Reading

I have this habit--maybe you do, too--of starting a book, getting about a third of the way into it, and putting it down for a day.

And picking up another book, and getting about a third of the way into it, or halfway through, and putting it down.

And so on, and so on, until I have four or five books scattered around the house waiting to be picked up again.

Usually they span a range of genres, to fit every reading mood. So right now, I'm making the most headway in David Mitchell's The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet for book club, because we meet every week and read a book every two weeks, so most of the time I feel like I should be reading that.* (The pace alone is pretty exhausting.) But half the time I'd rather be rereading the Betsy-Tacy series, or finishing the memoir a friend lent me, or planning future vacations like Alice Steinbach's.

I like to think it's the product of an excitable brain. There are so many things to think about and read about, like Welsh rarebit parties and tracking Jane Austen and surviving graduate school while expecting a baby with Down's syndrome and the Dutch trading agreement with Japan...but really, maybe it's a sign that I can't commit.

For whatever reason, though, it works. Dipping into one book here, another book there is almost like sitting down with a new friend every afternoon. It's such a comfort.


*Book guilt is a whole different story. Do you ever feel guilty about prioritizing one book over another? Even when they're both just for fun? It plagues me...

Hearts

Two things that made this Valentine's a pretty fun celebration:

Cupcakes with sprinkles. J and I ate them after dinner last night (yeah, a day early). Molly Wizenberg calls it a "far-from-disaster" cake recipe; it was close to perfection. And there were a million leftovers. Yum.

A card from darling sister L. We have a tradition of sending valentines to each other from our fake lovers, who try to persuade us to run away into the sunset with them. This year Rooster from True Grit asked for my companionship on the trail, while Julian Fellowes tried to woo L with his screenwriting skills. (Apparently this year's theme was old men.) It's a nice guarantee for some laughs in case the day is a lonely one.

Do you have any fun traditions?

Indulgences

As February drags on, I'm finding that I allow myself more indulgences.* Little things, like buying French vanilla coffee at the cafe by school instead of brewing a batch of plain coffee in my stained coffeemaker at home. Or baking scones one afternoon, just because. Or spending a weeknight watching the next Harry Potter movie on my list instead of grading. Or buying flowers once a week to brighten up the kitchen.

I used to worry about budgeting for things like flowers and breakfast out. You're supposed to save in your twenties, so I've heard, and it is good advice. I've even been guilty of over-budgeting, so much so that my mom will periodically call me and tell me to go out and buy some shoes, already. And while the little indulgences add up over time, they're just that: indulgences. As long as they don't take over your daily routine (as the Harry Potter habit is threatening to do), as long as they brighten up your day (or week), then they've done your job. You do what you can to get through February.


*My high school history teacher must really have made an impact on me if the first thing I think of when I use the word "indulgences" is not rewards, but the reason why Martin Luther decided the Catholic church needed reforming. Oh dear.

The shape of a day

A snow day, that is. Yes, another one! (Even though the roads were clear by 9 that morning....shhh.)

It starts with my new favorite breakfast: a puffed pancake (recipe from Naomi of rockstar diaries), drizzled with Ohio maple syrup, plus fresh coffee and orange juice. Eaten at the kitchen counter while reading a rediscovered children's book. With an immense feeling of satisfaction at having finally conquered the pancake's tendency to stick to the pan.

Then there's some research for a project.

While there are lesson plans due next week, I don't feel guilty about ignoring them. Because we weren't supposed to have this day anyway.

After lunch, a long walk with a friend along our favorite route, followed by cups of hot chocolate at the end of the road. We split up to be productive, which means settling down with The Hobbit to prepare for an upcoming literature unit at school. (So there is some work after all.)

Lately I've been having trouble feeling entirely at home in Providence, and things at school have felt like the start of the year all over again (like winter break was five weeks long instead of two). But yesterday was sort of a reintroduction to my apartment and one of the best parts of the city, and today things are looking a lot brighter.

Happy weekend, looking ahead.

Double snow day

Yes, that's right. Double snow day. (I love working for independent schools.)

As you've probably heard, the east coast got a good dose of winter a few days ago. I spent most of Wednesday at J's house, watching episode after episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and marveling at the snow from the comfort of a couch. It felt indulgent and extremely irresponsible (considering the pile of grading I still had left to do), but snow days demand irresponsibility. Everyone's a kid on snow days.

Then, on Thursday, we both got a second day because the roads weren't clear. Even though Providence public schools had reopened, even though the parking ban was lifted. So I spent that second day acting a little more like a grown-up, writing a history exam and battling with the roads to photocopy the exam for Friday.

But that afternoon, I let it all go again and watched Harry Potter and baked sea salt brownies and went for one of those winter walks. It was absolutely magical.

Winter walk

A confession: winter and I don't always get along. I think the cold and snow make things festive, especially around the holidays, but perpetually gray skies get me down. So I turn to the old standbys to lift my spirits, like long underwear (striped), hot chocolate, and lots of silly old movies (like this one). And walks.

When L and I were in Cleveland over winter break, we took a walk in our local park system.

We remembered that on the rare days the sun decides to appear, an Ohio winter can be quite lovely.

We're more inclined to look for little moments when it's sunny and clear.

 

And when we've had enough of the great outdoors, we can always come home to a house that smells of the pine twined around the banister.

Back in Providence, I have to remind myself of these things. We're between snowfalls, so the city is cold and grimy and not very pretty.

Another walk might be just the ticket.

Keeping calm

 So...it's, um, December.

The end of December.

I think I underestimated this little job of mine. And I'm not sure why; I grew up around teachers, knowing that their evenings usually consist of lesson plans and a pile of papers to grade. But somehow I neglected to consider that all my ambitious projects might become, well, too ambitious, once the school year really kicked in. Especially since the first year of teaching is supposed to be the hardest.

(And I sure hope so, because I can't imagine another year like this semester.)

December found me lying on the couch every night, pretending to do work when all I could really manage was watching TV. All my plans to research, to work on this little blog, to write, even to read for my book club: out the window. Instead I was racing to grade research papers, create lesson plans, and play handbells in the school choir (but that's another story). And I surfaced about a week ago, back home on winter break, to discover that the year is basically over.

Really, the only manageable goal for this first year of teaching seems to be: "keep calm." Or, as a poster in my coworker's office says, "Keep calm and drink coffee." (Adapted from those WWII-era Brits, who knew what was up.)

So that's what I've been doing lately: keeping calm. And drinking a lot of coffee (and tea). And one of these candles my sister gave me for Christmas has been helping, too. It makes me think I'm strolling on a windswept beach somewhere, instead of holed up with a backlog of research papers.