Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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The Brooksie Way

I told someone this week that I was a runner. The truth is that I used to be a runner, but life events and the ensuing emotions interrupted my running lifestyle back in 2004. Since then I’ve attempted on occasion to begin again, but without much enthusiasm. I’d see runners from my office window, or later, from a window on campus and reminisce about glory days gone by. (Well, they were never really glory days, but I’ve run my share of races and the glory is in finishing standing up.)

I have a small group of very loyal running friends who have been extremely supportive, trying to help me get going again, and allowing me to wallow when I needed to. I keep track of their accomplishments, personal and running, with an online connection and always revel with them when they reach another goal, but none of it made me actually get off the sofa and start running. Because, you see, I know how hard it is to start from scratch, and I just didn’t want to go through all that pain again.

But this week one of my friends told us she is going to be a group leader to help people train for The Brooksie Way half marathon which is coming up October 5. It’s an inaugural race, named after the son of our county’s County Executive who was killed in a snowmobile accident. More information about the race is here: http://www.thebrooksieway.com.

So this morning I rose early, after a good night’s sleep in my new tent (really, more on that later!) and spent two whole hours convincing myself to get out there and start running again. My friend is training with her group tonight doing a 3 mile run, walking a minute, running a minute. Heck. I can run one minute! So I made myself do it, and it was actually fun. I’ll pay for it tomorrow. Today I’m going out to plant a new peony, do some weeding, look for a source of wood chips, practice with the dog and mow the lawn.

Freedom is a wonderful thing.


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Sun Tea and Weiglia

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Remember sun tea? Maybe most of you are too young to remember making tea in big glass containers out in the driveway in the 70’s. A few unseasonably hot days ago I remembered wistfully the wonderful iced tea we used to make that way. So I dug through the back of my cupboards (OK, I don’t throw away nearly enough stuff) and found my suntea making jar, cleaned it up and put it back to use:

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In a few short hours I had wonderful tea.

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What great memories a cold glass of suntea brings! College days (the first time back in the 70’s when I was young) and even further back into high school. You can’t beat it.

Katie and I tried camping last night in my new tent. That was an experience; more on that another time. Meanwhile today we spent some time weeding the last garden. Then we rested in front of a weiglia bush in full bloom.

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An Alabama morning

Early this warm and muggy morning I headed to the grocery store to find things to make husband’s lunch for the weekend. He works 12 hours each day of this weekend, and there’s no cafeteria available. Flank steak, fresh green beans, roasted potatoes, salad with fresh tomatoes, Italian bread. Sounds good!

As I emerged from the frigid cold of the grocery store into the already sultry heat of the parking lot I was reminded of my mother who, even after living in Alabama for twenty-five years, was constantly surprised by the heat. The heat of an Alabama morning catches you off guard when you’ve lived most of your life in the Michigan north where mornings are generally fresh and cool. Mom used to giggle a bit when she’d catch herself surprised, say it never ceased to amaze her when she walked out of a concert hall late in the evening and found the outside air so much warmer than inside the air conditioned building. She’d forget, you see, that she lived in the deep South, and the warm air embracing her in the mornings and evenings was a friendly reminder of the big change she and Dad had made.

So this morning when I was surprised by the heat of the day so early I thought of Mom and giggled a bit to myself. Though I never lived in Alabama, have lived in Michigan my whole life, I felt, for just a minute, like I was home.


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Remembering Grandma

Yesterday I got 7 more yards of mulch. Really.

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And of course today it’s in the 90’s, which makes spreading mulch not so fun. I did some of the spreading and spent some of the day digging up rogue plants that had moved into areas they didn’t belong, along with their corresponding weed friends. The deer have already eaten plants I put in pots out in the garden, my pink lilies that I haven’t seen bloom in years, the phlox and now are starting in on the sedum which had never been touched in previous years. Every year is a new learning experience! I DO have one iris blossoming:

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Which made me happy today. Might as well enjoy it today, because tomorrow it could be deer fodder.

As I was weeding the perennial bed I thought about other people and their relationship problems that seem so overwhelming. My little problem of not having a job doesn’t seem to be nearly as earth shattering as what several other people are going through. A twenty year marriage ending, a relationship that never had a chance to begin. It’s like the world has gone a little bonkers all around me.

I’m contemplating this while weeding tall grass out of my Russian Sage plants. The smell of the sage lingers on my fingers and instantly I felt myself back in my grandmother’s yard, out on the farm, over 30 years ago. And for just an instant the smells of the garden remind me of good days long ago, remind me of times when life seemed simpler. But I bet if I had asked grandma back then I’d have found that she too thought things were a little bonkers all around her! She was 96 when she died in 1982, and she had seen some pretty amazing and most likely crazy things in her lifetime.

So the big concept here is that it’s all relevant. Every day has simple components, pulling weeds, smelling memories. Every day has craziness, hearing sad stories about people and their relationship problems . But every day also has hope; that tomorrow there will be more simple things and fewer crazy things, and maybe even more opportunities to remember happy times from long ago.


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Chocolate chip cookies

Today I made a triple batch of chocolate chip cookies. Baking isn’t always a good idea when you’re on Weight Watchers, but it’s a tremendous test of will power! I have to say that the chocolate chip cookies and I were pretty evenly matched. I ate less than I wanted to, but more than I should have.

I made them for my husband to take to work, using the big KitchenAid mixer my mother-in-law gave me years ago that sits in a cupboard unused most of the year. I thought I had done a triple batch in this mixer bowl before, but as I was attempting to add the 9 cups of flour to the bowl I realized I probably never did quite 3 times the recipe before. I had flour being flung out of the bowl on all sides, flour in the air, flour all over the counter, in my face, on the floor. As the mixer continued  doing its job, the cookie dough expanded, spilling over the sides of the bowl, like some sort of mutant experiment gone wrong. I burst out laughing.

It was a fun and productive way to spend the day. Results? One totally trashed kitchen and 197 cookies. ..well…minus four. But who’s counting?


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Color Purple and the waiting game

Yesterday we went to see “The Color Purple” at the Fox in Detroit. The Fox is a very elaborate theater, all gold and jewel toned walls and columns and ceilings. It absolutely glows. I think it’s strange that it has the most intense security to enter, complete with metal detectors and people searching all women’s purses, but it sells nachos and beer to patrons and allows all of that into the theater like a movie house. Most theaters don’t search purses, but don’t allow food and drink inside the auditorium. It seemed a shame to see crushed nachos, spilled beer and litter between the seats on our way out of this beautiful space after the show. I’d think people could wait three hours before needing a fast food fix, but you never know.

The show was great, which surprised me. It wasn’t on my list of shows I especially wanted to see. It’s the story of a black woman being used by men most of her life and I figured it would be depressing. But it wasn’t, not by a long shot, and in the end, of course, she realizes her worth. It was fun to see her along the way begin to see a different way to respond to men besides the down trodden way she had been raised to respond. Of course all the women in the audience were cheering her on. Quite enthusiastically. At one point she gets discouraged because she’s asked God to help her get out of all sorts of bad situations and she doesn’t think He ever listens to her. Her friend says that though “it does seem He’s taking His time getting around to you,” reminds her that everything around her is proof of God, even the purple flowers along the road.

The voices soared, the story was compelling and sobering and even joyful; I am grateful that I got to see it. If it’s ever in a town near you, it’s worth the price of the ticket!

Meanwhile this week I am supposed to hear about the job I interviewed for last Wednesday. I’ll be disappointed if I don’t receive an offer, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up. I know library work is what I need to be doing. I’ll find a place somewhere sometime.


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Needing some rain

I wish it would rain. For a lot of reasons. First, today I put in my tiny vegetable garden, just three tomato plants and some green beans, peas and chard. Plus I planted a few herbs; rosemary, basil, oregano, parsley and thyme. In case I ever decide to cook you know. Mostly I just like the way they smell. I figure the ground hog will eat the green beans when they sprout, just like last year, and the deer will eat the chard later on. But I can dream! This is the time of year where I imagine all my wonderful gardens weed free, blooming profusely, with healthy vegetables abundant. Each year these dreams convince me of their believability before the reality of a long hot summer complete with my own private set of garden invaders sets in.

The other reason I wish it would rain is to give me a break from the gardens.  I want an excuse to sit inside and read a book. Or fall asleep, which is more likely to happen.  I have weeded for what seems weeks now, and I have more to do. This is the result of letting the gardens manage themselves last year. Never let a garden have its own way! Lesson learned. Husband suggests that I hire someone to weed. I don’t think we can afford anyone to do the work I’m doing. Heck, we probably can’t even afford me!

So….I have hung up my gardening gloves for the day. It’s supposed to rain. It needs to rain. I washed my car yesterday to ensure we get rain today. Here’s hoping that works.