Sabbath Rest

Many years ago I learned this key lesson: 

When one takes a day of rest, one has a much better week.
Rest, you see, prepares for Purpose.

Hence, even in dissertation mayhem, Sundays are my day to put the word "dissertation" on my uh-uh list.  

On my uh-HUH! list is worship, naps, lunch with friends, 

did I say naps?, and my two favorite monkeys:

Time with them is always refreshing,

 whether we are squeezing 4 million clementines

 into half a cup of juice,

 or blissfully making colorful oobleck.

 [Happy as clams we were, until we realized

 that this beautiful swirl of color,

would dye this one's hands practically permanently blue...]

[Actually, that night falls less under "sabbath" and more under the category of "most stressful night of my life"...thank the Lord for baking soda, lemon juice, and one brave child.]

No matter what we do--

 nail salon,

exercises in making life simpler [?],

 or singing through our books--

when we're together, the result is:

Sabbath in my heart.

Yes, a bit of delirium is good for the soul.

Last evening I called my housemates, I texted Katy.  I said--"I have a free night, and I need a dissertation break.  Dinner?"

They readily agreed.

We put the music on, while I cooked up a storm.  

We shook a little bootie, and laughed over Katy's witty assessment of  my general state of delirium in these dissertation days.

And, I realized:

I needed that.  

The cooking, my girls, the dancing, the laughter, the love.

All in all, we ate like queens, 

as I chattered away like a lively little monkey.  

Delirious I may be,

but happy I was.  

Watch over Tuesday

Allow me to introduce you to my watch.

Most days this watch sits, neglected, in the drawer that holds random accessories of more or less importance to my life.  

In short, I never wear this watch.

Except, that is, for Tuesdays.  

On Tuesdays, I start my day the same as any other day, except--after I help my hair to dry with as little frizz as possible and after I figure out what on earth I'm going to wear--I add to my ensemble this watch.

It serves a purpose, you see, because on Tuesdays, I head out in the mornings to gather with my favorite group of musical babies.  In a giant room stripped of any and all distraction--which would include clocks--we sing and wiggle around with blissful glee until I look at my watch and say--time's up! And then, we sing good-bye.  On Tuesday the watch watches over us and makes sure our fun does not take over our entire lives, as it easily could since--when the time comes--we all agree through a variety of communicative means that we do not want to go.

And then, on Tuesday afternoons, the watch serves the same purpose when one of my piano babies and I work our way through our giant list of things to do, often completely unaware that 30 minutes have indeed passed.  

The watch has become a necessary component of Tuesday.

But on this particular Tuesday, the watch served a further purpose.  This particular Tuesday was a "I am determined to diligently dissertate" Tuesday.  It meant sitting at a table at Wegmans all day, until that watch informed me it was time to leave for that piano baby.

And then, the watch and I returned to Wegmans for more dissertation diligence, until we looked at each other and said:
It's time--

this dissertation baby is going home.  

There are always exceptions to the rule

Once upon a time ago, 

I found this girl sitting in the hallway outside of my classroom, reading Anne of Green Gables, wide eyed and ready to soak in the deep things of life.

Immediately we knew: we had a lot to talk about.

And then, this girl became more than just a student; an exception to the rule, she became a trusted friend.

Life, however, took us in different directions, and gave us three years without even one of those deep conversations we'd come to love.  That would be why when she found herself in my little town,

we knew there needed to be a reunion.  Granting myself an exception to my 'cancel my life in order to graduate" rule, we found ourselves at the local fruit farm, indulging  in equal parts

cozy fire,

delicious food,

and ridiculous laughter-ful fun.

We spent hours that felt like minutes, remembering where we'd been, filling each other in on what we'd missed, and pointing each other toward the deepest truths we'd found along the way.

And, by the end of it, I was reminded of an important rule for living:  Exceptions to the rules should always be allowed.

A Wednesday Hope

[By now, you know I've cancelled my life, and you know the reason why.  Today being Wednesday, reminisce with me.]

At some point over the past year, my darling friend Katy was put on some dietary restrictions that caused her to say:

"How the heck am I supposed to eat?"  

Cooking, you see, was not quite her thing, and a restricted diet meant: You're gonna have to cook.

So, we worked out a plan.  I would send her a recipe that fit her needs, so she could go shopping.  Then, every Wednesday, when I was done with my piano teaching, I'd get myself over to her house, where she'd have all the ingredients waiting, and we would get to cooking.  The point was: 

Let's teach you how to do this, let's take away the mystery.

Since the purpose was for her to learn to cook, and--according to her--for me to learn how to be bossy,

I'd stand around and watch her, telling her what to do.

In this way, we had some quality time,

and I got to eat, 

 pretty dang well.

Week after week, 

our meals were made of delicious, 

thanks to our combined effort.

But then, something strange started happening.

I'd arrive at her house to find she'd found her own recipe and that--without a smidgen of a word from me--

she'd made it.  Deliciously!

Then, the next thing I know, she shows up at my house

 with her very own food processor,

and a slew of fancy ingredients.

There were even rumors that one day she pulled out a frying pan when some friends were over, saying--here, I'll make dinner!

Our Katy, a new woman.

Though we might have had a few mishaps along the way,

[look very closely--what is wrong with this picture?]

my girl learned to cook, with great accomplishment.

So today, on this Wednesday that has me missing what Wednesday used to be, I'm finding some necessary dissertation hope:

When you put in the time, you see results.

Good ones.

A Friday Reminiscence

It's Friday.  

In Pre-'cancelling my life in order to graduate' days, 

Fridays often meant a visit from two of my favorite peeps:

Once a month, Emily and Quint would make their way to my abode, so that Emily and I could have some good talking, before she'd wander off for a voice lesson and Quint and I would have some quality time.

At first,

all he did was sleep,

or want to lay around.

But soon,

he was ready to play and sing and dance.
There were even a lot of sloppy kisses thrown around.

And somewhere along the way, he decided to get helpful.

 He helped me wrap my Christmas gifts, 

 practice my music,

and read about dissertation related things.

In fact,

 he was always very patient when it came to my dissertating,

even offering to fold my laundry on occasion.

And, the last time I saw him?

The boy planned my menu for the week,

 and told me not to worry--

we'll see each other again soon!

Dissertation Love

Remember how I told my friends I'd see them in May?

Canceling my life in order to graduate, I said "please extend as much grace to me as you've got", because

a) I don't have time for you  and b) Even if I see you, I will probably take advantage of you.

You see, I have found that in this season my dissertation brain does not easily allow for fluffy niceties.  It seems that any kind of filter I may have at one time possessed that might have said things like:

"Lauren--you probably should think about how to say that differently"

or even

"Lauren--maybe that's something to keep to yourself"

....is OFF.

It does not seem that dissertation brain allows for social graces.

In fact, my dissertation brain does not seem to allow for a lot of things.  Things like, oh--I don't know--turning the oven on when one is trying to make dinner?  Taking the parking ticket out of the machine when one needs it to get out of the parking garage?

Dissertation brain, in point of fact, is incredibly deceiving.  It allows me to believe with all of my heart that my cell phone has been left at home, while also allowing me to tell people I will call them on my way home anyway--only for me to arrive home in order to find that it had been in my bag the whole time.

And dissertation brain does not seem to discriminate--time of day, type of interaction...doesn't matter.  A struggle, all of it.

And yet? These friends of mine have been remarkably kind.

They have come over to my house

to make me a breakfast of champions.

They have sent food home with me if by chance they know they will run into me,

or have delivered it if they have known they won't.

There has even been an occurrence of grace by one who knows far more than most others the full reality of dissertation brain:

[Housemates, my thanks will never meet your sacrifice.  And, by the way--the coffee grinder does apparently work after all...]

And in the midst of it all, I find that it is awfully freeing--to know that one is loved, no matter one's bad behavior.

Thank you friends.  You do not know how much I need you, nor how much I appreciate you!

Now, back to it.  Where did my computer go?

[:-}]