Tuesday Slice: Strawberry moscato in February

 

It was a long work day, stretching from seven in the morning until five...in the afternoon?  Evening?  What does five p.m. qualify as, anyway?  To my weary mind and body, it was twelve-plus hours and seven energetic classes-- spanning kindergarten through fifth grade-- after my pre-dawn alarm, so it was late.  I trudged to my car in the falling temperatures, glad that I brought my winter coat today.  I realized that late nights were going to be the norm for the next week-and-a-half with our spring book fair happening next week, and it made me feel preemptively exhausted.

The wind chimes are singing outside my window as I type, announcing the onset of our coldest night yet this winter.  As much as I would love a late start or an ice day, the thought of what it would do to my schedule and preparations gives me pause.  I missed two days last week due to the flu, and I'm still recovering both in body and in the tasks that have to get done.

I am bone-tired.  Maybe it's my age.  Maybe it's the barrage of bad news, much of it about education, that's wearing me down.  Maybe it's a sign that I'm a candle about to burn out, sputtering as the wick whittles down to the last bit of wax.  I think about retirement daily, vacillating between holding on for a teensy bit more financial gain and getting out while the getting's good.  I can't stop working altogether, not just yet.  But does it have to be at this pace?

And then there's the valentines I received last Friday from students and parents, kind notes attached, declarations of "Best Librarian Ever!", when I know that even a second's worth of comparison to my colleagues would quickly demote that status.  I must be doing something right, or at least making a really good show of it, for students to still like coming to the library.

So many thoughts swirling in my head...I tamp them down a bit with a cold glass of strawberry moscato, a summery drink out of step with this wintry weather, but sweet on the lips, nonetheless.

Tuesday Slice: Comfort

"What are you doing?" my husband asks.  "Looking for a book," I replied, sifting through the dusty stacks by the couch, "I bought in in August..."

"That makes it even funnier," he said, chuckling at me.  I am blessed with a husband who tolerates my ever-growing TBR piles.  

"I didn't have time to read it then, and then I wanted to re-read the first book before reading this one, and I just finished the first one again...here it is!"  I pulled the slightly dusty hardback out from under two other books and tossed it on the bed for my send-off to la-la land.

******

I am reading again, just like I am writing again.  I avoided quite a bit of both during the last half of 2024. I blame overconsumption of social media; exhausting changes to my job and the overwhelming, almost constant pondering of retirement; the election; and an overall negative attitude.  With a short attention span and a base desire not to add more pessimism to cyberspace, I bowed out of my reading life and my writing community.  Oh, I still read kidlit for my job, managing to push through a middle grade novel here and there, but the stamina was gone.  Laying on the couch to read usually resulted in a nap instead of a book coma, no matter how good the material.

Now, I am turning to books for escape.  I just finished re-reading The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune; its companion, Somewhere Beyond the Sea, is waiting for me to finally crack it open tonight.  Another series I read chapter by tender chapter was Becky Chambers' Monk and Robot.  I'm eagerly awaiting the next installment of that hope-filled, thought-provoking sci-fi story.

The Cerulean Sea series carries a strong message about overcoming fear of "the other", making room for everyone in this magical world for the betterment of us all.  Monk and Robot is a futuristic view of what life could be like if all of our basic needs were met through communal sharing, leaving us free to contribute what brings us joy.  Is it any wonder that both authors happen to be queer, writing about the need for acceptance in a kinder, gentler world?  Isn't that what we all want?

I'm off to bed, to drown out the current horrific political chatter by burying myself in a book, hoping that someday in the not too distant future, our world will look a bit more like the one I find between the covers.