Summer Funk

My brain and body haven't settled into my usual summer rhythm yet this year, a surprise to me considering how predictable my routine has been in the past.

You see, after the last day of school I deep clean the house, even if it was just done for whatever reason the week before.  Then I sleep.  A lot.  So much so that my daily schedule becomes completely discombobulated.  I nap, then end up wide awake at midnight.  I catch up on recorded t.v shows, attempt to tend a garden, and begin to ease into the idea of seeking out classroom inspiration for the upcoming school year.  I blog.  I enjoy at-home movie nights with my family, and try new recipes as we return to eating three square meals a day together.  I have lunch with friends.  I wander through antique stores and thrift malls.  I craft (a lot) usually producing all sorts of red, white and blue items, closely followed by orange, black and beige for Halloween.  In July I listen to Christmas music.  I read education blogs and catch up on guilty pleasure reading between professional book study chapters. I watch TED Talks and explore new-to-me music videos. I pin ~like crazy~.

There have been "lots of feels" popping up this summer, unanticipated emotionality that though normal, throws me off because of its spontaneity.  The worries, misadventures, and sadness experienced by those around me are deeply felt in empathy, as are the validations and victories happening for family, friends, and strangers.  Connectedness is essential, yet so overwhelming at the same time, and I usually find relief from it all by walking downstairs, lighting some scented candles, brewing coffee, listening to music, and making things. Paper things, yarn things, bloggy things.  Celebratory things, gift things, shareable things.  Adornment.  Decor.  Visual happiness.  Patterns. Whimsy.

I haven't felt deeply reflective, but my brain keeps popping memories and wonderings into my brain during times when I'm trying to exercise my usual routine.  I'd like to think these interruptions are purposeful, but frankly, they feel inconvenient.  Are these deep seated questions to be resolved with some declaration of EUREKA to myself or just moody distractions?  I've never considered my usual summer routine an opportunity to stall life's momentum, but rather something between a reward to myself and an integral part of who I am, no matter where I'm spending the majority of my days.  I'm a maker, and summer is my time to swim in media: yarn, paper, paint, ephemera.

I've been walking around in a wading pool for over a month now.

Not.  The.  Same.

So I've dibble dabbled with this, and dibble dabbled with that.  I've worked through some tasks on my summer to-do list.  Splash with the right foot.  Spin circles into the water with the left.  Looking at it collectively helps a little.  Maybe it's a temporary shift.  Maybe I just need to crank more tunes and dance through the house to lift this funk.

I spent two days sorting loose photos.  Extended family.  Me.  The College Graduate.  The Rower.  The Almost Fourth Grader. Us.  Wedding.  Dear Husband.  I looked through a lot of pictures and found very few of them that felt personally relevant to me in the here and now.  An odd disconnect for me to experience over photographs, though as I read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, apparently not unusual.

I corralled my yarn stash into a plastic laundry basket and am pleased to be able to quickly see what I have.

I have had these angels for most of my life, given to me by my late grandmother.  Their wings broke off after a move and I didn't glue them back on for years.  Y-e-a-r-s.  The wings stayed in a special spot in my jewelry box the whole time.  They're winged once again.

Thrift store and childhood kitsch, little treasures that mean something to me are keeping swap treasures and needles and thread from my late mother-in-law's sewing box company now. 

I have some magazines to catch up on. I miss getting lost in their pages. 

Recommend some music to me, will you?