nest. ing.

I used to think I was a little crazy. Crazy for thinking that humans go into a sort of hibernation just like other largeish mammals. I thought I was crazy because everyone appears to ignore this phenomenon although the signs are all around us.

People start cleaning and baking, buying new sheets and comforters and drinking cozy drinks with lots of warm milk. The days get shorter and I am inclined to sleep more.

When I do get out I find myself feeling both calm and desperate. Calm during the moments that I feel my things are in order: my house is clean, the laundry done, winter sweaters and blankies unpacked from boxes. I walk slowly down the streets dragging my feet through the red and orange and yellow leaves and kicking them up into the air. I crunch through the brown leaves just to hear their song.

And I feel desperate when I realize that the sun is setting again, or that the alarm clock has gone off but it is still dark outside. Or that I haven't really seen the sun in a while and it isn't likely to be back for a few more months. I feel desperate when I think of work that needs to be done before I can hide in my nest. Or the exercise I should be getting though what I really want to be doing is snuggling up with a good book and reading. Or sleeping.

And now I don't think I'm so crazy. I think we are all crazy for trying to work at the same pace as we do in the summer, even though we should be nesting or hibernating. I think we are crazy if we don't acknowledge and embrace the calm of fall and winter.

nest

Nest. noun

1. The space where branches of trees form a "V"; a perfect V for curling up in, leaning back and dangling one leg over the side.

2. The giant pile of blankets and pillows and snuggly goodness I like to hide in while I sleep... preferably surrounded by my 4 favorite dogs and my favorite boy.

3. To fit together

Nest. verb

1. The act of piling blankets on the floor, in a corner, on a bed, in a car, in a train, in the yard or anywhere else, in order to create a cozy place to rest.

butterfly wings on a stick

Yesterday was a gloomy day. The rain was falling in heavy dark drops all day long. The coffee shop across the street flooded and so our flooded too. Ours flooded with unhappy customers looking for their favorite drinks on an unfamiliar menu. The tip jars, which are usually brimming with change and ones were almost empty. But today people asked about different kinds of coffee and different kinds of tea. People stopped to smile and chat and allow their toddlers to order or pay. Today the tip jars were overflowing with bills and change; probably because today the sun came out again.

And on my walk home I found a stick. Not just any stick. It was stuck upright in the ground with a pair of carefully cut butterfly wings taped onto it. Wings! And just minutes before that i was thinking about superheroes. I was thinking about superhero underwear and superheroes I work with and my car's new name: Super Ollie: the only car that could survive being squished flat by an oak tree and still live to tell the tale. I'm feeling like I'm getting my wings back, or at least my cape. Because I'm pretty sure my cape was ripped to shreds for a while. And the butterfly wings were just what I needed to see.

bungee

some of andrew's pics:

I'm afraid the bounce has run out of my bungee. Yesterday I was in mild shock from the downfall of vehicles #3 and 4 of the summer (Trucky, Magnet, Ollie, Andrew's truck, 3/4 totaled). I felt that all I could do was be good humored about it, laugh a little. Today I'm bummed. Today Andrew and I continue to deal with the insurance companies. We are dealing with the space somewhere between having a vehicle and not having one. The fine line between totaled and not.

The street is bare. It is ridden with sawdust and leaves that fell prematurely from the tree. The fence is missing four of its panels. The gate is the only part left standing. The signs lead pedestrians' eyes along the sidewalk and up to the scar on the oak tree where the giant branch peeled back yesterday morning and brought another tree down with it. Then they look back at Ollie and jaws drop. They stare in amazement. They trace the path of the fallen tree branch with their fingers from the tree down the street and sidewalk back to Ollie. I watch this happen over and over from the kitchen window. And it makes me sad.

And it makes me sad to think that in a couple days they will likely tow away Andrew's truck. And they will tow away my Ollie.

The clouds began to roll in this afternoon. Both of us thought about the rain leaking in through the shattered windshields. I walked to the auto parts store that I have become unhappily familiar with. Last time I was there to buy replacement taillights. This time I picked up a tarp and bungees. I felt like I was pulling a body bag over my car. Covering up its eyes. Hiding the damage from passersby. And I'm barely keeping my shit together right now. I want to curl up into a little ball and hide. But that makes me feel stupid and juvenile. After all, they are just cars, right?

orange crush

At 6:20 am our crazy alarm went off. 40 minutes early. We thought it strange, rolled over and shared stories of our dreams. Then we heard a huge crash. Not a car sort of crash with screeching and squealing, but a tree sort of crash. I thought about my car.

I've had a crazy car paranoia that has haunted me since the hit and run. My heart races when I drive. I find myself driving slower. I freaked out and asked Jules to drive when we were in the city this past weekend for fear of crashing my new car.

So, when I heard this crash my mind automatically thought of something falling on my car. And the OCD part of me thought: if i don't get up and make sure something didn't fall on my car, i won't be able to fall back asleep. Then flashing lights lit up our bedroom window. Andrew and I got out of bed, walked out our door and noticed the down power lines in front of the house, which we ducked around. The neighbor's tree was blocking our front gate. And my car was nowhere in sight. It was somewhere under that tree. Then I realized that Andrew's truck was somewhere under that tree too. Andrew's truck: one month from being payed off. and today was Ollie's one month birthday. All I could see was a tiny orange speck peeking out from the canopy. I couldn't see the truck at all. Then the crews arrived. The ambulance. the fire trucks . the city crews and the power company. They took the trees down piece by piece and finally found our cars.

...and there was a branch going through the windshield of the truck, into the glove box...

I can't help but think that I'm just not supposed to be driving right now. And I can't help but appreciate how small trees look when they are vertical and how huge and heavy they look and feel when they have fallen. but pokey made it through only a little bent out of shape.

appendices

Today I came to work with Andrew. I thought that removing myself from the distractions of being at home or the urge to wander around town would be good for me. I figured being around some good working energy was just the thing I was missing. I figured I would actually get something done on my thesis if I was pretty much tied to a chair and a desk and my computer without access to the internet. But here I am once again staring blankly at my computer screen, playing with the mouse scroll wheel, hoping that some good will come of the 8 hours i'm spending in front of my mess of a thesis. I'm secretly fearing an inevitable panic attack that will hit me in a few weeks when I realize yet again that I haven't accomplished much on my project and time is running out. I'm secretly fearing missing my deadline and fucking up my presentation. I'm secretly fearing getting that phone call in 4 years at the 7 year deadline from the department telling me that my course work will be no good if I do not present and submit my thesis within the next term.

All i really want is a couple people with good working energy in a room where I have a desk with lots of light. i want it to be quiet but not too quiet, and i want it to be my full time job until I finish. i want mini deadlines and rewards. i want buddies to be going through this with me. i want coffee. I can't seem to keep my own deadlines. My classmates are MIA and we aren't on much of the same schedule anyway.

I used to be great at forcing myself into panic mode. I used to be great at forcing myself out of bed at 4 or 5am to get up and work on projects that most people wouldn't dream of working on for another few weeks or months or so. And now i'm just stressing about not stressing. I have crazy writers block and feel like I can do nothing about it.

I spend hours staring and scrolling and staring and rearranging and feeling like i've made more of a mess than a paper. And it seems to be getting messier. But I suppose when I clean my room i usually throw everything in the middle. Then i clean out the corners. Then I put everything away. And I usually still have several boxes of stuff labeled 'miscellaneous shit' that I don't know what to do with. That will be the appendix.

Part of me wants to keep writing this blog, or make up other blogs to write so I can avoid working on my thesis for a bit longer. Because it is a mess and i don't want to look at it anymore. I want to throw it away.

my boogers smell like coffee

Turns out that even after all that time in school I have no idea how to make coffee, how to work a register, or how to brew a giant batch of coffee in an urn. so, like the nerd I am I went straight to the books to learn about how to be a barista. I feel awkward and confused and overwhelmed most of the time. Twice today I found myself fighting the urge to sneak into the back and start doing the dishes instead of being left at the registers with their hundreds of touch screen buttons and mystery coffee lingo. Fortunately there is a kick ass staff of upbeat, funny encouraging people that have taught me a few things in the past couple of days, and very patient customers.

I left a coffee scented trail from the shop to my home as I walked home exhausted and reflecting on my new job. I'm surprised that I'm not dreading it, though I realize I'm not good at it yet. I thought to myself that it is good to struggle sometimes. To struggle through something new reminds me of all that I don't know. It reminds me to respect and recognize other perspectives. With a struggle comes the unknown and sometimes even a sense of accomplishment.

Today, on my second day of work, I found myself helping customers without too much trouble. I can make a giant batch of coffee. I can weigh out glossy oily beans and grind them for different types of coffee makers. I can tell you the difference between the three major growing regions of coffee and the differences between the coffees they produce. And all this I can do while actually looking at the customers. I was not able to do that this morning.