John worked an 11 hour day today and is now doing the dishes while I relax on the couch. Do you see what kind of manic/super human I am dealing with?--I wrote that a couple days ago. The past few days have followed in suit.
I just finished a giant breakfast not unlike the one you see in the photo above, which is really great news. I didn't buy it from a drive-through, and no one else made it for me. I fed myself. Sounds dumb, but that's been an issue for some reason this week.
This past weekend we drove two hours North to one of the best places that exists, and where we've agreed we might own a small home someday should we ever get mad rich and famous (see chances for this below*). I'm speaking of the Adirondacks. A small mountain range at the top of NY, and yes, small indeed. They are similar in size to the foothills I used to fawn over in my days in Eastern Washington, upon which my friends who grew up in the West would lovingly correct me saying, "No, Lottie, those aren't mountains." I learned later after finally making a few trips to Seattle what they were speaking of. Despite that, I still cherish the small formations like Adirondacks or foothills, and find them still delightfully edifying. Not to mention the fact that when you haven't been back to that mountainous region of the states for several years, these small mountains in northern New York are like air, water, whatever you've been dying for. They are nearly everything when your residency in NY seems to have no end in sight. And I don't say that with disdain. Pardon me for my rant. Mountains are a subject where words never end. That's all there is to it.
We had an incredible time there. I can't hold back from telling you that. John had worked nearly 50 hours (not that crazy to some of you, definitely crazy for us) the week prior and we basically crawled up the state roads to get to our cabin Friday night. Our porch was covered in a light but powerfully beautiful dusting of snow when we arrived, and I melted into the serenity for the rest of the weekend. My weekend nazi self didn't come out to taunt us--the kind that makes us be too productive and time-oriented, and John got to take as many naps as he wanted. There was a lake (literally named "Lake Serene"..so yeah) at the bottom of the hill our cabin sat on, and I made sure to extract as much possible inspiration from it as I could.
To balance out John's insane work week, I had just quit my job, so we felt like all sorts of new. The details aren't necessary to explain, other than the fact that I recognized in a discerning fashion that the job was no longer for me, and made the decision, without over-thought, to step away. There are still great people working there and making the world a better place, one cup of coffee at a time. I couldn't be happier, nor more shocked at myself, and life has kept moving. Fancy that.
Taking all these factors into account, we took the opportunity to live the weekend however our bodies were asking us to, and savored the crap out of it. I spent ten minutes focusing as hard as I ever have on saving a particular memory. I didn't take a photo, and the memory is keeping me going much more than I think a photo might have. As John put the last of our stuff into our car on Sunday morning, I stood next to the lake. I had Glasgow under my one arm (we learned he hates snow, but I told him to "suck it up, kid") and my coffee in the other. Tiny spherical snowflakes fell again from the sky, bringing our time in that cabin in the woods full circle, and the shape of the flakes and the speed of the snow falling made a hissing sound all around me. These are the moments life is to be composed of. That's all. That's truly all.
Flash back to now, it's been an interesting week, the first without work. I'm busier than I expected to be, some work for family has come along and our house waiting to be properly sorted through. It's begun to snow, with a fall that's almost in slow motion, and you better believe Sufjan's christmas stuff is going full blast on Spotify 24/7. I'm probably going to burn all the way through my pine scented candles before December, which is normal. Time and space in my brain to step back, process the age of my grandparents, make goals for our home, the future, potential work is really nice. The words seem to never stop flowing and swirling around my mind. Life seems incredibly poetic, crucial, significant, and mysterious right now. I'm sure the snow turning me into an old sap is responsible for a hefty 70% of that, but whatever, I completely welcome it.
Extra big thanks to my aunt and uncle for loaning us their camera! It's okay if you aren't reading this. Also extra big thanks to my sweetest mother-in-law who showed up at our front door yesterday with a giant bag of goodies (a turkey-roasting pan, a baster set, and corresponding magazine featuring Ina Garten). We are having them for Thanksgiving and she wanted to equip us. It doesn't get sweeter (nor more tear-jerky) than that. Also! My brother-in-law is having his first baby on the 21st. This is the good stuff, folks. Next time we talk, I'm gonna be an aunt, yo. That is if all this opposite-of-writers-block-way-too-verbose-ish stuff happening in my brain subsides.
Our trip was a gift. We leaned into what life was giving us, and we experienced it thoroughly. You can't create that for yourself. I'm inspired to experience life further, rather than focusing on forcing those experiences or trying to document them (forget the irony of this as I document our experiences, please). May you roll into the experiences life has waiting for you, and be touched by them. Don't forget to listen for the hiss of that snow, and look for the reflection of trees lining that lake. The memories will take you far.