Rough + Tough Kind of Day

Want to ride the emotional roller coaster with me?  Here we go.  Weeeeee!

My "baby" graduated from kindergarten this morning.  It's a big deal according to society.  I'm not all that sure why.  I mean really.  It's not like this was his first year of school ever (there was preschool) and, unless there are major changes around here, he'll be at that same school for six more years.  This is hardly a graduation.  I've been through the ceremony before with Elizabeth.  The kids sing, I tear up, we go home, it's summertime, we go back for first grade.  I've been reasoning all those things with myself since teachers started sending home Kindergarten Star Day invitations.

That's probably why the kids started to sing and I didn't cry.  I watched Matthew sing and kind of-sort of dance and I smiled.  I was happy.  He was having fun, and I was enjoying it.  Then the teachers pulled out the big guns with "Big, Big Dreams," "This Little Light of Mine," and "Wave Good-bye."  (I have no idea who any of those kids are in those links, but I'm crying as I watch them sing.)  At the ceremony though, tears just streamed down my face and I was able to manage with my three tissues.

Fast forward to the refreshments in Matthew's classroom.  I'm sure my nose and eyes were red, and if I wanted to look at other moms I probably would have seen that their faces were red, too.  But then.  THEN!  Matthew's teacher announced she had a gift for all of us--a CD.  Oh, here it is with the report cards.  Awww.  I bet it's a photo montage to a sweet song and it will make me cry.  Wait.  What's she doing?  Pulling down the screen?  Asking a dad to dim the lights?  Noooooooo!  Not here!  Not now!

At the very first note, I'm gone.  GONE!  I recognize the song immediately because, as the Universe would have it, this CD has been playing in my car stereo for a month at least.  She chose the title track from Tom Petty's "Wildflowers" album.  What now?  That album is nearly 20 years old! Chances are no one else in that room remembers that song or even knew it in the first place, but Matthew said, "It's like in our car!"  Photos of him and his classmates float on and off the screen, guitars play, Tom sings, and Sara's crying like a baby.  The next song was Van Morrison's "These Are the Days."  Well.  You know how that went.  It's happening all over again as I play it on YouTube.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop.  You know how you laugh at an inappropriate moment and you know you need to stop but you just can't?  That happens to me with crying.  I thoroughly embarrassed myself; I'm sure everyone who saw me rolled their eyes.  It's fine.  I'll only see these people on a regular basis for...the next six years!

I came home, put down my purse, grabbed a tissue and cried one of the ugliest cries I've ever cried.  And I haven't really stopped crying since.  There's a lot swirling around in my head.  I'm going through some big things.  My kids are getting older.  Maybe that's what kindergarten graduation is all about--kids not being babies anymore.  He's my younger child so this is it for us.  No more babies.  I'm okay with that because babies were hard, but I felt that finality today.  On the other end, Elizabeth is going to be in fifth grade next year.  That's only two more years of elementary school.  Oh man.  Wait till you see what happens during the sixth grade photo montage!  She's growing up.  He's growing up.  Then there's the fact that I'm moving on from PTO, which has been a big part of me for four years.  It's a lot to give up and I think today as I placed all the signboards and tablecloths that were hanging around my house back into the PTO closet at the school, I realized (again) that this was it.  This isn't my closet anymore.  I'm no longer part of that group.  I knew that would be the case for a few weeks, but crossing that threshold for the last time wasn't very easy.  Lastly, there are the people who bother me.  They bother me because I let them and I need to not worry about them or what they think or what they say or what they do and just forget them.

So today I will cry and get it all out.  When tomorrow comes, the only thing I need to focus on is having the best.summer.ever.

A New Kind of PR

Because me learning to play the guitar is the most exciting thing going on over here....

It's like my guitar teacher knows me.  You want me to get better by competing with myself?  Want me to set a benchmark and improve on it?  Righty-o!

He said something like this:  When I was teaching primary school students, I couldn't get them to practice guitar so I came up with this exercise of who could make the most chord changes in a minute.  What happened was they practiced loads, had lots of fun, and got really good at their chord changes.  Brilliant!  I love British English.  Is that redundant?  Who cares?  I could listen to him all day.

As you can see, I'm getting a little better every day.  Maybe better isn't the right word.  I am getting faster at my chord changes.  Let's stay in the moment, Sara.

My Airstream Dream

Last night, we were all watching "How It's Made" on the Science Channel, and we learned how Airstreams are made.  It rekindled my obsession with this American icon.  Sometimes I wish I lived in an Airstream.  No.  Not really.  I don't want to have to live in an Airstream, but I would like to own one some day.  I want that pretty bad, actually.  I don't know what it is about those slick, retro chic, aluminum trailers, but I'm in love.  They're so simple and classic.  Hey, kind of like me.  I may be more in love with the lifestyle that the brand represents (like how I'm a fan of Subaru and Eddie Bauer) more than the actual trailers, but so what?  I want to live the life of an Airstream owner!  I want to spend lots of time outdoors in picturesque national parks, hike during the day, get around on my bike, enjoy meals off the grill or campfire, and sleep in peaceful spots with stunning views.  (By the way, if you're ever looking for someone to market to, I'm your woman.)

Though tent camping is completely fine for our family right now and we're looking forward to our trip next month, when the kids leave the nest and it's just Brian and me and we can do what we want and go where we want whenever we want (that's happening someday, right?), we're getting an Airstream trailer...and something to tow it. Brian usually comes up with the big decisions, but I'm not budging on this one.

Next summer we'll celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary.  Like we did at ten years, we're going on a trip (another decision I'm not budging on!), and I have it all planned out.  We'll spend a few days hiking and enjoying the peacefulness of Sequoia National Park and a few relaxing days in Santa Barbara.  I don't know where we'll stay at the park--maybe the lodge or maybe we'll make it more adventurous and camp.  I'm fine either way.  When in Santa Barbara though, we're staying at the Santa Barbara Airstream Autocamp.  For sure.  Apparently, there's a whole lot of stuff I'm not budging on.  It may be too soon to own our Airstream, but we can live the dream for a few days at least in a swanky California beach town.

Here Comes Sara

Two months ago, I excitedly picked up a friend's guitar for the first time and learned how to play a chord.  Then I learned another, and then another.  Spring break came, we went on vacation, and the guitar sat in its little resting place in the corner of our living room for about five weeks (even though we were gone only one).  I knew it was out of tune, and I didn't want to go through the trouble of tuning it.  Tuning it was such a pain.  I also remembered how bad that thing hurt my fingers.  Ugh.  It was just so.much.work.

Well a few days ago I picked it up again, mainly to get out of shampooing another room's carpet.  Ick.  Talk about so.much.work.  Anyway, I tuned the guitar (not so time-consuming when it's not THAT out of tune), did a quick review of my three chords, and watched a new lesson on how to switch between those chords.  I practiced and practiced and practiced switching.  It's still a challenge, but it is getting a little easier.  And it's beginning to really sound like music so right now it seems like less work and more fun!

I'm learning from YouTube videos hosted by a British guitarist who is a talented musician, an engaging teacher, and very, very entertaining.  Learning this way is the polar opposite of how I learned to play the piano.  I'm glad I can play the piano, but learning to play was not fun at all.  My teacher was a grouchy old lady who yelled at me and slammed her hands on the piano when I made mistakes.  I don't respond well to yelling so her behavior only flustered me and caused me to make even more mistakes.  It was a vicious cycle.  I practiced.  Oh, I practiced.  I was terrified of my teacher so I practiced, but there was nothing enjoyable about going to my lessons and playing for her.  She was very technical and precise, and I know that can be important in music, but there should also be a little freedom allowed.  I believe that's called soul.  

I played the piano the way my teacher wanted me to play it--exactly as the music was written.  Well, that was always what I strove for.  If you asked her, I was probably doing it all wrong.  She sent us to competitions in downtown Pittsburgh where we competed with ourselves for good, excellent, or superior ratings.  We'd play before a panel of judges who would critique our performance and score us using a rubric.  Judges!  Rubrics!  Competition days were arguably the most stressful days of my childhood.  And it was soul-sucking music. No wonder I gave it up after eight years and started practically worshiping people who could play for real.

Twenty years later, I'm trying my own hand at music again.  My teacher is on my computer screen, and people probably think this is a dumb way to learn how to play the guitar.  Maybe it is.  But, thankfully, my life does not depend on playing the guitar well.  I'm doing this for no other reason than because I want to.  I'm using a friend's guitar and taking free lessons. No one is slamming their hands on my strings and there's no judging panel.  I'm loving it.  Today during my lesson I was able to put together my three chords and play a song.  A real song!  Not even Row Row Row Your Boat or Mary Had a Little Lamb.  No.  My first guitar song is Dire Straits' Walk of Life. It was unbelievably gratifying to play something recognizable and be able to sing along.  Of course, I had to print out the lyrics because it's not a song I've ever been particularly drawn to but still.  What's more remarkable is that if you gave me the music to play it on the guitar, I probably wouldn't be able to figure it out.  I'm sure that will come; I have faith in my teacher.  But right now I'm learning guitar almost the way I learned how to drive a manual transmission--by feel.  I strum a few A chords in rhythm, then I switch to D, then E, then back to D.  What's next?  A?  No.  That's not right.  Let's try E. Right.  That sounds better. Carry on.  Back to A.  After a few times through, I found myself better able to anticipate when to switch the chord and figure out which chord to switch to.  I wasn't memorizing the sheet music like I did with the piano; I was just playing.  Finally.

I may not have the action or the motion, but with dedication and devotion...yeaaahhhhh the girl can play!

Peas and Carrots

That's how Brian and I go together. We're not exactly alike and we're not opposites, though we do compliment each other's personality.  He's mellow and even keel while I'm passionate and tightly wound.  We have a lot of the same interests, but we also have our own and we respect the other's.  He likes to mountain bike with his friends, and I like to run and work out with mine so we take turns.  He likes to work on the cars and yard, and I like to manage the kids' schedules and do volunteer work.  It works.  Quite simply, we're paired well.

And he knows me.  Better than anyone.  When my parents came to visit a few weeks ago, Brian surprised me with a birthday get-away all about hiking.  He planned a short trip to Tucson to hike Picacho Peak and Ventana Canyon.  Both were about three hours long, but one was adventurous while the other was gorgeous.  This was one of the best birthday presents ever.  So thoughtful, though if I ever start to get cocky about my level of fitness all I have to do is something athletic with Brian to remind me that I can always work harder.  The dude is fit.

Picacho Peak was a challenging hike because it includes tough terrain and nearly a 2000 ft elevation gain.  The gain is divided though.  You start out climbing the steepest switchbacks I've ever hiked, descend quickly, and climb steeply again.  You reverse that pattern on the way back.  It was tough, but we both felt a little badass on those cables.  It was one thrilling and fun hike.

Picacho Peak is about halfway between Phoenix and Tucscon so we hiked it first thing that morning on the way.  Afterwards, we had lunch and checked into our hotel and relaxed by the pool for the afternoon.  We stayed in an off the beaten path resort against the mountains. It was nothing fancy. I find posh, upscale resorts a bit intimidating and sometimes have a hard time stomaching the clientele at those places.  I don't need two valets standing in the doorway of the lobby waiting to open the doors for me, but some people who stay there apparently do.  I prefer charming and quaint, and that's exactly what it was.  He found a delightful mom and pop Mexican place in Historic Tucson where we enjoyed dinner on the patio.  

The next morning, we made our way to the Ventana Canyon trailhead for another challenging hike to the maiden pools.  This time of year the canyon is so lush, and wildflowers of all colors are blooming.  The scenery against the deep azure blue sky was so stunning that we couldn't get over how beautiful the desert was.  We saw a few snakes, a Gila monster--a rare sighting!--and not very many people at all.  It was like we had the whole place to ourselves so we enjoyed our surroundings and each other.  I started to get pretty tired on the way back.  I don't know if I lost my balance or tripped on a rock, but before I knew it I was on my way down.  I landed in something prickly, too.  No major scrapes, but my palm was filled with a lot of teeny tiny needles.  Not to worry.  The restrooms at the Loews Ventana Canyon Resort were the best post-hike digs ever, and their real washcloths were a big help in getting all those needles out painlessly. Thank you, fancy resort clientele whom I kinda sorta insulted in the previous paragraph, for paying for my real washcloth.  It was lovely.

After a relaxing and well-deserved lunch, we headed for home.  We don't get the opportunity to take many trips like this where it's just the two of us.  With young children, a stressful and heavy workload coupled with long hours, and over-scheduled volunteer commitments it can be easy to get so caught up in the tasks of everyday life that spouses begin to drift apart or, much worse, lose each other completely.  This is a tough time of life--comfortable in both good and dicey ways.  Some feel unfulfilled. Some get restless.  Some go astray.  Brian and I realized this over the past two years or so, and we decided we're never going to be one of those couples that gets lost.  We've seen what can happen and we think we know how to prevent it.  On the way down from Picacho Peak, two men were climbing and one asked me, "Whose idea was this--yours or his?"  I suppose he was expecting me to say it was Brian's idea, but without even thinking I replied, "Both. We're a team."  It's the truth.  We're a match.  And we won't give up.

Girls on the Run

I signed up a few months ago to be a Running Buddy for the Girls on the Run 5K.  It's a unique organization that does something I believe in--empowering girls through physical activity.  As much as I'd love to bring this program to my daughter's school, I need another project like I need a hole in the head.  I thought being a Running Buddy would be a smarter way to get involved right now.  

I was paired up with an eleven year old girl who has been training the past twelve weeks to run her first 5K.  She's also learned the importance of teamwork, being yourself, and believing in yourself.  See why I love Girls on the Run so much?  Although she was tired, hot, and had some problems with her shoes, she persevered!  I stayed with her no matter her pace.  "Nice and easy" is a hard concept for an eleven year old to grasp so we did a lot of sprints followed by walking.  She crossed that finish line with a huge smile on her face and so did I. 

The energy at this event was magical.  Third through fifth grade girls and their parents were everywhere.  Running coaches and running buddies were all around offering support.  Taylor Swift and One Direction were blaring, and there were pink shirts, hair ribbons, and tutus galore.  Oddly, The Doors were playing as Neeyah and I crossed the finish line.  Today she found herself on the other side of her first 5K race, and she was so proud.  I loved this experience!

Oh my my, Oh hell yes

A mere two hours after my parents arrived a few weeks ago, Dad and I were karaoke-ing to Tom Petty.  Yeah, that's right.  I like my dad's music.  Although he wasn't a musician, he always had music playing at home.  And I was always listening.  I still am. My radio dial (why yes I still listen to the regular radio in the car) is set to the classic rock station often, and my Pandora stations are diverse. Many songs take me back to my childhood but sound a lot different to me now.  No wonder my mother was aghast when she heard me singing some of those lyrics around the house.  "I just don't think that's something an eleven year-old girl should be singing about, that's all."  She probably didn't care to hear my horrible singing voice, either.

What Dad and I lack in talent and musical ability, we make up for with a deep appreciation for those who can sing and play well.  That doesn't mean we don't try.  When I was little, Dad bought my brother and me a Baldwin piano (because that's what Billy Joel played).  Except my parents signed us up for lessons with the mean lady who lived behind us and taught only classical piano.  Sure I can play...classical songs he never heard of and without much soul.  It wasn't what he had in mind, and I didn't enjoy it as much as I could have.

I've gotten back into playing music lately.  I'm going to say it's because of my kids.  They both play the piano, and they've motivated me to play again.  I play the way I used to--without much spirit.  I'm trying harder.  I also tried something else.  A few months ago I created a simple "Let It Be" arrangement for Elizabeth and that was very fulfilling.  I obviously didn't write a song, but it was my first attempt at transcribing music.  I used a 30-day trial license for songwriting software so it looks pretty official.  It's only two pages, but it nearly took me the full thirty days.  It was slow-going, but I kept at it and refused to quit even though I pretty much had to learn everything about how to do it on my own.  I'm like that. I don't quit.

Over the past couple weeks, I've switched it up again by trying to learn guitar.  It started as a joke a few months ago between friends, but I have always wished I could play.  This, too, is slow-going.  And why did no one tell me how painful this would be?  My fingers!  I don't know how I'm supposed to practice for longer than three minutes when it hurts so bad.  I'm probably doing it all wrong; my teacher is on YouTube after all.  You have to start somewhere and a borrowed guitar and free online tutorials fit my budget.  Brian says I look like Taylor Swift's mom.



Maybe I do.  Who cares?  All I know is I'm not quitting.  I don't think my friend Jennifer and I will be gigging anytime soon (ever) and what good is knowing how to play the guitar if you can't sing?  Really now.  But I'm having fun with it anyway, and Elizabeth thinks it's pretty cool.  I think she's going to end up like Dad and me. We like it!