The Planning and The Doing
Someone once told me the nicest thing you can wish for someone is that they have a boring life
It’s the last Sunday of January and I’m thinking about time.
I spent two hours this afternoon walking around the park near our house and catching up with a dear friend who moved away about a year ago. I told them I joined a cult this week, a joke I’ve been making about Orange Theory Fitness, and then I tried to convince them to join, which of course only reinforces the culty nature of the whole thing. They told me they’re hoping to start testosterone next month, explained that the doctor said that because they’re going to be using a very low dose it will take a while to see results. They said it could take about nine months before it’s noticeable, my friend shared, and I said, well, those nine months are going to pass no matter what, like in nine months it will be October whether you’re taking T or you’re not, so you may as well take it and wait that time for the changes to happen because the time happens regardless, and they agreed.
This isn’t like, a new or a groundbreaking idea. It’s just true. If I had started lifting weights again last January, my thighs probably wouldn’t be quite so sore from all the squats I did at the group workout class/cult last Friday. But I didn’t, and now it’s this January, and next January it will be next January, whether I keep it up with squats in the 11 months in between or not. We can do whatever we want to fill the time as it passes but the time itself just keeps going (until of course one day it doesn’t, for each of us specifically, but we usually don’t know when that end moment will be so it’s best to fit as much living as we want to do in the present moment — or at least, that’s how I feel as the daughter of a dad who died at age 62 when I thought he had so much more time). The years add up. The weeks, the days, the moments, they all become Your Life. Again, not a groundbreaking proclamation — just something I’m thinking about today.
This week it becomes February. Would you look at that.
I’ve been filling my days with quiet behind the scenes type activities. I’m planning our wedding. I’m creating longterm money goals and day to day budgeting tools that will hopefully help me get there. I’m meal planning, I’m grocery list making. I’m reading a lot. I’m avoiding editing my novel but I’m thinking about editing my novel. Parker wants us to start weeding and though it doesn’t thrill me, I know she’s right. I painted my office pink. Next up I’m going to paint our bedroom; Parker is going to refinish the floors. I looked up plane tickets for Thanksgiving last night. I’m brainstorming the best way to store our kitchen utensils, our medicine collection, our clothes, our games. I’m lesson planning. So many of these activities involve planning. There’s something to be said for squishing as much life as possible into every single moment, and there’s also something very nice about curling up and staying quiet for some time, carefully setting yourself up for future moments, taking care to make roadmaps so you can get the things you want and live the life you’re hoping for. I think it’s important to have a mixture of the two things — the planning and the doing — but as an extroverted person who writes about my life and often performs (either literally or on social media) the act of living, it can feel strange to go inward and be quiet for a while. It’s good, though. I like it. Someone once told me the nicest thing you can wish for someone is that they have a boring life, and honestly — I get it.
We committed to not getting any takeout or delivery for the month of January and with just a couple of days left, I think it’s safe to declare that we did it! Now we’re going to try the same thing for February.
Taylor visited a couple of nights ago and when I told her about our No Takeout Goals she observed that the more you cook, the easier it is to cook, and the more you order takeout, the easier it is to order takeout, and I was like, that’s the smartest thing anyone has ever said. “Whenever I get takeout two nights in a row I feel like I forget how to cook,” she said, and yes, I agree. But once you’re in the cooking zone, it’s just What Happens. Also, as someone who works from home, I find cooking dinner to be a very useful way to officially signal the end of my work day, and I love having leftovers to eat for lunch.
Some things I’ve enjoyed cooking or preparing lately: chicken stock (those who witnessed my Stock Disaster during the early pandemic days of April 2020 will be thrilled to learn I’ve finally gotten the hang of it and can now make gorgeous delicious stock easily and without much fanfare), salmon nigiri, Roberto, mini pancake cereal (another pandemic throwback, this was a TikTok trend forever ago but I woke up last week feeling like I simply must make these or I would die, and it actually turned out to be so delicious and extremely worth the extra effort), this turkey chili (I add less turkey and more spice), and this roast chicken. I’ve also been trying out different cookie recipes (I keep fucking this one up even though I want to love it, so today I’ll be defaulting to this one which I’ve loved for years with or without Nutella) and trying to make sure we have homemade challah in the house for every Shabbat, which means making a batch (three loaves) every few weeks. Parker’s mom is visiting this coming weekend so I’ll make a fresh batch for her to enjoy with us this week. I like the idea of making challah every week with my child one day — it’s kind of presumptuous to assume we will successfully have kids, and yet, I can’t help but think about it. I try to practice radical acceptance: if we have kids the way I envision, we will. If we don’t, we won’t. But it’s so nice to dream about — I hope we do, I hope we do.
So that’s how I’ve been spending my time this January.
I walk around the park and catch up on the phone with old friends. They are doing well and we are happy to hear from each other. I read books, I read old essays friends published years ago, I read other people’s blogs, I read my students’ work. I plan: for the wedding, for the meals we’ll eat this week, for the money we’ll spend or save, for the friends we’ll see, for the future I hope we’ll be able to have. I lift my weights at my gym class/cult. I do the crossword puzzle on days that I can, I do Spelling Bee religiously and compare scores with Parker throughout our day. I cook. I bake. I clean the kitchen. I clean the kitchen. I clean the kitchen. (Oh my god has anyone figured out a way for two people to eat three meals at home every day and not always be cleaning the goddamn kitchen?!) I go to synagogue on Saturdays. I don’t see my friends as much as I want. I resolve to see my friends more. I hold Parker’s hand when we fall asleep at night. I wake up in the morning to our dog’s paws on my chest.
I’m happy. I used to be scared to put that into writing — like if I said it out loud, committed it to the page, I would be jinxing it — but Parker promises me it’s okay. She says saying the true thing won’t magically make it untrue. And that’s an interesting idea for me to unpack, the reality that I am not in control of the universe, that I should not rely on my superstitions for a false sense of comfort. She tells me that writing about our love won’t make it go away. That’s not how it works, she says. How does anything work, I wonder. But I believe her — of course I believe her — she has never given me reason not to.
And maybe I also used to be scared to write about happiness because it’s boring, or I was scared it would be perceived as boring. I don’t have an answer to that. Maybe this is boring. But that’s better than the alternative, at least for me, at least right now.
How did you spend your January? By which of course I mean, how are you spending your time in this life? I think what I’m learning is I don’t find happiness boring, because I wish it for the people around me and I still want to hear all about their wild and precious lives. The minutiae is often the stuff that brings us joy, and in my mind, the minutiae is what I want to hear about most of all.
Writing & Reading Updates:
If you want to take writing classes with me this winter/spring, you sure can — there are just a couple of spots left in my Creative Nonfiction Workshop and there are still spots available in my Instant Feedback Workshop, too!
If you live in Portland and would like to see me read in person, I’ll be the featured reader at One Page on February 1, which is this Wednesday! There’s also an open mic portion after the featured reader reads, which means if you have one page of work you’d like to share, this is a great opportunity to do so! Here’s a cute flier with my face and all the details. I’d love to see you there.