1. Morning walks. We snuck in a few more golden trees this week, as the warmer weather has lingered and we haven’t had any hard frosts or snow yet. 

2. Practice. Red Sage yoga with some of my favorite people and one puppy, Friday morning writing with some amazing humans and poems, reading so many good books, and my meditation practice still trying to find its place, happening at random times but no less precious.

3. An average of 300 days of sun per year. I’ve been hearing from Oregon family how miserable it was there last week, stormy and gray. I’m so glad we landed somewhere that has all four seasons but also more sun and less moisture. Even when it snows and is the coldest it gets, there’s more light here than where I grew up, and I’m so grateful. And yes, I also complain all summer long that it is so dang hot. 

4. Good books, TV, films, poetry, comedy, and music. This week, I finished It Lasts Forever and Then It’s Over, a wonderful and weird contemplation of love and loss from the perspective of a lesbian zombie after an apocalypse that reads like a long form poem. This week’s editor’s note at the beginning of the “Weekend Reader” email from Lion’s Roar says, “I couldn’t help but liken the main character’s journey to the bardo. Bardo is a Tibetan word, often referring to the period between death and rebirth, or more generally the transition space between two states of being. It is the period of change from one reality to another.” I finally watched Past Lives, which really feels more like a play than a typical film, and the final scene just gutted me. I also started rewatching Somebody, Somewhere, which is one of my comfort shows. I’m reading the new poetry collection from James Crews, Turning Toward Grief: Reflections on Life, Loss, and Appreciation, and it’s just so good. I am looking forward to seeing Maria Bamford at The Lincoln Center (my favorite local venue in part because it’s only about five minutes from my house). And I have been obsessed with this song, Malleable by Tiny Habits, since I heard it a few days ago even though it is a year old. It reminds me a lot of Rosie Thomas.

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. My friend Cynthia said to me recently, “you’ve got backup, Eric and Ringo,” meaning I’ve got support, that it isn’t just me against the world. She’s absolutely correct. If nothing else goes “right” for me, I’ve already got everything I need, everything I ever wanted. I was telling my therapist this week that all I wanted when I was a kid, when I imagined my adult life where I would get to choose for myself, that I just wanted a partner who loved me and made me laugh, time to read and write, and some dogs. And look at me now. 🙂 ❤

Bonus joy: free geraniums from Eric’s campus nursery, slowly decluttering and cleaning our house, “trading some,” other people’s kids and dogs, looking forward to Christmas lights, gummies, Reese’s holiday shapes (hearts, eggs, pumpkins, bats, ghosts, Christmas trees, etc. — because they have less chocolate and more peanut butter filling), a hot cup of coffee, a warm mug of green tea, toast, getting books from the library on my Kindle, that Ringo is aging so well (better than me), being able to start over and begin again no matter how many times I need to, book club, that there was a single ticket left right next to Chloe’ and Barb and Eric and Jen wanted my pair of tickets, the cute plush blue heeler stuffed toy I got for the neighbor’s new baby (that is so cute I want to keep it but I already have two, see below, and don’t need anymore — right?), clean sheets, a warm shower, a sandwich (so weird how something so simple just hits the spot sometimes), onion rolls, down blankets and pillows, a couch that is comfortable enough to sleep on, cuddling with Ringo (which is very rare but does happen, is more likely once it starts getting cold out), the holiday lights in Old Town, poetry collections, true crime, grocery shopping, sitting in the backyard in the sun with Eric and Ringo, reading on my Kindle in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.

1. Morning walks. We went to a natural area we hadn’t been in a while because when we drove by it last week, there was so much color and I knew it wasn’t going to last much longer. I was sad when we got there because it was super foggy that morning, so I thought I wouldn’t get any good pictures. Instead, the first part of the walk I got some cool foggy pictures and then the sun came out and I captured the color — which is all gone now, after a really cold night early in the week that made most of the leaves die or drop. Still no chance of snow yet, which is really late for us, but I’ve also heard we are going to get a lot of it this year, so I can wait.

2. Practice. I showed up for yoga at Red Sage and it was so clear that the idea I had for class wasn’t what was needed, so I shifted to begin in shavasana with extra blankets and challenged myself to teach an entire class where if one wanted, they’d never have to take the blanket off. We had a small but vibrant group for Friday morning writing and I got to share three Leila Chatti poems from her new book. My meditation practice has been rough, but I welcome the difficulty knowing there is space for it.

3. Infinite opportunities to begin again. Especially when the new habits you are trying to cultivate are complicated, remembering that it takes time, and that you will most likely fail and have to start over a few times, is such a comfort. As long as you are still here, still breathing, you can try again.

4. Books. I’ve been reading and listening to some really good ones lately, but it also feels like that’s been true for the past few years. 

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. I just got back to my computer after taking a break to sit in the sun in the backyard with Ringo and Eric, one of my favorite things to do. I’m going to miss getting to do that with Eric’s mom when we go to Oregon this summer. 

Bonus joy: good TV, listening to podcasts, watching a movie, finishing the laundry, leftovers, a warm shower, clean sheets, down blankets and pillows, the sound of the furnace kicking on in the morning, other people’s kids and dogs, a hot cup of coffee, a warm mug of green tea, refillable ink pens, stickers, finding the last three bags of candy corn that woman at the store was so sad was all gone before she’d left the aisle and I could still catch her, snack size candy bars (although just about now, I kind of wish there weren’t so many of them at my house), slippers, libraries and librarians, poets and poetry, comedy and comedians, music and musicians, art and artists, true crime (although Eric said I may be watching and listening to too much of it considering I had a dream last night that I was wrongly accused of poisoning him), pictures of my dad as a little kid (seriously, he was so cute), pay day, warm fall days that are cool enough to wear a hoodie but still nice enough to sit outside in the sun, how the deer are so unbothered by us when we see them on our walks in the morning, how when we walk around Lincoln Jr. High if they do the morning announcements Ringo stops and listens as if they are talking to him and he needs to find out where morning study hall is being held, naps, used books, new books, gummies, changing my calendars to a new month and choosing a new desktop calendar image, cleaning off a counter or table, having the sauna all to myself, aqua aerobics, Sunday morning Pilates, cheese, pizza, texting with Chris, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.