restingmotion

Popcorn Fiction, or The Return of the Bicycle Book, and Moving Slowly

Sunday night I found myself in the gym walking slowly and reading the current issue of the New Yorker.  It was about 8:30 and I needed to walk.  I had tried walking around my apartment complex; the air was still and calming; I thought the night air would be soothing.  But there was too much human disturbance--an altercation involving several police cars at one building, a fighting couple outside another--I retreated to the silence of the gym at night, not all that silent as the tv was on, although I focused on my reading and not the talking heads on the screen.

 

I needed to be walking that evening because I had been working in  the small patch of garden that remains untouched by the construction at my house, a job that has become far more all-encompassing than I had originally imagined.  So much for control. I managed to plant 400 bulbs Sunday afternoon, and Sunday evening my back was stiff and sore.  I knew I needed to walk.  A slow walk on the treadmill was all I needed, not pushing myself to go faster, but just moving, with gentle focus on small things like rolling my hips properly, not falling into a sciatica-induced marionette-pace, and breathing through my nose, calmly and evenly, my pulse remaining low, in the aerobic zone, focusing on releasing and unkinking.  The process was effective, I loosened up, although once I was no longer focused on back pain I realized how exhausted I was overall, and went to bed.

 

In fact, I have become a regular at the small gym that is part of my apartment complex.  I've not really been using the weights, although I might.  Mostly I've been walking on the treadmill, walking slowly and deliberately, focusing on stamina, endurance and health rather than fitness.  I've been focusing on breathing only through my nose when walking, focusing on breathing and keeping my pulse low, in the aerobic zone instead of the anaerobic zone, and it has not been as easy as I had assumed.  Because this form of exercise is different than anything I've done in recent years, I've also returned to reading light fiction.  I used to read on an exercise bike at the gym; this was when I lived in New York State.  Now I read on a treadmill.  Treadmills are boring and I do not find the television to be a motivating factor.  With a book on tape I go too fast.  With literary fiction I tend to want to stop walking altogether. 

 

Hence there will be an increase in the number of  "bicycle books", being read, books I now think of as popcorn fiction, a term I borrowed from someone, somewhere.  I started with the last of Marie Bostwick's Cobbled Court series, Apart at the Seams.  I read most of the cobbled court series between 2010 and 2013, before this book came out.  I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the series, the friendly camaraderie of the ladies whose lives revolve around the quilt shop.  Better yet, the book got me through several hours on the treadmill.

 

When mom was here she read one of Stuart Woods' novels Unbound.  It is part of the Stone Barrington series, although Stone appears only briefly.  It is more about a character named Teddy Fay, who appeared in an earlier Barrington book, and who apparently now has his own series.  I read the book after mom, and I enjoyed it.  It makes no demands, moves fast enough to hold my interest, and led me to revisit the series, starting back with the first Stone Barrington novel, New York Dead, which reminded me why I liked Stone to begin with.  I still like Stone, and I think Woods has created an appealing protagonist here.  It is not an introspective and that is perfectly fine with me.  I never read all the books in the series--there are over 40-- and they will keep me happily in bounds, at least until I can get back outside.

 

But at the moment my ability to breathe through my nose and walk, which I find impossible if the air is chill outside, is keeping me in the gym.  I've been looking into the different ways breathing uses our lungs, and realizing that I have been a mouth breather for decades, even when at rest.  It has been commented upon by doctors and trainers, but everyone assumed that I had to breathe through my mouth because of the way my scoliosis had partially crushed and twisted my lungs.  I am not so sure that is true, the part about breathing, not the part about my lungs, I do not have full lung capacity and never will, but I am seriously beginning to think  I can improve the function of what I've got by focusing on how I breathe.  I realize that I my level of health may not be another person's, but I want to pursue being the strongest, healthiest person I can be, and I have come to realize health and fitness are not the same thing. So for now I am slowing down, looking to eventually find balance, but before balance can come I must first build the fundamentals and undo decades of habits.

 

And therefore I have been searching for light reading. I am sure I will be perusing the paperback best seller lists, but also exploring older books which I may have neglected recently. I  picked up a new-to-me series, a knitting mystery series by Maggie Sefton.  I read the first two books, Knit One, Kill Two and Needled to Death.  I am not yet sure what I think.  I like the lightness of the books, I sometimes find the main character, Kelly, frustrating and none too bright, and the books are light on the mystery side as well, but I didn't really dwell on those things while I was actually reading.  The books remind me of my favorite knitting groups, calming and supportive places of acceptance and companionship, not big issues.  I realize I may place greater expectation on a character in a novel than I do on people I actually meet and converse with in life.  For me the book was more about the circle of friends that are formed, about those non-judgmental circles we form in our lives, where we meet and support other people we might not have met otherwise, where we expand our horizons and form new friendships, where we actually become more accepting individuals.

 

Well, that is too much to put on a book.  But I am reminded not to niggle.  I am reminded to read and to walk and to generally move forward, occasionally backward, without rushing and without judgement.  I am seeing progress.

 

I Made it Myself

When I was a young girl I loved the idea of making my own potions and lotions.  Now, not so much.  I don't have the patience for having little bottles or mixing and blending, and although I adore people who do have such an inclination, and adore well made products and potions, I accept that, as long as I have the choice, I would rather purchase than make.

 

With one exception. 

 

I now make my own deodorant and it is the best deodorant I have ever used.  It started with a tiny container in a winter CSA package from my favorite local farm.  I fell in love, asked for more, and eventually decided I simply needed to make my own.  It is inexpensive and easy to make.  It works, and it can have as little or as much scent as you wish, or none at all.   

There are three main ingredients, all of which are staples in my kitchen.   I'll admit I often buy organic cornstarch in anonymous little bags, but this time I didn't.  I'm not sure it matters. 

I simply melt 3 Tablespoons of the coconut oil.  Then stir in 3 level Tablespoons each of the Baking Soda and Cornstarch, and add 2 to 3 drops of tea tree oil and apricot kernel oil.  The original recipe called for Vitamin E oil, and if you can use that it may be recommended, but I can't use Vitamin E oil, unless I got to great pains to be certain it is not derived from wheat germ oil, which makes my skin very dry and uncomfortable.  Believe me dry uncomfortable rashes under the arms are not a joy.  I am lazy, and it is easier to avoid vitamin E oil than it is do the work to find a safe source.

The recipe I was given calls for 3 Tablespoons of desired scent.  I have never used that much.  But I have gotten very sensitive to scents as I have aged, so I use less.  You might need to adjust the above proportions if you use more.  Anyway, I used a tiny bit of bergamot and sandalwood for my scent, and the scent is very subtle, more noticeable in the melted oil mix, than it is once it firms up. The scent issue had caused a lot of trouble for me with commercial deodorant in recent years, and I tried pretty much every major brand and all the natural ones you can find in places like Whole Foods as well.  Either they didn't work, they stained my clothes, or, worst of all, I could smell some combination of deodorant and/or chemical scent combined with my own scent that  drove me batty. 

 

After you've mixed everything up, you have to let it sit.  Depending on the time of year, and the temperature of your house, you may have to let it sit a long time.  The first time I made it, I went out and ran errands and it was still runny when I came home despite feeling cool to the touch (yes I stuck my finger in it to test).  So I added a bunch more cornstarch and baking soda until the texture seemed right.  But the next morning I had something that was more like concrete.  I had to melt it and start over.  So patience is good.  It takes longer to set up than you would think. 

 

I was told that it melts in hot temperatures, and that some people have to refrigerate it in the summer.  I must keep my house cool enough that it has not been a problem.  I have traveled with my jar of deodorant  with few problems, although certain seasons and destinations may be more problematic than others.  My mom's guest bathroom is very hot.  My deodorant melted and separated and I had to stir it and put in the refrigerator.  Refrigerated deodorant was too cold and I had to hack at it with a knife, and then remember to take it out of the refrigerator a little while before taking my shower.  So this might not work for everyone. 

(yeah, my jar is no longer neat after my trip to Texas)

But even if scent is not your issue, I recommend this stuff.  I still love it because it works, because I am not trying to get either underarm or deodorant stains out of my clothes, and because it simply makes me happy.  Perhaps I even love it because I made it myself.

 

 

March Madness

March is breeding season.

For the turkey vultures.

Dozens and dozens are visible down the hill, in the woods, where there are many dead trees offering safe perches for raising one's young.

I don't think I've ever paid so much attention to the birds.  A week or so ago Tikka and I saw a wave of over 100 robins swooping through our fields.  Alas I was carrying neither phone nor camera.

Now there are dozens of turkey vultures communing in the trees. It may be an interesting spring.

Never Say Never

It seems some lessons are never learned.  

 

Some weeks ago I got a bee up my bonnet about raglan sleeves. Said I hated them and would never wear them.  I should know better.  Since that time it seems that everything that catches my eye has a raglan sleeve.  Not only that I actually want to figure out how to fit them correctly.  Perhaps my reactionary peevishness was just a reflection of some internal shift.  Generally I am a firm believer in the adage "never say never", and I should know by now that every time I get myself all worked up about something I don't want to accept, it actually means I'm right on the cusp of letting go of some long held bias.

 

Frances, over at Materfamilias Writes, called me on it.  She asked if I liked raglan sleeves in a sweater, and so doing she made me think (egads!).  I do have a raglan sleeve sweater that I love.   It is this one:

 

Linden, knit in 2009. If you want to be reminded of the details you can find them here.  This sweater is a bit warm for Knoxville, but it saw quite a bit of use this winter and I do believe it has a future as a winter jacket on warmer winter days.  Here is a picture of me wearing it at that time.  The fit isn't perfect, but I love it anyway.  Hopefully my next raglan sweater will be even better.

 

Yes, there will be a next raglan sweater.  I have started a collection of them over on my ravelry page and have plans to knit something up for this summer.  In the meantime, don't hold your breath. I've still got to work my way through several small projects.

 

Elements

I wrote (started writing) this post a couple of weeks ago.  Life intervened.  It seems I'm busy but not in a connected, world-wide-web kind of way.  I'll work out the details in time.

 

In the meantime there's this:

A couple of recent acquisitions that have become wardrobe staples that I wear again and again and can no longer imagine not having them in my wardrobe.

 

Wendy Brandes Black Swan Ring.   Wendy was wearing this design when I met her in February 2011.   I knew I would order it someday.  I finally contacted Wendy this past spring, although I didn't actually finalize the purchase until this summer.  

 

I've had the ring now for slightly over a month, which I suppose, is a relatively short period of time in which to know something is essential.  And yet the ring just seems like it was meant to be on my hand.  I love everything about it:  the detail, the workmanship, the size, the weight, the color of the gold.  It makes a statement and yet it doesn't shout.  I love it even more wearing it than I did when I saw it on Wendy's hand.  It is not quite what I imagined; it is more perfect.

 

Ferragamo Varina shoes.  

 

When I was young (in my 20's lets say) I would have told you that I would NEVER wear Varinas.  Well, in the intervening decades I've learned to never say never.  

 

I love this particular color as it is very soft and feminine, and completely neutral with my pale pale legs, a perfect summer color.  But it is not the color that is so important here; I have another pair, a darker caramel, which I will probably wear far more often come fall.  I just love the shoes.  They are comfortable.  They go with everything from jeans and a tee to a skirt, although this summer I have been more inclined to wear them with jeans.  I can move quickly and decisively in them.  They make me feel simultaneously firmly in control and softly feminine.  Quite a feat that.

 

Anyway, I haven't really worn heels since my back went bad early last spring.  So far, these are my heels.  I haven't addressed the shoe problem yet, or decided what to do with my collection of heels, but I have grown accustomed to speed and comfort and the Varinas are here to stay. 

 

Added:  Decisive is a good word.  I like that idea of moving quickly and decisively through life, when I'm not moving slowly and thoughtfully.  I don't need power shoes, or power anything really, just things that make it easier to bridge the divide and integrate the contradictions.

Normal?

Well, here I am, more or less back to normal.  If only I could pin down what that actually meant I'm sure everything would be ducky.

 

At least I am not coughing much, an occasional anemic piffle comes out of my chest, but I suspect as things go I had a fairly mild case of bronchitis.  Nonetheless, I hope my first experience was my last.    I was back at the gym this morning and I can't really believe how good it felt to be moving again, how sluggish I had felt during the period of recuperation.

 

But much as I would like to claim that my renewed sense of ease in my own skin was due to glowing health, it would not be the complete truth.   In truth this feeling of being more comfortable in my skin owes more to vanity than to health.   In short, it is a hair issue.

 

In September there was some miscommunication between myself and my hairdresser.  My layers had grown too long, it was hot and humid, and, in retrospect, we were each saying exactly what we meant, we were not speaking the same language, and the result was not the one I was looking for.  For me, being appalled at my haircut was a relevation, as it was not until I moved to Knoxville and got the style I have (mostly) sported since that I ever really thought of my hair as an integral part of my image of myself.  Before that, haircuts were something I got, and I thought of my hair as something with a mind of its own, something outside my control.  My new style changed all that, and I saw a more unified version of myself, for the first time how I looked and how I perceived myself to be seemed to show the possibility of alignment.

 

Until September.  The haircut was not bad.  It was not that it was short, but rather more the allusions of pixiness that bothered me.  My hair was cut in a pixie haircut most of my childhood.  It flattered my face and it was cute.  There is nothing wrong with cute, but it is not how I vew my 54-year--old self.  And herein lay the dilemna.  I admit the hair was attractive.  I got many compliments, but the hair did not align with the aspects of my shape, style, and personality that I am most comfortable with, and emphasized parts which although no less attractive or even desireable perhaps, were not the parts that I sit easily with my spirit.  If I didn't style my hair, just let it do its thing, it would emphasize my height and shoulders in a way that felt distinctly un-feminine and almost butch, especially with the sportier clothes I favor.  On the other hand, styling could easily tend toward a kind of round-faced girlish prettiness that, although it is there, does not align smoothly with my view of myself and the way I occupy physical space.  It is not that I don't occasionally like feminine, pretty, or even girlish things, or even frivolous fascinators, but that these things aren't part of my prefered mode of being. We all have these views of ourselves, the aspects of our physical, mental, and even emotional selves that we feel comfortable sharing, and the sides of ourselves about which we feel more protective.  

 

I simply felt less comfortable in my skin, and now I feel like I am back to being myself.  Although it is fun sometimes to play with different aspects of our persona, it is also nice to feel like I have returned home, where my inner view of myself and the reflection in the mirror exist in harmony, 

 

 

 

 

Essentials

What:  Green Turquoise Necklace by Patricia von Muselin

 

Why: Although generally I do best with the cool greens, there are certain yellow greens that are very good on me.  They bring out the greens in my eyes, they balance the pinky-blue-lilacs in my skin.  This green is one of those greens, as are certain shades of olive, and a particular green that my brother dubbed "urpy green" when we were children.

 

This green makes me happy.  It is a spring green and I see it primarily as a summer necklace.  Summer is hard for me.  Many of the large dramatic pieces I am drawn too seem to be too much in the summer.  But this is not too much.  It plays well with white, and soft blues, and all the purples and lavenders that populate my wardrobe.

 

As you can see, it is a very close match to my new alpaca scarf.  In fact, it was the necklace that inspired me to make the scarf.  I would sit in the yarn shop knitting and talking to my friends and I would stare at that green alpaca, thinking to myself that it was the same color as that green necklace and wouldn't a green scarf be just the perfect thing.  And so it is.

Essentials

What:  Banana Republic Floral Silk Tee

Why:  When I bought this tee in the Spring of 2009, I was desperate for some tops that fit and that were just plain pretty.  It is a little bit looser on me now, and I did, in fact consider giving it away last fall, but I couldn't.  I'm glad I kept it.  Wearing it brings me joy and makes me feel pretty. It is very thin, thinner than I would usually buy in a tee, but the combination of thin silk and thin cotton knit works here.  The wide scoop neck and the soft drape make it very cool and feminine without being frilly.   In the past I've only worn it with chinos, but I see heretofore unrecognized possibilities.

 

 

 

A Clip and a Comb

I had a couple of errands up in Rhinebeck the other day and I stopped to check out local designer,  Haldora.  It was kind of silly really, timing wise, as I had just recently joined Weight Watchers to knock off the pounds I had put back on plus a few more and was therefore a little reluctant to buy nice new clothes, at least right away. And, secondly, I had just come from my favorite jeweler's, where I was so dazzled by the offerings I had vowed to buy no more clothes and save all my money for jewelry.

 

I didn't buy any clothes, but I liked a lot of what I saw so I will be back, because, of course, I will buy clothes again.  There was however a lovely assortment of hair accessories, and I am rather desperately in need of nice hair clips and combs.

 

The last time my hair was long enough to put up, I had a collection of long elegant metal clamp like clips that looked like beaks.  I don't think I got rid of them, but I might have;  I certainly cannot find them right now.   Haldora did not have any of these beaky clips, but the barrette here works almost as well.

 

Just in time too.  The furnace went out yesterday morning, the new furnace, and I am not fan of an ice cold shower.  I managed to easily twist my hair up with the barrette and clamp the front sweep of my ex-fringe with the comb firmly enough that my hair stayed up all day, with just the occasional wispy bit, despite the fact that I was running in and out and all around for much of the day.  Yesterday was the first sunny weekday since the previous Wednesday.  Between carpenters, masons, landscapers and furnace repair, I had 8 trucks in my driveway at one point. 

 

Prior to this, I had decided that my hair was too long.  But now I have doubts,  I like being able to wear it up.  But will I succumb to the lure of always wearing it up, which was the problem in the past, or will I bother to dry it and style it and wear it down?  I have an appointment for a cut next week.  Decisions must be made.