SOLSC '26 Day Eight: To and from the loo

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

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SOLSC '26 Day Seven: Walking the aisles

 

Thirty-one walks,  thirty-one posts.

"Come shopping with me,  so you can get your stuff," my husband said. I was in a bad mood, because I couldn't find a gift card I wanted to use at Hallmark; the last thing I wanted to do was go to the grocery store.  I had a library book on hold that needed to be picked up and his birthday cards and gift to buy.  His birthday is on Friday, and there's a good chance I still won't be able to drive then.

"Fine," I said, "but we need to be back by three. I have things to do, the kids are going to a movie, and Dexter shouldn't be left alone."

(Dexter is our granddog; our daughter is visiting for the weekend,  helping me celebrate my birthday and prep a bit for my upcoming surgery.)

So I went to the grocery store. I spent way too much time trying to decide on which feminine hygiene product to buy; it's been twelve years since I had to visit that aisle. A new toothbrush was easier to locate. The body wipes, not so much, but we eventually saw them on a top shelf.  

I hurried through the frozen foods and grabbed the microwave meals I had on the shopping list.  I hardly ever eat those, but I can't see myself cooking this coming week.  A box of brown sugar Pop-Tarts found its way into the cart, a post-op reward.  (Okay, maybe a pre-op treat, too.)

My husband continued shopping for the usual groceries while I headed to the cereal aisle for a couple of high-fiber choices.  Gotta keep things moving after anesthesia and pain meds!  Soup aisle was next, for some more easy meals.  A tray of pre-sliced cheese squares to go with crackers was on my list, too.

I gave my husband the twenty minute warning as we entered the produce section.  By this time, I was feeling overstimulated and exhausted by decision making, so I stayed with the cart and pushed it from aisle to aisle,  zoning out until the fruit and veggies were chosen.

The Universe must have been witnessing my discomfort--my husband spotted a register with only one cart checking out, and they were almost done. We were out of the store and home right at three o'clock.

After all that aisle-walking, I  was tired...and fell asleep sitting up on the couch, Dexter snuggled next to me.

SOLSC '26 Day Six: Seven-thirty p.m.

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

It only takes the creation of sub plans for an educator to realize just how much work they really do.  I've spent the better part of the last week preparing to be away from my circulation desk not for a day, but for three weeks. 

A full month, really, with Spring Break thrown into the mix. A month with book orders due, a quarterly snapshot, finances to balance, and two different schedules to juggle. I'm missing a district reading event, my last before I retire.  

To plan for these weeks, I've been working late almost every night. Tonight I finally walked out the door at seven-thirty. Sub plans are made and shared. Negatives are cleared from the finances. The quarterly snapshot is done and in the queue, read-alouds are labeled and next to the reading chair. My desk is cleared...well, somewhat clear.

I've never taken this much time off from work. It felt weird walking out of the library this evening,  knowing that I won't be back until April sixth at the earliest. 

I guess I could consider this a trial run for my retirement. 

SOLSC '26 Day Five: Last trimester

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

I walked into my last trimester today.

Okay, maybe I will get lucky and live a few years beyond ninety like most of my grandparents.  But I doubt I 'll hit a hundred and twenty, so let me restate.

I walked into my last full trimester today.

If you've followed this blog from the beginning,  you know its name comes from my mother's untimely passing from ALS.  She didn't make it to her third trimester. As of today, I'm gifted with nine more years than she got to experience life. Nine more years with my husband and children. Nine more years to grow and learn and serve and love. Nine more years of sunrises and sunsets, hugs and kisses, sights and sounds. 

Nine more years of learning who I am and who I want to be. 

Sixty is starting off with some health challenges,  but they are manageable and will be overcome within a month, I hope.

Sixty will be discovering who I am beyond the labels of teacher and school librarian, reigniting my sense of purpose and service in a new work environment. 

Sixty will hopefully remember how to play, even while working.

Sixty will be more careful choosing when and where I expend my time, money, and energy.

Sixty will be taking more walks, and not just from home to car to work to car to home, like today, because Sixty is tired of sixty hour workweek.

Do you think of your life in trimesters? Do you measure by years, or are there different markers?  Which one are you in? What are you looking forward to being and doing in the last trimester of your life?

SOLSC'26 Day Four: Too many tabs

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

I work with very kind colleagues,  the kind that ask "How are you doing?" when passing in the hall or through the library. 

My most common answer these past two weeks has been "I have too many tabs open", tapping my head.  They nod in solidarity.  It seems as soon as one task or reminder is completed,  two more replace it.

• Lesson plans
• Sub plans for three weeks
• Pre-op appointments 
• Bills to pay
• Gifts to buy
• Reading contest details
• Pre-op instructions
• T-shirts to decorate
• Financial tasks to wrap up
• Email reminders to schedule
• Morning broadcasts for next week
• Housecleaning to do
• My surgery on Monday
• Stuff to bring home
• Getting my bloodshot eyes looked at
• Whether or not I have time to polish my nails 
• Newsletters to write and schedule 
• And oh, turning sixty tomorrow. 

My walks today at work were around the library and to and from a portable to assist with a math class.  After work, they were in and out of my car and the optometrist's office, grocery store, and birdseed store.  At home, I watered my plants on the front porch and counted six junebugs who obviously didn't see "March" on the calendar, crawling and flailing by our front door.

I thought I could get rid of at least three tabs tonight. I'll have to settle for one or two, and hope to be in bed before eleven pm.

SOLSC '26 Day Three: Worm Moon

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

Tonight's walk was a short one: out the front door, around the side of the house, and into the backyard. 

My steps were cautious.  Our yard is anything but level, with swells and divots from burrowing insects and the roots of long-dead-and-gone trees.  Hazardous in daylight, doubly so in the dark.

I paused and looked to the night sky, focusing on the full moon just rising through the trees.

Photo by Christine Margocs,  3.3.26.

Under the light of the Worm Moon, I took several deep, cleansing breaths,  grounding myself and releasing the tension in my jaws and shoulders. I said goodbye to Orion, waiting with his celestial sword across the sky, and headed indoors, back to my to-do list.

SOLSC '26 Day Two: Same walk, different time

 

My theme for SOLSC '26:  Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts

I left work just before five thirty pm.  For a brief moment, I considered making the walk from my library to my car the subject for today's post, but it felt a bit like cheating.  So after I got home, and before I sat down and let the weight of the day glue me to my armchair, I told my son I was going for a short walk and not to lock me out of the house.

I decided to retrace my steps from last night.  The setting sun was still bright enough to make me squint.  A couple of cars drove past me and a neighbor who was painting his garage; neither of us said anything, and I wasn't unhappy about it.  After a day of peopling, I prefer my own quiet bubble.

The sun was warm on my skin as I walked away from my house, but most of the trees were acting like it was still winter, spindly branches displaying old messy nests high against the clear blue sky.  I crossed the street and turned in the direction of my home, feeling a change in the temperature as a cool wind offered the lightest of barriers against my tired body.  A whizzing noise appeared over my left shoulder, and a young teen on a small electric motorcycle sped past me on the street, turning onto the hike-n-bike entrance where motorized vehicles are forbidden.

A man in a wheelchair approached me on his own rolling stroll.  I said hello as we passed each other, breaking my bubble in an effort to show kindness in the face of someone's else's adversity.  My hips decided they were done, and I remembered the ten-hour workday that preceded this walk.  Crossing the street once more, I walked up the driveway, stepped through my front door, and plopped down in the armchair, feeling the heaviness of the day's work, still unfinished.