Books

I’ve had a complicated relationship with books and reading in the past several years. For someone who has been an avid reader in times past, this was really puzzling and painful. I can remember being a teenager and staying up well past midnight on a school night reading a Mary Higgins Clark mystery or tearing into a romance novel I’d found at the public library. Reading for pleasure has been a big piece of my identity so to have that go away felt like a mental amputation in some ways.

Busy-ness, the need to be productive, the chanting voice telling me I’m lazy if I sit and read all contributed to leaving books on the shelf. Piling on some major life events and I couldn’t concentrate. I would buy books, check-out books, pull books off the shelf and they stacked up on my nightstand and I didn’t read any of them. And the pile of books was another reminder of my failures. Shame is never a great, sustainable motivator.

Sometime in March a friend gently suggested reading something lighthearted and easily accessible just to get into reading again. I had gotten my public library card several years ago and got the Libby app on my phone so that I could listen to audio books while working on the river rock projects. I’m on my phone a lot because in my darkest, loneliest hours, I can connect with friends and loved ones in an instant. It isn’t quite the same as their being here, but boy it sure helps. I thought to myself, hey if you’re already on your phone, check out a book from your Libby app. You can read a couple of pages, Bec, and then flip to IG or FB as you like, but at least you can read a little.

So I did. I’m currently two thirds of the way through my 28th romance novel this year–lighthearted, guaranteed happy ending (read that as you will), and I am particularly fond of ones with unconventional and quirky female leads and witty dialogue. I’m not looking to knock out the have-to-read-before-I-die literary greats out of a sense of should. That shoulding and shaming are toxic and I hate it. I’m reading for pleasure again. And I love it. My current favorite author is Minerva Spencer (pen name) who has been a criminal prosecutor and history professor, too.

I’m thankful to love books again. Romance novels are fun. I’ve enjoyed them since I was a teenager. They’re lighthearted, sexy, and sweet and I could certainly use a little of all that right now.

(And if you want an apologia for the genre more erudite than mine, my kiddo will set the record straight.)

Friendship

My dearest friends,

Thank you. Thank you for showing up. Thank you for sitting with me in silence. Thank you for loving me despite my very human, very flat sides. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for feeding me when I was hungry. Thank you for holding me close and hugging me. Thank you for listening when I talk and talk and talk. Thank you for encouraging, challenging, pushing when I need it the most. Thank you for your patience and grace. Thank you for making me a better version of myself. Thank you for loving me through all my versions so far. Thank you for making this life such a rich one.

Love,

Becci

PS https://youtu.be/3W33TY6Oasg?si=wmiT0C5Ixv2wL3S0

Health

Today’s prompt is a bit of a gut-puncher, not gonna lie. Bryan was diagnosed with prostate cancer just a few months after his 50th birthday. We built a really beautiful life with a Damocles sword hanging over us. We did our best to bring levity and humor to the most painful things. Our favorite toast was “to your adequate health.”

Just like time, health is an increasingly fraught game with each day that passes. The pandemic and Bryan’s brain cancer put a bold black line under that notion. So in that same spirit, I cherish health, even when it’s just adequate. Sure, we have a responsibility to do what we can, when we can, with nutrition, exercise, rest, and eliminating unnecessary stressers. But taking care of our families, work responsibilities, paying bills, world calamities, climate change, and access to quick and processed foods mean that we are often in an uphill battle.

Let’s not forget the role of genetics and trauma. These affect our health through no fault of our own, so the uphill battles gets weighted down with baggage we were given and had no say in. This post may sound a little darker than I intend, but I watched my Mom die at 66. My Dad was only in his 70s. My oldest brother and my husband were only in their 50s. Old age and health are absolute privileges not everyone gets, so I’m grateful for the days of adequate health.

And of course, I can’t leave it on a dark note, so here’s a fun, little story. Todd, my oldest brother, and I enjoyed exchanging pop culture references and threading them through our conversations and texts. If I would complain about a cold or he would mention having the flu or something, we’d always reference Count Rugen, the six-fingered-man, from The Princess Bride. On that note, please enjoy:

And here’s to your adequate health…

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Creativity

It’s funny, I thought today’s prompt would be easy. I find myself struggling a bit. This is my heart and passion and what compels me. I don’t think of creativity only in terms of artists, writers, musicians, actors. I think of the folks at NASA who had to come up with a solution that would bring the Apollo 13 astronauts home safely. It’s the scientists who ask questions, hey, what if? finding solutions to seemingly unsolvable problems. It’s the kid who goes to Goodwill and repurposes clothing and makes something brand new and completely unique.

It’s the outcasts and oddballs who look at the world cockeyed and get people to tilt their heads just a bit to see the bigger picture, the clearer picture. It’s the tech guy who can see someone’s eyes glaze over and use a novel analogy in a pinch to teach a complicated process.

Creativity is an engine whose fuel is creativity and whose exhaust is creativity and whose destination is creativity. Bryan described creativity as “the well that never runs dry” because creativity begets more creativity. I’m thankful for that abundance. I’m thankful for creativity.

Time

Every day I get more stingy with my time. That’s the one commodity I have that becomes more scarce and precious with each passing day and I guard it carefully. Covid, cancer, conflict all underscore how precious time is. I think about the time I got to have with Bryan and how damned lucky I am to have had it. I think about the time spent with friends, family, beloved furry critters that claw up my furniture. Every beautiful moment is underscored by loss–a reminder of the fleeting nature of time and how absolutely sacred it is.

I don’t think I’ve arrived on some new territory here. People close to me have determined that they do not want to go back to work in an office, wasting time commuting, wasting time in irrelevant meetings, wasting time that could be more efficiently intertwined with the richness of life. Folks I admire don’t waste time on grudges. They don’t spend a single moment on petty garbage. They know time is short and dust that misery off their shoes. For some that means peace and reconciliation and for others that means healthy boundaries not spending time on things that continue to hurt.

Time is a commodity with a giant question mark. We have no idea how much each one of us gets. I ask myself a lot: what am I willing to sell my time for? What is a worthy exchange? I want to spend my time building and creating. I want to focus on things that bring joy to others and to me. I want to show up for my friends and family. Those are the things I will sell my time for. And yes, I will sell my time to make sure I have food, shelter, and clothing, because without those, time slips away a lot faster. But I also don’t want to waste my time in a life that makes me miserable and that I’m longing to escape for two weeks every year.

I am thankful for time so much so that I value it highly. I also consider it a gift when folks share their time with me because I know they have options, too. 🙂