Creative means many things

Holy cow - was that last post really over a year ago? I could have sworn it's just been a few months. In the spirit of (self-defense) full disclosure: shortly after that last post I completely redefined my life by having a baby. My creativity has gone to things like how to get a newborn to eat and sleep; how to fit into favorite clothes, how to accomplish more with less time, how to mark a first birthday in a fabulously meaningful and creative and unique way, the list goes on.

Entering the ranks of motherhood is a sufficient reason for neglecting a blog, right? Heck yeah. Who watches the kids while all those mommy bloggers put out? Phhhhtht...nannies. Must be nice. Anyway, not here to complain of offer excuses. Starting fresh. Aren't Januaries nice for that? I had plans for all kinds of post-dated ramblings in order to get caught up and give the appearance of productivity. But quite frankly, that was overwhelming and I stared for two hours at a blank page. Either none of those ideas were inspiring or the pressure to back fill while still making forward progress was just too much for this mommy brain. So, here I am. I've been gone but I'm back. There's no further point to this post, and this blog doesn't have much direction for now (I'm working on that little detail - it's not going well, for the record), but here it is, humbly submitted.

Do Something

Today marks the end of a very long season and the beginning of a long-awaited and much-needed season of recovery.  The organization I work for runs on a calendar based on an annual, global conference. The past two days marked the live portion of the event, simulcast to 170-some North American sites; beginning in a few weeks several versions of the event will be translated and hosted in 70-some countries. It's exhausting and exhilarating certainly worth all the pain, but I'm glad the bulk of the work is behind me for another year. Now is a time for regrouping and returning to the things I love that I've been neglecting through this season of chaos.

I realized a while back that I haven't fed my creative self in ages. Sure, I've crammed in moments of necessary output here and there, but I have not taken time to immerse myself in the creative process in, quite possibly, years. Is it any wonder, then, that my soul is parched? I'm so quick to be cynical and my focus feels worn and frayed. I think creativity is a muscle of sorts, and just like biological muscles creativity must be exercised or face atrophy. However, just like biological muscles, once a regimen of practice and training is resumed, creativity restores and is again fulfilling and a source of joy rather than strain.

I love being creative. I won't profess to have mastered any of the expressions I enjoy, it's not about that. I'm creative for the purpose of filling some need in me to create. I like being the one who created more than I need to be the best at whatever I'm creating. Don't get me wrong, excellence matters, but it's not for anyone else to judge. My photos bring me joy, more because the process of hunting and capturing images that I like to look at is cathartic. My quilts bring me joy for years as I touch the fabrics and recall the process of piecing together small things to make one large thing that took shape slowly and deliberately. The cards I make bring me joy every time I walk past the Hallmark aisle at Target and know that I haven't given a dime for overpriced, generic greetings in many years.

If I know all these things, why don't I practice something creative every day? Just like exercising my biological muscles, taking care of myself is so easily the first thing to be eliminated when time is constrained and energy is low. If only I'd carve out the time and force myself to enter into that endorphin-inducing place, I'd find myself a bit less cynical, soul parched and distracted.

Here's to doing something creative everyday. Cheers...

BookSneeze

“I’m so frustrated with the version of Christianity where we actually think our theology can fit onto a bumper sticker, a t-shirt, or a bracelet. Reality isn’t that simple.”

 I’m not sure what possessed me to agree to read and review a book with a specific deadline that coincided with finals week. Had I selectively forgotten that graduate school never fails to overwhelm come the end of a semester? Apparently. In any case, I found myself deeply engrossed, even provoked, these past few days as I devoured the new release from Thomas Nelson, Plan B, by Pete Wilson. I don’t think I’d have picked up the title had it not been graciously provided by BookSneeze in exchange for my honest review; but having read it, I’m glad for the new insights and challenges to some of my standard points of view.

Wilson presents his work in a very accessible, conversational tone that grabs the reader, be it one who’s well grounded or someone who’s not entirely sure of his faith. Moving seamlessly between Biblical accounts and stories of friends and church members he’s encountered throughout his years as a pastor, Wilson helps readers come to terms with situations that seem less than ideal. His relational demeanor exudes grace and puts the reader at ease. While most of his stories fall towards the extreme end of the “not-what-I-would-have-chosen” scale, anyone can take a portion of wisdom from his teaching, whether for a personal situation or to help someone else through their own Plan B. This is a highly recommended, low-risk, high-reward read.

Spring!

Spring seems like a perfect excuse to write a poem. Fortunately for all the gentle readers out there I'm sufficiently distracted by library school and other fabulous endeavors such that I won't bother entertaining the urge to wax poetic. I'm so glad that I did not know what I was missing all those years spent in a state with no Spring - ignorance truly is bliss (imagine lilacs in June!). Spring is a most stupendous time of year, let's just leave it at that. Actually, one more thought: Chicago is a most excellent place to be in Spring. The vibrant life that so characterizes the city begins to emerge from hibernation. Color and activity abound - it's thrilling. The garden is composted and we're days away from putting in the first of the vegetable starts - the produce market opens in just two weeks! Evenings offer the most delightful sunsets and walking by the river is somehow more refreshing now than any other time of year. There is so much to be excited about these days, here's to life in Chicago and warm Spring afternoons spent in blooming gardens.

Finally Spring

Spring is my favorite season for so many reasons. Right now I’m reveling in the emergence of crocus in my garden and my own emergence from months of hibernation. Cabin fever has nearly got the best of me this year. Not that we’ve had an overwhelming amount of snow or anything (we took proper precautions to all but eliminate that prospect when we left Alaska). No, it’s been a run of chaotic, full-to-the-brim months in which I did not find or seize moments of replenishment. I haven’t written much, or read for pleasure or taken a photo since the first of the year. All of a sudden I find myself nearly into April and running on fumes. Go figure. 

Fortunately, winter seems to have broken, literally and figuratively. We’re officially into no sock weather – boy did my feet object on the one day this week when I did encase them in my favorite woolies. Going without socks is a fabulously tangible way to turn the seasons. My toes have tasted freedom and there’s no going back. At least not until November. I took my Goosey for a walk after work the other day and boy was that a taste of Heaven. Taking in the fresh air, the birds and the river had us both energized and renewed that evening. Sadly, I’ve been swamped by homework since then, but it was delightful while it lasted. Similarly energizing was a compliment I received this week at work from someone who took the time to share a very edifying observation about my writing – just the little nudge I needed to get back in the saddle. I continue to be utterly fascinated by the power of words. 

Staying fit in the winter is such a challenge. I love being outdoors but hate being cold so, as a rule, I've never been a huge fan of winter sports. This year I had a nice fling with running, but it’s over now. Tired of the constant battle to stay engaged with the treadmill, I have embraced the fact that my one true love is biking and I really ought to focus my energy where my passion is. Biking indoors isn't much more fun than running indoors but my mind and body are much less at odds when I'm true to my first love. The week ahead holds a couple vacation days for me, so perhaps the first outdoor ride of the season is within reach. 

Here’s to spring and beautiful new seasons.

Off and running

I continue to wrestle with a lack of wit. I have no energy for creative writing or waxing eloquent and I don't have anything fabulous to report so I'll be brief. I spent the entirety of Christmas break ignoring a very worthy list of things I truly wanted to accomplish. More important, I suppose, was taking the opportunity to simply rest and decompress from what was a really rough few weeks. We enjoyed a few days at home (as in: at our house in Chicago and with our families in Alaska) which was cathartic and exhausting all at the same time. As the winter drags on I find myself looking forward to "normal"days at the office, classes, homework, wash, rinse, repeat...I thrive on structure.

The semester got off to a great start last week. Two of my classes are directly related to school libraries which I hope will help stave the agony come finals week when I'm again tempted to question what the heck I've gotten myself into. If all goes well I should only have four more terms to start which doesn't sound like such a bad number (not including the final semester next fall which would be clinical time as opposed to lectures and homework). I keep telling myself the next few months will fly by and I'll be a spectacled, bun-wearing librarian in no time. Easy to say when not faced with a slough of looming deadlines. Ask me again in a couple weeks.

As if three classes weren't enough, I thought the added ambition of running Nashville's half-marathon in April might be swell. I've got the baseline and just bought the most expensive pair of running shoes - heck, shoes period - I've ever had the pleasure of owning, all that's left to do is actually register for the race. And run. I'm highly motivated by goals (apparently) and since I've already proven to myself that I have the will to endure eight-and-a-half hours on my bike, why not tackle a couple hours on my feet? No big deal, right? Ah, but I've discovered running to be different on so many levels and therein lies the challenge. Wish me luck, I'll keep you posted.

Where've I been all this time?

I like the new King George tune Where've I Been All My Life?  That's it. I don't have anything witty to say about it.

I make a killer cranberry-orange-chocolate cookie and despite promising myself there's absolutely no good reason to bake this year, I caved. Guess it wouldn't be Christmas without them.

Two weeks of my life have been consumed by finals - I'm down to two papers to finish today. Ethics. Organization of Information. Fascinating.

iPhone is great. AT&T is a joke.

Homemade marshmallows are fun but messy as hell and hardly worth it.

Homemade vanilla extract is not fun (unless you ascribe to the "swig-for-me, swig-for-the-recipe" method of cooking with vodka). And it's entirely not worth it.

10 days til my 10 day staycation starts. My stack of books is growing.

Winter in Chicago is overrated.

I love Grapenuts.

...we now return to our regularly scheduled broadcast.

Amen for long weekends

The time has come wherein I must return to reality. Phooey. Having four days in which to do whatever I darn well please is quite heavenly...despite the fact that I didn't get a much-needed start on the paper that's due in a little over a week.
This weekend I: rested, read a book of my own choosing (this required three slightly frustrating starts since I seem to have forgotten how to select a book of my own choosing - the one I finally settled on was thrust into my lap by someone else and while a gripping story is not very well told), was creative (spent some time with my Nikon, with my old watercolors and I've nearly decided on a design for Christmas cards though I probably won't think about that again until after Christmas), wrapped presents (boxes packed and ready to ship to Anchorage, Chugiak and Afghanistan...yes!!!), I baked (new recipe: rosemary dinner rolls - not so much, old recipes: cherry-cashew granola and caramel popcorn for the Christmas boxes - big win, even sans pecans), visited old friends (has been way too long, school takes such a toll on the social life), exercised (yay for one last walk on the river trail and getting the bikes set up for winter), cleaned (just a little) and I didn't think about work (much). Heavenly indeed.

Wordless Wednesday

Celebrity

I am, quite certainly, not a celebrity chaser. I've done gigs and been around enough to know they all put their pants on the same way as the rest of us. I do, however, love recipes and photography and so when a favorite blogger released a book combining the two, I pre-ordered several copies (review coming soon!).  And when she announced a stop in Chicago on her tour, I toyed with the the goofy idea of actually lining up to get her autograph.  Silly, I know.

There are several reasons the excursion was not an easy decision.  First, it was at a Barnes and Noble. As much as I love books I don't love big, generic book stores. Second, it was roughly an hour away from my house in the middle of the week.  While I don't want my existence to be defined by what's immediately accessible, I am a home body through and through.  Third, I'm not a celebrity chaser.  But I have several copies of the book to give away for Christmas and thought it would be fun to have them personalized and it's been a particularly trying month at work and I was hankering for a break in the monotony.

With much deliberation I took the plunge and set out to the mall to pick the number which would hold my fate for the evening: 137.  I was the one hundred and thirty-seventh person in line to have my books signed and picture taken with Pioneer Woman.  Oddly enough, it wasn't a horrible experience, despite the two-hour wait.  The DH, kind as he was to drive me across suburbia, pulled a disappearing act upon entering the store but my darling friend, HK, was more than kind enough to endure the first hour of waiting with me. The second hour brought random conversations with fellow fans (who were also not celebrity chasers). Mostly we talked of our mutual gratitude that we were not holding an awful number like, say, 294.

I have to give props to Pioneer Woman.  While she could have let handlers pass the books under her pen as she scribbled something to be assumed for her signature, she chose instead to sit with each and every person, sign as many books as they lugged to the table (no, the entire stack next to my elbow is not mine!) and exchange pleasantries as she personalized each copy.  That's a big, and very generous, commitment.  Her two boys were in tow, also signing books, as was Marlboro Man who was handing out cute logo t-shirts.  Bookstores have long been one of our favorite date destinations, so this is a fun one to add to the collection of memories. Leaving the store a little after 10 pm, my heart was a bit lighter than when I went in, which is, I suppose, the point of such adventures.  Now, I wonder what the lady holding number 294 was thinking as she left the store!