I've heard this thing about the best laid plans...

When I started this Masters in Teaching programme, I was very clear about my goals. (In my head, I mean. And to the people I knew pre-programme.) I was in this process for two things: 1) The piece of paper that would allow me to be a teacher 2) Mutually supportive professional relationships. I knew it would be a small group, and planning to make friends seemed like a tall order. Plus, I had friends. Awesome friends. I have always felt very, very lucky to have the friendships I do.

So there was 0 pressure on the whole friendship front. I was excited to make professional contacts, and eager to jump through the hoops that would place me in front of the classroom. I had dragged my heals about going back to school for a long time, but having decided, I was eager to Get Going.

And then... well, I made friends. Kind of by accident, but to my great delight. My cohort is full of wonderful people, and I am lucky to be jumping through hoops alongside them. We are quite the circus act, but we're in it together! 

On Saturday, our instructor did not show up for our 9:00 class. When 9:30 rolled around, the office manager poked her head in. "No instructor?"

"Nope."

"I tried calling him, but I am not getting an answer. You have a class at 1:30, right?"

"Yep."

"Why don't you just plan on coming back for that."

We grinned at each other. Just... peace out? Forget class altogether for the morning? We could do that! Lacie, Ruka, Grace and I headed back to my house for tea, the fox video, and exchanging of house decorating/renovating opinions (yes, really). For lunch, we headed to a local dim sum place, and made it back to school for our 1:30 class.

It was a glorious, fun, relaxing morning. I just delight in this group of ladies; we are so different, but we have such fun together, and work together so very well.

I am positively thrilled that my plan to Not Make Friends failed so spectacularly. 

Novelty

Like most people in the world, I have areas of strength, and areas in need of (ahem) growth. I regularly find myself saying, "Well, I guess I should write off a career in professional ____________!" (Careers I have eliminated include professional disc golf, jewelry making, Chinese-speaking, cooking, etc) I may carry on doing these things recreationally/as needed, but I have no illusions about my natural skills.

It's ok, I tell myself. I have other talents.

At this point, I find myself chewing on my lip. What are those skills? Well, I'm nice...

The other day, I conclusively put my finger on A Skill. I'm good at Novelty!

I get bored with routine myself, and I expect nothing less from those with whom I associate. Therefore, I like to insert some sparkles into daily life.

For example, I make the kids "To Do" lists pretty regularly. On the lists are chores, homework, events, practices/rehearsals, etc. Useful as they are, though, we all get kind of tired of them now and then. Today, we didn't have "To Do" lists...we had "To Do" balloons!

Pop a balloon, get a required activity! Included activities: science homework, tidying up bedrooms, walking the dog, doing the macarena, and hugging Blythe. All important things!

What do you do?

People ask each other all of the time, "So, what do you do?" It always, always means, "What is your job?" What, though, if we couldn't answer with that? Several months ago, I saw a writing prompt to this effect, and have been thinking about it off and on ever since. If I couldn't answer with my job (nanny) or my grad school experiences (masters in teaching, student teaching in a 7th grade classroom), what would I say?

What do I do?

I read. I cry at silly things. I laugh easily. I dance like no one is watching (even when, actually, people are). I worry about things that don't matter. I make up songs. I take hundreds-- thousands-- of pictures. I scrapbook. I make an active effort to absorb sunlight. I make lists, and schedule things, but I still sometimes forget to do them. I go to weddings. I delight in my friendships. I procrastinate. I clean as little as possible. I write about as much as I clean (but I do enjoy it so much more).

I think. I analyse. I ponder.


Really, even without taking my job into consideration at all, I am very busy.

Evolution

I spend a lot of my life being So Fascinated. I am So Fascinated by people, by animals, by nature, simply by the way things work. I am nearly constantly In Awe of Something. Those of you who know me in real life are chuckling to yourselves now, as you are undoubtedly familiar with my rapturous explanations and swirling thought processes. It's why I was a psych major, I think-- because I just can't help being Amazed, particularly by people.

Right now, the subject of my amazement has been How Friendships Evolve. I know, I know. It sounds like a psych study, doesn't it? "How friendships evolve: A multidimensional study of female friendships between the ages of 6 and 83" or whatever. But, while I think that would actually be a very interesting study, and I would be So Fascinated to read it, that's not my point at all.

My point is more... So, you know when you are having dinner with a friend? And you realize that Wow, you have known them for X years? And you think of all the things that the younger version of yourselves didn't know? All of the things you couldn't have predicted? Yeah. That.

This summer, I danced at Daisy's wedding. I knew, knew for a fact, that she was 25 years old. But, honestly, I couldn't see her as anything but an 8 year old. I saw us swimming in the pool in her backyard, taking my dog for a walk (on two leashes, so we could each hold one) (this was a tiny dog, mind you), building enormous forts in her family room. I saw sunburns, and birthday parties, and family trips. And, if I focused my eyes just right, and really concentrated-- well, then I could see a woman; a bride.

I have been having this experience a lot, lately. On Monday, Lynn and I got drinks after work. As we were leaning close together, laughing or shaking our heads ruefully, sharing the details of our lives, I had a flashback to about when we had first met. No, honestly, I remembered when I had first learned about her. I was working for the K family over the summers, and had been part of a nanny share with the S family that first year (2006). During the school year, I learned that the S family was going to hire a nanny of their own, and we would all essentially turn into one large playgroup over the summer. (The playgroup wasn't required, mind you, but it was predicted. The kids were all very good friends.) I wondered about this. While I was excited by the idea of a colleague, I was a bit skeptical. Part of this was due to KK's interest in how Lynn and I would get along. We were very different people, he informed me. Part of it was due to my natural hesitancy when it comes to meeting new people. And the most embarrassing part (that I will only JUST NOW admit, 7 years later) is that I was really worried that the kids would all like her better.

Sitting on the other end of this, drinking beer with the woman I worried so much over meeting, I can't help but laugh. Of course the kids sometimes liked her better-- just like they sometimes liked me better. They're kids. And we are different people (KK was not wrong), but not in a way that ever has prevented us from being friends. We are both enthusiastic, energetic, caring people. She is a hilarious goof who would wrestle with the kids and run around for hours. I am the creative type, who will advocate for painting in shaving cream, or hanging up water balloon piñatas. We complemented each other beautifully, and thoroughly enjoyed our time together. And, somewhere along the line, after hours of hanging out with the kids, we became actual friends.

When thinking about these evolutions, I almost think of friendships as a cross-section. What you see on the outside conceals so many mesmerizing layers underneath. Thinking along these lines is almost unavoidable once I start. I see the kids as all of their ages at once, occasionally blindsided when I realize how grown up they are. I send a birthday greeting to a friend on her 26th birthday, and can't help but remember when she turned 14. She's a lawyer now, but I will always sort of see her as the skinny blonde girl with freckles and a school uniform, who I met on the first day of 7th grade at my new British school in Taiwan. When I see friends from college, I am amazed by everything that has happened in only seven short years-- the depth of the friendship we share, the arc of experiences behind and ahead of us.

I'm just... fascinated.

The EOSSH

Currently I am working on putting together the End of Summer Scavenger Hunt. Now in its 8th year, the EOSSH is a full day scavenger hunt involving an assortment of challenges, costumes, foods, and problem solving, depending on the year. Organizing each one takes approximately 10-15 hours, which means I will have spent close to 100 hours working on these after this year's. Wow. As all of these hours are after work (after all, the kids can't see what I am doing, or the who,e thing is ruined), this labour of love turns me into a "volunteer" scavenger hunt organizer, of sorts. I have so much for organizing them, though, and the kids have so much fun doing them, that it all works out.

And that, I think, is about as much as I can say about that for now. After all,I wouldn't want the scavengers to get any hints, now would I? And while they don't read this blog. One never knows if they will suddenly begin. 

And here we are.

Summer goes faster every year. Hopefully the trueness of the statement makes up for the triteness of it. Who has not marvelled at how quickly the days go by, how fast the weeks disappear? I, for one, am repeatedly stunned. I went into the summer with an almost grim determination. We would have fun, damnit. All of us. Every day. Shit would get done. Fun would be had. And that's all there was to it. 

I whipped out the calendar, the colour coded pens (yes, these are things I always use, so no surprises there), and made a huge wall calendar. We talked about what we wanted to make a point of doing, what was especially important, and so on. I did my best to keep the conversation light, the ideas flowing. Inside my head, though, I was already scheduling. It's how I operate, as anyone who knows me can attest.

And then. Despite, because of, or parallel to my scheduling... summer happened. It has been full of The Great Outdoors, crafting opportunities, creative improv games, sleeping late (not for me, of course-- and never late enough for The Teens), delicious food and... well, fun. I want to spend a few weeks this fall detailing some of our adventures, for posterity, and also in case anyone needs inspiration for a Fun Thing To Do In The Greater Seattle Area. 

For these last few days of summer, though, I'm just diving in head first. Bring on the friends, and the sunscreen, and the crafts, and the outdoors. Bring on the school supply shopping, the new jeans, the first-day-of-school jitters. 

Because shit got done. And fun was had. And I am calling this summer A Success. 

Whirlwind

Today I flew out of Montana, had a layover in Colorado, and now find myself in a hotel bar just outside of Indianapolis. It is sort of like living my childhood in fast forward (hotel bar aside, of course-- those didn't function prominently in my childhood). I have spent part of every year (at least a few days in the winter, sometimes multiple months in the summer) in Montana. I lived in Colorado for a a year and a bit as a "tween," and Indiana was childhood headquarters-- complete with "night games" outside in the cul de sac, endless sleepovers, ice cream trucks, and living spitting distance from the neighborhood pool. (Are neighbourhood pools even a thing anymore? I haven't heard of one since we moved.)

Now I'm back. Back in the Suburbs. Back in the humidity. Back here, in the middle. I feel almost gleeful, driving here. Drinking here. Seeing my childhood BFF get married, for goodnesssake. Who is the adult here?

There is no way the answer is "me."