Currently reading/recently-ish finished:
Outlawed, Anna North
On Rotation, Shirlene Obuobi
Straight A Leadership, Quint Studer
Good to Great and the Social Sectors, Jim Collins
The House in the Cerulean Sea, TJ Klune
The Bird Way, Jennifer Ackerman
Ithaca, Claire North
Wintering, Katherine May
A Thousand Ships, Natalie Haynes
No Ego, Cy Wakeman
The Hotel Nantucket, Elin Hilderbrand
On the way into the show tonight, my daughter read aloud to me from her novel, slipping across the icy parking lot and never taking her eyes out of her book. On the way out of the show tonight, her twin caught up to me en route to the car and then exclaimed, You look like a mom right now! (Baseball cap and coat zipped with hood up, if you must know).
I spent the first two decades of my life performing. From living room concerts with family held hostage, to dance competitions in faraway places, to high school musicals and halftime cheer routines, to aerial silks class in college. I came of age on the stage and under the lights.
I’d like to thank my mom for teaching me to love my body, and for encouraging me to pursue the arts. I’d like to thank my dad for securing my false eyelashes in place with precision, and for cheering me on like he wanted nothing more on a Saturday than to sit in an auditorium for hours and hours. And hours.
I haven’t revisited that part of me since becoming a mom. But this season, my three daughters auditioned for the Homer Nutcracker Ballet. And then my husband joined in. Finally, my son hopped on the stage crew.
Me? I am delivering food and monitoring halls and securing buns in place with bobby pins and so, so, much hairspray. My heart is swollen with pride; my face, with happy tears. I get it now. There is something terrifyingly, beautifully powerful about watching your people cultivate and share such gifts with the world.
Opening night was a blast.
It’s taken me nearly two decades to figure out where I fit in as a mom of children who attend public school. Enter the academic policy committee, a parent-and-teacher committee whose main job is to hire (or fire) a charter school’s principal and help set the vision and direction of and for the school. I am having a blast, feeling both alive and at home in my bones serving in this way.
Just heard a news story about Bob Dylan’s old love letters getting sold at auction, which is why 99.9% of the things I write down are already public.
My stint as college professor ends today. I am so proud of these students and also so in love with community college culture and also so exhausted.
I joined a book club, for both the accountability and comradery, but I am struggling to keep up with the pace despite having ample time to read throughout the day. I find myself dismayed by the decay of my attention span and desire to be in a paper book, after years of scrolling and filling my moments with fast media. The consequence and cost of the smart phone have come home to roost in my very brain, but I am determined to rehabilitate her.