Bucket List Moment

Wednesday was the last day of school. Huzzah, it is truly summertime now! I know this because the weather is hot, the flowers are blooming, I'm off work, but also because every single time I lie down on the couch I fall dead asleep for at least an hour. My body knows it's time to recharge and rejuvenate.

This past week or so has been the Jazz Festival here in Rochester, which is an amazing event that we don't take advantage of nearly enough. We actually had one of our first dates at the festival, 13 years ago -- we went to see Susan Tedeschi and Etta James in the same venue where we saw someone totally different on Wednesday night. It was a night of good music, and new-date-hand-holding that makes you all squishy inside.

I was listening to NPR on my way into school the week before this one, and they said that JEFF GOLDBLUM was here, playing the Jazz Festival, and that he had a new record released: Jeff Goldblum and the Mildred Snitzer Orchestra, the Capitol Studio Sessions. Because he's a jazz piano player, and unbeknownst to me, he's been playing a regular gig in L.A. for 20 years, but now he's touring. Also, have I mentioned how much I LOVE JEFF GOLDBLUM?

He may be 66 and married (to a 35 year old former Olympic gymnast no less) with two small children, and he's a famous person, a movie star, but he's also someone that I have pined after for DECADES.

His portrayal of Dr. Ian Malcolm in Jurassic Park clinched it for me, because he was smart, and sexy, and weird, and a little bit of a dick (unfortunately, that was a thing I was into at the time). God that was sexy. And then Independence Day --  he was smart, and sexy, and science-y, and NOT a jerkface... Ahhhhhh.

My first boyfriend in college, who was my first serious long-term boyfriend, had a real problem with the fact that I found Jeff Goldblum sexy. He was horrified. He said, "But have you seen The Fly?" How can you find THE FLY sexy?"

I hadn't seen The Fly.

So we watched it, and when he's at his grossest, face-peeling off, recently-vomited-on-someone's-arm-and-then-ate-it worst, he turned to me and said, "Is he sexy now? How's he NOW???" which was definitely bizarre and also hilarious, because I am not crushing on THE FLY, I am crushing on the hot, sexy, smart actor who PLAYS the Fly. Duh. This had nothing to do with why we broke up eventually, but it should have.

Anyway, my lust for Mr. Goldblum became a bit of a punchline to my college friends, who didn't appreciate his quirky charm (and hot lanky body) quite as much as I did. But this past birthday, one of my friends gifted me with a Jeff Goldblum mermaid pillow -- I was just thrilled to have a mermaid pillow (those sequins that flip and are ridiculously tactile), but then she told me to flip it down AND HOLY CROW THERE WAS THAT SEXY MAN'S FACE!

Then, to find out just a month and change later that he was HERE, in my hometown, and there were still tickets available? I was giddy. At dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant last Friday, I shared this info with Bryce, and he MADE IT HAPPEN. We got tickets. In the orchestra section. Now there is a man who is confident in the fact that I find HIM sexier than Jeff Goldblum, that my celebrity crush does not mean anything for my attraction to him, at all. (Doesn't hurt that Bryce is also tall, lanky, science-y, smart, quirky, and sexy... albeit in a different way than Jeff...)

The concert was the last day of school, and I got all gussied up and we ate a quick dinner and made our way to the venue, 10-15 minutes early. Oh man, I wish I had known that he does an audience-meet-and-greet thing for about 30 minutes before shows, and people were getting selfies with him and he was doing question-answer stuff, and signing things... Once I realized that's what was happening we were trapped in the middle of a row and I didn't feel I could get up to run up to the stage and be embarrassing.

Because in my purse, I packed the tickets, and...

Oh, is that a hint of mermaid you see? YES, YES IT IS! My friend told me the good news that the pillow was a pillow cover, and I could take it off and fold it in my bag! With a sharpie! I was on a mission.

The show was great -- he is SO personable, and stopped to talk with the audience (some might say more than he played), and did some interactive stuff, and played jazz with those sexy long fingered hands... but I couldn't seem to get my pillow in his face. I am actually very shy in public situations, which is a weird paradox because if I'm comfortable with you, shy is the LAST adjective you'd use to describe me. I couldn't bring myself to yell or shake my pillowcase in the air until the end, and he didn't see it. I felt a bit deflated.

But then, we left, and I asked if we could go around back. Because I had a feeling that he would be leaving out the back and there might be one more opportunity to meet the man. We turned the corner to the back entrance in an alleyway behind Eastman Theater, and there was a semicircle of fans clutching various things for him to sign. JACKPOT!

We waited probably 20 minutes at least, with manager-looking people coming out and scoping the crowd and then going back in (which was torturous), and then his band members started to come out. We clapped and hooted for them, too, because people in Rochester are generally nice and appreciative (or at least this group was!). And then... he came out! The semicircle swooped in, and Bryce helped me be a bit more assertive, keeping his camera out so I could clutch onto my sequined pillowcase and slide my way forward.

So close yet so far away....

Gaah, closer! 

That's the back of my head with the shadow of Bryce's phone on it, I am so close but his manager's getting twitchy and he started saying "Oh, I need to go soon," and I wanted to shout, "MUST GO FASTER!" 

I made it! That lovely police officer behind me helped me get his attention (it pays to be nice and not weird, although I was totally weird)... I did show him that his face was on the front, but still on  Facebook people thought I handed him a couch cushion... :) 

JACKPOT! Mission Accomplished! 

Holy holy guacamole! I may have been creepily touching his arm and then I KISSED him on the cheek! The sexy sexy cheek!

Super blurry, but you can still tell it's me and it's him and he did not mind that I smooched him at all! 

So, I may have, in the middle of invading his personal space, MEANT to say, "Meeting you is on my bucket list!"

Instead, what did I say?  "YOU are on my bucket list!"

Which, honestly, is probably more accurate. Ha.

It was fantastic. I was thrilled, Bryce was thrilled for me (again, secure in the fact that THIS IS A MARRIED CELEBRITY AND THIS IS ALL FUN FANGIRL SHIT, AND NOT A THREAT TO HIM WHATSOEVER...), and so excited that he could make the evening happen.

And now, I have this:

He was clearly rushed, as this looks like some kind of brushstroke character, but I can make out the J and the separated F and "Glm," and I have picture proof, so it's now a(n even more) prized possession!

Ahhhh. Perseverance for the win. What a great start to my summer!

Every Year I Say Goodbye

The end of the school year is a strange and emotional time. There is a relief that comes with it -- summer is almost here (teachers have 5 more days after students are done) and I've survived another year in a profession that I love, but that takes all you have to give and then some. Summer is a necessary benefit, to un-husk yourself and build your stores back up so you can give it all to a new group of kids.

This year was challenging for a variety of reasons, but it was memorable and many of my students ended the year in a better place than where they started.

It was a year where a student said the most hurtful thing to me they could, but then grew into a better human. (Seriously...a student said to me, "You don't have kids, you're NEVER going to have kids," and I did not try to hide the fact that it made me cry so that I could show him the impact words can have on another human, and I told him just how painful it was to have that not work out and to lose that dream, and he was visibly shaken up by it but he NEVER said anything like that to me again, and he chose a hug instead of a high five at the end of the year. WIN.)

It was a year where a Mrs. T fan club sprouted in Math class, and I had a group of young women who decided on things to sell in my name (Mrs. T piranhas, Mrs. T gluten free bagels, Mrs. T jetpacks) in dry erase marker all over the white board. Random children came up to me in the hall to ask, "What's up with the Mrs. T stuff all over the board?" They sent me off to my medical leave with a large display of Mrs. T wares, and on the last day of school they requested a picture and one of the pieces of swag on the board was "Mrs. T Sadness."

I gave an award at the Eighth Grade Award Ceremony, and for the first time I can remember, when I went up to the podium a bunch of kids clapped and hooted "Mrs. T!"

A student who I ate lunch with occasionally gave me one of her art projects, a ceramic avocado mug (regular mug shape, but with avocado skin-color-and-texture outside and creamy green inside), and surprised me with a handwritten letter on my desk about how much she appreciated our talks and my awkwardness and how she was worried about me falling since I'm so klutzy and that she was going to miss me. Then she and her friend got me amazing Harry Potter sticky note bookmarks, and a 9 3/4 pin plus an "I'd rather be a mermaid" pin to commemorate my favorite embarrassing story from 6th grade (that I will tell another time, but it involves wearing a swimsuit in front of the class).

I signed a gazillion yearbooks, some with my own Mrs. T products depicted in them.

In an effort to get to the end of World War II in my self-contained Social Studies Class, we worked ALL THE WAY to the last day of school on research poster projects and a gallery walk, and when one student complained that "You are the ONLY ONE doing work anymore, you know that? EVERYONE ELSE is watching movies and you are making us work!" and when I said, "Yeah, I know... but it's because it's good for your brain and I LOOOOOOOOVE YOOOOOU," while reaching my arms out, he smiled and said, "I know," and gave me a hug. A HUG! From an 8th grade boy pissed that we were still working!

Another student in my social studies class was thrilled when I showed her a picture of horses in my neighborhood and told her I wasn't scared of them anymore (at the beginning of the year I shared that I was terrified of horses close up because they are hairy and ginormous, not realizing that horses are her #1 special interest and it was so upsetting to her that I had to change one of my truths in 3 truths and a lie). She asked, "Do you think I helped you get over your fear of horses?" and I said "Absolutely!" (even though if I'm hiking and a horse comes on the trail it will probably still terrify me). Then she suggested I get riding lessons over the summer, because when you're riding a horse YOU are the tallest one, and I laughed and applauded her logic, but said "Let's not get crazy now!"

I made cards for all my Resource students, with a personal letter on the back about what I loved about them and what I was proud of and how I can't wait to hear about their amazing futures, and a hand-picked quote on the front.  Every single student looked touched and said THANK YOU, even ones who were super surly earlier in the year and wouldn't get caught doing something emotional/touchy-feely. I got a hug that I feared was going to make me wheelchair bound from one young man who I swear, had we been able to have biological children, would have been like what I imagined my son to be. Every so often I have these children who make me feel that way, and it is bittersweet.

Through all this, I feel so very fortunate to have this career that I love and that loves me back. I may not have children, but all of these children are a little bit (and some a lot a bit) mine, for a year. I take classroom climate super seriously and want students to know that I love them, no matter what, even when they are acting in very unlovable ways (that's usually when they need the love the most). The end of the year marks a weird Groundhog Day empty-nest moment -- they leave, a piece of my heart leaves with them, and then I get an all new group to love and nurture and help to become better humans, next September. It's an emptying and a filling on a yearly cycle.

It's always hard to say goodbye, but now I go to graduation so I know I'll see most of them again, and they really do come back and visit. Teaching is a hard job, but a beautifully rewarding one.

#Microblog Monday: Father's Day

Yesterday was Father's Day, and since we had our local Father's Day event with my stepfather on Saturday, we had the day to ourselves -- out-of-town Dad phone calls but no physical obligations.

The day was supposed to be a sort of work day, with Bryce catching up on PhD work and me taking some time to get ready for the last three days (!) of school with students, and maybe a walk and some reading along the way.

Maebe, though, had other plans. She is still adorable, still a sweet old dame, but she is struggling to adjust and Lucky is making it very, very difficult. He stalks her and terrorizes her constantly, and she seems to always be running and hiding (although it has gotten marginally better this past week). But, we noticed that her litter was tracking and there were little litter footprints, so we switched to a corn-based no-dust litter and it stopped for a while, but then Sunday...SUNDAY.

She'd peed outside the litterbox, on the little mat and on the floor and we realized that the footprints were because she was peeing a bit on the litter-tracking mat, which was really gross. And the floor sustained some damage, which was really sad.

So Bryce had to go to Home Depot, and then pick us up lunch at Chipotle, while I watched Maebe as we figured out a solution to this litterbox problem -- a washing-machine tray meant to catch water leaks, that the litterbox could sit in and provide protection for our lovely, yet vulnerable, hardwood floors.

Oh, no: I sent Bryce to Home Depot. ON FATHER'S DAY. (Worse even than my having to go to Wegman's on Mother's Day morning to get brunch supplies!)

That part didn't bother him as much, though. It was when the guy at Chipotle asked him if he was bringing lunch back for his kids, and Bryce said he didn't have kids, and then the guy said, "But it's Father's Day! No kids? Not even any little nieces or nephews?"

Nope.

"Oh man, that sounds SO LONELY! I'm sorry, man."

Bryce was so bothered by that -- he came back and was like, "OUR LIFE IS NOT LONELY! We don't have a sad, empty, lonely life at all, but that guy totally felt SORRY for me because we don't have kids! Why don't people get that we don't have kids, but our life is not empty and lonely?"

Great question.

Want to read more #Microblog Mondays? Go here and enjoy! 

#Microblog Mondays: That's What Fear Is

 Last Sunday, Bryce asked me to come out to see something in my garden, and so I put on my flip flops and went out, fully expecting the deer to have devoured something they shouldn't have. He kept looking at the sky, and when we rounded the corner to my garden, there was a redwing blackbird noisily squawking at us.

"There it is, watch it! It was flying back and forth in the trees when I was working at the mailbox!" (Our mailbox got taken out by the lawn guys, so they came back to fix it but the cement needed to cure overnight so the last bit was Bryce's to take care of.)

"Yeah...cool," I said, mostly thankful that the deer hadn't touched anything pretty.

I went to go back inside, and the bird squawked louder, and flew from tree to tree as I went down the driveway.

AND THEN THE DAMN THING STARTED DIVEBOMBING MY HEAD, and I completely freaked out and started to run. But it was that panicked, off-balance run where you can feel yourself tipping forward awkwardly and you just know... you're going DOWN.

I was out of sight from Bryce, and he thought I was laughing (I was crying and clutching my arm, which thankfully wasn't broken but was very, very bruised up), but then came to help me up as I sobbed in embarrassment, pain, and fear.

"It would have hurt less if you'd let the bird peck you!" he said.

True, true, but as it was coming a foot from my head, all I could see was it getting tangled in my hair, or landing on my glasses and pecking at my eyes, and everything was all Alfred Hitchcock inspired and I was certain they were all going to turn on me and I'd be a pile of shreds and feathers before anyone could stop the horror.

So I ran.

And Bryce tended to my wounds but then said, "that was a crazy reaction -- it was a little bird! That's so irrational." (Okay, Spock.)

That's where I said, "But THAT'S WHAT FEAR IS!" It's irrational, but no less scary! It's like freaking out at a tiny spider that can literally do you no harm, it's being afraid of swimming in the ocean even though you're more likely to get hit by lightning then munched on by a shark, it's being worried about killers getting in your house and so you double check all the windows and doors to make sure they're locked even when you have an alarm system... all of it has at least a little bit of irrational!"

And then I thought about all the times that I was afraid and I wasn't really in any danger, but it still felt terrifying. Exploring the resolution of living childfree not by choice was definitely one of them -- I was so afraid at the possibility of living a life without children that I was willing to throw myself facefirst on the driveway to avoid that flappy, screechy specter. I drove myself into the ground. It's easy to say now that it shouldn't have been so scary, because I know I'm okay now and I'm past the horribly-raw-howling-with-loss part, but to even ENTERTAIN the idea that I could stop the quest and start living life was every bit as scary as an attacking territorial bird swooping at my head. More so, probably. Like a shark with wings coming at me while I'm standing in a pit of spiders.

Fear is a good thing, to a point -- it's a survival skill and you can do some really dumb shit if you aren't afraid of anything. But that paralyzing, fall-on-your-face fear? While it is by definition irrational, it helps to reflect back on it and realize that some things aren't as scary in the rearview as you thought when they were flying at your head.

Want to read more #Microblog Mondays? Go here and enjoy! 

#Microblog Mondays: Starting Over

I really, really miss my gardens -- the chaos, the profusion of flowers and colors and butterflies, the beautiful mature (but never ever "finished") beds.

Hey, flowerbabies...I miss you!

Here at the new house, I had to put most of my energy into the deck container plantings, because that's where we spend the most time, and because I sort of want to see what exists as is for a year season first half of the growing season.

Some of the deck containers

So far, it looks like that's a whole lot of garlic mustard (invasive NY weed), autumn olive (invasive NY shrub), honeysuckle (invasive NY shrub), dandelions, sneezeweed, and a tiny smattering of fun surprises (mostly daffodils and our amazing magnolia tree).

So, I planted a garden in the corner by the road, even though I can't see it from the house. It makes me happy to plant something that I'll see every time I come home, and that will add beauty to the neighborhood. Eventually.

Man I wish our address was Peepers Hollow!

This was at least THREE wheelbarrows full of sod that I dug up with a spade and pulled by hand (more lovely dark dirt to come and real edging). There's two false indigo, three veronicastrum, two sea hollies, three foxglove, and two black eyed susan vines that will eventually cover the tuteur in the middle. I can't help but think it looks like a pet cemetery. Going in this week are purple and rose salvia, orange and yellow hummingbird mint, purple coneflowers, and Moonbeam coreopsis. 

It is easy to forget that my gardens before were a product of at least TWELVE YEARS of sweat, muddy knees, and hours out in the garden. In the beginning, they weren't much bigger than my new little corner plot. They were just as sparse. It takes time for beds to fill in, for the trial and error of plant selection and soil amendment and watering and deer resistance to result in an explosion of color and textures.

It doesn't happen overnight. Kind of like healing from loss, you want it to just POOF be healed, but it takes time for things to take root and multiply and become the garden you want it to be. It takes time to heal from wounds of the heart and soul, and like my garden, there's always work to do, things to tweak, plants that don't work out and need to be replaced. And in this garden, rocks that need to be dug up and that are a pain in the tuchus, but that you can use as makeshift edging.

I'm excited for the opportunity to go through the process of creating all new garden spaces, little by little, and to see how they will evolve and grow over time.

Want to read more #Microblog Mondays? Go here and enjoy!

700 Posts: A Love Letter to My Life

This, right here, is my 700th post. SEVEN HUNDRED. That's crazy.

When I started this blog, I was so hopeful that what we wanted and saw other people achieving would be our ultimate takeaway. The title says it all, "My Path to Mommyhood." It wasn't "My Path Through IVF Failure, Ectopic Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Not Getting Chosen By Expectant Parents, Having A Breakdown, and Ending Up Not Parenting." That would have been lengthy, and depressing. (The title is misleading now, though...I need to figure out how to change it.)

I started this post by going back through old posts and reading to see what it was like at the start versus now.

I stopped at 2011, one year into blogging. In just one year I saw the hopefulness and certainty that it was just a matter of time grind to a horrible halt when we had our first pregnancy end in an ectopic that needed to be surgically removed, and then failure after that.

I realized, I don't want to go back and read through all of the pain I went through right now. I don't want to see the gradual loss of innocence and insistence that THIS time would be the time, through all that we went through. I don't want to go back and experience all that again -- it was starting to make me sad, and 700 posts later I do NOT feel like being sad in this moment.

Right now, Bryce is out on our deck, grilling up some bratwurst for our Memorial Day party of two (yes, I realize it's almost 10 pm, but we had sundaes out after a long sweaty walk today and then I gardened more and we are terrible at eating at a decent time, so thank goodness we have tomorrow off!). We had a beautiful day in what is now our truly beautiful life.

THAT is what I want to take away from 700 posts. That there was so, so much pain. So much uncertainty and seemingly forever cursed circumstances. An endless parade of watching other people achieve what we could not through a variety of means, and feeling so awful and empty as everyone else's life went on and we were stuck in the same old place.

BUT NO MORE! I can honestly say that the power of resolution is awe-inspiring. To no longer be in limbo, to live our life for what we experience NOW and what is, and not the wisp of what we strove for, fruitlessly... it is glorious. I wish I could go back and tell myself that everything was going to be okay, more than okay, just not how I'd hoped, originally.

I wish I could go back, a sort of Ghost of Resolution Future, and whisper in my ear as I mourned our losses of so many flavors:

You are going to LOVE your life. You are going to be able to move forward from all this, and even though it seems completely foreign and scary now, not parenting will not be the horror show you think it will be. You will have your amazing husband, and a beautiful house, and a great job, and end each day just so freaking GRATEFUL for the life that you have. Not what could have been, but what is... RIGHT NOW. You, my dear, YOU are one of the lucky ones. 

I really feel that way. It was a long, long road to get here.

But man, am I grateful to have survived all that and landed here.

Thank you for traveling with me.

Sunset from our deck tonight

Bryce looking out over the backyard earlier today

View out my office window

My cozy office, and an amazing mermaid pillow featuring Jeff Goldblum's face, a birthday prize from a friend. Nevermind the packing tape on the chaise lounge in a futile attempt to get Lucky not to scratch it. 

Fire table out on the other side of the deck

The world's most prolific magnolia tree, a few weeks ago, and our house on the hill

The last picture I have of us post-surgery, with my silver highlights, and Bryce's burly beard (he's trimmed it since)

#Microblog Mondays: A New Family Member

We have a new kitty!

Meet Maebe, our sweet older girl who we adopted May 3rd after meeting her the day before at our local Human Society shelter. She is slowly adjusting to our home -- she's a bit skittish and Lucky seems to be enjoying terrorizing her just a LITTLE too much. They are both 12 years old, but Maebe is more of a sweet old biddy, and Lucky is still a frat boy at heart and wants to haze the crap out of her. She is pretty confident with the bedroom level of the house, and we'll find her in the shower or in our bedroom when she's not in the guest room, which is hers, but she has only come downstairs of her own volition once (and we've sort of forced the issue a few times to try to get her to be a little more comfortable).

Making her way downstairs...

The one time she made it on her own! (So far...)

We were looking to adopt an older cat, more like 5-8, but she just loved on us and we knew we could give her what she needed. Because, she is a bit of a fragile flower... in addition to being 12, which is considered "senior" and not quite "geriatric," she has a low-grade heart murmur and an old left hip injury (although she's super agile), and we found out at her first vet appointment that she has concerningly high blood pressure (so she's on meds like we are, ha ha). Thank goodness it's apparently thyroid and not heart failure, which was a possibility.

Making herself cozy at the vet's

Anyway, welcome Maebe...cross your fingers that she and Lucky learn to be at least peaceable if not buddies soon, and she gets brave enough to explore the rest of the house and hang out on the couch.

Lucky, stalking her like a tree leopard

Playful girl chasing ribbon

I love my new home! (Also, the receiving blanket is perfect for new kitties...)

Want to read more #Microblog Mondays? Go here and enjoy!