u s e y o u r h a n d s

About two months ago, I decided to leave my job, where I’ve been for nearly four years. It was more than time. I’m planning on volunteering, gardening, and freelancing (hire me!).

But today was my first day off, my first day of freedom. And on May Day!

I started the day in therapy, which was great. Then Chipotle, which rocked. Then the Homer-Hopper exhibit at the Art Institute, which I really liked, particularly the Hopper bit. Then a Cubs game, where I sat in front of a father and son playing hooky from school and work. Then my first 5k, which I ran all of and finished in 34 minutes.

It was a good, good day. Sigh.

She felt the nail break as she swept her hand over the ground to collect the creeping charlie growing on top of the mulch. The nail, on her ring finger, held on, caked in dirt, broken half-way down. So many of her nails had broken this afternoon. Just that morning, she had held up her hands, fingers splayed, and thought about how pretty and even her nails were.

She pulled the creeping charlie out by its tough root. The weed was a tough customer, but she was tougher indeed. And with each more break, each more wince, she grew stronger and her garden grew lovelier.

It’s been a long week in a longer month in the longest year. But the best part of my week was remembering how wonderful some people in my life are and what complete crap some people who need to leave my life are. And that contrast has been so severe, so stark as to make me totally reevaluate a lot of stuff.

I’m exhausted! And it’s Sunday. But there’s a blueberry-ginger granita in my fridge and great pictures on my camera waiting to go on Flickr. Things could be a lot worse!

Why is it that I can always tell that it’s going to rain, but never have an umbrella? At least I’m okay getting wet and knowing that soon, I’ll be dry again. You’d think, though, that nearly three decades of this would mean that I’d have an umbrella in every bag, every drawer. But no.

The last time I bought an umbrella, a few months ago, was a disaster. I ended up tripping on the sidewalk, scraping my knee, and breaking the umbrella. And because I like to draw conclusions, the one I drew that night, laughing on my back on the damp concrete, was that of course I fell because of the umbrella. And that it’s best to know of the dangers ahead, to watch out for them with open eyes and empty hands rather than dry hair and distraction.

Or maybe I should just buy an umbrella, pay attention, and stop talking to myself so much. Whatever.

Yesterday, I walked over to pick up the box of organic vegetables that we purchased via subscription. And it’s not an inconsequential walk. But I had my iPod and my phone and good new music. I grabbed the box, which had to weigh a good 20 lbs., and walk a few blocks to the train station. And then nearly a mile home. With this burden in my hands, on my hip, on my shoulder.

When I finally set the box down, I nearly wept with relief.

Dear Shylo’s Hair, I love you. You are very soft and very pretty.

Dear Shylo’s Skin, Get along better with her sunblock.

Dear Shylo’s Feet, Carry her further and faster.

Dear Shylo’s Paws, Thanks for toughing it out on the bike.

Dear Shylo’s Stomach, Enough with the hummus already.

Dear Shylo, I’m very pleased with you.

My new thing is to ask both myself and others, “What’s the best thing that happened today?” I think it helps cease complaints and reframe your day. And it works, mostly. But of course there are the days that finding even one good thing is a struggle. And on those days, I reach into my desk for a fancy bag of fancy chocolate and break off a square. That bag, just its existence, makes me happy because I know that it’s a ready-made answer to my daily question.

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