all the christmas delights

 We stayed home for Christmas this year, just like last year--and while we could have made the trek to Oregon, I'm glad we didn't because it ended up SNOWING for several days! The snow melted the first few days, but yesterday and today, it hasn't been warm enough, so the snow is here to stay until next week. I'll be out wrapping up my run streak (run daily between Thanksgiving and New Year's) this week--and running with my YakTrax today since there's snow all over the place. A nice, relaxed, slow run today for sure.

Meanwhile, I've been baking all the things: I made gluten-free rough puff pastry and wrapped it around tiny hot dogs for the Christmas Eve smorgasbord, along with sourdough grissini and other tasty things. I made a cranberry linzertorte that was AMAZING (imagine linzer cookie dough but made into a whole tart with cranberry jam in the middle). Today, I baked a loaf of challah for dinner tonight, and I'll likely tackle babka so I can take it to a friend who is also gluten free.

In non-edible Christmas break fun, I've also been reading tons of books. I quickly read Olivia Dade's new book, All the Feels, which was a delightful rom-com. I am also wrapping up reading a few books that I started this year, including Braiding Sweetgrass (Robin Wall Kimmerer) and Eloquent Rage (Brittany Cooper). Both of these books are stunning--I think I paused on Braiding Sweetgrass because I wanted to mull over my thoughts, and I'm not sure why I paused on Eloquent Rage, but maybe just got bumped down on my Kindle as e-books from the library (thus with a deadline) became available. Either way, these two books have me thinking a range of thoughts.

Other delights involve completely and utterly ignoring work and work emails--I sent off a book chapter, then turned on my vacation responder and refuse to open that email browser window. It took a few days to relax and resist the urge, but one of the benefits of my current employment (and being on sabbatical) is that everyone steps away this week (or should), so I feel more free to just spend the time with myself.

And with the family--the kids are a delight and have really enjoyed the holidays. It was a bit of a challenge to curb the amount of stuff that came in with Christmas, but I think we found a good balance (and put a few things away for next year, so Christmas shopping done, yesss). The baby ooed and wowed as he opened gifts, and they have both been playing with all the things they were given.

When I was a kid, we were pretty poor, so we usually got a few presents each, but I never felt the lack. And honestly, we had so many other fun things around Christmas that the traditions and activities felt way more important than the things--and I want my kids to grow up with that belief too. Yes, it's nice to give and be given presents, but my favorite parts of the holidays are sharing tasty food I made, spending time with each other, watching holiday movies, playing games, and being together. Even if we can't see all the people we'd like to see this Christmas, I'm trying to connect and let folks know I'm thinking of them and love them. And that's a nice way to wrap up the year.

spring learning

 This week, I'm wrapping up my personal training sessions with my final fitness test, which will measure how much strength I've developed. It's a lot--I already saw how well I have advanced when we tested in October!

This got me thinking about spring. The strength training came to be my personal development/learning activity for the fall semester, something detached from my professional work/learning. And I wanted to do something similar for spring, so I think I'm going to sign up for a class I've long longed to take: a metalsmithing class out of the Art Department!

For years, the Art Department (who used to have their offices in the same building as the English Department) would advertise this class, and for years, I dreamed of having 5 hours or more a week to spend soldering, tinkering, bending, and whatever else you do to make metal into beautiful things. Guess what, though? I actually have some time for that in the spring!

So I started the process to become a non-degree seeking student (which, by the way, they ask for my high school credentials, a thing I found hilarious because it's been over 20 years ago), so I can sign up for the class. And it'll be my first shot at using the tuition waiver we get as employees!

As I was planning this, I kept thinking about how I'm surrounded by experts and expertise in all areas--a literal center of learning--and I should be finding ways to take advantage of that and keep on learning. So I may also sign up for a class here and there to keep reminding myself of what it means to be a learner and to live by my values of being curious, being engaged.

And next semester, hopefully I'll get some pretty things to go along with that learning!

how to afford a full-year sabbatical

 In order to take sabbatical for a full year at some institutions, you have to be prepared to lose part of your paycheck. Believe me, it's totally worth it (particularly because sabbatical is giving me a break from the chaos pervading my workplace)--but you still have to pay your bills, especially if you're like me and your paycheck is the only paycheck coming into your household. In my case, I took a 35% pay cut.

So in order to fund this full year, the first step is to save up what you need to cover your expenses for the year. One of the upsides of living through a global pandemic is that we are one of the lucky families who ended up saving all the money we weren't spending because we weren't going out to eat and venturing places where the money is easy to spend, and I kept my job. So, despite not really planning to need to save up for sabbatical, I ended up stashing away enough to cover the difference in pay. Also, those extra child credit payments are basically making up a good part of the difference too. All of this is to say that I had good timing and a few other factors on my side, which may be hard to replicate, but certainly took the pressure off given that I didn't originally plan to have to cover the pay gap.

Second is to budget, budget, budget. I figured out how much my monthly income would be with the pay cut and figured out roughly how much we'd need to try to spend on things like groceries. We like good food and if left to our own devices, we end up spending more on food than is strictly necessary, so now I hound my spouse to stay under a specific number and *surprise* he does--and we still eat delicious food. This took about a month or two to get used to, but now we seem to be able to stay mostly within our budget. Also, we're still not eating out much (like maybe once a month) or buying coffee out anymore (which would be higher if I could actually go work at a coffee shop), so that amount continues to be very small. We use YNAB for our budget (link contains a referral code), and I like it a lot--it synchs with all your accounts and helps you spend only the money you have if you're also using credit cards because it makes those expenses visible, even if they aren't coming out of your bank account in the moment.

Third is to make/thrift/mend instead of buying new. While not practical for all things, I certainly have sufficient clothes, but I'm finding myself doing things like patching a ripped seam in my undies (they are perfectly useable otherwise!), darning socks, and knitting up things we might want. I am a crafter, though, so I also have all the materials around, so if I'm making something new, I'm generally trying to use materials I have on hand instead of buying new materials because that would defeat the purpose, so yay for fabric/yarn stashes. And the spouse is taking advantage of some time to browse thrift shops for things we want--and I'm trying to make lists, like telling him to find me yoga blocks at the thrift shop instead of buying new ones, or looking there to replace our waffle iron (which is better for the environment anyway).

Finally, it also helps to have fewer expenses, like being able to get through undergrad/graduate school without loans (or being able to pay off the small loan I took out quickly), not having a car payment, and not having to pay for childcare. This series of circumstances reminds me that where I am is a mix of good fortune, resources, and other things outside my control (along with a few choices we made).

I meant for this to be a little tongue-in-cheek, except as I wrote it, it got earnest. Mostly, I want to point out that the combination of luck, lowered expenses, increased funds from outside my job, and other factors that I had little control over actually helped me out--and I'm leaning into a year of being more deliberate with how I spend money (and using all our skills to make things more cheaply). 

And as I told my partner, the goal wasn't austerity but frugality, and I think we're seeing how making a little less money isn't so bad because we have enough overall, which isn't the case for a lot of families. When I was younger, I didn't have enough--my family was poor in the full definition of the word, and I had to get to a point where I had enough in order to break the boom/bust cycle of spending that happens when you never know if you'll get a windfall again (basically, after I got this job). But now that I've had sufficient resources for long enough, I'm able to manage--and have a safety net too. My financial security is still something I marvel at and feel grateful for every day. And I'm glad it can support this sabbatical year that I sorely needed.

a series of unfortunate books

 Apparently, October is the month for books about misfortune and heartbreak: I finished Qian Julie Wang's Beautiful Country, which was incredible but so dire, so I told myself, I'll read something light to balance that out, only to dive right into Lessa Cross-Smith's This Close to Okay, a book about the relationship between the two main characters after one stops the other (at first, a stranger) from leaping off a bridge in the aftermath of his own shattering losses. Then, I dive into Suleika Jaouad's Between Two Kingdoms, the memoir of a young woman's live during and after being diagnosed with leukemia. All three books were beautiful, and I rated them highly on Goodreads, but all three were about loss, in-betweeness, and learning to keep living in the face of pain.

Maybe now I'll dive into something fluffier, or I'll see if the theme of unfortunate books continues.

bike versus car

 On Friday, I was hit by a car while I was biking onto campus.

I'm still reeling and processing--I was HIT by a whole CAR and not a small one either but a FREAKIN' SUV--but overall, I'm ok. I have a bruised arm and bruised shoulder, and the muscles around my shoulder blade were a little sore/tight, and I scraped by knee on the pavement. But I'm lucky to be relatively unscathed (and my bike seems to be also just fine).

How it happened: when I bike under the bridge on the Greenbelt that is also the entry to campus, I usually get off the Greenbelt and onto the street, as is encouraged by how the paths are set up. Usually, the Greenbelt is full of pedestrians (particularly during class change-overs), and there are many people on wheeled conveyances of various sorts, so the faster-moving folks are encouraged to move to the street, where there are sharrows one way (and a bike lane the other). So, basically for the last six years, I move from Greenbelt to street at the point it's encouraged by the designers.

As I hit the point where I was moving to the street, I noticed an SUV at the stop sign--I paused, checking to see if they were planning to actually stop, and I thought they were (they slowed down), but quickly realized they were NOT going to stop, but it was too late for me to correct, so I managed to turn my body and shout and slammed into the front quarter panel of the car with my shoulder and fell off my bike, landing where I could stare at the wheel that could have crushed me.

I was, understandably, furious--the driver asked me if I was ok and I shouted at him about how he needed to stop at the stop sign. At first, I was like "yes, I'm ok...no, I'm not!" and continued scolding him for running the stop sign. Basically, he was only looking to the right where cars might be and didn't even look around to check for pedestrians, cyclists, or other people, so he didn't fully stop at the sign.

At some point, he was like "well, gotta go, byeeeeeee" at which point it occurred to me that I should have called campus security and that he absolutely should not leave, but it was too late, and I was too frazzled to do anything other than note the make of the car (the color was seared into my brain) and the first part of his license plate.

It was then that the enormity of the situation hit me, like a dark blue SUV who blew through a stop sign: I could have been seriously hurt. I could have died. And then I started bawling, out of pain, fear, and rage. I slowly climbed back onto my bike and cycled to the kinesiology building, crying the whole way. My trainer took one look at me and asked what was wrong, where I then burst out "I was hit by a car on my bike!"

Everyone was kind: my trainer quickly sprang into action, ushering me outside and grabbing a first-aid kit so I could clean up my torn knee (note: I also ripped my spendy running leggings, which I am BIG MAD about too). I called campus security, and the receptionist was kind and caring. She called me back to let me know they had a video recording of the incident (which clearly showed the guy at fault, so that was a bit of a relief). My trainer and I walked around as I calmed down and got over the dump of adrenaline in my system. Then L came to pick me up from campus, and I went home to cozy up and feel safe.

It was a terrifying incident, and I hope I never have to go through it again. It reminded me to be conscious as a driver--and to pause long enough to make sure a car really will stop at a stop sign. I got back on my bike Saturday, and I was a little nervous, but I also felt ok being back on the bike, knowing that I am careful and conscious in general, and that I will continue to be in the future.

put gourds in all the food

 It's pumpkin season! I held off, mostly, this year until it was officially Fall and the weather cooled enough to require sweaters and boots and such. Then, all the pumpkins for me. I made pumpkin spice syrup yesterday and a pumpkin spice latte.

Pumpkin spice latte in a lovely clear mug covered in mushrooms

And then because I had leftover pumpkin, I made pumpkin teff pancakes this morning. And more pumpkin recipes are on the horizon, like this pumpkin tiramisu (vegan!) from NYT Cooking, which I'll make for a book club where a few of my friends are vegan/dairy-free.

We also made this pumpkin spiced caramel corn a few weeks ago to take to a child's birthday party (outside, small group), but then our oldest kiddo got a stomach bug, so we then ended up with it all for ourselves, a dangerous thing because it's the perfect combo of buttery, sweet, salty, and spiced.

I'm looking forward to more baking and pumpkin-based treats in the upcoming weeks--the cooling temperatures make me want to be cozy and have baked goods around, so they may as well have pumpkin in them.

sabbatical goal update--exercise progress

 CW: exercise talk. I do not subscribe to punishing myself through exercise or exercising as a way to change or control my body. However, if reading about someone's exercise is triggering to you (and it is for so many people), please stop reading and take care of yourself!

One of my sabbatical goals was to exercise more consistently--I tend to let exercise go when I'm crunched for time, and I usually pay the price in extreme grumps and an achy back. Exercise is critical to me feeling like I'm living optimally because I enjoy physical activity, I like how I feel when I'm exercising regularly, and it gives me space to think. When I don't exercise, I am cranky, and my body starts protesting (and then it's hard to move well). As I get older, the cycle of activity and inactivity also is harder on me physically and more likely to lead to injury or at least aggravated this and that.

So when I had the chance to sign up for a personal trainer through a kinesiology class for the fall semester, I thought, hey, here's a chance to learn some new exercise things AND work with someone who has a lot of knowledge! A chance to work on this goal with some accountability! I did make sure to lay down boundaries though: I have specific goals (namely, increasing upper body strength and improving my run speed), but I have zero interest in changing the size of my body. And the trainer I was assigned has been very respectful about this boundary, and instead, we've been talking a lot about proper form and learning new exercises and discussing what works and what is less helpful, with no body-size talk. It's been great.

We couldn't meet yesterday, so I did the workout today that he assigned me: running intervals. I ran 5, 6, and 7 minutes (increasing pace) with 5 minute walks, then a 1 mile all-out. And my mile time was 8:30! I was definitely pushing the pace (giving probably 90% or so), and it felt great and strong.

Anyway, I've been enjoying being a learner and also getting to talk to a current undergraduate in a relationship that is professional but isn't professor/student, which has been a bonus to my participation. And hopefully by Thanksgiving, I'll have developed a new skillset and a clearer understanding of my abilities and capacity--and be encouraged to continue learning new things and growing. And taking care of myself by having a sustainable approach to exercise that will serve me for decades to come.

learn something new

 I just finished Adam Grant's Think Again, and it was so interesting and so helpful for thinking about my own thinking--and how to have better conversations with people. He goes through research about what helps people change their minds and why it matters, and he offers tangible, actionable steps to think like a scientist. His goal is for us to be open and willing to update and revise our beliefs and to have better interactions with others on a variety of topics.

This book struck a chord with me, in part because of my own commitment to curiosity and learning. However, like anyone, I can get hung up on my own beliefs about what I think is right, despite evidence to the contrary, and I can react against what I see as "wrong" ideas or information without even pausing to assess the data. So I think one goal I have is to pick something I think is true and dig into it more at least once a week and reflect on what I learned here. Here are my results from Grant's quiz:

Pretty interesting, though I think my scores were swayed by reading the book and wanting to be a scientist--though, I have often said that I am a learner and am a curious person, so those traits come out here, I think.

Another thing Grant points out is not feeling tied to a predetermined path--we should stop to reassess whether our career is what we want it to be or other elements of our lives. I've been thinking about this a lot in reference to work, since the past year (but maybe more like past two years) have had a fair share of unhappiness and misery at work, in part because of relationship conflicts. I think Grant would say it's time to do a career check-up. 

Luckily, sabbatical is giving me life--like, I'm loving my job like never before. I'm excited to do my work, and it feels invigorating and engaging. Why? It's because I can focus on projects that are meaningful and important to me, I have a high degree of autonomy with my time, and I'm learning new things (both for my research and in my new role as a faculty associate with the Center for Teaching and Learning). So, for me, I'm definitely in the career I want to be in, but I'll have to think about how to move back into a "normal" academic year and maintain meaningful, autonomous work with an element of learning new things. Can that happen at my current institution, or should I look elsewhere? That, I suppose is what I'll have to answer next year.

oh, those goals

 We're closing in on three weeks of official sabbatical, and the time is glorious. I am reveling in the chance to be free, to think and to read, to write and to plan. I am finding my rhythm for each day, each week. I'm sloughing off the stresses of the past year, with apologies to my friends and colleagues still in the thick of it. I'm cherishing this time.

And I'm making stuff happen. While I don't want to bore you with all my amazing productivity (and, of course, we should always question the emphasis on productivity as a main goal for all things), I have been making steady progress on my goals, both personal and professional. So I decided to finally commit them to (virtual) paper, though it's a little scary to share them beyond the printed document stuck on my bulletin board.

Personally, some of my goals were to focus on my running and build up strength. I have been running steadily and consistently the last few months (and feel that I can run 5-6 comfortably and stretch to 7-8), though I have to be conscious of my healing foot. This week, I haven't been able to run as much because of the terrible air quality and smoke, but that's how it goes sometimes. The other part--strength--is being helped along by my participation in a strength conditioning group with a kinesiology student trainer. I volunteered myself as a participant, and in return, I get to try to work toward doing full push-ups. Yes!

Other personal goals are to make time for my hobbies, like reading lots of books and making macramé wall hangings and knitting and sewing stuff, so it's been fun to have time and energy to do those projects. Also, no pressure to do them--I'm fine with a slow and methodical approach.

Professionally, my goals are to work on my BIG SABBATCIAL project, or the thing I submitted as my project, which is to listen to stories of students' experiences with team writing in engineering. I'm making great progress on that, as I just submitted my IRB proposal and got permission to recruit students from three programs, so that's exciting.

My other projects involve written deliverables: a book chapter (due next week), finishing up an article draft I've been working on for a while, and finally FINALLY getting around to wrapping up an R&R on a project that I submitted two years ago (oops). I'd also like to get a grant application together to submit for my first NSF grant (based on my research). I'm also creating some faculty development for a program. Essentially, by the end of this year, I'd like to have four published/submitted things (articles and book chapters), a grant application, and materials related to faculty development, along with some conference presentations. I might stretch myself to a fifth article/chapter. It's ambitious, but I think I'll be able to accomplish most of it, even if it's getting a draft finished and submitted, or a draft planned and started.

Finally, I'm also reading--diving into the scholarship I haven't had time to read or stuff that's interesting to me. This is the part where I'm realizing the joy of sabbatical--the ability to sit and think and to explore. And I'm all for it.

managing distractions + taking time for relaxing

 A key strategy to maximizing my productivity is to not check email. And yet, the past week, I found myself jumping into my email immediately. Old habits are hard to break.

It's not surprising, though, given the past year and the massive increase in emails as a mode of communication. Given that I can't just pop down the hall to chat with a colleague, I send an email (though, lately, a text in order to set up a phone call). My brain has also come to associate email with doom--I literally opened my email inbox the other day with a sense of dread, and while that paricular moment was met with pleasant emails, a few hours later something terrible popped into my inbox. I tried to ignore it (chanting "I'm on sabbatical"), but it was still hard to deal with.

Anyway, I plan to return to my method of ignoring emails for the first half of the day in order (or even completely one or more days a week) to spend time on my writing and reading tasks. And since I paid for a Freedom subscription, I'll be using that in order to block what I need to block (phone apps, websites, email). If you try to go to your email when you have the block running, you get this pleasant screen:

Which, charming. I am free of the emails. I recommend buying this program if you're trying to find ways to block out the distractions--I know that they are to be avoided, and yet I still get sucked in. It's not my fault--it's all the habits, pressures, and design of technology working to disrupt my brain and steal my attention. So I've got to fight back with technology and the other tools I have access to. My next step will be to schedule my blocked times ahead of time.

Anyway, basically, I had a productive morning: I submitted my IRB (Institutional Review Board) application in order to begin my new research project. I reviewed a book chapter and figured out some recommendations for my team to revise. Mostly, I am wrapping up my deliverables from August, and I feel like I'm on track.

I'm also fully embracing the flexibility in my time to do other things besides work. After last year, I exited the spring semester bruised and feeling neglected, abused, and overworked. It was a rough year for a lot of reasons, and it continues to be rough for my colleagues, so I'm grateful for the chance to step away a little to shelter from the continued onslaughts. 

This morning, I read an article in Inside Higher Ed about using sabbatical for rest--and I agree with the points. We have so much pressure on us to do, do, do, and go, go, go, and produce allllll the things...well, it makes it hard to also see resting as a priority, even on sabbatical (which, by the way, the word sabbatical is related to "rest" or "break"). Thus, despite living in a culture that values giving all of yourself to your work and your productivity, rest is something I should be considering while on sabbatical. For me, this takes the form of playing with my kids, sleeping in a little, exercising, and reading many, many books. All awesome things.

And on that note, time to get up and move around and do a little exercise! I have to run later because the air quality is horrible at the moment, so I can stretch and counteract the sitting I'm doing with a little barre workout in my basement.

where to work?

 When you tell people you're on sabbatical, and they sort of get what it means, it usually is followed by a question about travel--which, I wish I could move somewhere else for a year! However, given the continued pandemic and my need to protect my kiddos until they can be vaccinated, where I'm working is not as exotic or interesting as it could be. It mainly involves me considering whether it's tenable for me to continue working from home in the basement or finding ways to work on campus in my office without being seen, particularly as my department is dealing with some Major Shit and I'm mostly ignoring it to focus on my well-earned sabbatical that I'm taking a giant pay cut in order to be gone for a full year.

Anyway, WFH is not so bad: snacks and tea/coffee whenever I need it, no need to pack up my lunch, access to a good computer with big screens, etc. This, of course, was my reality last year, and WFH last year, while challenging, was not too bad, given my many, many privileges, mainly having someone else to wrangle small children. On the other hand, despite not having to worry about swapping back and forth on child care, I was still irreplaceable, as I was (and still) provide milk for the youngest human in the household. This means that even with the best intentions, my day is disrupted because if the little one sees my face, he charges me signing/saying "milk!" frantically and crying until I concede. Or, both kiddos meander in to check out what I'm doing. Or I get distracted by the laundry or other domestic tasks that are literally in my same space (I work in a messy laundry room, so I'm actually taking some time to tidy up to make it feel better).

All of this makes me think that while WFH can be useful for some of the time, I don't think it'll be productive for every day. This summer, I went up to campus a few times and found that it was a GAME CHANGER: the chance to just be my work self! The lack of tiny footsteps above me! No children demanding my time or forgetting that I'm trying to focus! No spouse trying to grind the rust off of an old cast iron pan! BUT, the challenges are that if people see me, will they ask me to do stuff? (Unfortunately, I've already committed to two things--one pays me nicely and aligns with my career/sabbatical goals, and the other is fun, but I have got to say NO from here on out). Will I get distracted by chit-chatting in the hall? Will I contract COVID and spread it to my family?

I thought about trying to work at a coffee shop on occasion or the library, but now I feel the need to minimize my time in public places until the kids are vaccinated and the variant spread is reduced in my community, so maybe (maybe?) in the spring.

Anyway, I think I'll wait until after Labor Day (when the rush of the first of the semester starts to calm down) and then attempt to work on campus a few days a week, during off-peak times (like Fridays or Monday mornings). I suspect that there will be fewer faculty on campus anyway, given COVID conditions. And I'll start trying to better enforce my work boundaries when I'm in my office at home (like shutting my office door if the other humans are downstairs or listening to music to tune out the footsteps).

sabbatical + tools I'm digging

 This week, my role as director of my graduate program ended (potentially temporarily or permanently, depending on how department stuff shakes out). So I'm starting to slide into my new existence as a tenured faculty who is on sabbatical. In the past, a year of unstructured time would have made me anxious or even terrified me...but, well, I've learned some things over the past six years, and the past year of working from home taught me A LOT about productivity and work time and focus.

This week's tasks have been focused on clarifying my goals, outlining my timeline/deliverables, and beginning to organize myself. One thing I just did was clear out all my open tabs of things I want to read, adding them to my Notion workspace. While similar to Trello, Notion offers the ability to create databases and some share features--and it's free for educators (and has a downloadable desktop app that syncs across devices), so I've been using it to help me organize the articles, links, and books I want to read.

A screenshot of my Notion application on the Citations + Notes page

As you can see, you can create a bunch of subpages (with various configurations), and you can actually include a Trello-like section with boards and things to create workflows. So it really has a lot of potential, though I'm mostly using it as my writing log, citation database, and faculty reporting log.

The other tool I've been using heavily this summer has been Trello. Before reading Cal Newport's books, I didn't fully grasp how to use Trello most effectively--but then he described how he used it for administrative work, and it clicked, and it's been helping me keep my information organized and track due dates.

A screenshot of my Trello research board with the columns to do, doing, and Elon Seminar

Essentially, here I have columns for to do/doing/done (a pretty common way to track workflows), but I've added a few columns for specific projects, such as a research seminar I'm participating in (with lots of projects/tasks to organize), a column for presentations/publications, and a column for a grant I'm applying for (also with many components). Each card has information, weblinks, tasks, and deadlines, so I can consult them as needed to see what I need to do--without going on my email or looking in a bunch of different places. And because I have a Rocketbook, I can upload a PDF of handwritten notes to the appropriate card. So far, it's working pretty well for me!

Right now, I'm excited and confident that I can manage my time and have an invigorating and productive sabbatical year. I'll share my goals and what I hope to accomplish both professionally and personally in my next post!

healing and renewal

 In my last post, I talked about a digital declutter--and indeed, it was worth doing. I realized I didn't much care for how anxious Twitter makes me, particularly given that it's become the site where someone maligns my reputation; I'm tired of being advertised at all the time on Instagram; I don't really care about Facebook at all. So currently, I've limited my time to 30 minutes of Instagram on Sundays and Twitter only during conferences, though I may cut it off completely at some point.

Instead, I'm spending my time thinking and reading and doing stuff and reflecting. We took a trip, and I realized that one thing I was working on (and doing to my kid) was cultivating boredom. It seems silly--like, doesn't boredom just happen? But really, by cultivating boredom, I'm purposefully letting myself experience boredom, or at least a state of not being occupied on my phone if I'm waiting in line or otherwise not busy. In this state, however, I don't really find myself bored as in antsy and itchy and waiting to do something--instead, I'm contented. I've reconnected with my ability to just sit and observe and be in my mind, to rest and relax without being constantly occupied. On our 8 hour drive, I was more patient with the act of driving (not my favorite thing) because I wasn't thinking about what I could do instead; I was just focused on driving and observing. I also ended up just sitting and looking out the window on the drive. We let the preschooler get good and bored before we let him have at the iPad, and he actually was able to occupy himself a lot and only wanted to watch videos for a little bit.

The other part of this experimentation has been reading Cal Newport's other books (Deep Work and A World Without Email), which gave me some refreshing perspectives on my workflow and work habits, so I've been playing with those. One thing I'd like to do is focus more on the kinds of efforts that require uninterrupted time and energy, and those books made me understand my tendencies better to accomplish those goals (eventually--I'm still working on it).

Finally, all this experimentation and thinking has come with a dose of reflection. Along with reading Newport's books, I've picked up Jenny Odell's How to Do Nothing and Katherine May's Wintering, both of which are ruminations on slowing down and disconnecting--or really, reconnecting into different inputs. Similar to my reaction to when I read a book about the ways something like Doritos have been engineered to be delicious (and thus I was no longer interested in them because they weren't really delicious--they were just tricking me into believing they were), I am seeing our current hyper-connectedness for what it is: media companies trying to monetize my time and attention. Furthermore, I'm also seeing in that the ways that work culture focuses on output and productivity with no goal for living a good life. I like my job (mostly, though this year has tested that a lot), but my goal isn't to be constantly productive, and while doing nothing (or pursuing meaningful leisure, to use Cal Newport's argument) actually does help with productivity, it's ok if that isn't my end goal.

Sometimes doing nothing is enough in itself, and I find myself happier after this month of reflection and connecting differently. I feel healed (or at least, that I'm healing) from the traumas of the past year, the stresses of my job, and the other negative things that have been flung my way. I'm prioritizing rest, fun, learning, and things I love and connecting with people I love. And this is a fantastic way to kick off my summer leading into my sabbatical year, and I'm excited to keep learning and exploring in order to come back from sabbatical energized and happy to engage with the full flow of academic life (I hope) with better habits and mindsets.

Meanwhile, back to reading and being outside and other activities--we bought pool passes and I bought a new swimsuit, so I'll be trying to swim laps a few times a week and take the kids to the pool!

examining the digital clutter

Last summer, in the depths of the pandemic isolation, I found myself struggling with my eyesight. I realized, in part, it was due to more screen usage--we got a Switch; I was scrolling through social media more in an attempt to distract myself/connect with people; I was on the computer constantly once I started back to work fully in August. I also realized that (with an infant), I would stumble awake and immediately stare down at my phone. I also had issues with my hands/wrists.

One thing that began to help with my eyesight (until I finally went to the eye doctor in March and got the right prescription--one eye had changed slightly) was to not start the day by staring at the phone. So I made coffee and breakfast for the family. Or I stared out the window for a while. Basically, immediately opening my phone and staring at the screen was clearly detrimental to my health. In switching up these habits, I also deleted Twitter and Facebook off the phone and later decided to put a time limit on Instagram.

All this leads up to me thinking about how I use digital technology, some of which is to my detriment, though some is good too. In preparation for my sabbatical, I wanted to reconsider my use of technology and set myself up for success for this next year. I want to be able to work productively and intentionally--but also enjoy the time available to pursue my own interests and spend time with my family and dedicate to relationships. What I don't want is to end the year with the sense that I wasted time on social media and watching too many movies or just not engaging.

But mostly, what I want is a sense that I'm being more intentional overall, and that my use of technology is aligned with my values, a philosophy of technology use that Cal Newport argues for in his book, Digital Minimalism. I encountered a bit about that here in this article about doing a digital declutter, and now I'm reading his book to think about what I want from this experience (e.g. change my actions, not just "take a break").

So, May will be spent opting out of optional technologies, and then June will be reintroducing those things that work in a way that supports what I want. And I'm excited to continue to think and reflect and consider how I can continue to identify my values and continue to be intentional with my actions.

musical self, circa 2004

 Recently, we bought a CD player because I'm old school and like playing CDs still. In this process, I also organized CDs and have a small case with a bunch of burned CDs, one of which was labeled something like "Jenn's Favorites Mix." So I popped it into the CD player to see what Jenn, circa 2004, was into.

A little history: I was an active member of a church all through college, and faith was something important to me. In a way, it still is--I just have mixed feelings about Christianity and the many ways its been coopted for such evil ends. I also came to see the ways faith was twisted to manipulate and to suppress and subdue. So while I don't really claim to be a person of faith anymore, it is something that's a part of me and likely still influences my actions in subtle ways.

Anyway, this history means that a LOT of my CD was Christian pop music, things I found lyrical and lovely at the time, though many of the songs didn't really hold up over the past decade or so. The CD also had a bunch of songs that I liked from Top 40 music at the time, as when I started college, I started listening to a broader range of music (before college, we only could listen to Christian artists at home, and I was too goody-goody to sneak other music).

It was fascinating because I clearly loved those songs at the time--and many of them took me back to the early 20s self who was navigating burgeoning identities and new experiences and was obsessed with music (still am, honestly). Of course, others I barely remembered, and I wonder why I put them on there. The flashback to 2004 was an interesting one, and made me feel a little old because it 16 years ago...but it doesn't feel that long ago all at the same time.

thinking about the rest

 Last December, I applied for sabbatical, which meant that I was planning to be gone for Fall 2021-Spring 2022, hopefully as funded by a grant. Then the grant window closed because I had no time to work on it (see: raising small children and working from home and a heap of workplace stress), so I thought that I'd just push it to Fall 2022.

But then I chatted with some folks and it swung me back to going for it...and as soon as I confirmed that I indeed would be on sabbatical, I felt an enormous weight lift. L got excited too because my sabbatical gives him flexibility to do some things that he wouldn't be able to do normally (see raising two small children while working from home).

Now, I'm thinking about my projects and plans. I know what I'll be doing research-wise, but I also want to set out some personal plans, like training for a marathon for early 2022 (I haven't run one in 10 years and also haven't been able to train for one). I also think I'd like to spend some of my time volunteering, though I'm not sure what for yet. Perhaps a range of local organizations supporting women and environmental causes.

Anyway, now I'm trying to hold off until Spring Break (2 more weeks to go, agggh) to launch into full-scale planning, but I'm excited about the chance to just think and read and write and talk to people without getting bogged down by the day-to-day emails and the other parts of my job that while enjoyable (like teaching) also demand a lot of my creative energy and brainpower.

slogging on through

 It is the doldrums, the bitter dregs, the dreary sighs. Nothing is specifically awful; everything is specifically shitty. I'm finding ways to distract, deflect, and disrupt, but sometimes, it's just a suck-fest. On the one hand: the weather is improving, I'm able to get out and run and bask in sunshine, the kids are adorable, and I got new glasses so I can see well again. Today, I cleaned my desk off; I ordered a new keyboard. I'm getting a kneeling chair to change up how I sit occasionally (and provide fun for the kids). I'm baking delicious cakes and amazing bread (seriously--I got some amazing height and crumb on my latest one).

On the other hand: work. It sucks. Communication is thwarted, people are seething, nothing is getting done and yet the demands to do more continue to roll in. I'm working all the time and not getting anywhere. I'm behind on getting back student work, and yet I have to take a furlough day this week. Lies are being spread about me. I miss humans, human contact, human faces, feeding my humans, hugging my humans. I hate Zoom; I hate email. I wake up each day to more Zoom meetings and yet more email anyway. Vaccines are coming, but seem so far away, given that university faculty and employees are not in the essential worker list and have to wait for the general group to open. It feels never ending.

I know the pandemic is making everything worse, but I really am unhappy in a job that I typically love. I have some high points--like thinking about offering a new class in a year! working with students!--but a whole lot more low. I respond to one email to have ten more take its place. People ignore my expertise. I try to get things done and nothing moves forward.

So I try to get outside, breathe some fresh air, bake a cake, read a book, and hope that some day soon, I can get a vaccine and hold my friends again.

cakes I have baked

 I snagged myself a copy of Snacking Cakes by Yossy Arefi, and it's so much fun! The cakes are so cute and delicious and easily converted to gluten free. 

Here is a list of cakes I have baked the last few weeks:

Chocolate peanut butter with peanut butter glaze with chocolate peanut butter balls (for our anniversary)

Coconut lime

Banana peanut butter with cocoa glaze

Apple with salted caramel glaze

Two cakes I didn't get pictures of but were delicious:

• Spiced honey with almonds
• Oatmeal cookie with chocolate chips

Not to mention the birthday cake I baked for the not-so-baby small human (a hazelnut meringue with whipped cream and mandarin orange segments in the middle)

In many ways, I'm clearly using baking to deal with my stress and things going on that are challenging, and that's not a bad thing. I'm also having fun and baking in a way that's manageable this time of the semester--small cakes that are whipped up with minimal dishes needed (and can be done by hand). And while I still love making gluten-free sourdough, I'm also just not able to commit as much time to baking bread, except on the weekends, so the cake baking has been good for getting a baking-fix in on more limited time scales. And the elder child is pretty happy with this arrangement.

By the way, if you're a cake-baker and use 9" round pans, get yourself some precut parchment--it makes baking cakes (or other round things) sooooo much easier.

can't I logic my way out?

 My friends, I have procured yet another type of planner--this one a Panda Planner from Rocketbook. I was curious about it, and I've been enjoying my Rocketbooks that I got for Christmas from a friend, so I figured, eh, why not. I'm not sure it's the planner I want, particularly when the example gave a goal (get in shape) and then the target metric was weight-based, and it triggered my rage at diet culture. So maybe Panda Planner should not be so fat-phobic in its examples, and besides, weight shouldn't be a target metric for "get in shape" but instead something like "lift X lbs" or "do plank for 1 minute" or something. Gahhhh.

Anyway, I digress.

Another friend mentioned something their therapist told them, which is that you can't logic your way out of situations (not an exact quote, but the gist). And I come back to that idea time and time again--I often think if I can just plan it out, then I can eliminate all of my woes. I empathized with Courtney Milan's character in The Duke Who Didn't because she loved making lists and always aimed for perfection on completing the list--but always failed. The point there is that the character purposefully made the lists impossible to accomplish because she was aiming at a standard of perfection that seemly wasn't attainable as a way of coping with the chaos of the world. And I do that a lot.

My calendars and planning systems are all an attempt to obtain some perfection, to use my formidable organization skills to impose order on a world that simply cannot be ordered. I know this. And yet, here I am, with a new sleek planner and the promise that I can try a new way to organize things to make the world fit into orderly patterns.

Ultimately, though, my systems are useful: I'm using them to realize what I can accomplish in a week and to plan out my days. I'm getting a clearer sense of what is feasible in a day--and also considering how I can shift things if I need to take a break, like I did last week after an exhausting day that followed a few hectic weeks. So, perhaps the planner obsession is useful in helping me reach some clarity about working as much as I need to work and letting everything else go--something I am working toward much more consciously this year.

mothers and babies

 Lately, I've been thinking a lot about how mothers and babies are portrayed in literature and film. Particularly, the ways babies are often snatched from their mothers, while the mother lies helpless on the birthing bed. Most recently, it was in Bridgerton, where the duchess was left with her arms reaching for her son, while the duke held him for all to see his triumph--only for the duchess to die without even getting to see her baby. In Jane the Virgin, Jane's baby is kidnapped shortly after she gives birth, leading to a wild chase while she is still sore and raw and needing to feed him. In a fantastic book I recently read, The Empress of Salt and Fortune, the baby was snatched from his mother. And in one of my favorite books, The Girl Who Drank the Moon, the baby is torn from her mother's breast, and it drives the mother mad. I like all these stories as a whole, but I wonder at this repeated narrative and how hard it is for me to read it.

I'm aware that my thoughts and feelings are because I am a mother--I got to immediately hold both of my babies on my chest and then keep them tucked close to me for much of their newborn days. My body made these tiny creatures, and my body (and hormones) demanded that I keep them close. My body was this baby's first home, and the baby wants to stay close to it. In some of the books I've read about birth and midwifery, they refer to the mother-baby dyad, which is a way of capturing the relationship that makes sense to me: the baby is a separate being but also not, and together, the mother and baby make something else, and you have to care for both mother and baby to ensure health and well-being for the whole. So I have a visceral reaction--and not a positive one--at the narratives that cast mothers as weak or helpless or exploit them after they have given birth to steal their babies.

It reminds me too of the arguments around reproductive justice. The ways that controlling women's bodies become a way to subjugate women and remove their agency--both in preventing them access to birth control and abortion as well as taking their children from them. Forcing women to have children but then taking those children away for a range of reasons. Taking children from birth mothers as a so-called deterrent to illegal immigration but really just an exercise in exploitation and inhuman cruelty. Denying nursing mothers access to their babies. Incarcerating mothers for being poor. These are real stories, stories that happen daily.

It also makes me want to write a story about a powerful mother whose baby isn't taken, who is able to fight the powers that want to steal her baby. A story where a mother isn't weak or passive but uses her ferocity to destroy the entities that would control her body and rob her child of their first home. A story where women band together to protect and support each other and take down the patriarchy.

capsule creation

 I follow some folks on Instagram who talk about dressing minimally, others who advocate for conscious consumption and purchases of clothing (the fashion industry is an ecological disaster that exploits humans to make sure you can buy a cheap t-shirt). I also follow Dacy Gillespie of Mindful Closet, who is a stylist whose mission is to help women spend less time getting dressed by helping them find their style. These have had me thinking about clothes, my body, and using clothes to suit the life I have rather than some vague self I might want to be.

Thus, over the past few years, I've been trying to reduce my consumption, consciously donate or give away clothes I no longer need, and mend/renew clothes that need repair. All of this is caught up in my growing desire for body acceptance in light of the inevitable body changes that come with age, children, and living--I no longer want to rely on chasing the whims of fashion for how I feel about my body. I want clothes that work with the life I have now. I want to wear soft, comfortable clothes that are durable and work for the life I lead--a mix of professional and active, whimsical/fun and durable, natural fibers that are also nice to wear.

Anyway, so in all of this thinking about clothes and making more of my own and buying pieces from sustainable makers (who also pay their employees living wages), I had another baby, which meant that some of my wardrobe no longer fits, some of it no longer suits me, and some of it I no longer like. After reading about Project 333, where you whittle your wardrobe down to 33 items for 3 months, I figured I'd use my furlough day to clean out my closet and see if I could build a capsule.

So on Friday, I pulled out every article of clothing I owned and dumped it on my bed. Then I began to sort, pulling out the stuff I've been happily wearing over the last year and putting it back in the closet/drawers, and then considering all the other stuff. Obviously, I have a lot of dresses and things I can't wear (or don't need to) because pandemic (and also breastfeeding--all my clothes have to be easily adjusted to feed my chunky milk-hungry baby). Some of these items I want to still wear, like the awesome Pyne and Smith black dress that is one of those wardrobe workhorses--great for traveling, able to be styled a zillion ways, etc (again, can't wear it because I'd have to pull it allllll the way up to feed a baby and I don't have time for that). But a lot didn't fit or didn't feel good or just didn't work for me anymore--so it got washed and will be sent out of the house.

I found that the act of pulling all of my clothes out and touching them and having to really just understand why they are in my closet was enormously helpful. I also listened to my immediate gut reaction when I picked up an item or tried it on. I also paid attention to what I was drawn to and what I reacted against. I also noticed a color palette emerging--definitely heavy on the reds/rusts. And in the end, I piled up quite a few items that were in good condition to sell on ThredUP or give away or send to a friend, but I still have lots of clothes in my closet, but all things I love and will make the most of.

Ultimately, I decided I didn't need a capsule, though I did create a "highlight" section of the closet for clothes I'm currently wearing in heavy rotation (the snuggly cardigans, the soft flannels, the cheerful or the cozy shirts). It means I can just zoom (haha) into my closet and snag what I need, so hopefully will reduce the time I might spend picking an outfit (though, let's be real: these days, it's usually a pretty quick process anyway). My goal, though, is when we do go back that I'm able to just rotate through those pieces, shifting the highlight section as seasons change. So it turns out the capsule isn't really useful for me--but the process of thinking about what I would pick for a capsule wardrobe really helped me appreciate the clothing I have.

I'm planning to avoid buying clothes anytime soon (I really have enough of what I need), though I am planning to make things I have fabric and patterns for, so that will be a fun way to mindfully and carefully add new items to my closet that fit me well and serve my needs. And that's all I really need right now, even if all the ads on Instagram are telling me to buy buy buy.

a calendar here, a planner there

 I think my desire to schedule and plan has gotten a bit out of control.

As I'm sitting in my office, I see my Google calendar I use for work on my screen. I look up at the wall, where I have a monthly calendar with stickers and labels and my running schedule marked. Next to my left hand is my Passion Planner, and on my iPad is a Passion Planner digital. Yes, my calendaring has gotten a bit intense.

I typically rely on my Google calendar and a paper calendar to manage my time. But I think the pandemic lured me into thinking if I could just organize things fully, if I could just make sure I plan enough, then I can make everything a bit better. And in some ways, I'm right--we have been falling into some good rhythms with cleaning and work; this semester, I'm prioritizing not working late at night (typing on this blog withstanding); I'm working out more and sticking with my running/barre schedule; I feel organized and like I know what's going on in a day and that I have a sense of what I can feasibly get done.

However, I really don't need all these calendars and planners around because I'm spending too much time updating all of them instead of just the typical paper calendar and Google calendar instead of actually doing the things I need to get done. It's like my habit of writing out to-do lists instead of, say, doing things.

a candy bowl

 It was Christmas, and the candy abounded, from stocking stuffers to presents sent. As I gathered up all the candy, I grabbed a bowl and put it all in one place and set it out where it was easily accessible, even for a preschooler who really, really loves candy.

But then a funny thing happened--after a few days, the novelty wore off, and the candy has just continued to sit there. Partly because all the really good candy got eaten, but also because it's just there. It's not novel. If the kid asks for candy, we let him, but he really only goes after a piece every now and then, even his chocolate money. I suspected this might be the impact--which is why I set the candy out in the first place--but I was curious to see what would happen when I did it.

I was influenced by a memory of another time where candy was freely available. One of my good friends always had candy laying around (maybe still has--I haven't seen her in a while)--in bowls on coffee tables and countertops. I used to be so surprised and often had a hard time not wanting to eat all the candy, particularly the chocolates: I'd never had unfettered access to sweets in all my life, and at that time as an adult definitely believed that I couldn't keep sweets in the house because I couldn't "control" myself.

But, this was all before I started learning about intuitive eating and coming to trust myself around food. Learning that it's less about control and more about not restricting access or labeling foods as off limits. Now, we can have ice cream in the freezer and it's not devoured immediately, chocolate bars will remain in the house for longer than a day, and I will eat something sweet if I want it, but not to the point of being obsessive or eating it until I don't feel well. It feels like magic sometimes, but it's really self-trust and self-care.

And I want to make sure my kid has that experience, and that we trust him to eat the food he wants to eat, and, for the most part, he does. And the candy bowl can stay out, and he's not in it all the time because he's kind of forgotten it's there until he remembers, and then he fishes out a sour gummy or a sucker and that's that.