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I am a restless person, prone to periods of longing for where I want my life to be in several ways. I’ve had a particular goal for a long time, moving to London, making my living as a writer, and though I try to be patient, the reality is that it will be several more years, at least, before I can move Marty and myself to London. Unless I win the Mega Millions, in which case, we’re in London the next day. Like, the very next day. Gone.

I worry, though, that once I achieve my dream, I will continue to be restless, wanting something else. Marty calls me a gypsy, like my father, applied in many ways. I would love to think that London and writing would keep me content forever, but I worry about fending off that feeling even what I get what I desire. Will I ever be happy where I am?

I think about my one of my sister-cousins (see earlier posts for reference) when she was a baby. She screamed all the time. She had to be moving: bounced, in a stroller, dancing around the room, whatever. Movement was the key. UNTIL… she could crawl. Once she could get around by herself, independently, she was a different baby. She wanted to be able to get herself around, that was all. That’s what I hope happens to me, I just get to where I’m supposed to be and I’ll be fine. I hate the idea of struggling my entire life.

My question to my readers is this: Is there something that you strove for for a long time and when you got it, you were finally satisfied or were you still restless? Tell me in the comments. You’re awesome, I want you to know that.

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I’m sitting in Boston Logan Airport, having gotten here in plenty of time for my flight, and so I thought I’d write a little about what I’ve done the past two days. It actually started back in November when I planned my trip. For those that don’t know, my husband and I are genealogy nerds. We’re totally into ancestry.com, dusty old papers, and everything that goes with it. My Great-Aunt Kay sparked my interest in our family genealogy when I was a teenager and I’ve been hooked ever since.

I’ve known about my Salem relatives for a while and we did visit Salem as a family (4 out of the 5 of us) in 2018, but I really wanted to go by myself and spend some time in libraries and in the town looking to see what else I could find out. We don’t have school this week and I had a Delta gift card burning a hole in my pocket, so I booked a tiny room at a hotel in the middle of town and very impatiently waited for the next two-and-a-half months to pass, as evidenced by my frequent Facebook posts.

I won’t give a running commentary about my trip, I know it is much more exciting to me than to others, but there really is a lot of cool stuff in Salem and in the surrounding areas. Such as:

  • Figuring out a good MBTA route. I LOVE putting routes together and when they work, it’s even better. To get to Salem, I took a plane to Boston, the commuter train to a bus depot in Revere, and then a bus into Salem proper. Today, I did the reverse to get back. Everything connected just the way it was supposed to and I’m just waiting on the plane. BTW, Delta is awesome.

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    Catching a train

  • The bus is a great place to get to know real people.
  • I love how the Hawthorne Hotel took my request for a not actively haunted room seriously, even if the room was a little haunted anyway. It was okay. We (the ghost and I) had an understanding. I was, however, on the floor where the haunted room was supposed to be but I never saw anything.
  • The Salem Public Library is so cool, especially the reference staff! Check it out if you are ever in town.Image may contain: night and outdoor
  • I had a psychic, who had no knowledge of me, tell me that I am supposed to write books and to quit screwing around and get to it. Feeling personally attacked, but she’s right. As soon as Menagerie is done.
  • I talked with some super-nice people. A lot of them had accents. Delightful.
  • Like any city, Salem has its delinquents. There are roving bands of foul-mouthed teenage skateboarders that you just need to avoid. No biggie.
  • The PEM Reading Room (aka The Phillips Library) is a fantastic resource.
  • The architecture. I love New England style houses and buildings and because I took the bus and commuter rail, I got to see a lot of them. True, some of the newer stuff there is that ugly, generic, cheap, box store look that we have here, but not in the downtown areas. They either keep the original buildings or build new to match the rest. I love the way that a lot of the old buildings are re-purposed and not just torn down. It looks and feels so much better.
  • If you go to Salem, you simply must try a little restaurant called Bella Verona. It’s very tiny, so they’re probably crowded in the summer, so call for a reservation. The food and service are wonderful Another great place is the Flying Saucer Pizza Company.

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    Bella Verona

  • I got to hear a steady stream of a one-sided conversation in Chinese in my ear for about 15 minutes straight this morning. You guessed it… on the bus.
  • The history! Omg, Salem is a treasure box of history and not just about the with trials. It’s maritime history is extensive, one of my own grandfathers was a sea captain there. Everywhere you go, there are buildings more than two hundred years old. I love it so much.
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    The Judge Corwin House, aka The Witch House

    Isn’t it funny how you connect with some places and not with others? There’s no question here: Salem is in my soul now. I plan to return many times.

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There are little, beautiful, things that make me smile.

Baby belly laughs. Best thing ever. Hands down.

My husband’s hand on my back at night as we go to sleep.

A random text or Snapchat from one of my boys.

Snuggling with one of my boys.

Messaging with my cousins.

An email or message from Sabrina.

Someone being kind.

A hug between friends.

A silly rehearsal moment

Petting friendly kitties.

Petting any animal.

Random sappy things said by students.

Sunburst through the clouds.

Our Christmas tree, still lit on February 12, by choice.

Dimes.

The thought of being on an airplane, going somewhere.

A lovely quote.

Pictures from days gone by.

Good feedback from a director.

Ocean waves.

A warm, soul-squeezing passage in a book.

A most satisfying piece of a plastic bat. (Only some of you will get this.)

Time to write.

Snow with no snowblower noises.

What makes you smile?

 

 

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I used to think I was a country person. At the time, I was working on a farm with some pretty amazing people. I plowed and harrowed fields with horses, fed chickens, milked cows, helped to shear sheep and butcher pigs, pumped water, and cooked on a coal-burning stove. Those were some of the best years of my life. At that time, I thought I wanted my own farm with my own horses, chickens, and sheep. (No cows or pigs. Cute? Sometimes, but being almost impaled by a cow horn, charged by hungry cows/angry bulls, and having to unearth a buried feeding trough for the pigs every day were all pains in the butt.) Ideally, it would be a historic farm, from 1880 or earlier.

Over time, as I grew and traveled, I learned that I really didn’t want that country life. I realized that I loved those years on the farm because I loved the people and what I did. (And the horses. I also loved the horses.) But I got to go home to a heated/air conditioned home every night with a shower and a microwave, so it wasn’t a completely immersive experience. And I traveled. I visited cities, big cities: Dublin, London, Edinburgh, Rome, Florence, Venice, among others. And do you know what? I love big cities, especially big European cities. I adore them, actually. London was the first place that I actually felt at home in my life, at peace. I belonged there. I can’t tell you how badly I want to be there right this minute.

Do you know what sounds heavenly? A life where Marty and I have a small flat on a high street in London with a small balcony. I’d write for a living. No car. There’s the Tube, so driving isn’t necessary. Stopping at a Tesco to pick up something small for dinner, or takeaway from a small restaurant. Fish and chips, perhaps, because we have a yen for it, no matter if it’s touristy. Strolling past Tower Bridge, the Globe, or St. Paul’s on a crisp spring evening. Sitting in St. James’  or Hyde Park and just soaking up the history. Watching tourists with umbrellas stroll around Piccadilly Circus and going to have dinner and a drink at this wonderful little Italian place on Kensington High Street, then going to bed knowing that I can do it all again the next day. My heart is in London.

Someday.

Where does your heart lie? City, country, or suburb? Why? Comment below or on FB.

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All across the world today, teachers are celebrating. There are social media posts, parties, a general sigh of relief from almost every continent. Why? It’s Winter (Christmas) Break, our first significant time to rest since mid-August. Thanksgiving was just a teaser; this is the time to let our hair down.

This is not a post to whine about what teachers go through from August through June, although I could quite possibly postulate about that for hours. Seriously, it’s the toughest job I’ve ever had, but that’s neither here nor there. What this post is about is what I’m excited to do over break. If you are a teacher, I’m sure you can relate.

  • Go to the bathroom whenever I want. It doesn’t sound like a big thing, right? But any teacher will tell you that it really is. In most other jobs, being able to use the bathroom when you need to isn’t something you have to plan your day around, but you just can’t leave a classroom full of squirrelly kids on their own, even to take a quick pee. It wasn’t always that way. I can remember my elementary teachers putting someone “in charge” and leaving to do whatever (including taking a quick smoke in the Teachers’ Lounge), but that could never happen today. (Both the smoking in the Teachers’ Lounge and leaving a student “in charge”.) It’s torture sometimes. For the next sixteen days, however, I can drink water whenever I want and will have a happy bladder.
  • Sleeping in. I am not a morning person. I will never be a morning person. I consider having to be out of the house 7:00, okay, 7:10-ish, every morning to be cruel and unusual punishment. These next sixteen days are a godsend and there will be no alarm clock.
  • Reading. For fun. Bliss.
  • Writing. Must. Finish. Book.
  • Not grading on my own time (almost) Yeah… the teacher bag is in the closet until after Christmas. Maybe even New Year’s Day. We’ll see.
  • Being myself. Not my teacher self. Enough said.
  • Not being disrespected every day. Being spoken to without being challenged or argued with will be refreshing for a change. I’m used to it, but that doesn’t make it pleasant. It wears on you after a while.
  • Watching TV. My brain needs a break. Dr. Phil, Say Yes To The Dress, and Long Island Medium are calling to me. Marty is not as enthused about these shows as I am. Or so he says.
  • Celebrate the holiday. I’m actually kind of in the Christmas spirit this year, a change from many previous years. Has meditation helped with that? Or maybe it’s because Marty and I have made it a point to do more “Christmas-y” things together. I don’t know, but I’ll take it.
  • The evil thought that some parents have to deal with their children on their own all day, every day. Slightly passive-aggressive? Yes. And, realistically, most of my students are fine, but, still, there are a few…

These are just a few things about break that are wonderful. Not that we won’t miss or worry about our students, but right now they need a break from us as much as we need a break from them. It’s time to refresh and renew so that we are better teachers when we go back.

To you and yours, have a very Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, a Blessed Solstice, and a very Happy New Year!

Image result for beautiful winter images free

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It’s the holiday season! If you’re looking for the perfect gift to give a family member aged 10+, consider giving a book by yours truly. Traveler is a time-travel story about family, justice, and courage. If you’re in the Detroit Metro area, pm me to get a signed copy or order on Amazon here:

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Do you ever feel like you’re good at something but then have that feeling that someone, somewhere will call you on it? Like, “Omg, she thinks she’s such a good ________ but she seriously sucks”, or something similar. This is a normal thought for me, no matter what it is: writing, acting, mom, wife, whatever. My therapist calls it Impostor Syndrome and it has a lot to do with one’s childhood, thinking that you’re never good enough. I think it also comes from seeing people who do have an inflated opinion of themselves and not wanting to be like that. In short, I am constantly, silently, sometimes desperately, looking for real validation while trying not to seem foolish, occasionally to the annoyance of those around me. For that I apologize, which is something else my therapist says I need to stop doing. I apparently can’t win.

Ah, well, such is life. Do you ever feel like an impostor? Comment below.

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