else and do them harm? I can’t stop thinking about my poor mother-in-law in her little apartment for months on end without any real visits from family. It hurts my heart to hear the daily death count on the news, about the shortage of vaccines, and the mutating strains of the virus.

Maybe I can’t sleep because it’s impossible to truly relax while there’s no end in sight and the world just isn’t safe for everyone. (Not that it ever was, really.) But this virus!

Of course then I remember that this probably isn’t so bad in the grand scheme of things. There is an end in sight and I just need to be patient a while longer. My livelihood isn’t at risk which in turn makes me able think about (and do) more for others less fortunate. There’s plenty of food on the table. I can binge watch Netflix without the usual level of guilt. Got lots of time to read books or do some project around the house. I spend a lot more time outside – in the winter even – than I ever did before. I can go to work in leggings or sweatpants if I want to. All really great perks, right?

The view outside isn’t bad.

Imagine how terrifying it must have been to live in a time when you couldn’t protect your child from polio. When a vaccine couldn’t even be imagined. And when it could, it was years away. And I think I have trouble sleeping! This isn’t so bad then, is it?

Maybe normal is never coming back. Maybe the new normal is that time passes a little bit slower. And church isn’t a building. Maybe it’s forgiveness being extended more generously, not having to be first, loving others exactly for who they are and for who they aren’t. Hugs might be a little more scarce, but personally, I hope they come back in droves. Maybe the new normal is that we all have a lot more grace to offer.

Sometimes I wonder if the bigger purpose to all this is to deconstruct everything we take so much for granted, in order to take us down a few notches. Maybe when this is all over, the world is different, better in ways we never dreamed. I have to believe there’s a purpose for what is happening in the world today, this big thing that is beyond anything I could have imagined in my lifetime. I remind myself to live in it and through it, find something redeeming each day and not just constantly look for the end of it all. But I will be so happy to get beyond it.

Maybe this is why I can’t sleep at night. Then again, it could just be my age.

Therapy Cows

I am so grateful that it’s Friday. For a short week, it sure felt endless. I had problems all week-long with the system where I do most of my work. I kept receiving errors and subsequently reporting them to the System Admin. I told the S.A. multiple times that I suspected the system generated alerts, which inform me that something is waiting in my queue, were not working. Since the S.A. has been making some changes to the layout and workflows in the system, he kept brushing off my concerns, even going so far as to suggest I might be accidentally deleting my alerts without acting on them. Things have been really busy. I was probably just overwhelmed, he said. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll run a report for you so you can see what’s outstanding,” he said.

The report was long, but I began to research each item and address it as best I could. The problem was, as much as I worked through the report, more things inevitably fell into my queue. I could not seem to keep track of my responsibilities in the system and couldn’t figure out why I was having such a hard time with a process at which I am an expert. I honestly reached the point of wondering if I was losing it. And then this afternoon, lo and behold, the S.A. sent an email marked high importance. It said that he had discovered the system was not sending alerts and therefore everyone should refrain from completing any tasks until the software provider could be consulted.

I felt vindicated. And also annoyed. When I asked how long the alerts had been out of commission, my suspicions were confirmed. Since last Friday! I know he didn’t really mean to completely disregard my concerns, but sometimes the S.A. is very confident in what he believes and sometimes I allow myself to back down too easily. But when I thought about the long hours I’d worked this week trying to get things under control … when I thought about how much I’d doubted my own capabilities the past few days, I was beyond frustrated!

I needed to blow off some steam in a productive way, so I decided to take a walk. The outside temperature was twelve degrees but I did not let that stop me. The sun shone in a clear, blue sky and I wanted to put some distance between myself and any device that would require me to interact with other humans. I pulled snow pants on over my leggings, slid my arms into a long, warm jacket, and headed out the door toward the walking path.

The asphalt was a bit icy and slick, and I had to walk carefully, but it felt good to breathe fresh, cold air into my lungs. The cows were outside up the street. They leaned curiously in my direction as I approached. When I reached their fence, I stopped to talk to them. I couldn’t help myself. They’re cute, and my dog-loving instincts always kick in when I see them. I stayed on the path and called over, “Hi babies,” in my dog-loving voice, and then they posed for a nice photo. And I felt a bit better.

Moo.

I was able to return to work for the rest of the afternoon with a renewed sense of calm. As it turns out, cows are pretty good therapy. I wonder if it’s too late to consider a career in farming?

Vittles and Visions

It never fails that when I’ve been on a not-cooking binge, I circle back around, getting highly motivated and ambitious to prepare meals that taste good and are at least slightly less bad for our health. It was a quiet weekend around our place, which made it easier to spend time menu-planning and grocery shopping.

It wasn’t just general guilt about our poor eating habits lately that had me focused on what we’re consuming. Jack had a routine blood draw last week. He has these done in order to keep an eye on certain indicators in his body that may be impacted by his autoimmunity and the medications he takes to manage it. He’s had trouble keeping his liver numbers in a good place and last week we learned they are elevated again. And while this could be due to his medications, we also know there might be things he can do to make positive changes on his own, such as lose a few pounds. Just another reason to pay more attention to what we’re putting in our bodies.

So Saturday morning found me sitting at the kitchen island with my laptop, surrounded by cookbooks. I decided to create a spreadsheet of some favorite meals and listed them along with the specific ingredients needed for each. The plan is to build on this spreadsheet so that I’ll ultimately have a quick-pick list of meals that’s also an easy reference for my grocery list. I included a few new recipes from an InstaPot cookbook I recently bought, and I made two of those meals this weekend. On Saturday I made Thai Pumpkin Chicken Soup, which we both deemed to be interesting though it’s probably not something I’ll make again. Jack had two helpings of last night’s Sweet Potato and Black Bean Chili and he also took it to work today for lunch. I really enjoyed that one as well and it will definitely go on the list for future meals.

Hopefully all of this will help us stay on top of our nutrition a little better from now on, though I think I’ll still give meal kits a try. There are weekends when Chesney and Farm Boy come to visit and the whole food thing falls apart because I’d much rather have fun with them than spend time at the grocery store. But even that is just a matter of planning ahead somewhat.

In other news, we were supposed to return to our bowling league this weekend after it was shut down in November thanks to COVID. Jack and I opted not to participate in the second half though. Since his health has seen some pitfalls in recent months, we just felt it was best to play it safe. Plus, bowling under the current restrictions (masks on, limited mingling with friends, and having to leave as soon as the games are done) just takes away all of the fun.

It’s hard to stay busy and entertained sometimes with all of the official and self-imposed restrictions on ourselves. Our kids have continued to visit periodically, but otherwise we’ve been fairly careful. As much as I look forward to the weekends after working all week, they often start to feel long and boring before Monday comes around again. I wanted to give myself a good project to fill the quiet this particular weekend. I’ve never made a vision board before, but I’ve been contemplating making one since the year began. Last week in a team meeting, a coworker shared the one she had been working on and it made me ambitious to get started myself.

I checked out a few how-to articles and then made a stop at the dollar store yesterday to buy a board and some double-sided tape. Thankfully, Jack had a stockpile of outdoor magazines and catalogues from the past year that he had yet to recycle. I spent the afternoon clipping words and images that spoke to me. After dinner, I got to work organizing my clippings on the board and then securing them in place. The effort reminded me of art projects I’d done in my school days which made me feel just a little bit silly. But I didn’t really care. It was an enjoyable way to spend a quiet, cold evening. Certainly way better than zoning out in front of the television. I’m not sure the end result truly qualifies as a vision board, but I was proud of it anyway. It ended up being a sort of potpourri of goals, inspirations, positive messages, and things that are simply important to me. It includes references to family, faith, and the outdoors, as well as ambitions about writing, work, and fitness, all things that I strive to improve with each day that I live. I know when I look at it, I’ll see words and images that are uplifting and inspirational.

I’m really happy with it. And who knows? Maybe this will become something I do at the start of each new year from now on!

This is Me Not Cooking

I probably should be cooking. It’s that time of day to be making something for dinner, and Jack will be home in a while, most likely wanting to eat. I have a love/hate relationship with the preparing of meals. I actually don’t mind cooking. In fact, I kind of enjoy it. It’s the menu-planning, grocery-list-making, and shopping that I can’t get excited about. I neglected to do those things last weekend which makes it difficult to know what to make for dinner now. So I’ll probably wait until Jack walks through the door and say I’m going to make grilled cheese sandwiches or pancakes. To which he might say, “Why don’t I go get Chinese instead?” To which I will say, “Okay.” I love breakfast for dinner, but he doesn’t. And I can eat healthy-ish again next week, right?

I am seriously thinking about trying out one of those meal kit subscriptions. Then I can just fill in the other food necessities with a Target run now and then, because who doesn’t love going to Target? And yes, I have tried just ordering my groceries for delivery. I realized afterwards that even when I make a list, when I’m actually in the store I pick up a lot of things I didn’t think about during the list-making. And so I miss those things when I order groceries. Why does food have to be such a necessity? And also, why do we have to like it so much?

Also contributing to my lack of culinary motivation is the fact that it has been a week! I’ve just worked two full weeks in a row, which I think we can all agree is a hard habit to get back to after the holidays and all of their slow-downs and time off and such.

Clearly, everyone who spent most of December using up soon-to-expire vacation time is now back in the swing of things and wanting to get work done. And I felt this. And even though I just read a really helpful book called Calm the F*ck Down, my coping skills still need a lot of work. There is just so much to be done all of a sudden. I felt all the stress and anxiety this week. And there was that thing yesterday when someone said to me, “Don’t give this a second thought. It’s not a criticism in the least. But before you say something like [that thing I said] in an email to this group, just run it by me first.” That thing I said was just me talking like I talk and it was nothing. Really nothing. It was just me saying how I had something to provide to the group but I wanted to refine it first. And even though I was assured that I should not give the assessment of that thing I said a second thought, I allowed the insinuation that I somehow gave others the idea our team is less than perfect (which we are) to stress me out to the point I couldn’t stop worrying I would fail miserably on everything else job-related from now on. Everything on my to-do list suddenly seemed insurmountable and I felt like I should have had it all done yesterday, even though much of it isn’t due yet. And by the end of yesterday I just wanted to dissolve on the couch.

Of course, by the time I woke up this morning, I was asking myself why I’m so crazy sometimes. And everything looked well and manageable today. And I was no longer taking personally the assessment of the thing I said.

Also, on Monday I thought I might have COVID. So that did not help with the goal to reduce my habit of worrying. I started sniffling and sneezing at 5:00 am and it continued ALL DAY LONG. When Jack came home from work and heard me sneezing, he asked, “You got COVID, or what?” He was joking, of course. But of course, I hadn’t thought I might have the virus until he said what he said. And the thing about being in this pandemic is that, at least for me, every little thing in my body that feels the slightest bit off suddenly makes me think I might have COVID and I’ll infect others and it will be bad, oh so bad. (Can I just get that vaccination already?)

But it was not COVID. I woke up on Tuesday morning and nothing. No sniffles. No sneezing. Literally nothing. So all I can think is that I was allergic to something in the new sweater that I wore on Monday without washing it first. Definitely not COVID, but probably the fault of Old Navy.

All this makes me really grateful that I have a three-day weekend ahead. I am really going to need it after working two whole five-day work-weeks in a row. Maybe I’ll spend the extra time planning some meals and going to the grocery store so that next week I can cook again, and also eat like a person who wants to stay healthy and live longer than a few more years. That’d be nice, huh?

Oh, Baby!

I mentioned recently that I’ve been making an effort to journal things for which I’m grateful. Sometimes I have to dig really deep, especially considering the events of the past year and now those of the past week. Sometimes, finding a reason to be grateful is so easy! Take for example, that day recently when my oldest boy, Jaeger stopped over with his girlfriend, Camping Girl. Considering how little I’ve written here over the past couple of years, I may not have mentioned the lovely Camping Girl before. She is lovely. He loves her. She loves him. And we adore her. For quite some time, it’s been so easy for us to see they are right for each other.

Jaeger has made some remarks recently that have led us to believe a marriage proposal was in the works. Jack and I have talked about it periodically, wondering when we might finally hear some news of wedding bells. One Sunday, not long before Christmas, Jaeger and C.G. let us know they’d be stopping by that afternoon. I invited them to stay for dinner and when they arrived, homemade spaghetti sauce and meatballs were cooking on the stove. We were all gathered around the island in the kitchen, chatting and waiting for the pasta to finish cooking when Jaeger whipped something white out of his back pocket. The small white thing unfurled before my eyes and I realized an announcement was being made! Though it wasn’t the announcement we’d been expecting.

We’re going to be grandparents!

It wasn’t the wedding announcement we’d been expecting, but instead, a BABY announcement! We are going to be grandparents! I can’t remember exactly how I reacted, but I remember bolting over to the other side of the island to throw my arms around both Jaeger and C.G. I cried. I exclaimed that I was so excited. I must have exclaimed it several times because Jaeger finally laughed and said, “Are you so excited, Mom?”

I am going to be a GRANDMOTHER! I am so ready for this! I am going to spoil this kid rotten! Well, maybe not rotten but there will definitely be some spoiling going on. I may have already bought a baby toy.

A few people have asked me what I’ll be called when the baby arrives. Will I be “Nanna” like my mom was? That would be really cool, but I’m thinking that this may not be a decision I’ll make myself. When my parents’ first grandchild, my niece came along, my siblings and I began to refer to my parents as Grandma and Grandpa – until my niece started talking. And she called them Nanna and Boppa. I remember Jack saying, “I’m not referring to your dad as Boppa! It’s embarrassing.” But it stuck. My dad was Boppa and he was darn proud of it.

I have a friend who is Nonna to her grandkids. Another friend’s kids call her dad, Bumpa. Heck, my own nephew couldn’t pronounce my name when he was young, and although he is now in his twenties, he and his siblings still call me Dewey. So I think I’ll be open to whatever this little one wants to call me. But in case I’m asked to choose, I’m open to suggestions if you’ve got ’em!

And P.S. A proposal was actually in the works. To make a long story short, the news of the baby beat Jaeger to the punch. Like I said, we’re thrilled. Jaeger says they’ll work on planning a wedding after they settle in with the baby, who is scheduled to arrive in late July. Lots of good stuff to look forward to around here!

Fatigued

I was so very tired this morning when the alarm went off. Oddly, I slept pretty hard. It’s a rare night when I don’t wake up and fight the battle to shut off my brain and go back to sleep, but it wasn’t an issue last night. I didn’t hear any of the usual household noises, didn’t wake up having to employ a list of tactics to help me drift off again. And yet, I was exhausted upon waking.

I probably watched way too much of the news yesterday afternoon and evening. I was oblivious to the siege on our nation’s capitol until late afternoon when a coworker incredulously described what was happening. That’s when I turned on the television and found myself unable to tear my eyes away for several more hours. And I can only think this is why I feel so bone-weary today.

I think we’re all tired. I’m tired of feeling like the world is full of people who hate each other and who think blame is the only way to address injustice. I’m tired of the news media, of not knowing whether I can trust the information it dispenses. Like we all are, I’m burned out on the endless succession of days of isolation because of a pandemic. And I’m so very tired of the fighting over how to get beyond all of this.

I probably set myself up for this, coming into the new year with all kinds of hope for brighter days. I know those days are coming, but I need to be more realistic. The sort of transformation we so desperately need isn’t going to come quickly or easily. Finger-pointing and violence will never shine a light on this darkness. No matter who sits in the White House, that person isn’t going to save the country single-handedly. We need to look inside ourselves. We have to make compassion and respect a priority, and be willing to work for the kinds of change we want to see.

I wonder if everyone begins to feel a bit jaded as they grow older, after having the opportunity to see the many ways the world really works. Or are we truly in unprecedented times? I can’t imagine today’s climate is worse than it was during civil and world wars, and times of great racial unrest. Shouldn’t we by now be able to do better at addressing our differences and rise above them?

I’m so tired of the bickering, the accusations, the distrust, the disdain for anyone who doesn’t share the same opinions. Our political leaders and system are not what’s going to create the love, kindness, and compassion we so badly need. But it’s all so much bigger than me and today, I am just drained.