Build Is The Word

Well, another new year has arrived, right on schedule.  It's that time when many of us decide to alter trajectories and social media is filled with all the best wishes and best intentions.  I haven't done resolutions in many years.  I'm a big picture person who chafes under rules and schedules, so I've pivoted in recent years to the "one word focus" thing, and it seems to work for me.  2018 was my first year to do this, as an activity with the local chamber of commerce women's group.  The years after that have been a convening of a small group of close friends, begun in a fancy, purposeful way, with vision boards and bracelet-making and earnestly describing our reasoning.  Now we just tend to meet for dinner and unfold our words with quietly murmured affirmations and a gentle support that comes with deep respect, though I suspect we're also more tired now. My own word selection process is to think about what my life seems to be missing, how I've grown in the last year, and what I think I need or want next, just for me. I look up the definitions of words that come to mind, wear them around like a warm shawl, and settle into the word that feels like the right fit. 

So, my first word, in 2018, was "Truth", which was an attempt to remind myself that people, including myself, do not always recognize or acknowledge what is true, and in fact, we each tend to live in our own little truth bubble.  The personal aspect of this was a hard lesson for me, but learned and remembered.

Any actual recording of 2019's word has been lost, but memory tells me it was "Grace".  The fact that I could actually give myself grace was a fairly new concept to me, but I knew I needed it. My work environment had become a toxic firepit and to keep going, I needed at least one person in my world to say "there's nothing wrong with you, you're doing the best you can, this is not your problem".  The best person to do that turned out to be me, and the more grace I gave myself, the more grace I was somehow able to give others.  Best word ever, and I keep it very close to me at all times. 

By the time 2020 rolled around, I was learning to live with my mid-2019 diagnosis of CLL and knew that grace alone wasn't going to help me save myself.  So I chose "Intentional" as my 2020 word.  The work stress was manifesting physically within me, and I needed to take better care of myself.  That meant being very, very intentional with how I spent my time and energy, and taking a hard look at how I wanted to live my life, as opposed to how I was stumbling through my days.  I also wanted to be intentionally present in my relationships. But, suddenly, we were all gripped in a global pandemic and I very intentionally and happily retired to go home and wait it out. This also became the year I began to implement a whole new set of boundaries, which have to be completely intentional or they don't work. 

2021 decided that one cancer and a pandemic weren't enough, and I drew the breast cancer card.  When I chose my word "Become" alone at home on New Year's Eve, still unsure exactly what was going on except that the radiologist had said "pretty sure it's cancer", I had no idea how 2021 would end for me. Maybe early, who knew?  But I wanted to spend whatever life I had becoming the fullest version of myself that I could.  My gratitude for this year is unending.  I got ALL the gifts of life - presence, love, celebration, vulnerability, health, and more years. But I was also glad I had already been practicing grace and intention.  

By the time 2022 rolled around, I was feeling pretty good about surviving cancer AND covid, so 2022's word was "Explore".  I felt like I'd spent the last couple of years shucking decades of expectations, and had my whole self back. I wrote life lists of what I wanted more of, things I was curious about, things I would never do again, and started planning. I explored a lot. I added new podcasts to my regular rotation, with more people who share amazing ideas and ways to be.  I started following and reading writers who touched my heart, and I tossed myself into a writing world with people I didn't know and found a brilliant new open space to revel in. I took trips with dear friends, tried out a couple of part time jobs, and made new friends.  I strengthened my workouts with a new trainer, and started exploring energy and healing work.  I gently stepped back into social activism in ways that work for me.  2022 was a pretty good year. 

Now I'm taking all these pieces and rolling into 2023 with the word "Build".  I'm building a new version of me, new relationships and support systems for myself, and a new way of moving through the universe. I'm building a creative practice and community, with a new capacity for joy and wonder.  And I'm building new courage and confidence that comes from a place of deep vulnerability and self-love, that I hope may be useful to others as they build their best lives.  And I will do it with all the continued grace and intention I can muster.  Happy new year, friends. 

Two More Months

That's all...just two more months in this apartment, foundering, floating, unmoored.  That sounds ridiculous, but one thing I've learned in this uprooting/replanting of myself is that I am not an apartment person.  It was fine for a while, and then--as time dragged and my house in my previous community didn't sell--I talked myself into, "Apartment living is great!  No lawn mowing! No maintenance!" all of which were total lies.  The box I live in is really beautiful, roomy, with a lovely view of the woods, plus noisy neighbors, nowhere to go outside that's not public, and a dirty stairwell. And it has zero feel of being part of the community.

But said house finally sold, and I spent the next several months stalking Zillow and looking at houses that just didn't work for me, so it was incredibly fortuitous that I met C&M at a house concert.  In our usual get-to-know-you chit-chat, we discovered that I was looking for a home, and they were (maybe) looking to sell one.  One that was, seemingly, in the right location...the right size...and the right style for me.  Really...fortuitous, and I still shake my head, because 2 months later, I'm the proud owner of this sweet old lady.

She and I are becoming very close, because I'm taking her down to the bones in some places, and perilously close in others, bless her heart.  The former owners have let me wander in and out at will, and she's been inspected by a structural engineer, several friends, a home inspector, my parents, the insurance appraiser, and still, she's hung in there. I've spent countless evenings wandering the property, measuring, thinking, researching, and still--she came out on top. She's stuck with me now.

Or, maybe it's the other way around.  I've also signed onto projects with a contractor (who, thankfully, doesn't think I'm crazy, but then, why would he when I'm paying him money?) and I can see my tiny version of "The Money Pit" looming. The first night I was the legal owner, dear friends helped me toast her, and then I started pulling wallpaper, because that's what I do.  Especially after a couple of glasses of wine.

Tonight, after countless lists of projects and things to buy, I spent the evening wandering Home Depot and tossing things into the cart. The contractor will call me soon, with a start date, and I'm still fussing over a bathroom vanity, of all things.  But I'm incredibly happy about it, because I'm about to become re-rooted again, in a lovely community in which I'm beginning to see where I fit, and where I will write the next chapters of my life.

For a pre-reno/early vision view of my sweet old lady, see the photo album here.  Stay tuned. We have a long ways to go. 

Trip to the Volland Store

Today was another one of those days...I'd been "home" to see the folks this weekend, take in the Kansas Sampler Festival, and was headed back to the city this morning, when the wandering bug struck.  Actually, it didn't just "strike".  It had been fed by some random thoughts, generated by observations and conversations over the weekend.  Caveat--it's always a little weird for me to go "home" as an adult after living away for quite a few years--people and places change, but, yet...they don't.  I find myself trying to create a cohesive connection between what I thought things were and what they now seem to be, and end up a smidge confused sometimes.

Several cups of coffee this morning on the deck, watching the river and eating the rest of the bacon (thanks, Dad) was the straw that broke the "well, we always take 177 to Manhattan because we like the view" camel's back for me.  I rarely take that route because it's longer (I know...this is me, queen of the detours.  I'm worried about "longer"?)  And then a statement (from Mom) like "the things that seem to work out best for you are those things you don't overthink" was rattling around in my head as I got in the car, and the rest is history.

So I briefly thought about that 177 route, and decided the beautiful day deserved some attention. Done.  A conversation about intriguing places along that route (Pioneer Bluffs, specifically, which is closed on Sunday) had me thinking about alternatives. I'd been watching The Volland Store from afar for a few months, so I asked Google...and it turned out to be not far off the beaten path, it was open, AND a guest speaker was scheduled at 2:00pm.  Double done, especially since the speaker was Steve Wolgast, Pulitzer prize winning journalist with a program entitled Free Speech in Times of Crisis. Right up my alley.

It was the perfect combo of new place/people/thoughts to re-ground me.  Interesting people, ready for conversations about things that matter to them. A lovely rural setting with old buildings.  An art installation...out. in. the. middle. of. nowhere.  And a thought-provoking program that began with William Allen White, worked through the need for critical thinking, and ended with (and I paraphrase) "the constitutional amendments of free speech and free press will continue to endure as long as we continue to use them."  Don't stop thinking, folks.  And talking.  Check out the full photo album here for my perspective.

Things Lost and Found

It's been a stressy few weeks (ok, maybe few months).  I do my best to keep my chin up, eyes ahead, and heart open, but there have been a few days here and there that have ended with little joy.  Today, dawning bright and early, proposed to be one of those.  I woke feeling regret for things both done and undone, and had a long day stretching in front of me.  But the weather promised to be beautiful, so I decided I should follow through on the promise I'd made to myself all week, which was to get outside, explore, see if I could find some morel mushrooms, and work with my new camera (I'm an optimistic multi-tasker).  It was a struggle to get there...three cups of coffee were a good early distraction, followed by some more laundry and a fair amount of time staring mindlessly at Facebook.  But I knew that if I wasted this day, the regrets would be compounded, and that's really not a fun place to be.

An idea turned into a few minutes of online research and the download of a new app called AllTrails, which I now consider my new best friend.  I had just purchased my annual Kansas State Parks Pass (thanks, KDWPT), and AllTrails showed 3 "easy" trails at Milford State Park and lake...just 30 minutes away.  Easy...I didn't want easy.  I wanted sweaty and strenuous and muscle stretching, with some breathtaking sights.  But, fine. Whatever. I didn't have the energy (or joy) to think any harder about this.  I tossed some snacks and a water bottle (and camera) in a bag, jumped in the car, and headed out.

Eagle Ridge trail looked like the best one--the most interesting, the longest, and...maybe eagles to see?  Some of the AllTrail reviews weren't too favorable, and it's also a horse riding trail, but I was already grumpy, so I'm thinking, hey, let's just see if I can completely throw this day in the can.  And off I went on Eagle Ridge trail.

I saw one couple on horseback, once, just as I began walking.  That was it.  The more-than two hours I wandered, I saw and heard no other human.  It was like being handed the most perfect gift at the most perfect time.  The longer I was out there, immersed in the quiet, the lighter I became. I caught myself grinning...noticing the tiniest amazing details...feeling a bit proud of myself for testing the unknown, sticking to it, and not freaking out when I got a little lost. And, yes, I got lost because the trail isn't marked very clearly.  As in, it's only marked at the trail head.  (Take my advice--use the app, and check it occasionally, rather than leaving it in your pocket most of the time, like someone did today, as demonstrated below).

Things were both lost and found out there on that trail today.  Lost were: more than a few intricate spider habitats (I kept walking into them, and even took one spider with me--neither of us were too happy about that), dry shoes (because I misjudged the waves coming ashore), battery power to my camera (I actually consider this a positive), and a large part of my regretful grumpiness.  Things NOT found include morel mushrooms (I'm now accepting donations) and eagles (in the wild, anyway). Many things were discovered, however--sun on my skin, a reminder that cedar trees smell sort of like a wild animal, a blister on one foot, some scared wildlife (including a turkey hen that scared me right back), fresh honeysuckle, a grit-covered face, renewed wonder, one huge Bur Oak tree, an increased comfort level with my camera, the awesome Milford Nature Center and Hatchery, and...joy.  Yes, some joy crept back in today.  I'm hoping to hang on to it, but if it becomes elusive again, I think I have a remedy.  Check out my photo story here.

Off The Beaten Path

Anyone who knows me knows that to get in the car with me means we have set off on some sort of journey, yet to be determined (right, kids?).  I have been blessed (or cursed) with a curiosity about all things yet unknown to me, which, when combined with the boredom of a long car drive, turns into a slightly manic pursuit of off-the-beaten-path stops.  I've been doing this since I was in charge of getting myself anywhere on my own, but since the advent of cellphones and Facebook, you lucky people get to enjoy it with me.  Cellphone photo link gratuitously attached at the bottom of this blog.

This week was no different.  I headed off to southwest Kansas for a work thing Wednesday afternoon, feeling a little anxious.  I'd been rushed getting things ready and, as usual, crammed too many things into the day.  But as soon as I hit I-70, headed west, the wondering began.  I have often wished for my own personal car journey narrator that would explain everything I have questions about as I'm traveling along (and, no, Mom, that would not be you).  Google's pretty good, but 75 miles an hour is usually too fast for Google (and my fingers).  As I drove routes completely new to me, I kept seeing things I was curious about, but I didn't have time to stop.  So I promised myself that on the way back the next day, I would cram everything I could into every minute I had (and, yes, I'm aware there appears to be a pattern here).

I still didn't get photos of some of the things that surprised me, like the completely dry Arkansas River bed in Dodge City.  What a contrast to the big, wide, lazy Arkansas River that hugs the bluff and meanders alongside my home town in south central Kansas.  And speaking of Dodge City, there were m.a.n.y. things I wanted to explore but had zero time to do so--next time, Dodge, you can count on it.  Including your feedlots, of which I also got no pics.  I guess when you've seen 10,000 cows, you've seen them all.

The wind turbines just blow me away (sorry).  Seriously--the juxtaposition of the timeless wide-open sky and prairie against these huge, stark-white ultra-modern techie machines stops me in my tracks every time.  And there are some serious wind turbine farms in southwest Kansas.  I met no fewer than 20 "oversize" semi-truck loads on the highways coming and going, hauling more turbine pieces to that part of the world.

Milo (grain sorghum, to you scientific types) harvest was in full swing in that part of Kansas, and the leaves on the trees were just turning, which made for glowing color everywhere you looked.  The old abandoned grain elevators spoke of a simpler time, and I had visions of my farming grandfathers in my head. But, please, someone--how do you pronounce Offerle?

I'd heard about Pawnee Rock most of my adult life, so when you drive right by the sign that says "Pawnee Rock, 1 mile north", you have to drive 1 mile north.  My first thought, unfortunately, was "that's a rock?"  But, you know, when you're there, you do it all, right?  Because you don't know when you might be back...right?  So I drove up the "rock", parked and wandered around a bit, finally climbing the circular iron staircase to the viewing platform.  And, boy, was I glad.  I can not quite explain what that sweeping expanse of land and sky does to my heart.  It's such a contradiction of fullness and emptiness that my brain seems to suspend all conscious thought for a minute.

I sadly (twice!) zipped right by Cheyenne Bottoms and the new Wetland Education Center building just northeast of Great Bend.  I simply did not have time to do it justice, which means (darn) a trip to plan and look forward to sometime in the future.  And the Smoky Hills around Ellsworth deserve some appreciation, though I need to figure out how to actually get exploration access to a piece of property.

Thanks for letting me share my visions with you. Until next time!  Southwest Kansas Sights

The Power of Prairie Walks

I had a completely free day.  It felt strange, and I took a whole hour or so to settle on what I wanted to do.  Which was go back to the same prairie I've already hiked.  Really?  You've seen one prairie, you've seen them all, right?  But this time, I would be alone.  Being single, with grown children living far away, would make one think I have lots of alone time (and, yes, I have infinitely more alone time than a lot of people), but somehow I always find myself craving REALLY alone time.  You know--those rare periods when you can let go of the clock and people and stuff and think of nothing but whatever your mind leads you to, for as long as you can stand it.  It turns out a 4.4 mile prairie hike over 3 hours was about it for me.

There were quite a few cars in the parking area when I arrived at the prairie.  Great, I thought.  No alone time here. The first half-mile or so is mostly uphill, so I didn't really have the energy to fuss about the crowd.  I took my time, tried to focus on only what was in front of my face, and paced my breathing.  And had too many weird conversations in my head with people who weren't there.  Stop, Kitra.  Let go, just get to the top.  An older couple was there, taking in the view.  I let them get ahead of me quite a ways before I started on again. The next half mile was full of young families coming the wrong way down the trail (I don't know that there really is a wrong way, but isn't counter-clockwise just against the rules)?  Anyway, everyone had to jostle and step just off the trail to let folks pass.  

I continued on, and my mind slowly started to let go.  I stopped, several times, and just looked. Breathed.  Took more pictures.  Listened.  Then moved on down the trail.  The sun was warm on my shoulders, and I was glad I'd grabbed my straw hat for cover.  My new stainless steel, bpa-free water bottle clanked in my backpack.  Note for next time--no ice.  Plan ahead, fill with water, and refrigerate. Voila.  

The trail diverges, and Robert Frost must have been with me, because I took the one less traveled, which turned out to be the best decision I'd made in days.  The trail was completely deserted, except for me. As I walked, slightly worried that I might get a sunburn or poison ivy, the whiny conversations in my head started to move somewhere else.  There were still conversations, but they were with myself.  The self that is always there, but sometimes gets buried beneath fears and self-judgement.  I found myself actually seeing and appreciating what was in front of me.  And smiling.  It felt good.  

I realized I was hungry, and started looking for a shady spot on the trail to sit and eat the cheese and tomatoes I'd brought.  I plopped down on the gravel trail, and worked through my stash, hurrying a little at the end because I thought I heard voices from behind me on the trail. I realized I didn't want my solitude to end.  I moved onward, then, through the woods, enjoying the shade and noticing small things, like the tiny lizards that skittered across the trail and back into the grass.  And that's when I realized I was OK again.  The conversations in my head had stopped, or at least faded quietly away into the background, and I was ready to be done.  My pace quickened, as I knew I was close to the end of the trail, which also meant I ran into a whole lot of people again.  But I was smiling at them this time, and saying hello, because I was completely happy to be where I was, right then, at that moment.    

August Prairie Walk

The Book Thief

Sunday was a nice hot day for a book and a movie.  Susan hosted, so of course some of us brought swimsuits to relax in the pool afterwards and chat with our guest reader Lori (and I would be amiss if I didn't thank Miss Claire for giving a couple of us a late-night ride home). This month's book was The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak. Everyone loved both it and the movie, although the movie required TWO passes of the tissue box and another bottle of wine.  The readers thought the way the author had introduced each chapter with a bulleted, brief description of what was going on (not to mention that the narrator is Death) was really novel and contributed to the success of the story.  It was a long book, but an easy read and gave us a different perspective of Hitler's Nazi Germany--one from the German citizens who were not so interested in Hitler's vision and had to struggle through everyday life just to survive (or not).

As usual, the food was phenomenal.  The food hit of the day was authentic onion kuchen, from a recipe Kat found in an old cookbook written by women who had been held in German labor camps during WWII. Other delectable items were challah bread, cucumber-walnut salad, fresh fruit salad, Paul's pasta salad, cole slaw, key lime pie, and snicker doodle cookies. We eat well.

Stay tuned for the next book club installment in September!

Birth of a Book Club

One year, at my annual Christmas gathering, which gets loud and crowded and could be another story unto itself, a somewhat new friend approached me and said she'd been thinking about getting a few women together to start a small book discussion group because she wanted to read more regularly, and would I be interested?  I hugged her on the spot.

And so was born Books, Brains, and Babes. OK, it wasn't really that easy, but we began in January of 2012, and have never looked back.  We began the first year with a rather complicated process of elimination of each reader's 3-5 book suggestions, but then moved to the "everyone gets to choose one book, no whining allowed" policy, which we've stayed with.  Host homes are chosen as schedules permit.  We usually meet monthly on a Sunday afternoon, and it has become one of the most coveted days of the month for most of us.  We set aside all other obligations and prepare a fantastic dish to share.  Someone may bring a personal item that enhances some aspect of the story, or incorporate the book theme into their attire.  The wine flows freely, as do our thoughts and words. We have great discussions, always about the book, and often veer into some other aspect of current events. Sometimes we just listen quietly when the book touched a painful spot for someone.

Although reading is the main focus, we have also incorporated other activities and everyone seems to have found a place to use their talents or amenities.  We have a "secretary" who keeps track of us and our book selections, host homes, and dates.  One book each year earns the "book and a movie" designation, so our host that month is the one with a home theater.  In December, the selected book is usually something short, and spouses are invited to join the discussion.  Then we all sit down to a very special Christmas feast in the beautifully decorated historic home of our host/chef.  And in 2013, we threw our creative and philanthropic hearts into decorating a Christmas tree for a local charity auction.  The decor theme?  Books and reading, of course!  We hand-made almost every ornament, and the tree sold for a lovely amount of money that both shocked and pleased us. 

All the books we've read have been dearly loved by at least a couple of us, enjoyed by most, and rarely despised by anyone.   I will not attempt here to go back and compile a detailed history of our opinions, discussions, recipes, or how many bottles of wine were consumed.  I will, however, list all the books we've read through June of 2014, just so you can see where we've been.  And maybe it will entice you to check back with us once in a while.  Happy reading!

State of Wonder--Ann Patchett
Shanghai Girls--Lisa See
Caleb's Crossing--Geraldine Brooks
Doc--Mary Doria Russell
The Tiger's Wife--Tea Obreht
The Help--Kathryn Stockett (book and a movie)
Water For Elephants--Sara Gruen

The Winter Of Our Discontent--John Steinbeck
Sarah's Key-- Tatiana de Rosnay
Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons--Lora Landvik
Bring Up The Bodies--Hilary Mantel
The Sense Of An Ending--Julian Barnes
The Glass Castle--Jeannette Walls
Daughters Of The Witching Hill--Mary Sharratt
Cutting For Stone--Abraham Verghese
And the Mountains Echoed--Khaled Hosseini
The Power Of Habit--Charles Duhigg
The Hunger Games--Suzanne Collins
Bel Canto--Ann Patchett
Flight Behavior--Barbara Kingsolver
What's The Matter With Kansas--Thomas Frank
Pity The Billionaire--Thomas Frank
Let's Explore Diabetes With Owls--David Sedaris
Unbroken--Laura Hillebrand
The Secret Life Of Bees--Sue Monk Kidd (book and a movie)
Monday Mornings--Sanjay Gupta
People Of The Book--Geraldine Brooks