Archives for posts with tag: Calm

We woke this morning to a message from the downstairs neighbors that my bike had been stolen. At five AM they were woken by a racket outside, specifically, a saw going through chain (yeah this thief had balls, no tiptoeing about it). Anyway, they hollered and called the cops and he ran off but he had already taken my bike. He hadn’t yet sawed through the girlfriend’s lock:

I find myself not as angry as I’d expect. A little violated but not angry really. There have been a rash of bike thefts in Minneapolis recently, maybe that’s why I’m not mad. I don’t feel singled out or targeted.

There is a corner of my brain holding an outdated idea that when people steal they do so because they need to. The old stealing bread to feed the family concept. I just don’t think this kid needed my bike. I think he WANTED the money he’d get from hawking it.

I’m trying to hold on to the unexpected positivity because I’m afraid to let the uglier feelings in. I don’t want to feel afraid in my home or neighborhood. I don’t want to suspect every teenager walking past. In the end I’m glad we have the kind of neighbors who care enough to holler and call the cops. My warmth for them is filling all that space I expected to fill with anger.  I just hope I can sustain it.


Back from vacation today to find that my little tomatoes have grown in upside-down. As protest? To show off?

I’m impressed.

The North Shore was idyllic and much cooler than the twin cities. Great for photo ops and reading to the sounds of Lake Superior.

The dog would rather be with ‘grandma’.

I went up north a couple of times in my childhood but it’s been years. We hiked and ate at roadside diners and I felt trapped by my family. Going as an adult was different, better. I’d highly recommend you visit. The cell signal is poor. Internet is hard to find. You’re forced to just be. We read and ate meals together and stared at the water. It was nice. I miss it already.

My brother is 16. He’s a good kid. Runs cross-country, rebuilds old cars, and stoically suffers as the only recipient of my mother’s chore-nagging. On our family vacation we live in very close quarters. I like to think that I’m a patient person but I find myself yelling at him often. He puts the milk away wrong. Closes the front door too slowly. Walks across the street without enough vigilance.

What the fuck is wrong with me?! No one needs to be corrected on how to walk across the street.

My patience flags so completely when surrounded by family. I can see it but I can’t control it. Maybe that’s the first step: seeing it. If I can just process what I see. What makes me yell? What makes me feel the need to correct my brother? I want to be patient person but even more I want my brother to know me as a patient sister. I’ll try harder.

Even the dog has the patience to wait for this squirrel.

Maybe I can learn from her.

Back on the wheel last night.

The thing I like about pottery is the focus. It feels almost meditative. It doesn’t matter what else is going on in my life. When I’m sitting at the wheel all I have to do is think about how I’m holding my hands, how fast the wheel is moving, all things clay. It’s nice to let nothing else matter for a bit.

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