Hi there Dear Reader. Remember that last post when I said that this year was the year of doing more and that 2020 was already looking to be pretty dang great? Yeah…I clearly jinxed us. Or Covid-19 did. Either way, here we sit in the middle of a pandemic, playing homeschool teachers, trying to carve out a sense of normalcy, and likely (let’s face it) trying to figure out when an appropriate time to day drink actually is.

My work day is mostly the same – I wake up, pour myself a cup of coffee, walk the 20 steps to my office, shut my door and go to meetings like always. Meetings now kick off with discussions of how everyone is coping and moves back to business. I am so very lucky that my work life really hasn’t changed much and I know it’s not that way for everyone. My little family has felt the impacts of Covid as well. Nick is a chef, and the hospitality industry was hit hard and early on and he’s on leave for now. Izzy’s school is also closed. Lucky for us, those two things happened close to the same time, so they are able to play together and she can get some version of home school.

I won’t lie, It’s really hard not to grieve (for a lack of a better word) the ability to see people, and go out normally. I do find myself anxious and unsure of what to do with myself. It’s the unknown that’s the hardest – when will this end? How bad will it get? Not having answers and feeling isolated is hard for me, as I’m sure it is for all of you. At least we’re all in this together.

We fill our time with the long list of to do’s that had been piling up – rebuild and paint the chicken coop, make more beef stock, redo the garden beds – check, check, and check. The 3 camping trips I set up were cancelled with the closure of state parks, so we camped in the living room. We’re finding creative ways to stay happy, and I’ve had time to reflect on myself and this situation. Do I have a lot of answers? Oh man, no, but here’s what I have learned so far:

1. Turns out I am not a homeschooler. Nope. Not good at it. No thank you. While my kiddo is learning, I am so grateful for a partner that seems to have infinite patience and is really good at teaching. I am throwing beers at him to keep that going.
2. I need tasks and I need structure. So much of my off time was spent running errands, or going to the park, just going. Without that, I turn into a grumpy mess that no snack bar can fix. I’ve got a list of tasks to keep me from turning into a tornado of emotions.
3. I also need time to recoup. I’m still taking my PTO even though plans have cancelled. I am resting, taking baths, and trying to write.
4. I’m working on avoiding social media. This one has been hard for a social gal like myself. I crave interaction, but loathe the pettiness and misinformation on the interwebs. For every person I have to mute, I “like” a page on llamas or something fun.
5. Lastly, my kid is resilient. I asked her how she was doing with everything that’s happening and when it got to the topic of fear, she reported, “why would I be scared? I have you and Daddy.” As long as I can keep a safe place for her, I think I am doing alright.

So here I am reporting to you from my office, still in my pajamas at 12:30, because, well, I don’t have any place to be and frankly these sweat pants are dang comfy.

Here’s to all of us getting through this together – how are you taking care in this crazy time?

Oh, and Dear Reader – the answer to your earlier question about when an acceptable time to start drinking actually is? Yeah, about 2 weeks ago, when all this crap started. God speed.

Yours in isolation,
Raina

Man. 2019 was an odd year. Anyone else feel that way and ready for all that 2020 has to offer? I started 2019 neck-deep in a project at work, launching a new program and coordinating background checks and technology access for over a dozen people, while supporting my other teams. While that program required long hours, creative problem solving and a lot of training needs, it was the highlight of my professional career and I was happy to give it my all. 8 months into the year, I would eventually hand it off, and prep for the next projects, and of course breathe. If you were wondering where I’d been on the blog the past year, that’d mostly be why – if it wasn’t work or family, it took a back seat.

2019 wasn’t just about work, it also became the year of travel. We camped in tiny cabins in the woods, sitting close to fires, chasing salmon runs, and watching herds of elk make their way slowly into clearings. We stomped through puddles in the woods on the hunt for nettles and miners lettuce, and we sat in hot tubs for hours on the San Juan Islands. We celebrated my 41st year of life in Canada, exploring every area we could. We flew to Kansas to visit family, riding on tractors and spotting cows, taking in time with Izzy’s Great Grandparent’s in what would likely be our last trip to see them. We experienced the Midwest’s storms and watched lightning strike while listening to family stories well into the night. We headed to Disneyland for the first time as a family and I was able to watch the excitement of my favorite place through the eyes of my fast-growing kiddo. So many adventures squeezed into the year, and so many good memories.

If you know me in real life, or followed on the blog – it was quiet in 2019, more so than my normal adventure packed years. I wasn’t feeling the desire or ability to write. I would start posts and then park them. Start, and then park. The ideas were there, but the energy wasn’t, so those posts, along with a few craft projects and friendships went to the way-side, the passion to do all the things tempered with the reality that I couldn’t (and at the end of the day didn’t want to) do it all.

Slowly, the creative urge started to return. I worked on crafts, teaching myself how to spin fiber into yarn and how to dye fabric with natural dyes. I took classes on crafting and herbalism and continued to focus on making salves and tinctures. I even started dipping my toes back into teaching crafting classes one on one.

Oh dear reader, there was food; always food. So many nights spent cooking, curing, fermenting and canning. There was the epic weekend of 50 lbs of tomatoes, the week of all things peaches, and the pickled fiddle head ferns, the nettle pesto, or that smoked brisket. When stressed, or just needing a break, I’ve always taken to the kitchen and this last year was no different. The gardens produced more flowers and tomatoes than any other vegetables, and we ended up adopting out the rabbits that had turned into pets rather than meals.

So here we are, already 2 months into 2020 and it’s already feeling different than last year. While 2019 was the year of hunkering down and saying no, 2020 is already the year of more. More time with friends, more long chats and reconnecting. More trips away planned, more house projects completed already with a to do list a mile long (dang old houses). The year of more is just that and it feels good.

So dear reader, while I’ve not been around as much as I have, I’m changing that and hope to hear more from you all too. Here’s to one heck of a 2020 and to more of all of the good.

Raina

I’ve been absent lately. That’s the funny thing about life, days go by like normal and then one day it just gets busy. That’s where it’s been the past few months and if it hasn’t involved work or family, then it’s taken a back seat. There just hasn’t been room or energy for anything else.  What could be so big that it could slow me down from writing? The C word. No, not that one; the other one.  Cancer.

Recently I received an email from a family member encouraging my mom and I to go in for cancer testing.  She had tested positive for the BRCA mutation and was about to go through a hysterectomy and a double mastectomy. It wasn’t her first round with cancer, and after losing my maternal grandmother to breast cancer, it was time for me to go in.

I’ll say it now, I’m horrible at self-care. Do I do my monthly breast exams? No. When was my last pap?? Ummm…well. My last mammogram? 10 years, but you know…life. I was out of excuses.

I sat in my doctors office in that sassy yet breezy paper gown thing and listed my family history of cancer. I listed my own health concerns, including the small lump that’s been there long enough that I named him, my history of breast feeding, my eating and drinking habits (sigh),  and my overall concerns about leaving my family before my time. The doc agreed that we needed to get in some additional testing, including a mammogram, skin cancer testing and even genetic assessment to figure out whether I was a carrier of the mutation. Basically, I had the “welcome to 40, you’re somewhat old, but let’s get a full work up” battery of tests.

One by one, the tests were done. I repeated the same history, the same concerns from doctor to doctor. More people saw me in that damn paper gown, my boobs were pancaked into a machine and I even awkwardly announced to my dermatologist and his assistant I wore my best granny panties. Then, I waited.

There’s this feeling when you’re waiting for big test results, it’s hard to describe. It’s consuming and you worry; what if the results come back and it’s bad? What if, what if… Life drags on slower than it should and it feels like everything is on hold, because it kind of is. There’s that moment of panic when the phone rings and the relief when you hear the good news. Normally, I’m optimistic, but I couldn’t get past the negatives. I have good health insurance, I live in a great city that is known for good medical care. I have life insurance like no one’s business if things go south. I was feeling prepared for the business of it all, but it makes you pause and think of all the things you have left to do, the emotional side, the things you want to be around for and the years you want to spend with your loved ones.

Happily my tests all came back healthy. After weeks of waiting, I felt like I could breathe, like I could sleep and I could start doing more than waiting. I’m lucky, but due to my family history, I’ll go in for a mammogram yearly as well as an ultrasound 6 months later; a rotation every 6 months for the rest of my life. It’s worth it.

But this story doesn’t end with me – because life usually isn’t that simple. My mom also went in for testing and much like my story, she had put off testing. She went in for a mammogram as well, where a spot was detected.  Both our hearts sank; we had been so excited for my clean bill of health and I’ll admit, I had figured she’d be fine too. She went in for a biopsy and again we waited.

We agreed that as soon as the results came in that she would call or text – I’d keep my cell with me during the work day, just to be available.

And we waited. When the call came that the doctor wanted to see her, we knew it wasn’t likely to be good news, but we stayed hopeful.

The next day, the text I had hoped I’d never get came in, “I’m so sorry sweetie. It’s cancer”. I felt like wind had been kicked out of me. I had already lost my dad, Izzy had a rough start to her life, couldn’t we catch a damn break? My mom in true amazing spirit was positive and ready for a fight, albeit scared about what that could entail and I was too. If this life has taught me anything, it’s this: Life isn’t always easy, it surely isn’t always fair, but if you have good support and love, you can get through the tough so much better.

So here were are now, getting through the tough and looking for the positive. Mom’s genetic testing came back great, which means that we don’t move towards radical surgery. While her tumor is an aggressive form of breast cancer, it’s small, and this is her first incidence of cancer which also is a tick mark in her favor. We’ll take the positives where we can.  We learn next steps this week and then we’ll go through the lumpectomy and lymph biopsy together. We’ll continue treatment until we’re in the clear. We’re still scared, and realistic about the challenges, but we have each other and an amazing medical team her too.

So there you go, why I’ve been MIA and one hell of a good reminder to keep up with your medical tests. Here’s to healthier, happier days and getting back to normal.  Here’s a tiny feisty me, with an equally feisty mom.

Yours in kicking cancer’s ass,

Raina

It’s New Years Day, I am sitting in bed with my lap top, covered in quilts, squeezing the last few free moments of my night before heading back to work after being gone for a week. Just like every year, I look back on what I have done, and where I want to go and want to do in the year ahead. 2017 wasn’t bad, it wasn’t great, and I don’t know about you dear reader, I am ready to be on to a new year.

Before we can look ahead, let’s look back:

This was the year of work. I celebrated 14 years at my job; saw my team size double and I took on managing people in a completely new role.  I gave up some responsibilities and had to learn how to say no and delegate more often and for the first time in quite a while, I was in learner role. I feel like I am slowly getting my feet back under me, and that sure feels good.

My side life as a blogger brought me to Portland again for Feast and to Vegas to cover Las Vegas Food Expo, I ate, I drank, and I even picked up some new ink. I worked with a couple new brands, and took time out to write a little more.  A goal I had set last year was to get out and attend more events. While the flu knocked out half of them, I still made some great connections (and of course, ate some awesome food!). This year, I want to keep up with that goal – continue to put myself out there and a big part of that will be writing.

2017 was the year of, “man, I hope this is good enough”. I had days were I felt successes and days where I felt like an utter failure. There were days full of tears and frustrations on not feeling settled and feeling like I wasn’t doing enough. Luckily though, those days were far and few between and at the end of the year, I like to think I left things better than they were at the start. I felt like Dory, telling myself, “just keep swimming”.

2017 wasn’t just about me though!  Nick celebrated 10 years at his job and was able to take a fair amount of time off for Kiddos wild adventures, although there were quite a few 70 hour weeks in there, too. He built hutches, and helped me shovel poop and didn’t look at me (too much) like a crazy person for all the things I wanted to do in my yard.

Also, this was Izzy’s second year of co op preschool, and the first complete year of her life without any surgeries or procedures.

I’ll let that sink in: My kiddo had her first full year of just being a kid and not requiring anything more than any other 4 year old.

Man, I can’t say enough how great that feels. She grew taller, and more brave and sings constantly. She’s quick to be the class mother yet again this year, soothing over conflicts and trying to help the teachers do things. She wears her heart on her sleeve and is so darned amazing reminding me that I am so lucky to be her momma.  

In the farm and garden department, we had some losses and had to cull a sick chicken. The chickens we fostered were sent to their new home and the bunnies grew fat and cute, while our hens started becoming free-loaders. I ripped out most of the grass in the front and back yards and replaced it all with play ground equipment, a new bunny house and tons of garden beds. Cuss words were hollered as I pulled out chunks of sod by hand (a good workout, by the way).  The corn grew tall and I planted way too many types of squash and cucumbers. So much that I ended up putting out a box for my neighbors to grab a few as they needed. I tried out quite a few new types of tomatoes, but found that I wasn’t as excited about them, and needed more soil in my beds for them to grow happily.

When we weren’t in the yard or at work, we played in the woods, in the snow, in the sea, and ate our way through the West Coast on a trip to Sonoma. We sat quietly through the loss of loved ones, but also celebrated the birth of babies, and new weddings as well. We cooked new dishes, danced to records and stayed up late into the night playing.

Looking back, it was really the year of just getting through. We had fun, and tasks were accomplished, but there were so many competing priorities, that often times it felt like a blur. No relishing in the moments, no sitting in the quiet, just a lot of go go go, but not a lot to show for it. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it left me wanting more and feeling restless.

2018….What do I expect and want as I move onto a new year?

To be.

This is my intention for the year.

To be more creative.
To be more present.
To be more grateful.
To be still.

Those two words seem to start off some pretty amazing things and hold some pretty great potential, so I’ll let them guide me for the next 12 months. No more rushing (as often as I can), more time for friends and creating. More sitting in the quiet, thinking. More of doing what I know I need to do to make my soul quiet and my heart happy. This is the year I hope to just be.

Plus, I still have that damn 40 by 40 list and 6 months to tick some things off.

I’m sure I’ve said this before, but this is the year to butcher at least one rabbit and some of the chickens. We’ll replace those with new ones and begin the cycle again. I’m also going to try my hand at growing new varieties of squash and tomatoes, with some other goodies as well. I’ll be sure to add posts of my progress (the good, the bad and the ugly) as I go.

This year, I hope, will be the year of doing and being versus just getting by. So dear reader, I hope you’ll stick by and watch me as I try to be more (or less if the situation requires).

What are you hoping for 2018?

Raina

“Before I can tell my life what I want to do with it, I must listen to my life telling me who I am.”
― Parker J. Palmer