Like most of us, the unfolding scenes of loss in Haiti are weighing on me. I’ve been on an ebb this week, a bit spent, a bit murky. I’ve been trying to just be with it, move through it, pay attention, respond appropriately, but yesterday morning, I suddenly felt determined to do something. Greg and the girls and I talked a little about bake sales and such before school.
Then I proceeded with my life of relative luxury (coaching clients, a routine trip to the dentist, a trip to the consignment shop to drop off two bags of clothes, a phone call with a friend, a stop at City Market, cleaning up spilled milk, literally, editing an essay Greg had drafted for the Burlington Free Press). Doing: the antidote to to inertia.
Later in the afternoon, I finally dragged myself to the Y to exercise, something I’ve been assiduously avoiding the past few days despite “knowing” it will do me absolutely nothing but good. My ipod seemed to pick up on my mood, and I climbed stairs to nowhere to a soundtrack of melancholy.
We sat around the dinner table last night eating one of those no-cook meals (veggie burgers and freezer french fries), doing the math to figure out how many batches of cookies we’d need to try to raise $100 for Haiti. We brainstormed places to hold a bake sale and then voted with our heads down while Aviva counted hands in the air. (Maybe Massachusetts should’ve tried this method?) We agreed on a location and proceeded to make a list of sixteen families we can ask to bake. (Sixteen times 25 cookies @ $.25 per cookie = $100. Is this what homeschooling would be like?) My homework is to call the mall downtown today to find out if we can set up shop in the entrance on Saturday. I will keep you posted and hopefully be asking you to get involved in you’re local.
Then we played Bananagrams (“poop-splat-anus-tadpole-wonderful-aviva-elevator”), and I went to bed with Pearl, stumbling into my own bed around 10:00.
A “bad” day here is still pretty damn ordinary.