Category Archives: new year

2018: year in review

This year, 2018, was the best year of my life. I’m usually not one for absolutes, but 2018 was the year I finally got to meet my son, which has been the best and most transformative experience of my life. This time last year, I was newly pregnant, just starting to tell people, and blissfully snoozing my days away. I got to spend quite a bit of time in Idaho in the first part of the year reading, hibernating, and gestating. I also got to see the snow sculptures for the first time this year. T and I made a trip to Casper, WY. My pregnancy cravings were really kicking in at that point, and I spent long mornings eating at the hotel’s very decent continental breakfast and watching the news while T was working. I also got a delicious banana milkshake at Dairy Queen (I would eat much more junk like this in the third trimester).

sherewin

Instagram 2018 “Best Nine”

I spent the last months in my SLC apartment. For the last time, I watch the daffodil bulbs emerge from the ground (always so early!). I ran my daily laps around the park that I came to know and love so well. (I was able to easily run until I was 23-24 weeks pregnant.) In February, I announced my pregnancy to the world, and the world joined my celebration. I got the 20 week anatomy scan and saw my baby for the first time. I flew to Kansas City, Missouri for a work conference. I was still barely showing then.

After months (years really) of searching, I finally found a house and bought it. Call it nesting, call it what you will, but I knew for sure that this house was right for me and haven’t regretted the purchase for one second. I like being in the house. I love the community. It’s right by Utah Lake. It feels completely idyllic to me and was my necessary “next step.”

Mom came to visit for a week and brought my nephew to Utah for the first time. It was a hectic trip (since I was in the middle of buying and updating a house), but I loved it. Thinking back nostalgically, the trip might’ve included the last time Graysen will ever jumped into my arms. He ran to me, and I lifted him up easily over my bump and into a hug, and my mom wondered out loud if I should be doing so much lifting.

Sadly, my grandma passed away unexpectedly in the spring, and I drove home for her funeral. Now nine months later, her death seems unreal to me. I still feel like I should go over for a visit and show her my new baby.

Following my trip to Oregon, I frantically updated and moved into my new house. T was a saint during this time, doing all of the painting and heavy lifting for me. I officially moved during the first week of my third trimester. Physically, I don’t recommend it. I was nesting and highly motivated in every other way though.

I returned to Oregon for Mother’s Day weekend and the baby shower of my dreams—pink and yellow, lots of flowers, friends, family, and all of the foods and sweet candies that I love. This was also the weekend that I got my maternity photos, and all of my family finally officially met T.

Once I returned to Utah, I put my nose to the ground to teach summer school (which was physically challenging, but a welcome distraction), continued unpacking, prepping the nursery, and lugging by increasingly heavy body around in the warm Utah summer.

I made my last trip to Idaho in early June and then spent most of the following month alone. I ate. I ate tremendous amounts of anything I wanted. I savored my last weeks, days, and hours of alone time—keenly aware that it might be years before I have such solitude again.

I began to relax and become increasingly ready on every level to give birth to my child, who now catapulted around my stomach in waves—comfortably, though. I was incredibly comfortable and deeply relaxed throughout my entire pregnancy.

Once summer school was over, I took long walks daily along the paved path by my house. People stopped and said things like “Any day now.” I felt supported in every way. I watched the birds, the plants, the animals. I walked slowly. It was the one thing I accomplished each day with devotion. Some days I would get too hot. I had mild Braxton Hicks contractions from 14 weeks forward. Some days I would feel strong. I no longer felt I could run. Nothing fit me anymore besides one or two giant shirts over a pair of cheap leggings. It’s possible that I have never been happier, and I certainly have never felt more blissful.

As my due date approached, I felt confident that I would go a week, or even two, past and told everyone to wait. But, much to my surprise, I ended up going into labor the day before my due date and giving birth the day after my due date. (The full details of that story to come.)

After an unexpected week in the hospital (for both me and baby), I spent a few weeks in Utah, with a lot of postpartum help from my mom. Then, I transitioned to Idaho.
In the fall, I returned to teaching and meetings (much of which could be done online and via video chat, thankfully, because I had (am having) a particularly slow and painful recovery and even short trips to campus left me sore, exhausted, and weirdly shaky and shaken.

Those first months were filled with daily urgent challenges, sleep deprivation, pride, love, and experiencing my new self as a mother. It’s a transition I’m still making, and the daily urgent challenges continue, although the pediatrician thinks things will even out soon. (I hope so!) That time included doctor appointments, prescriptions, pain, healing, learning how to eat a new diet—one that didn’t include the top eight allergens, or corn, oats, beans, cruciferous vegetables, and nightshades (tomatoes, potatoes), and what else? The list seems to go on. I’ve mostly subsisted on chicken, rice, and mild vegetables, like carrots. The bright side? I’ve lost all the baby weight! Everyone gets to complain about pregnancy and caring for a newborn, but if your baby does not have the colic, reflux, and severe eczema trifecta, and you complain, then I will want to punch you in your throat.

T worked and traveled quite a bit in the last months of the year, and I solo parented.

Mom’s birthday was another highlight. In November, she joined us in Utah for her 60th and my grandpa’s 80th combined birthday party. Being with her and having her support in caring for my baby is such a relief.

We spent Thanksgiving with family friends in Idaho. We made an impromptu trip to Oregon for Christmas, and that brings us up to date.

In 2018, there have been challenges so severe that I honestly think many people would not be able to handle them. But, it’s also been the very best year full of experiences that were deeply wanted and loved. In 2018 everything changed forever, and I was ready.

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Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson

Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson is my first book of 2018! I was slogging through another book for several weeks, before picking this up around the New Year and not really putting it down until I was finished.

I thought I’d read Winterson before, but I don’t think I have. I think I had her confused with Jean Rhys or something. Anyway, it’s a great book. It’s obvious, funny, and smart in ways that were accessible to me.

Here were just a few lines I liked:
“[S]he’d got rid of more smells than she’s eaten hot dinners” (33).

Needlepoint: “THE SUMMER IS ENDED AND WE ARE NOT YET SAVED” (40).

“I was not a selfish child and, understanding the nature of genius, would have happily bowed to another’s talent…” (50).

“…no emotion is the final one” (52).

“Time is a great deadener; people forget, get bored, grow old, go away” (176).

Further reading:
Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44996/goblin-market

Middlemarch by George Eliot

2017: year in review

2017 was one of, if not the, worst years of my life. I got sick (for the first time in my life, really). Weirdly sick, and doctors couldn’t figure it out, until finally some fringe health workers said maybe stress, maybe anxiety, maybe adrenal fatigue, but still nothing certain. So, after all of the scans and doctors appointments that showed nothing, I took lots of supplements, and ate green salads, and was very still and gentle with myself for several months. It was isolating. I was fearful. I laid on the couch a lot. I read books. In fact, I read a lot of books last winter to pass the time, which ultimately helped me heal, I think. (My 2017 reading list is posted here.) Slowly, my strength returned. Slowly I began to exercise again. Slowly, slowly.

Despite that cloud hanging over my head in the first half of the year, lots of good, and beautiful, and life changing things happened in 2017 as well. Just as I was regaining my strength, I traveled to Portland, Oregon in March, to present at an academic conference. Then I took a trip to Spokane, Washington (I love that city), then a trip to Tri-Cities, Washington, then Moab to hike through Arches, then lots of time in Driggs, gardening and working and writing, then back to Oregon for my cousin Valerie’s wedding and good time spent with the kiddos, the Stampede, more gardening with my mom, riding lessons (I hadn’t been on a horse in years), a few trips around the pond on a paddle boat with my dad and nephew, a tiny raspberry harvest from my tiny new raspberry patch, and a conversation that had my heart pounding in my throat and ended with him saying, “Ok,” ejc’s visit (twice), along with Piper, a trip to Teton National Park, and the Table Rock hike, despite horrible smoke from forest fires last summer, a tiny huckleberry harvest (that actually took forever because—huckleberries), a road trip through Wyoming, Nebraska, and Kansas to Missouri, for some art, a train depot, and wandering through Kansas City, MO, and a return to Little Sweden, then the total solar eclipse viewed from an overlook in the Idaho mountains, an experience that completely exceeded my expectations and changed my perspective on what the world was capable of, then on to Mom’s fall visit, and I loved having her here, and then back to Oregon for my cousin Gina’s wedding (where I was maid of honor for the first time!), a little more time with my family in Oregon, and then back to work, and then back to Spokane (I love that city! (even though it was unseasonably cold this time)) to present at another conference, and then teaching my last class of yoga for the foreseeable future, and then on to Florida, where I walked in the warm Atlantic surf in December, and napped my way through a road trip in Alabama and on to Louisiana, where I spent some time with people I will probably know forever, and then back to Oregon for a really charming, idyllic Christmas week, with lots of baking, just the right amount of snow, and good visits with my family, and lots of good news and good cheer to share.

Cheers to a happy new year, everyone.

sherewin

my 2017 “best nine” from Instagram

 

last summer

At the end of each year, I update the last of the pictures from my phone that I want to add to the yearly album I keep on Facebook–this year labeled “2016.” Each year, I scroll back through the photos and reminisce about the previous year. This time I came across a few photos of the gardening I did last summer, and I thought I would share here–an update to the “gardening” post I did at the beginning of the summer.

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flowerbed near the end of the season

Plants that struggled:
The zucchini. This poor little thing was transplanted at least twice, and it just never succeeded. I also think I crowded it, which didn’t help–that, plus the cool summer and the somewhat shady location meant this little plant tried to bloom, and made a few tiny zucchinis, but nothing much.

The hostas. I’ve had lots of good luck with my “sum and substance” plant, which I’ve written about here, here, and here. When a hailstorm destroyed my big hosta for the season, I was missing those big, beautiful leaves. So, I bought and planted more. Many more. But, they never seemed to flourish. I’m hoping they’ll pop up in the spring for a fresh start.

The honeysuckle. This plant might’ve been crowded, and I’m hoping it will flourish in the coming year, but it promptly lost it’s petals and was nothing more than a few fronds of leaves for the entire summer.

The coleus. I want to like coleus because all of the garden gurus seems to love it, and it’s a splash of color, and yadda yadda yadda, but they don’t really speak to me, and anyway this year’s coleus got leggy, couldn’t stand even the mildest cold, and then died.

Plants that thrived:
The sunsatia lemon nemesia hybrid. I didn’t really want to like this plant because it’s a hybrid, and I tend to like traditional plants that have stood the test of time, but I have to admit that this plant was perfect for last summer’s conditions. It bloomed all summer and offered a bright burst of color to the flowerbed.

The strawberry plants. These hardy little plants had bright green leaves, sent out feelers, and made lovely berries (that the birds and grasshoppers usually got to before I could), despite a rough transplant. The little berries were tasty, and I’m hoping they return next year, even bigger and better than before.

The yarrow. There was already some yarrow in this flowerbed when I began, and so I planted more, and sure enough, this hardy herb did just fine. They also inspired some nice photos!

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pink yarrow

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yellow yarrow

Plants that are doing okay:
The dianthus. This is a hardy plant, and I think it will thrive next year, but this year it was completely average looking.

The pansies. These are cold hardy, and they’re going to thrive here, but they weren’t very inspiring this year. I’m sure I’ll be grateful for them in the spring when they’re the first thing to pop up.

The black-eyed susan. This is another plant that should thrive here. They didn’t do much last year. They plant wasn’t very full. They bloomed. Maybe next year they will do more.

Plants from container gardening:
Thanks to watering help from my Very Generous Neighbors, I also enjoyed several months of delicious zucchinis and tomatoes as seen below:


Right now, it’s the middle of winter. The temperature is -8, and there’s a windchill that’s making it even worse. Meanwhile I am dreaming about sun-warmed soil, and fresh chard, and garden vegetables, and raspberry bushes too, of course.

gardening

This year my garden is planted with
emerald blue rock cress
creeping phlox
mules hybrid doctor
early sunrise tickseed
coreopsis grandiflora
lemon yellow sun soft pink coleus
orange symphony potentilla
horned violet rose mum
black-eyed susan rudbeckia
purple dragon viola
portulaca sundial
moonshine x
butterfly daisies
snow on the mountain or bishop’s weed
lupine columbine yarrow
american halo
hosta
elegans
and hope.

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columbine

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lupine

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coreopsis

 

compulsory new year message and ruminations on entertainment

In the past few days, I’ve had some pretty dire thoughts about human existence, which is just that it is a pointless string of entertainment, that is horrifically toxic to all living things, and then you die, having killed countless other living things along the way.

pointlessness of existence

pointlessness of existence

Since I’ve been home, I’ve been caring for my nephew quite a lot. Now, understand that he is the cutest and best kid. I’m not used to being around children, but this one is wonderful. He is kind and friendly and curious and smart and just generally a wonderful blessing to be around. As wonderful as he is, caring for a young person has me thinking some deeper, more existential and nihilistic thoughts about the pointlessness of existence.

A friend once told me that 10% of the population is creator and 90% of the population is consumer. I am not a huge consumer of entertainment. In part, that’s because I grew up in the backwoods of Eastern Oregon, where “entertainment” was not readily available. As a result, I’ve always been a builder and a creator. Even if just in small ways. Even if it is just with these blog posts. I’d rather spend my time creating than being entertained.

In caring for a young child, I am struck by how everything is geared toward entertaining the child. There are the movies that play on repeat, of course, and the toys. I even find myself planning crafts and cooking activities. And, while they do provide an avenue for artistic creation and even some usefulness, I find that lately I’ve been thinking about them as entertainment as well—some way to pass the time between nap and bedtime. How profoundly pointless.

In the past year, I have created. I wrote a poem. I wrote some scholarship. I had some meaningful conversations with people from whom I had something to learn. I wrote articles. I wrote these. But more so than ever before, I entertained myself as a coping mechanism to deal with some heartache and some loneliness and some general and newfound directionlessness. To fill the void, I’ve entertained myself with pointless distractions that are not really in accord with building and creating, even if only in small ways.

Last night, for New Year’s Eve, I fully intended to stay in (subzero temperatures also made this appealing). I wanted to take some time to read, write, and reflect on 2014 and see if there were any insights to gain based on my actions. Unexpectedly, I was invited to join a small soiree of my mom’s new work colleagues. I had to drag myself out of the house (as usual), but I am so glad I went. These people lived in a home they had built on a mountainside many decades earlier. The walls were covered with paintings, macramé, brocades, and batistes that had been carefully gathered from around the world. Guitars, a harmonica, and books were lying throughout the home, and cozy couches and chairs circled an open fireplace. It was a space conducive to wine and intimate conversation. It was a home I might aspire to create for myself one day.

The people were a generation or two older than me, old hippies, academics, retired doctors, all passionately interested in ideas. One retired doctor, in an old shirt so awesome it had come back in style, pulled me aside for an impassioned conversation about memory. “I am my memory, but memory is undeniably fallible. So, then, what am I?” I love this man, I thought. This is what Z will be like when he is old, I thought. In the end, on New Year’s Eve, I was surrounded by my people. I was not entertained. I was engaged in conversation. I was staying focused. I was learning. I was enriched. I spoke with several women, with beautiful white hair and wrinkled faces, who told me about how they’d done things a little differently, and how it had all been for the best and that I could do things a little differently too. I felt encouraged. I have to remember that.

It was a beautiful, life-affirming evening, and I hope it is a harbinger of things to come in 2015.