Making A Decision

Earlier this year, towards the beginning of the pandemic, I made a decision.

I decided I would write every day. As regular readers know, it started off as a creative writing challenge. I did many, many posts based off of some creative writing prompts I found online.

Lately, it’s evolved from that. It’s just become a habit. Instead of following the creative writing prompts, though, I’ve gotten into a groove of coming up with my own topics and writing (if not daily) pretty regularly.

Another Decision

A couple of months after making my first decision, I made another.

This time, I decided I would exercise. At first I said daily, but knowing myself I knew that wasn’t sustainable. So I set myself a goal of 4 times a week.

Seeing as the first decision I’d made had worked out so well, I was optimistic about this. It helped that Chico got us an exercise bike!

Sticking to It

I’m proud to tell you that (so far) I’m sticking to both these decisions.

Some days are better than others, but on the whole I’ve written and I’ve exercised on average four days a week for a few months now.

Each time I hit “publish” or get off the exercise bike, I feel proud. I feel like I’m doing something positive for myself, and it feels great.

I decided to do both of these activities (writing and exercise) for my own mental and physical wellbeing. Writing challenges my brain, and cycling pushes my body.

And I feel their positive effects daily.

Time to Make a Third Decision?

But now I think it’s time to make another decision.

I’m a bit nervous about writing this here, to be honest. It feels risky. I could be setting myself up to potentially feel very crappy about this if I fail.

And by telling you all about it, you’ll all know if I fail!

Oh well. Here goes…

I’ve decided to change my eating habits.

Breaking it Down

That’s a huge thing. So I’m breaking it down into one key element:

I’ve started (ugh, I shudder to think of it!) to count calories. Specifically, to use a free food tracking app called MyFitnessPal.

If writing is a pleasure, and exercising is a challenge, calorie counting is (let’s face it) a bit of a chore.

I have come to the conclusion, however, that this one act, this practice of tracking what I eat, will significantly contribute to both my mental and physical wellbing.

When I Look In the Mirror

Now, when I look in the mirror, or when I see photos of myself, I shudder. I am heavier than I’ve ever been (aside from the end of my pregnancies, but that doesn’t count).

The image I have in my own mind of myself does not match what I see in the mirror or in photos. And it’s jarring every time I’m faced with the reality of how I actually look.

Also, despite increased exercise, my weight has not budged. That means that the pressure on my back is the same.

While I am stronger and my heart and lungs are definitely healthier, I can still feel the stress that my excess weight puts on my lower back.

Realistic Expectations

I’m not trying to look good in a bikini. I’m not even trying to weigh as little as I did in college. My goal is modest, and is really based on a feeling more than a number.

Writing makes me feel more creative, more observant and sharper. Exercising makes my lungs and heart feel stronger, and I don’t feel winded walking up the stairs, or chasing after my boys.

By counting calories (and watching how I eat), I hope to improve my digestive health, feel even more energetic, and feel good about the way I look.

Now I’ve Told You

So now you know. I’ve made this decision. And by telling you all, I hope to hold myself accountable.

If you want to join in, you can look up thebraininjane on MyFitnessPal. Or you can just get in touch and swap stories, share encouragement, ask questions, whatever!

(Now I know that there are programs like Weight Watchers, Noom, etc., and I’ve previously tried them to various levels of success. Maybe I’ll write an article about why these haven’t worked for me.)

Handle with Care

60. Handle With Care: Write about a very fragile or delicate object.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

OUCH!

Having children under the age of five can be exhausting.

Our three-year-old is especially… Physical.

We’re pretty sure he’s at least bruised (if not broken) Chico’s ribs. The other day, after spending an afternoon in the play room with him, I felt like I’d been in a full-out brawl.

He doesn’t stop jumping on me, climbing on me, and otherwise being ALL-OUT ON ME.

The Kato to my Inspector Clouseau

The other day, when describing this state of affairs to my friends, one of them said,

“So, he’s the Kato to your Inspector Clouseau?”

It took me a second, because it’s been years and years since I’ve seen any of the Peter Sellers “Pink Panther” movies. Then I started laughing until I had tears in my eyes.

Yes! That is EXACTLY IT!

Yup. This is pretty much how it goes in our house.

Mama is Fragile!

I feel this is very true today.

I had a dermatologist appointment, and different parts of me were frozen, sliced, prodded, pressed, scraped, squeezed and sewn up.

The last time I had any kind of anesthetic was in childbirth three years ago, and everyone feels pretty drained after giving birth.

When the dermatologist told me this morning that I might feel tired and woozy after having a local anesthetic, I mentally brushed her off.

By noon, however, I had realized what she meant.

It’s probably age catching up with me (like it’s been doing for a while, now), but man! I feel completely drained.

Handle With Care

I’m lucky to have natural strength. I’m no delicate flower. But I’ve been particularly struck in the last few weeks at how my body, while still incredibly strong, experiences stresses differently.

Whether it’s the stress of lack of sleep, an attack-child, or a local anesthetic. My body feels these more acutely, and seems more sensitive than in former years.

This is why I am that much more grateful that I have taken the step of adding exercise to my routine.

With this small change of 30 minutes every couple of days, I feel more equal to the physical demands of parenthood, and of life in general.

My body is naturally powerful. Now, it feels like that power can be sustained. And it feels amazing.

Memory Lane

52. Memory Lane: What does Memory Lane look like? How do you get there?

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

Today, a piano is taking me down Memory Lane.

I can hear my mother nagging me to practice piano as a child. I can see the little upright we had in my childhood home. I can hear my brother playing “The Entertainer.”

Fast forward nearly twenty years since I last had a piano lesson. A piano has fallen in my lap.

(Not literally.)

Friends were clearing some things out of their home and offered us their old spinet piano. It hasn’t been tuned in twenty years, but hey! It’s a free piano!

Well, turns out nothing is really free.

The tuner came in on Tuesday and opened it up. I heard a tentative clearing of the throat.

“Jane…? I need to ask you a question.”
“Yes?” I said.
“Did you spend any money to move this piano here?”
“No… Why?”
“Well there’s that, at least.”

The bass bridge is cracked and there’s what looks like mold in the bottom of the piano.

Essentially, the piano sounds like crap and will always sound like crap unless we pay about $800 to repair the bridge. Even then, the sound is nothing special.

The question is, is the piano worth this much?

The tuner was wonderful. She didn’t charge me for coming out, and she gave outlined three possibilities:

  1. We repair the crack in the bridge ($800 as previously mentioned).
  2. We ignore the crack in the bridge, tune the piano and know that it won’t be a stable tune and the crack could get worse.
  3. We replace the piano.

We looked around a bit online at Craig’s list and Facebook marketplace to see what was on offer. Turns out, a lot of people are trying to get rid of pianos for free (since they know whoever takes them will have to pay professionals to move them).

It also turns out that people who are trying to get rid of pianos are happy to open them up and send me pictures of the instrument’s innards.

So now I’ve identified a promising piano. I know how much it would cost to get it here and to haul out the old one. I know how much it would cost to get the new (old) piano tuned up and repaired.

The question is:

How much am I willing to spend on a “free” piano?

And all because I want to remember how to play?

Sunrise, Sunset

51: Sunrise/Sunset: The sun comes up, the sun goes down. It goes round and round. Write something inspiring about the sunrise or sunset.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

Do I have to write something inspiring? Can’t I just write something inspired by the sunrise or sunset?

Not Inspired (or Inspiring)

Why is it, that instead of feeling inspired by today’s writing prompt, I feel annoyed? “[The sun] goes round and round.” No, it does not! The EARTH goes round and round! What are you, a flat-earther? Do you believe the solar system is geocentric??

Anyway. I’m going to use today’s prompt as a kick-off into a subject that is pressing on my mind right now.

At Sunset Last Night…

Our local school board had convened and was debating.

They were debating whether or not to go back on their plan to offer both hybrid and 100% distance learning for Fall 2020, and to offer only 100% distance.

The superintendent had come out with a recommendation to cancel the hybrid learning option and go to only 100% distance learning, despite pressure from the white house.

By Sunrise Today…

The school board had voted. For the school year starting in September, our kids will all be staying home.

As I wrote earlier this month, I had agonized over the choice between 100% distance and hybrid learning for our rising kindergartener.

Now, I’m just annoyed that they put me through that emotional upheaval, only to remove the options.

Through the Wringer

Did we all really have to ride that rollercoaster? Was that absolutely necessary? Did I have to spend those days anxiously doubting? Did I have to shed those tears?

Nope. Turns out I didn’t.

I’m not going to criticize the school board’s decision. The decision is what it is, and given the state of things, hardly surprising.

But I am ticked off that they didn’t just make this call earlier and spare us the headache and trouble.

No One Knows

And yes, I know, I know. No one really knows what’s going to happen. But numbers have been going back up for a while now, and health experts have been warning that we’re not even out of the first wave, much less into the second.

So yeah, this is probably the right call. But it could have been made much earlier and at much less anxiety to parents had everyone just agreed to trust public health experts in the first place.

Anyway

That’s all I really have to say. Nothing new. Nothing inspiring. Just that at sunset last night, we thought things were going one way. By sunrise this morning, we learned they’re going another.

And I now have this song stuck in my head:

You’ll be singing it all day, too now. You’re welcome!

The Joke

49. Joke Poem: What did the wall say to the other wall? Meet you at the corner! Write something inspired by a favorite joke.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

A good joke is honest.

I find things funniest when they are unexpected, blunt and have a strong element of truth.

The Beginning of Life

A Catholic priest, a Protestant priest and a Rabbi are arguing about the beginning of life.

The Catholic priest says, “Life begins at conception!”

The Protestant priest says, “No, no! Life begins at birth!”

The Rabbi looks at his colleagues in wonder and says, “Are you kidding? Life begins when the kids move out of the house and the dog dies.”

Lost in Translation

As a mother of young children, I can definitely see the truth in that joke.

But it’s a rare joke that transcends cultural and linguistic barriers. The joke above would probably not seem all that funny to my family in Spain. While some of the jokes they tell are completely lost on me.

And that got me thinking…

About Monty Python

Because Monty Python is funny in whatever language. Am I right? Of course I’m right.

Written in the Stars

48. The Stars: Take inspiration from a night sky. Or, write about a time when “the stars aligned” in your horoscope.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

I swear this story is true.

I don’t really believe in “signs”. I’ve never read my horoscope or bothered much about fate or superstition.

(Except I think it’s a scientifically proven fact that bad stuff happens in threes.)

A-Courtin’

About ten years ago now, my Chico and I had just started dating.

We went to restaurants, for walks, picnics, to concerts.

We watched Spain blaze its way to victory in the 2010 FIFA World Cup and ended the night of the final dancing in a fountain with every other Spaniard in Geneva.

By mid-July, though we had only started dating in April, it was pretty clear to me that this man was very special.

A Separation

But I was getting set to leave. I was headed to the UK to do a one-year masters program.

We also learned that summer that my Chico would be moving to Montreal the following year.

It was time to make some big decisions:

Was I serious about this guy or not?

The Truth

Alright, alright, since I swore at the top that this story is true, I cannot lie to you now.

By mid-July not only was it clear that this man was special, but we had also explicitly said that we were meant for each other and that I’d join him in Canada after I finished my MA.

So no real tension there.

BUT! There was a sign!

Our last weekend together in Switzerland before I left for the UK, we spent up in the Jura. We cycled by a mountain lake, and finished the day with a delicious dinner in a cozy mountain inn.

After dinner we took a walk.

If you’ve ever spent the night in the mountains, you know just how dark it gets. And consequently, just how bright the stars are.

Wrapped up in sweaters and each other, we gazed skyward. My Chico is an astronomy enthusiast, and helped me spot some of the constellations I didn’t know.

We found Arcturus, the brightest star in the summer sky. I remember feeling warm with contentment despite the chilly mountain air.

Chico turned to walk back to the inn, but I lingered for a moment. In that brief instant, I saw a shooting star streak across the sky.

It was like a private sign from the heavens:

He’s the one.

Ten years later, he still is.

Foreclosure

Back to the writing prompts for Day 21. After writing this I realized it’s not so much about someone who has lost their home as it is about a fictional version of me.

21. Foreclosure: Write a poem or short story about someone who has lost or is about to lose their home.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

“I thought the state had put a stop on mortgage payments and foreclosures during the pandemic?”

“I thought so, too.”

We stood at the curb, looking at the house. It looked like any number of the houses in the surrounding neighborhood. Probably four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms. It was set into a hill, so like the nearby houses it had a walk-out basement. The front was brick, but we knew it to be decorative. All these houses are made of wood. A little portico covered the front step and a walkway led from the front door to a two-car garage, attached to the house. If I had to guess, I’d think it probably cost about $650,000. I’d seen other houses in the area for sale on Zillow.

Unlike the houses around it, a sign was sticking out of the front lawn. FOR SALE. Nothing unusual about that.

What was heartbreaking was the smaller sign dangling from the large one, with one very telling word: FORECLOSURE.

We often walked through this neighborhood. We would leave our development where we rented a townhouse and walk the leafy streets lined with single family homes.

This was the first time we’d seen a sign like that.

As we waited for our kids to catch up, we wondered about what was going on behind that front door, on the other side of those curtains. Just visible around the side of the house was a play set—slide, swing, seesaw. A glance at an upstairs window showed pink curtains, the back of a teddy bear’s head propped against the pane. One garage door was open, and we could see two children’s bikes inside. They were about the same size as the ones our children were riding on.

It was terrifying to see how very much like us this family was.

Maybe we’d passed them on one of our walks. Had we nodded politely, each family stepping off the path on either side to let the other pass? Had we intervened to stop the children from getting too close to each other?

I looked at that horrible word: FORECLOSURE. Are they legally obliged to put that on the sign? Why else would they hang it there like a badge of shame? Broadcasting your misery to all your neighbors. It seemed to me like adding insult to injury.

We walked on. I put my hand in my husband’s and gave it a squeeze. “There but for the grace of God go we,” I whispered.

He gave my hand what I thought was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze.

Hopelessly Addicted

16. Addict: Everyone’s addicted to something in some shape or form. What are things you can’t go without?

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

Tea. I cannot go without tea.

Can this article be done?

What, you need further explanation? Fine.

Coffee vs Tea

Think of coffee. It has caffeine, it gives you that boost you need to kickstart your day. Its bitter flavor and strong smell combine to activate your get-up-and-get-going mode.

Now think of tea. (I am speaking, naturally, of the only tea worth drinking. That is Yorkshire Tea, produced by Taylor’s of Harrogate, Yorkshire. If you disagree, stop reading immediately and just go away.)

Sure, it doesn’t have as much caffeine as coffee. And it doesn’t have the energizing smell of coffee. And though it can be bitter if left to brew too long, it doesn’t have the same tangy bitterness as coffee.

So what is so wonderful about it?

Simply everything.

Tea Time is Me Time

My best friend once told me that life gets 10% better when you put the kettle on. Time and again, I have found this statement to be true.

In these times of social isolation and spending seemingly endless days at home, the one thing that lifts my spirits without fail is when I hear my beloved husband put the kettle on to make me a cup of tea.

(A quick side note to say that the saintly man does not even drink tea himself, but he brews a mean cup of tea. He’s got it down to a science, and now I almost prefer a cup of his brewing to my own. He also seems to have a sixth sense for knowing exactly when I need a cup of tea.)

Tea, since it’s made with boiling water, is much hotter than coffee and stays warm longer. When your tea is ready, you know that you have probably 10 to 15 minutes to enjoy it while it is still warm.

That’s 10 or 15 minutes for you to sip, close your eyes, and enjoy the warmth spreading through your mouth, down your throat and into your belly. The warmth then spreads from your core, slowly through your body, finally reaching your outer extremities. You curl your toes in response to it, and inevitably you take a deep breath and let out a sigh of contentment.

Characteristics of Tea

Just the act of wrapping your hands around a warm mug of tea is addictive. The calm that then descends on me in that moment is what I crave.

Coffee tastes like a swift kick in the butt saying, “Get up! Get to work!” But tea… Tea tastes like a best friend saying, “Come on over and sit a spell.” It’s inviting, it’s kind. It’s comforting and caring.

It also stains your teeth something fierce. Oh, well. I guess that’s the price of addiction.

What One Week of Writing Has Taught Me

I never thought I’d get to seven straight days of writing! Go me!

*Pauses to give herself a nice pat on the shoulder.*

I do hope to continue–I’ve already read today’s writing prompt and I’ll mull over it throughout the day until I can sit down this evening and write.

But I’ve already observed a few things thanks to this daily writing exercise, so I thought I’d hash them out.

You don’t have to feel creative

I can’t say I ever really feel creative. What does that mean? I mean I’m not a very artistic person, I’m not a creative type.

Even when I’m knitting, which is arguably a very creative pursuit (you are, after all, quite literally creating something), to me it just feels like I’m following directions from the pattern. I am giving form to someone else’s creativity.

And yet, I have been able to sit down and write on a daily basis. I still don’t feel like I’m being particularly creative, as I’m mostly basing what I write very loosely on my own experience (except for the rocket ship to the moon. I’ve never been on a rocket ship to the moon).

Takeaway: you don’t have to feel creative to be creative. You just have to do it.

I feel the limitations of my vocabulary

Though I read a lot and as an English teacher I have expanded my vocabulary quite a bit, I still feel limited when I sit down to write.

Maybe it’s that words fail me, or perhaps it’s that lack of creativity that I feel that has me sometimes searching for the right language.

(Anyone who has spent time with me knows all too well that words usually come to me with absolutely no difficulty.)

I have a feeling that practice will help this.

My comfort zone has become very clear

I’m definitely more comfortable writing from my own experience. Even if it’s a fictionalized version of my experience, I like to have something to base myself on.

That’s why I found the Day 7 prompt about a rocket-ship going to space to be quite challenging. I even felt a little silly and self-conscious writing it. It seemed so far beyond me.

But I suppose that’s the point of the exercise!

More to come!

As I (hopefully) continue this exercise, I’m sure I’ll learn more. I have a feeling, though, that while certain prompts may be a challenge, the practice of writing every day should make the process easier.

Just like regular exercise makes running easier, or speaking a language every day makes you more fluent, writing daily will make me a better writer.

Here’s hoping!