March 05, 2017

In sickness and in health

The travel gods conspired against my conference roommate, Maine Writer. First she was told that her flight was going to be late. Then it was cancelled. So she got on a train, which -- based on the texts she kept sending me -- was only minimally faster than a dog sled. She arrived in the middle of the night, missing the dinner she had planned, where friends toasted her health in her absence.

She also missed the lovely, sunny weather that we all enjoyed the first day of the conference. During the three hours of sleep she got that night, a cold front rolled in. As she walked over to the conference center to give her talk, bitter winds slapped cold air against her throat, her forehead, and her bare legs. The toast to her health was clearly defective. By the time her panel ended, she was flushed and running a fever. Her usual throng of admirers, rushing up to talk to her about her upcoming book, didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you meeting us for dinner?” I texted her from the back of the room.
“Can you get me some drugs?” she texted back.

That was her conference: hours of traveling and a miserable cold, with very little time to spend with her friends. Yet, despite these dreadful conditions, Maine Writer remained loyal to the naked photo project. She knows the tradition: anyone who rooms for me has to pose. I was willing, at this point, to let her off the hook, but she insisted.

"Of course I still want to pose," she told me. We went together to the hotel spa on the third floor, which had a sauna. “This heat feels so good,” she said. "I've been shivering all day."

Then she stretched out on a bench, naked. “This is all I have the energy for.”

We’d been talking earlier about self-care, and I’d listed the things I do for myself: long walks outdoors, potluck meals with friends, making time to read and write and meditate. Sometimes self-care means just taking the time to be still and listen to our bodies. Especially when we’re away from home and miserably sick.

At the spa

Read more about the history of the naked blogging project and check out the gallery of photos.

February 26, 2017

Felt like spring

Lake in February

Last week, the area schools had their annual February break. So on Friday, I drove to a little town on the other side of the lake to visit the 16-year-old who used to live across the street from me. We kept in touch while he moved from foster home to foster home, and then four years ago, he was adopted by a wonderful family.

Biker Boy has grown taller than me and his voice is deeper, but he’s still the same sweet kid who used to come over and play with train tracks on my living room floor. He and I went out for breakfast to a diner that served delicious blueberry pancakes, and he told me everything happening in his life. He likes his high school, he broke up with his girlfriend, and he still loves to fish. He joined the fire department where both his adoptive father and his adoptive grandfather volunteer: he’s the youngest firefighter.

After breakfast, we took a detour to stop at the fire department, so he could show me their trucks. It’s a one-story building, which means it has no fire pole, but it seemed like a nice facility. I took a photo of him out in front. “If there were kids in a burning house, I would do anything to get them out,” Biker Boy told me. “I’m like that.”

“I know,” I said to him. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

We had a lovely morning. We took a walk along the lake, where the wind had piled up mounds of soft ice in various shades of white and blue. We stopped to take a hike at a park where the melted snow was rushing and crashing over a cliff. And of course, we ate the same lunch we always do: slices of pizza with root beer. It’s a tradition

.Chittenango Falls

February 14, 2017

Sunlight in mid-February

Sunshine in February

When I got home from work today, I realized that something was different: the sun was shining. It was still light out. And everywhere, snow was melting. Wet snow slid from tree branches. The banks along the driveway were shrinking. When I walked to the creek, I saw water instead of ice.