Blue Moon 12.31.2009

12.31.2009

Once in a Blue Moon (Really)

The list was bellowing:

1. Another trip to Trader Joes

2. Begin outlining critical paper and write a poem or two

(in reality I need 4 or 6…) for MFA

3. Deal with dirty laundry… sort, wash, fold,

and practice Lamaze breathing until piles get put away

4. Format nearly 100 writing and art submissions

(at least it seems like 100) for Scholastic Arts and Writing

5. Worry about a bank account thousands of dollars in the red

due to NSF charges on $37 worth of overdrafts

6. Plan lessons and create January billing for ISP clients

8. Draft a marketing plan, outline an online journal,

and suggest web updates for collectivebanter.com

9. Dust under the bed

10. Pull out tomato plants (4 months past due)

11. Worry about children

12. Be bothered by messy drawers and missing socks

Instead I took a sabbatical this week… I think.

For the past few years, Willie and the boys have headed to the wilderness on the 27^th of December. They return on the 30^th leaving Hannah and I with a delightful dose of girl time. Historically speaking, the week between Christmas and New Year’s is tinged with melancholy. I suppose this is hyperbolic, but traditionally the week is tragically anticlimactic. What is up with that?

The 27^th began with a double feature at my mother-in-law’s­—Julie and Julia, 500 Days of Summer— a diversion to cut the edge. We ate leftover turkey dinner, and pumpkin pie and relaxed for exactly 218 minutes at which point we jumped from our seats, scraped plates, distributed hugs and stepped back into reality. The next day I spent the morning shifting the order of “To Do” items on my list while sipping tea and listening to bees hum in my hollow brain and scooted out the door as soon as Hannah woke up. I thought Century City would be a good idea, that Christmas would still be alive in that socioeconomic neck of the woods. We grabbed a $6 cup of coffee and wandered into Sherlock Holmes. Diversion #2 did not divert. I was solidly in the between week.

Once home, I peeked at the list, responded to a couple emails, returned a call to a friend who was more depressed than me (bummer), put cookies on a plate and boiled water for tea for a visit with Christian due to arrive in 10 minutes. I picked up the phone to call Sara and told Hannah to start packing. The doorbell rang. Christian and I discussed our battle wounds a bit, purposed to read about happiness, and to take a trip to the Getty. Hannah and I arrived at Sara’s just after midnight. I fell asleep starring at a glowing moon instead of QVC.

San Luis Obispo hasn’t been home for 10 years, it’s home though. I love waking up surrounded by low rolling mountains, moist and green this time year. I love that I fall right in with my friend, not a beat to spare. Our first morning began tossing around item 8 on the list while nestled in a cozy table at The Cakery off Football. (Yum.) We spent the rest of the day enjoying spontaneous beautification… haircut, shampoo, blow dry, flat iron, all the tricks of the trade! Back at Sara’s it was time to dig into item 4 and work on poetry with Evelyn. Went to bed by the light of the moon instead of an LCD.

The next morning back to item 8, an item, I am happy to report, progressed. I sensed that the bees were leaving, the brain less hollow, no longer welcoming. After a leisurely Thai dinner downtown with John and the girls, Sara and I sat at the table that Willie made out of Sara’s dad’s hickory and she began to read (God knows why) about Sabbath. The chapter is actually entitled, “Discover the Rhythms of the Daily Office and Sabbath. “ When I heard, “Reorientation,” something clicked. I’ll do it God. Sabbath for a year, and I’ll write about it. So here I am.

This morning on my way to Starbucks a cranky old cowboy honked and yelled at me out his window because I didn’t stop long enough at the sign on Orcutt. I smiled because he was right. The old cowboy was simply confirming what I decided last night, wet fleece, if you will. There are lots of things I don’t slow down for, hopefully that will change with this experiment. It’s New Year’s Eve, tonight the moon will be blue, not me.