Wherever you go, there you are.

Where do I begin?  It's been nearly a year since my last post.  I'd like to say that I'm lying on a floor in a house in Wisconsin, passed out after falling and bashing my head against a hard counter.  My family's about to wake me up, and yell at me for drinking that extra sangria, and then I'll rest it off for the remainder of the morning.  I'll drive home in the afternoon, and get to the heavy work on the High School Yes Vote, and eagerly wait for Hillary's election.   While the months swirl by, I'll lay off the drinking, and I'll recommit to exercise, rest, and reading.  I'll take care of the cats, watch the season change, and wait for another step toward greater equality in this country, and finally putting to rest a vital issue here in my own back yard.  I'll support my eldest as she approaches the daunting task of applying for college.


But that's probably not going to happen.  As I realize, each and every day, I'm not still passed out on that hard kitchen floor, I'm awake.  I've survived a rattling concussion, we lost our local referendum, and we lost the national race and our footing towards increased security and equality in such a major way that we're all living in constant fear, anxiety and dread.

Friends are exhausted, neighbors are sick, and thinking about living our lives as we would have is a lost cause.  Nothing is the same, and nothing will ever be the same. And still, each day we make decisions. And so, I rededicate this blog to this concept of what it means to be unencumbered.  For someone completely consumed with thought, worry, outrage, swirling thoughts, distractions and time sucks, how can I continue to carry this flag? The unencumbered woman is not an end, it's a process. How do I, how do you, live your life? How can I live, with a sense of purpose, vitality and health?









After months of ruminating on the risk of sliding into the most corrupt period of american democracy, ceding power to the most autocratic and foolhardy regime, one promising a xenophobic, hateful, factually flawed governance, we can only ask ourselves with what freedoms and powers are we still endowed? As I mentioned to my teen a few weeks ago, it's a line from The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai: "Wherever you go, there you are."

Buckaroo Banzai: "Wherever you go, there you are."

And so, we take to our means of communication. We huddle and drink tea with friends. We call legislators, we write postcards, we share on social media, we march, we support others who march, we give money whenever and wherever possible. We hunker down for a coming storm. And in that, we rediscover our community,  our friends, our family, our values, our beliefs.

Nothing Time.

A few days ago, a friend complimented me (okay, on Facebook) for being inspiring, curious, and creative. I pridefully gloated for a few minutes, and soon after shuffled up to bed, because I love to experience flow by guaranteed Nothing Time.  Nothing Time as in, slowly transitioning from activity to activity, waking up slowly to experience daybreak and dreamtime, gazing outdoors or walking the neighborhood, catching myself with time that is not accounted for: unplanned time.

Not Nothing Time: checking email or smartphone, cleaning, doing laundry, reviewing and creating a calendar, sitting in traffic,  etc….Want more Nothing Time? Snatch it when it appears.  Nothing Time is the sort of time that we absolutely need to have if we want to foster our own creative impulse.  Without a moment of wondering…hmmm….now what? It all becomes the stuff of obligation.  Living an artful life is a balancing act in itself.

Granola, Country style jumbo batch.

Recently, my inspiration comes from a lot of good old fashioned Home Economy.  I'm delighted to throw myself out there as a beacon for friends who want to slow down and learn how to knit, make granola, bake a pie, or walk the neighborhood while chatting with a friend.  I love to encourage others to make/build/do.  I know that when I see someone else creating something I'm inspired and heartened. As I've indicated many times, the Unencumbered Woman is a mind-set, not an end product.  I'm fortunate in my life right now to have carved out ample Nothing Time.  Hardly true for many, and not always true for me, but when it's there….snatch it!

Madelinetosh Sock yarn daffodil toe-up socks.  Fresh off the needles and ready to wear.

Pumpkin pie…must be Autumn.

And then there is mealtime.  The benefit of a family meal has been well documented, and it's quite evident that sharing meals with friends and extended family is one of life's great pleasures.  That said, I hope that in your pursuit of nothing-ness you take the time to eat a beautiful meal solo whenever you are able.  I've got a stack of books for reading during mealtime, and it's always a pleasure to make a gorgeous plate and look out the window while eating a complete meal.

I can brag about my Nothing Time, but I must confess to being an insomniac-type person. At best, my late night sleep is inconsistent.  It's in the late dark hours that my mind races recklessly.  I have many methods of dealing with sleeplessness, and this week I was lucky to be so consumed with a book that I replaced the batteries in my little night reader as a counter to wakefulness. I savored some chapters in Joyce Carol Oates' newest book, The Lost Landscape.  I try to not miss anything Joyce Carol Oates publishes (not easy), but I do my best to follow my favorite author.   Rarely does Joyce Carol Oates share her personal stories, which makes this compilation of memories all the more precious.  In her tales of growing up in rural upstate New York, Joyce Carol Oates conjured up images that stir my own passion for practicing old crafts and home skills. In the spirit of Home Economics, rest, creativity and endeavor, I note a few takeaways from my reading: 

On insomnia: "by day the obsessions of the insomniac fade like screen images when the lights come on."

On housekeeping: "For what is housekeeping but small simple finite tasks executed with attention, care, love."

On needle arts (to Mother): "You tried to teach me to knit, and to sew, without great success…you had more luck teaching me to cook, or at any rate to prepare meals." 

And so I travel a week full circle, trying to curate an artistic life while remaining engaged with my community, fostering health and stability in my home, and nurturing my own talents and passions.  Each piece contributes to heart and head that are well enough to reach out to others and try to make something work.  Each piece contributes to another day of calm in our own home.  Each piece is a bit of battling against a tremendously disturbing and chaotic world.  Each day, I try to forge forward so that my own soul stay afloat and I may share with others. 

Unencumbered Woman breathes life into 2015

  Alas, the weight of it all brings the most active of us down to our knees.  Although I don't try to wash this blog with upbeat truisms, I do try to utilize my own adventurous spirit in designing tales about working at the process of making life a bit lighter in it's experience (ok, blah blah blah).  So I  try to take wacky times, sometimes awesome times, and inspired creations, and document as time blasts forward.

So what happens when the Unencumbered Woman literally takes to bed and plays sick for a month?  Although I've been tempted, blogging about my bedroom is almost (OK, not really) but almost off limits.  How many photos of myself doing crosswords in my PJ's can the world sustain, let alone this quiet little blog of liberation and freedom.  So, I put the brainstorms on the back burner and stuck to some of the domestic arts for which I have achieved little to modest amounts of notoriety for.  

Getting back in the saddle must require some application of the basic principles of the site, and so, I offer this, a study in the adventures and dreams that we find in our own comfortable home, while nursing illness, fear of cold and ice, and the inertia and ineptitude that only the greyest of Chicagoland winters can deliver.

James Garner in Rockford Files

So let us begin at the very beginning.  The very beginning, oh children of the 1970's, is Jim Rockford  (James Garner 1928-2014).  I spent so many weekends as a child stuck in a mobile home in the misty rainforest of the Oregon Coast.  We had one or two channels at our weekend getaway, and I always had some nifty craft or jigsaw puzzle to pore over.  Rockford was one of the higher quality standards that you could find on TV ca. 1980.

Rockford's home/office

And what's an Unencumbered care for?  It's just amazing, to think how far we've come in the intervening years.  Here's the lead character, always playing fair, never carrying a gun, tolerating pushy clients, living in a quiet trailer, parked right on the shore of the Pacific in Southern CA.  Look at how ratty the trailer is!  This, of course, was a symbol of his liberation.  The guy had served time, and now was in companionship, mainly, with his father, eats hotdogs at a stand by the water, and quietly pursues a life as a self-employed PI, "two hundred a day, plus expenses."

 For those of us who dare, or try to experiment with alternate life paths, trying to balance, family, health, values, interests, sleep and circumstances, Rockford's story is all too compelling.  To quote Sarah Silverman, "How do you even make money??"(on In Bed with Joan, episode 1).  The more I think about this question, the more often the response is, "live cheap."  What's cheaper than Rockford's setup? I'm also obsessed with all of the quickly LA ladies he works along side and with as clients.

defense lawyer friend, Beth, played by Gretchen Corbett

 It's easy to find sexism in this dated show, but looking at the "lady lawyer" "lady hippy" "rich lady murderess/theif" the range of characters that we were exposed to seems deep in a fashion that is often missing in TV programming today.  One gal has the full on crochet poncho and fringe boots.
And so, in a roundabout fashion I tell a tale of January 2015 as sitting watching marathons of Netflix programming while crafting and plotting creations (and a hefty dose of NYT Crossword Puzzle).  And, fellow athletes, I've discovered, happily, that, as long as you have an obsessive activity, exercise is NOT absolutely necessary to fulfill obsessive desires.  Bonus?  Skip the workout, and you get more crafting done!!!!!

Nichelle Nichols as Lt. Uhura

Today we discuss the beloved Uhura Dress, #2.  Hot off the hook and I'm thrilled with the results.  It's one of the more difficult pieces I've worked, following the pattern designed by Crochet Goddess Doris Chan, but as this is the second time I attempted the piece, it was a little more free-flowing.  I skimped on the yarn, so ended up with a product a lot closer to the length of Nichelle Nichol's original Star Trek dress.

100% Bamboo Yarn, Southwest Trading Co.

So, in the name of indoor activities and adventures to be had while nursing illness and down-times. We celebrate with a photo shoot in teen-bedroom.  Willing teen photographer is a bonus, so, here we go!

These are the eyes of an adoring mother. No less than thirty minutes before a Driving Lesson(!)

See, kids!!! This is fun!!!! We have fun, even in January, we make things and do things!

We're sort of lucky that the teen allowed us into her room for the photo shoot, and it's not altogether obvious that we were soon rushed out.  But that's life with a teen.  You take whatever little bit you get, whenever you can.  It's nothing like those younger years when they hang on your every word and action.  But this, friend, is the cycle of life and I'm preparing myself for the inevitable.  In this much, I'm sure that spending more time around the home is a good thing.  With college and beyond around the corner, if there was ever a time I wanted to see my kids at breakfast and dinner it is now.

If you must know, this quiver stitch is a magnificent creation requiring great concentration.

Proud Crochet Goddess

outdoorsy, active-gal-type-blogamajig, thing!!!!

Westhaven Guest House

And….she's back!!!! Less encumbered, more jazzed and ready as ever for new adventures out in the world.  Recently, my younger child looked over my shoulder as I labored over a blog post.  She insisted, aloud, that I wasn't Unencumbered These Days….I urged her on, and as it turns out, her definition of Unencumbered Woman is one who bikes, plays, and cavorts about in the world, as I often profess to do.  True, to a point, but I picked at her thread and said that actually the Unencumbered Woman means many things, and the only thing that it always means is that she is a gal who is attempting to unload burdens, make life simpler, lighter, less obligatory, sometimes more or less fun, but  there's never a pat recipe for this Unencumbered-ness.  The very act of thinking about the baggage we carry can be a quieting of the noise of every day, whatever sort of noise it is we are confronting.
But I digress, because, this week I embarked on a good old-fashioned adventure worthy of an outdoorsy, active-gal-type-blogamajig, thing.  So….take that, little one!!!

The plan, as conceived, was that I would drive to my friends' house a few hours from here, since there's no traffic, hills, and a whole lotta gravel roads that we can tool around on, with fat tires and not a care in the world.  Sounded like an ideal date to me, and since I stood her up all summer on our Madison training rides and Ironman itself, I figured it was the least I could do.  Besides, what with Ironman behind me and the kids back in school, I sort of have a little window in my schedule that I haven't seen in a while.  My plan was to drive out of town on Wednesday night so I could crash at the (yes) guest house, and wake up rarin' to go.  What a life, huh?

Trader Joe's? The modern equivalent of TV dinners.

 But leaving my suburbia at five-ish doesn't come without it's own costs.  It's only when I leave at this time of day that I realize how essential my very existence is, every single day, between, say, four PM and 9PM.  So, let's just start with the obvious: 1. Rides.  2. Dinner.  The rest, I figure they can work out on their own.  I made a few quick calls to make sure transportation was in place and my companion's ETA was not too far off.  He also had an evening meeting, so as it turned out, the one kid came home on her bike at about 4:00, the other got picked up at 5:35, Peter got home at about 5:40, then made dinner, the big kid has non-stop homework, Peter leaves for meeting at about 6:45, the little one gets dropped off at about 7:00, and so on (I got a text about five minutes after I left (5:20), from the younger: "why are youlettingherbabysitmeshe'sbeingsomean?")  Let me just say, the essential requirement of unencumberment is Heartless Selfishness.  I drove on.  They've got this. No problem.

Loaded, ready to go.

A lot easier than traveling with four.

Often, a road trip gives me time to think.   In fact, I've always had a soft spot for road trips.  Hurts that our roadways can be so clogged, unforgiving, and unglamorous (not to mention wasteful and expensive), but I can always settle into a conversation with myself while my R&B commercial station plays the evening set of the "Ghost DJ", or I can learn a few things before I become totally nauseated by the drone of "Marketplace" on NPR (the other night I learned that fifty percent of Americans are one $400 unplanned expense away from financial ruin. OK driving on).

Ahh…the open road, beautiful sprawl.  It's what we're about.

Lookie here! Sunset!  Making progress, fewer cars on the Rod Blagevocich tollway!

So arrival time, amidst stars, crickets, and total darkness.  I'm feeling decompressed already.  The guesthouse (popular with couch surfers) is a gem.  We're all hugs, talk about tomorrow, last week's Ironman, and a little bedtime tea.  Looking forward to sleep with No Cats, I won't lie.

Almost every piece is a found object, craft fully put in place.

Nothing like waking up with nothing on the mind except coffee and a no-drop-ride.  The day promised perfect weather and quiet.  I could definitely get used to this part of the field trip.

And it's a sunrise!!!! Who says that rural IL isn't beautiful!?  All in the eye of the beholder, and I must say that my companions have found and built their own piece of jaw-dropping beauty.  Not without the difficult labor of many many years in this spot.    







After a little coffee and granola, we hiked the grounds.  Friends have quite a spread with motocross bike trails, hiking, quarry, wildlife, and old farm buildings, lovingly kept standing.  I'm in awe of the delightful whimsy coupled with essential carpentry and construction skills.  We're not in Oak Park anymore!

         

Uphill, old chicken coop, trails, woods, quarry. Wow.

Guesthouse Kitchen window

 Our walk took us through dew soaked brush, for the better part of an hour.  If i have to lead this tour next time, I'll still get lost.  What a spread!

I was having so much fun just being away from home that I really could have skipped the ride.  After all, it's not like I've been that itchy to ride lately, but with the encouragement of a monster athlete, I was on my trusty Cannondale and we hit the road.  The scenery was quiet, corn and soy fields, a smattering of houses, barns, lots of silos, and scrub forests here and there.  We were comfortable in the fall sunlight and the wind was unusually quiet.  I stopped once or twice for photos, and this particular farm arrested me.  I love the haunting allure of styles that have come and gone.  I love the very essence of seeing what is there.  And in a state like Illinois, in particular, the void that separates urban from suburban from rural is such gaping hole.  Not that this solitary cyclist can stare into that gap and create any sense, any community, any future for it all, but for a moment wonder what it's like,  what it's like for someone else.  Someone else not far from here, not far, really.

And so i sat on a saddle for a few hours.  An accomplishment that I have to credit to a friend who saw a need to rescue me from myself before I let my lack of cycling get totally out of hand!  After this, showers, snacks, more coffee and yarn work.  An early supper of catfish on the deck and I was headed back to the land of screaming swim meets, homework deadlines, and anxious drivers.  Alright, as long as I'm planning the next trip!  Get out there, and have fun!!!

What happens when the perennial Ironman athlete drops the whole endeavor mid-season?

Early this year, I was plugging away at my usual training, at a lackluster, but not impossible rate.  After all these years, I know that I can slog through an Ironman if that's what I want to do. I lightened the load significantly this spring, but I figured that I would sustain and increase my training enough, come summertime: I'd be out there on my long rides, runs, and swims at the height of the season.  But something shifted for me, and right when I might have considered piling on some longer workouts, I started to question the whole affair.  Was I not busy enough, with a full plate and a few new projects?  What if I continued to sleep in, drink my coffee in bed, focus on work around the house and the trips that were on my calendar, not encumbered by worrying how I would fit my training into an already packed schedule?  What if I slowed down enough to try to organize my financial life, my home, and stay awake long enough to make sure my teenager is feeling supported?

So, I quit the big one, and I quit all of the smaller ones that are there to get me ready for the big one.  And, after so many years, I didn't miss it.  I didn't miss one tiny part of it.  I missed the whole thing so little, in fact, that I wondered if I over-stayed at the party, in the first place.  Maybe I let this thing go on for too long?  But all I have to do is reflect on last years training and racing to know that's not the case.  I was challenged and fit and having fun, and felt at purpose.  A year ago, I  was expressing an important part of who I am and what I believe in through the sport and training.  So, to have a change of heart, and to respond, heartily, to that change of heart, I feel, is about as Unencumbered as I've ever been.  I shed the ten to twenty hours each week of training,  I ditched the enormous dietary issues, the sleep obsession, the skipped events/parties/etc…I ditched the extra expense of always staying current with gear, clothing, and more, I even ditched hair removal and focused on keeping my skin moist, fresh, and chlorine/salt free.  I grew my hair out, wore more jewelry, opened the holes in my ears for earrings, and started spending more than two minutes dressing.  When I walked out the door, for a trip, say, anywhere,  I didn't rest on the laurels of "I'll look good because my muscles show and my face is gaunt."…When I left the house, I wanted to look put together, not in a hurry, not exhausted, not haggard.  One thing I didn't ditch: the sun.  What can I say?  I think the vitamin D helps, and although I'll throw a hat on, our sunny days are few and far enough between that I'm catching whatever warmth and cheer I can derive from our ultimate source of energy.
The culmination of all this Unencumberment was a pretty massive undertaking, which involved family van-ning it all the way to Maine and back.  Such a delight, summer vacation without the constant preoccupation (OK< I'll get up really early and run 8 miles, then sneak onto my bike tomorrow) etc…Free to enjoy Niagara Falls (Canada side).

Free to indulge family boat trip "travel right into the Bridal Falls!"

And ahhh, Unencumbered swimming. It was only after about ten days on the road that I sat at a beach in Acadia, thinking…hmmm….I wonder if right about now I might see some triathlete in training dip his/her foot into the water and get ready for "a swim."  I'm just about ecstatic that my two strokes of choice this summer have been breast and side stroke.  More, I left the goggles at home, just about every beach day.  Ashby and I enjoyed one glorious afternoon on the shores of lake Ontario.  As I gazed over the vast expanse, I felt the chill of knowing that this whole region inspired so many of the Joyce Carol Oates stories that I love so much.  The still in the air took me to another place.

Lake Ontario!  Upstate New York. Four Mile Creek State Park.

Half Moon Pond State Park, VT

 On to Vermont, where I realized that after eleven years, I have a lot of unfinished business.  It was a delight to be in this beautiful, powerful place again.  Our first few days were uninterrupted by friends.  Later on, when we reconnected with parts of our VT community, we were overcome with emotion.

Lighthouse not far from campground  (self-time photo)

 As the season progressed, I realized that one of the great benefits of training so much is that I create solitary time that I might forget to take, otherwise.  So, by the time we landed at Acadia National Park, I had my alone time primed. Must. Have. Alone. Time.

Peter took this shot. What a perfect afternoon. Driving Acadia with two rowdy teenagers and two adults laughing and laughing and laughing. 

Visible competence, comes with the near approaching fifteen year mark.

 Being there, for all of the together activities felt complete.  Hiking, after a long day with the kids at the beach. Riding carriage trails at a cadence and pace suitable for the 8-11 year olds in the gang. Playing cards, charades, clean-up, prep.

By the time we returned to Vermont and dropped in on some terrific friends, we were fried.  It was clear to me, by this time, that had I tried to continue training through my adventures, the whole thing probably would have exploded, so a great year to take off.  We were able to indulge Burlington's great feel and connect with friends, get cleaned up, and ready for a very long drive back home.  I've said, many times, that our magical four years in Vermont, seem as if a dream.  By no means was it a perfect place for us to live, but the wonder and lifestyle, community and terrain was great for our very young family.  We miss it, sure, but not until we saw the mountains, trees, skies, friends, and water that we were overcome with the passage of time.  We only left, assured, that we need to continue making time in our lives for our community as it extends in every direction from our current locale.

And best, last.  We came home to the culmination of a season's work.  Absorbing Mom and Dad's furnishings into our Queen Anne bungalow, finishing the kitchen, a dear friend tended and painted and made sure it was amazing when we walked in the door.

 Carpet! Art! Clean! 

Lavendar! Induction stove! 

blue marmoleum!