Five things - early winter edition

1. Back to therapy

It’s been a minute. Actually, it’s been a year and a half since I have visited my lovely therapist/counselor in her office. I’ve considered going back a few times, mostly when I feel like I am falling apart, not able to hold my stuff together, need some propping up. But I promised myself I would not go running back for the wrong reasons (what might they be?), so I waited. And waited. And waited some more.

Finally a few weeks ago I felt like I was in the right frame of mind to make the decision, so I did. I’m not sure why it was so difficult. What am I afraid of?

(It’s hard, that’s what, and sometimes you just get sick of hard and need a break from it, and that’s okay too.)

But I know it is also very helpful, so off I go. Today (Wednesday) is the day and I am simultaneously excited and filled with trepidation at what will come up. For months I have been keeping a Note in my phone filled with topics to talk about and questions I want to ask.

Even this morning while I was writing my morning pages (three hand-written notebook pages of brain dump I try to do most mornings), I said out loud (on paper) that I know what’s coming: I will ask a question and E (my counselor) will turn it around to be a question I have to think about and answer for myself. That might be the most frustrating and helpful thing about therapy and not at all what I want but surely what is good for me.

2. The Red Sea

I may have mentioned a time or fifty that our newly built house is surrounded by red dirt. That means when we have a good rain (they call this area Drenchburg for a reason) it becomes the Red Sea of mud. When people come to visit from places where the ground is not predominantly clay, they are amazed at how awful it is. Wet clay sticks to everything. If you walk across it, you gain three inches in height from what clings to the bottoms of your boots. If you can find a place to scrape it off, it sticks there and then hardens like cement so that it has to be chipped off with a hammer. We could have made bricks and built the house out of them and it would have stood for generations.

Early in the building process we had a few loads of gravel brought in, but that has already sunk deep in the mire. We never got around to pouring a concrete pad outside the garage. It was a mix of dirt and a few sorry remnants of rock that stubbornly hung on. When I had to get to my car on a rainy day, I would rock-hop on tiptoes and hope I had parked next to a high spot instead of a wallow that was now filled with mirky muck. It’s been such fun.

But this is the week. Larry and Pam and Riley have been here building perfect forms and shoveling wet clay and spreading rock (well, Larry and Riley have been doing that and Pam has been alternately making salad and napping her sick little self on the couch) and we are so ready for a beautiful concrete pad.

This is a way lot harder than it looks and we are so thankful for friends who show up willing to work and save us money.

Ben took a little time off work to get in there too, and I helped by worrying about his shoulder, which turned out to not be the problem. If you’re ever going to do this kind of project, maybe do some yoga beforehand and improve your balance so you don’t wind up hands-first in the wet concrete. He’s a little top-heavy. Mostly I’m thankful he didn’t fall all the way in, but there is a tiny part of me that is sorry about the missed photo op.

3. Wood stove update

Here’s how the wood stove situation is going. It was 27 degrees outside this morning and I currently have two windows open for a cross draft. Remember all the educating Tom did about small fires and not cramming this stove full of big logs? Old habits die hard.

4. Editing

I am currently editing a book that is based on women in the Bible and I’m enjoying it immensely. It has struck me though, during this project, that editing is not just grammar and punctuation and spelling of words. I love all those. But I am finding myself researching lineages and tribes and all sorts of obscure factoids about how a certain person’s birth came about in order to ensure the accuracy of what’s being written. I have also figured out that my spellcheck function is hosed up and I’m not getting the little red squiggly line under misspelled words. Eye gess that’s won weigh too keap mee awn mai tows.

5. Cookies

Ben asked the other day what the Christmas cookie plan was and I just gave him the look. “We’ve had a few things going on” is the understatement of the year. We don’t traditionally do a lot of Christmas celebrating, but we have always made cookies and Ben is the prime beneficiary of this practice. He’s okay with that because of course he is. He has his favorites—peanut blossoms and mocha nut butter balls—and I have mine—rugelach and maple nut refrigerator cookies. We are also big fans of brown sugar shortbread. I’m trying to decide which ones to tackle next week so I can give a lot away (the Sargents do not currently need a ton of cookies lying around), but I am always open to new recipes. So tell me, if you could only make one kind of Christmas cookie, what would it be? Please share your favorite and Ben will be forever grateful. I’ll share whatever I decide to make.