November 1

A bit absent as of late, but you'll forgive me.  I have a hurricane to blame it on...

October was a blur of travel and rain and I can blame all of that for the fact that daily push-ups... weren't exactly daily.  I did, to my credit, make it a good 17 days into the trial, and I did, to my credit, get up to being able to do 18 push-ups in a row.  I did not, however, form a new lifetime habit.

Maybe some other time.

In the meantime, it is November.

November,  month of grey skies and grey trees and damp chill and my birthday.  The month of burrowing in and cozying up and preparations.  The month of enforced, cultural gratitude as we head into the holiday season.

Why yes, I think I'll get right on that bandwagon.

There is something about this time of year that yearns for self-reflection, for appreciation of the minute and meaningful.  We need something to combat the grey, I think.

This year November made her entrance even more profound, with our Ohio hurricane.  A week of solid rain; a "super-storm" that wiped out the Jersey Shore, swamped Lower Manhattan, and left us without power for three days; two sick kids in succession.

If there has ever been a time when I need gratitude, it is now.

With no further ado, five minutes on the timer and a bit of thanks.

Tonight, I am grateful.  Deeply grateful.

For the return of our modern conveniences, for heat and light and our little electric fireplace.  For my family snug in their own beds and for the return of routine in our lives.  I am grateful for our cluttered, messy little nest where every surface is littered with candles and children's craft supplies, and where I know just how to find what I need.

And, I am grateful for the gift of family nearby, for the fact that we had somewhere to go when our house temperature hit 50.  Grateful for the comfort and love and safety that we can depend on, just across town.

I am grateful that in the face of this wild weather, we faced nothing more than inconvenience.  A few trees down, a few days of darkness in our neighborhood-- but we are safe.  Our house is here, solid and strong.  Our clean-up will consist of raking a lot of leaves and cleaning up the pile of tempered glass that was once the top for our patio table.  We are very lucky indeed.

Today, I am grateful to have a job that allows me to spend the day sharing theater and lunch and laughter with my little group of students.  I am grateful for the sublime gift that is a well written play, for the moments of clarity that come as you sink into the lives of characters on a sparsely-set stage, when the words and emotions are the main event. "It all goes so fast.... we never really look at one another..."  Emily says in Act III of Our Town.  I am grateful for words that make me reflect and slow down and look into more people's eyes because they are all so beautiful, all those eyes.  I am grateful for youth and beauty and talent and for the young people who shared theirs today at the Beck Center.

I am grateful that the rain seems to have stopped for a moment.  I am grateful for light shining out through the layers of clouds, for my dog softly snoring beside me, for my husband combing wool across the room.  I am grateful for the storm and the clouds, for that stark contrast they give to the brilliance in fall leaves, and in life.