Monday, March 9, 2009


whenever I return from an adventure I have to gradually transition myself back into everyday life.
I had a grand adventure this past weekend, and will write about it soon, but today I am choosing to write about the grand transition back into "normalhood."

normalhood: the activities, behaviors, and attitudes that make up my typical, daily life.

which, today, included:
lots of laundry
feeding children
shuttling children
feeling some gratitude
answering work phone, cell phone, home phone
making calls on work phone, cell phone, home phone
arriving on time for appointments
shipping orders
feeling some intensity in my well-used muscles
opening snail mail
checking email, hoping for something fun or profitable
paying bills, completing forms and otherwise creating outgoing mail
loving my kids
taking goods delivered by UPS and business partner and putting them where they belong
putting kid (and my) things where they belong
going to store for milk and veggies

and so on.

what this transition process adds to my normalhood is both tangible (more things to unpack, clean, and put away, a pile-up of mail, email, and phone calls to wade my way through, things like that) and intangible (the mental regrouping).
it's the mental regrouping that I pay more attention to, as it's a fascinating process:
I love to go away, and live an experience that has absolutely nothing to do with normalhood, and a little of that experience always comes home with me, lives with me, and forever tweaks, just a tiny bit, what my normalhood is.

when I was away this past weekend I existed without a single aspect of this everyday life I lead. this, of course, is the draw and pull of vacationing. this daily life of mine ceased to exist for 48 amazing hours.
and although some of life hit me in the face within 2 minutes of pulling in my driveway, I am still carrying some of the joy and energy of my weekend experience, with tempers the severity of the returning-to-normalhood shock.

only 92 percent of me is here.
the rest is still on a ridge in the uintahs, looking out over peaks and valleys, the sky above me deep indigo and speckled with the brightest stars I've ever seen, a glorious creamy moon shining across the hills and sparking snow crystals all around me.

maybe 94 percent of me will be here tomorrow, and I'll gradually work my way up to being fully here. but my cells will hold the experience for me, and there will always be a little bit of that ridge within my skin and in the fabric of my soul.

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