Archives for November 2018

Gratitude and Garlic Mashed Potatoes

November 22, 2018 By Kathie Z

It’s Thanksgiving morning and I’m enjoying the special quiet that comes with being the only one awake. Even the dog, snuggled up close is snoozing.

While I enjoy my second cup of coffee, I can’t help but reflect, count myself among the blessed. Both of my children are home. All are well in our house.

In a few hours, the four of us will be heading to my parents’ house for a day-long feast. We’ll join my parents, siblings, their spouses and children. We will assemble as a family (minus my brother and sister-in-law, my nieces and nephew) once again. It will be a long, noisy day, so for the moment I’m enjoying my solitude. Bathing in the quiet. Feeling grateful.

Grateful for the family I will see today. Grateful for the family who will be celebrating with others. Grateful for the friends near and far. Grateful for the love that connects us all.

If I were to continue listing all of the people and things to be grateful for this year, I’d stay in this space for who knows how long? And the mashed potatoes, my contribution to our family feast wouldn’t get made. Aside from my daughters’ amazing scratch made pies and pumpkin cheesecake, my mother (with great help from my sister) insists on making everything herself. Except for the mashed potatoes. My mashed potatoes. Which are actually smashed with garlic. Which have grown in quantity from three pounds to five.

This year there will be some empty chairs. And we’ll miss those absent. A lot. But we’ll still feel grateful. Grateful for each other. Grateful for the amazing food. Grateful for…

Because like garlic smashed potatoes, you can never have too much gratitude.

©Kathie Z.

NO-vember Challenges

November 9, 2018 By Kathie Z

It’s November. The month that makes me freak out a little. The hours of sunlight shorten. The to-dos seem to grow like gremlins fed after midnight. And my enemy perfection tries to creep its ugly little self back into my being in teeny-tiny ways.

In November, life seems to speed up for me. There’s so much to do in the 30 days that are already flying by. So much to accomplish.

Somehow November has shifted from a lull between back to school and winter holidays to an amped-up take the challenge month. The challenge to do, more be more. Now! In the past few days, I’ve received emails and messages encouraging me to jump in; amp up my gratitude practice, up my exercise routine, get that novel written. Instead of inspired, I’m feeling exhausted. Tempted to throw the blankets over my head and say, “wake me in January.”

November has always been a stress trigger for me. It starts with my husband’s birthday, the official start to the holiday season for our family. For as long as I’ve known him, November has been “birthday month.” From the first dinner served on the red birthday plate at his dad’s house to the annual attempt at recreating Grandma Ellie’s famous seven layer cake at his mom’s, the birthday expectation was set. And the pressure I’ve felt to deliver for his birthday hasn’t dissipated in the nearly three decades we’ve been together. Although, full disclosure: he’s always been happy with whatever or nothing at all, wrapped up prettily or handed over in the crinkly bag from the store.

This year is different, though. It’s the first he’ll be celebrating without either of his parents. Which is difficult.

The girls and I have decided to try to reinvent “birthday month” with small gestures to fill the void. And it’s been a challenge. And that got me thinking, reflecting. It has been one challenging year already. I simply have no more room on my plate.

So I’ve made the bold decision to say NO, declare this month NO-vember. Because I am choosing to say no, thank you. To each and every tempting challenge. I’d love to, but I simply can’t right now. Won’t.

Life has shown me that challenges will continue presenting themselves. Similarly, there will always be opportunities for improvement, invitations to do more, be more. But for now, I’m doing enough. I am enough. And I’m succeeding. (In a messy, imperfect, doing the best I can kind of way).

Because in spite of everything, I’m still acutely aware of the things that are good. And I’m grateful.

To all of you invested in November challenges, I wish you the best of luck. Sincerely. I’ll catch you next time. Maybe.

©Kathie Z.

A Walk in the Woods

November 3, 2018 By Kathie Z

Sometimes we just need a break. I came to this epiphany following quite a week. Personally and professionally, it had been. A. Week. Busy, busy, busy. And utterly exhausting.

Work-wise, it was conference week. Three days of meetings to discuss achievement, concerns, and set goals. Sandwiched around an abbreviated teaching day (in which we try to accomplish some serious learning).

I truly enjoy parent-teacher conferences. Each meeting is an opportunity to sit with the most invested stakeholders, the parents, and be reminded we’re in this together. All of us sitting at the table want the same thing; the best year for the child. As our 20 minute meeting progresses, the love parents feel for their children fills the room. I’m reminded of precisely why I’ve chosen this career.

During my last conference of day two, my cell phone rang. The parent asked if I needed to get the phone, her conference had run long. “No,” I said. It could wait. When I checked my phone, I saw my younger daughter had called. Needless to say, her calling mid-week is out of the ordinary. She’s our Friday night or Saturday morning caller. Nothing more than a texter mid-week.

I called my daughter back the moment the parent left. She was upset. She’d had an accident, was injured. The university doctor said a week away from school would be the best thing for her healing.

She’d been in a car accident in high school and suffered a horrible injury. I knew the importance of swift treatment. I shifted from teacher to parent, went into action mode. We needed to get our kid home as soon as possible, have her seen by her primary doctor. The following 24 hours were a whirlwind. After a jam-packed day of work, my husband and I made the 500 mile trip to fetch our daughter and bring her home to start the healing process.

Our doctor confirmed what the university doctor had said. She needed rest. And nothing else. No screens or media were permitted. No television watching, no book reading, no podcast or music listening. She needed quiet rest. While she napped and snuggled with the dog, I cleaned, did laundry and tried to stay quiet.

Outside our cozy little house, it was storming. I was beginning to feel dark, unsettled like the weather.

I tried to stay quietly busy. I roasted a chicken, filled the house with the comforting smells of home. We carved pumpkins to place on the stoop to welcome trick or treaters. But still, I felt less than great.

Sunday morning the sun rose and the yellow leaves swayed in the breeze. The outside was calling.

“We should forest bathe,” I said to my daughter.

“What?” she asked.

“Go for a walk in the woods,” I clarified. “Take a hike.”

“Definitely,” she agreed.

We loaded the dog into the car and headed for woods. It had been a few years since we’d hiked here, a favorite from days ago when the kids were small, the dog was a puppy. As we made our way onto the path, my daughter and I chatted, reminisced about time spent here with friends. We took in the beauty of the woods, noticed the loamy soil below our feet.

A happy kindness rock we found beside the path.

We made our way along the familiar path. Out of nowhere, an enormous Labrador came barreling towards us, barking, tail wagging. “He’s friendly,” a woman called, running to catch up. We introduced our dogs, chatted for a moment then continued on our walks.

With each step, my tension dissipated, was replaced with feelings of peace. And a true sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the beauty of nature, the opportunity to get away from it all minutes from my house, the gift of walking with my nearly grown daughter and just be. In the company of nature and other solace seekers.

As we made our way around the trail, a bright object caught my eye. Then another. Hand painted kindness rocks children had left beside the path. Pink and orange and purple reminders of goodness. Hope. Optimism. Healing.

The rocks decorated with fluorescent paint and children’s handwriting shifted our moods, buoyed us. We made our way back towards the road, met another dog walker. “Is he friendly?” the man called. “He is,” I shouted back. Once again, dog introductions were made, wishes for a good walk exchanged.

And just like that, the magic of the woods had shifted everything. I was reminded of the gifts of quiet, connection, and gratitude available to each of us.

Archives for November 2018

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