BJ's Blog

What a beautiful day. I’ve never had such hope for my country. Watch his acceptance speech:

LIVE: Barack in Grant Park

I think I’ll shift topics yet again. Although I’d like to return to Mom’s correspondence at some point, for now I feel that I need to do some work on sprituality, 12-step programs, yoga–a convergence of these. You see I’ve realized that several strands of my life are coming together in ways I never imagined. It began with the spirituality of knitting, which I spent the summer of 2006 researching; then I attended a service at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Ogden in April; then I started attending Al-Anon in July. So now, being the analytical person that I am, I want to investigate the reasons I’ve come to this place: a Unitarian (we joined the UUCO last month), a yoga practitioner, a co-dependent, a knitter. Some of these labels I took on willingly, some not so much. What have I learned about myself and my place in the world? And how does this apply to my teaching, my scholarship, my service–to borrow the labels used for compiling your professional file (another activity I’m engaged in right now). And does any of this signify anything that I can write about? Can it coalesce into something meaningful beyond myself? I keep thinking it does because when I practice yoga I think about something I read in a book about co-dependency (“be grateful, be patient, believe in the positive”); when I listen to Theresa Novak preach on Sunday, I think about something I heard at an Al-Anon meeting (“you didn’t cause it, you can’t control it, and you can’t change it”); when I knit baby blankets for my sister’s babies, I sing a song we sing as we send the children off to Sunday school (“go now in peace, go now in peace, may the love of god surround you, everywhere, everywhere, you may go”); when I listen to people share their stories at an Al-Anon meeting, I remember knitting a prayer shawl for my Aunt Carol as she was dying of pancreatic cancer. Not to mention all of the looping back and forward with my husband, my mother, my children, my friends, my in-laws, my colleagues. Chatting with my dad in a Zion coffee shop about Uncle Bob; talking to Sally about co-dependency; watching Theresa dance down the aisle at church; baking cookies with Maggie; talking politics with Jake; hiking up Taylor Canyon with S; driving to Madison with Mom; drinking wine with Shelley T; chopping fruit with Shelley L; spending a week with Katy while she’s on bed-rest–something I get to do in November. These are the moments of communion I cherish.

Holy cow. A month into this and I’ve hardly written a thing, so I decided I better just take a couple of minutes and write “something.” What’s new? The kids have been sick, I finished the 3rd Tales of the City book (Further Tales of the City, I think), I cleaned the top of the fridge while listening to Selected Shorts, and I’ve spent all day checking/writing email related to this new job I’ve taken as the First Year Experience Coordinator. Oh and I baked some chocolate chip cookies for the “ghost” delivery in the neighborhood. Tonight is bookgroup and we’re talking about Mary Oliver’s poetry collection, American Primitive. I’d planned to spend the day reading poetry. That’s what sabbaticals are made for huh? Reading poetry all day. Ah the life! But I’m looking forward to this new administrative position and all the changes/challenges ahead.

We just returned from Zion–it’s “Zion” not “Zion’s” National Park (one of my pet peeves)–where my parents, brothers, and their families enjoyed some balmy camping over the UEA holiday. We had a lovely hike to Emerald Pools, nice evenings by the campfire roasting marshmallows and playing guitar, and yummy pizza at Zion Pizza & Noodle Co. in Springdale. Oh and a couple of trips to the Springdale Candy Co. for cigarettes. But we missed S, Katy, and Shelley…maybe next year?

A former student invited me to join “goodreads” and I love it. It’s a nice way to keep track of books you’ve read, are reading currently, and want to read. Check it out then become my book-reading friend:

Becky’s profile:

So much for writing daily…maybe once a week is more apt. I just returned from the CPTSC Conference in Minneapolis. (That’s the Council for Programs in Technical and Scientific Communication.) It was awesome: warm and sunny (for Minneapolis) and lots of good discussions and talks about stuff I’m actually interested in. On Saturday, I took a bus over to St. Paul and caught The Prairie Home Companion show at the Fitzgerald Theater. It was awesome! After the show, folks streamed out of the theater for a street festival: meatloaf dinner (served with mashed potatoes and biscuits), more of Garrison Keillor, and lots of beer. I didn’t stay long, since I wanted to catch a bus back before it got too late. By Sunday morning, the rains had come.

for a baby shower–she’s having twin boys!

Anyway, I haven’t done much writing of late, though I did finish reading Susan Cheever’s book about Bill Wilson. And now I’ve started William Borchert’s book about Lois Wilson. I’m intrigued with the ways people write about other people and these seem especially interesting for their focus on addiction. I need to read the Wilsons’ own autobiographies as well. I guess I’m searching for the truth: the truth of someone’s life. Even though truth is relative, I believe we come to biographies, autobiographies, and other stories about people’s lives in order to come closer to reality, to truth. But do we ever get there? Is there a there there? (I sound like Rumsfeld!) Maybe the quest is the important part? Just looking and searching for reality? I guess I should investigate the difference between truth and reality too. Truth always seems a bigger thing–something more significant than mere reality. Reality is the facts of life, the day-to-day happenings of our lives. But here’s the rub. People can dispute your truth and often try to dispute your reality. I can see disputing someone else’s truth, but can you dispute someone else’s reality? If they’re living in an illusion then I think you can. Because then they’re not living in reality. Does this alter their truth? What is true for them? Also, sometimes a simple mind shift can change someone’s reality–or perception of it–so does that then alter their truth? Katie Byron made me question what I thought was true. Still, I think I know what’s real. But do I? Hm.

When Fluffy died last week, Maggie assembled her ham-hams for a funeral.

It’s the day after my 46th birthday and I’ve decided I need to motivate my writing, so I’m starting a blog. You see I’m on sabbatical and committed to write *something* by semester’s end.

My energies are scattered among various projects and ideas: knitting (a book about text and texture, or some such thing), biography (my mom’s letters to her mother-in-law), autobiography (my own tortured journals, letters, etc.), documentation (writing about stuff–how’s that for big and vague?), and writing about addiction (I’ve been reading lots of Anne Lamott and just started a book about Bill Wilson, who founded AA). My most recent prospectus is something on mom, but I wake up every morning and wonder what I should do.