Jump

Learning to Fly. vol. 5

Stuff

Posted by Alexandra Jump on May 24, 2012


Everything was going along pretty well  until I tried to pull the red kayak out from under the deck.  I couldn’t budge it and then I realized that the boat was stored right side up instead of upside down and was filled with water.  To the brim.   It had been stored there all winter and I looked at it almost every day, but didn’t really see it. Normally all you do is tip it to one side and the water spills out and then turn it upside down to get the rest out.   Except in this case, the area under the deck started around 36″ of clearance and then narrowed to about 24″ and the boat was wedged way under.  There was no way I could budge the boat and being the spaze case that I am, I knew that if I pulled at the thing anymore I would end up on my back side and most likely with another humdinger of a bruise.

Everything else had turned out pretty OK.  The guys from All-Ways Moving showed up right on time and were super nice.   Fred and James who goes by Curt-short for Curtis and Gary ( or Greg… I can’t remember but I know it starts with a G and is 4 letters) Spiller the owner.  I love love love that last name is Spiller and he has a moving company.  And Gary packed up all the china and kitchen stuff for me and the other guys toted all the stuff from the mouse house to the truck. They wrapped all my furniture first, then carefully carted it out, as if each piece of it belonged to them.   And even though my stuff isn’t the best stuff.  Most of is hand-me-down from grandparents, but it is what I have and much of it I holds memories.   First they took the stuff that will go to Boston at the end of August and then the stuff that will stay in storage for a couple of years was taken away.   First stuff out of storage goes first and last goes in last.

That just blows my mind.   Putting stuff away for a couple of years.   Lucy and Lewis must have done this loads and loads of times.  And Becky out in Texas.  She and her husband are traveling nomads, working for an oil company and stuff.  Laura and Jon have done it too and they have 2.5 kids and are in Dubai or Abu Dhabi or some such place.  Point is, I know plenty of good folk that have sucked it up and put stuff away and have left for a while and then come back.

But I am a newbie at this pack up your life thing.   And I was tempted to give most of it away, have a clean break.  But Jenny said to me that I always am giving my stuff away and reinventing myself, so I should try and keep stuff this time.   And she is right. Even though I will technically be homeless for the next few years and living in someone else’s space,  I will eventually need a couch and a dining room table, so I might as well store the stuff rather than buy new stuff in a couple of years.  And going to God school, as Brenda calls it, means that I don’t have high income expectations.   I don’t think there is lower paying job that requires so much advanced study.

And so the process was the sorting and the evaluating and the thinking about the stuff  and I spent a good week or two looking at all of it and making little piles and going to the dump and getting the boxes that the dump guys had saved for me. And Sara called and asked how the moving was going and I said I was doing a fine job of moving stuff from one pile to another and that the procrastination was right on schedule.  This is about balancing letting go and being smart about what I might need down the road.  New for me to think about down the road.

And so I have been thinking.  A whole bunch.  And I thought that the best thing I could do was Alex-proof it and hire a moving company.  That forced me to focus with a deadline and it forced me to make decisions.   I moved most of the stuff I wanted for the summer to Andover by myself which meant that I walked into door frames on a regular basis with boxes and bruised myself up pretty good.   The other hail-mary pass was getting Warren to volunteer his truck and him to move the boats and the deck chairs and outside flower pots.

And so after the mover-guys came and went with all of my stuff,  I began the cathartic cleaning and at the end of the afternoon I figured I would pull the boats out of their winter hiding and get them ready for the transport to Bradley lake. That is when I discovered my epic kayak storage fail.   Warren was gonna meet me at 9 am and not wanting him to have to wait for me to bail the boats out, I bailed.  For about 1/2 hour with the only cup that was left, a plastic Princeton Reunion cup from 94′ that Lallie left in my car last summer after a Barr Hill cookout.  I have safeguarded  that dang cup  for when I go back up to Gboro to make sure that Lew gets it back.   He hangs on to stuff like that and so, not wanting it to get lost at the Godwins this summer or lost in some box for the next 3 years,  I managed to keep it out to the very last.

So there I was last night and there I returned again this morning, back under the deck with all the mosquitoes to bail that boat out before 9.   Lucky for me the propane guy came early to turn off the gas and I got him to help me pull the boat out enough to tip the rest of the water out.  And I thought about that plastic cup that Lewis kept from some sort of college reunion thing and I thought about what I have kept with me.  My spinning wheel, my knitting needles, fiber and yarn.  A couple of my books, my journals, photos of the girls, my grandmother’s black jewelery box, my tea-pot with the creamer and sugar bowl and my pillows.   In no particular order, just all that stuff that I base my routine around.   My mornings start with tea and knitting or writing or reading and I end the day with getting my bedclothes from a dresser that has my grandmother’s jewelery box and photos of the girlies.

We all have things that ground us.  Plastic cups that remind us of a time or place or spinning wheels that help identify what makes us unique.  And if I have those things, those things that help me to define who I am,  then I am home.

Posted in Familiy, friends, stuff, transition, writing | Tagged: , , , , | 2 Comments »

Mace

Posted by Alexandra Jump on May 21, 2012


I am not sure the the black flies got the memo, but I was covered in Deet.   I am not sure what is worse, covering you skin in a toxic, nasty smelling, sticky substance, or being sucked on by black flies and mosquitoes.   I am sure that being able to sit on the deck, under a canopy of maple and oak with Bradley lake peeking though is pretty darn sweet.   I am joined by one of several household critters, Monty a huge double pawed orange cat who likes to be loved and drools.   He helped me finish a hat yesterday morning and I am thinking that I can somewhat train him not to eat my yarn.   The issue is the potential pet hair that will get stitched into my projects  and so my textile stuff, my wheel, stash of fiber and knitting will remain in a closet in the bedroom and the bedroom door shut to keep the critters out.

I will be my own worst issue, as I like to have a cat up on the bed when I am reading or writing.  Or in general.  The truth is that I have gone a year without pets and I miss having one.  Brenda has always had a number of cats and dogs, some I have really liked and some not so much.

When I first came up the hill, I was a  boarding student at Proctor and was hanging out with Ian,  number 2 of bunch of kids and also a student.  He was a day student and so to get off campus a number of us would head off a few miles up the road  and hang out at Bradley lake by the dam at Ian’s.    Back  then the Godwins had this HUGE  Spanish Mastiff named Mace who basically lived on the landing half way up the stairs which required one to either step over if you wanted to go down the stairs, or be face to face with while heading up.

I was terrified of Mace and I think for fun, Ian’s Dad Roger would tell us all to watch out because Mace didn’t like people and would bite.  What ever you do, don’t look him in the eyes.    In any case,  I was terrified and when sitting at the long dining table, if Mace came by and trapped me I would pet him and try desperately hard not to look at him while doing it.    Poor misunderstood beast,  I wonder now if he was really as mean as Roger had made out.

There were always other dogs too, a huge black lab, yellow labs and a Columbus Spaniel.    And there were always several cats.   One whose  name I think was  Pumpkin and was the largest fattest cat ever, though Brenda takes great umbrage with this term and has always corrected me.  He was solid.

Now there are four dogs and three cats,  one of which I have yet to see.  He vanished a day or two ago, but has a regular history of  doing that, so no worries.      I am still working on getting all the names of the critters correct.   Monty and Hobbs are the orange cats.  I think Brewski is the missing one.   There is a shaggy shy mastiff too, I think his name is Poncho or Poco or some such thing.  Then there are three large retrievers,  the blonde one is Ziggy I think.  I can’t remember the names of the others right now.

I might get it right by the end of the summer.   What I did get right was taking Brenda up on her offer to live here for  a couple of months before school starts.   I can write and  re-write inside or out depending on the bugs and weather. The view of the woods and the lake provides a wonderful backdrop for when I  lost in my own space.  And there will be the usual interruptions of cats and dogs wanting to be let in or out or simply wanting to be loved.    And how lucky am I to have landed in this most familiar space.

The view here is peaceful and quiet for now.  I am soaking it all in and so very grateful to have such a place to be and to be welcomed into a home and a family that I have known and loved most of my life.

Posted in writing | Tagged: , , , , | 2 Comments »

Walk through your fear

Posted by Alexandra Jump on May 19, 2012


 

 

 

Instead of feeling excited, which is what I thought I was gonna feel,  I felt terrified.    Strange reaction, kinda.   And so I went for a long walk last night to try and uncover the reason behind my fear, and by looking at it perhaps replace the fear with a more productive emotion.

Here is the fear.

I am not good enough.

Where does it come from?   In this case, first glance is my dyslexia.    I talked with my editor Jill yesterday afternoon about the writing project and she is excited.   I have the beginning ingredients at hand,   285 blog posts from Jump alone then add to that another couple of hundred blog posts from Black Ram Farm and a trunk full of writings that work parallel to the blogs.   Plenty of writing.    And I have a plan to self publish and sell the finished book from the blog.   So those two things are pretty well covered.

The issue is that my 3rd grade self has just sent a story to the teacher and is waiting to hear that I can’t really write.   I certainly can’t spell and what is wrong with me?  I would sometimes have to stay in from recess to study my spelling words.  My family laughed at the funny way I tried to spell things and  I doubt they understand that their laughter seemed  like teasing and that they were making fun of me,  my small self still feels stupid for making spelling mistakes.

I remember being teased in 3rd grade because I was in the “stupid head” reading group and so I made up a lie that I couldn’t read in group because I was having eye trouble and I couldn’t see the words on the page, they were too blurry.  I think that lasted a week or so.   In any case,  I have come to be very open with telling folks I am dyslexic.  And I forget that people who are not dyslexic don’t always understand what that means.

And so yesterday,  I had already send the check to Jill and I had picked her because she can spell and I need someone who can spell correctly,  when we began our discussion about the book she said that she got the check and noticed I spelled fourty  instead of forty on the check.   Welcome to my world.   And that tiny little oops got my head spinning into the abyss of  What-do-you-think-you-are-doing?

You are not smart enough, you don’t focus, you flit all over the place, you need to settle down, you need to calm down, you need to slow down,  you rush, you are lazy, you don’t care,  why can’t you do it, if you only applied yourself,  you change your mind too much, can’t you stick to one thing….. and on and on and on it goes until I am heaping more feelings of not good enough on myself than anybody ever did.

And at second glance,  there is the issue.   I beat myself up and hide in doubts, fears and insecurities.   I create most of these issues in my own head.   I am not such a great judge of my own thinking, which is paradoxically very human.   And I wonder why I do this,  this reverse pride thing.

There is a balance somewhere between insecurity and pride,  a true humbleness that has eluded me, or I of it.

When I talked with Jill yesterday about the book,  I said that I wanted to do this for me.  To have something in hand that I could pick up and touch and then put down again.  A tangible something at the end of writing where by I could come and know my self better.   If I am gonna be really honest with myself I have to look fully at what I am doing.   I also want to be validated by others that I can write.   I want to get out of the “stupid head” group and go into the group with the kids that get to go out to play.  And I want to be able to sell enough copies of the book to be able to pay for what I am about to put out to get the thing published.  With enough left over to hopefully pay for some graduate school.

Dan told me the other day to walk though my fear.  I have to lean on my faith that I am going where I should be going.  I have to give it over.    Jill is a blessing that has coming into my life.   I think she gets me and I think that will come to understand that my anxiety and fear of writing is what makes me a good writer.   I think she will be able to identify my voice and will be able to edit my work without loosing that which is uniquely and lysdexically mine.

Posted in faith, writing | Tagged: , , , | 2 Comments »

Love Notes

Posted by Alexandra Jump on May 17, 2012


I have been cleaning out the writing bin.  My writing scattered on notepads and in journals, in my laptop and on the web.   Trying to figure out what will go with me to Andover for the summer and then to Dedham as I start my studies and what stuff will go into storage for a long time, years most likely.  What can I live with and what can’t I live without.  Some of my notes are going with me.  The one on lined paper I gave back to Emmie today.

It was the first time I saw her since her return and she is doing better.  She has settled in with Grandma in New London and has been doing a ton of fishing with Uncle Buster.   Yea and double yea.   I lived with my grandmother Emilie for a bunch of summers up in Greensboro and those were some of the best summers ever.   Grandmothers are good for the soul.   And as Emmie says, “they don’t come with all the parental guilt that you and Dad have.”  True that small fry, true that.

And I had said to her,  Hey….. look at what I found in my writing today.  It was on a notepad from maybe 2000 or 2001.

” Dude” she said, ” look at what I wrote…. you love me away… no matter what … get it..  away“

Out of the mouths of babes.

That is our job it seems.  We love them and get them ready to be away.  Away from us,  their mothers so that they can become their own people.  No matter what.  The job is to raise them up and then give them a push out of the nest so that they can fly off and do their own thing.   And it reminded me of the dove earlier this month that I found on the ground after it perhaps fell out of the nest.   I gave it some water and it hung with me a while and then it went back into the bushes,  its mother looking on the entire time.

Em didn’t fall out of the nest, but her first flight out has been a bit bumpy and she is getting her wings.  Grandma is overseeing this little chick now and I will be just down the road, available if she wants, but not in her face or in her space.  Birds need room to learn how to fly.

I am relieved that she has found a good spot for now and I will continue to love her away…..no matter what.

As for you Lulu,  I am posting the link to this on your Facebook, I love you and I miss you too and when you find this note and you have read all the way to here,  text me.

Love Mum

Posted in Familiy, humor, transition, writing | Tagged: , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Emotional spelunking

Posted by Alexandra Jump on May 15, 2012


I have only been to one cave, the Lemon Squeeze and I didn’t like it.  I am somewhat claustrophobic and the idea of going down into the earth, in the dark, and cold and rock hard space to get stuck is terrifying.   As a kid I would much rather find the tallest tree and climb it.  I remember once being buried in a pile of leaves and not liking it at all.   I was afraid of the dark as a kid too.  Not afraid of water, or climbing the rafters or going hands free down a hill on my bike.   When I die I want to be cremated and my ashes taken up in a plane and sprinkled in the air above Caspian.

But before I kick the can, I want to be able to know better about myself and so I have begun the process of pulling my writing together, getting it to an editor and actually publishing it.    I started a writing project a short while ago with Rosmarie Trapp,  she had wanted me to write her story and had given me her journals,  and I had found an editor, Jill Mason to help guide me though the process.  The project was dropped for a whole host of reasons, but the contact with Jill remained and come Friday she and I are going to start the process of editing my work.   I have the summer to pull it all together so fingers crossed I will have something ready to release before school starts.   I am hoping to self publish and sell it on line. It would be nice to have a couple actual books in print too.   Pretty basic stuff.   Self publishing means that I will do my own marketing and keep the profits of the sales.    If I can put something decent together, then maybe the sales …pity purchases or not,  will help me pay some of my bills as I go through school.

This idea has been kicking around for a while and now that I have this gift of time, I have been going through my writing.  And going through my stuff includes places that were difficult and with the copying and scanning and typing I have been watching the Sopranos,  straight through from the beginning and now I am up to Season 4, episode 7.   I love watching a series from beginning to end.  I love watching the development of the characters.  Tony is in and out of therapy in all of the seasons and bumbles his way long.

The last time I watched the series was the very long weekend that Bub first attempted suicide.   It was the Thursday before memorial weekend and he had been drinking heavily in the weeks before and after an especially rough night lodged in St. Jay to sober up, he walked back to Morrisville, got the truck and headed up to the family land with bottles of pills, additional alcohol and a garden hose.  He was pulled from the truck in time and refused the hospital.  He was in the care of his parents that first night and they didn’t want him to go to the hospital either, so my choice  was to allow him to return home to recover or to leave him.  I stayed.   And somehow I managed to get though it too and he did agree to see his therapist and to stop drinking and that lasted a while.

And I began a blog and through it I reached out beyond my little world.  I have been able to go back and see myself through my writing and now it is time to pull it all together.  And re-reading and organizing the writings is like emotional spelunking.   Down into the dark, with a vague memory of what lies beneath, cold and empty of light.

But good cavers have headlights and a rope so they don’t get lost.   And I have those too.   Jill will guide me thought the process by looking at the writing and will help me to organize and get technical with it all.   Living in Andover will help me to keep it light and I will be in the good company of friends.  A line back to what is here and now and a compass to push me forward.

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