Fortunately we had childcare from about 9:15, so I was able to get most of my work done. Three of the five children saw Dogman. I finished a draft of a book chapter. I did a podcast interview. I am getting close to caught up on my time tracking emails (this was a project…I’m so glad that we had 1600+ people tracking their time in January but it has taken me longer than I’d like to get back to everyone).

Some content from this week…Over at Before Breakfast, I had episodes on “The case for a winter walk” and “Carpooling isn’t just for kids.” For the longer episode I interviewed Mary Laura Philpott about “Being patient until the right idea comes.” She talks about how she’s had a gentle year creatively as she figures out her next project. She’s approaching the process with curiosity, rather than a sense of hustle. There are turtle metaphors. Please check it out!

Over at Vanderhacks, I piggybacked on Groundhog Day and the associated movie to ask “Would you live today over again?” Related: “How to enjoy 6 more weeks of winter.” I suggested people “Try a 30-minute closet triage” and “How to (finally) make progress on your personal to-do list” (those two are behind the paywall).

The Best of Both Worlds Patreon community had a fun discussion of the best jeans (I have been informed that this was an expensive thread). We also talked early money memories, and favorite TV shows. Membership is $9/month (you can join here).

Thanks for supporting my writing and podcasting! I appreciate it. In the meantime, a tongue-in-cheek sonnet about big game football…

Some sixty thousand people in the stands
All scream alike as seconds tick to none.
The lights glow green, the crowd is slapping hands
confetti flutters, people start to run,

as fireworks explode into the air.
The players rush the field, their helmets tossed.
In this cold night, the revelers will dare
to claim that all is changed from if they’d lost.

And yet, a few blocks over, someone else
sits in her condo, watching Netflix, sure,
that nothing else has happened, and she tells
her friend that it’s a boring night, and you’re

on your way over right? Oh yes, I’ll try.
I see some traffic — but I don’t know why.

Photo: A different sort of bird, through the car window. Note: no snow.

On Friday I dropped my 15-year-old off at the high school and drove on to the airport to fly to Boston. There I headed over to Symphony Hall to meet a friend and listen to the Boston Symphony Orchestra perform Beethoven’s 8th and 9th symphonies. This was an afternoon performance (1:30) but was a full house. I was less familiar with the 8th symphony – it’s short and light. Then the 9th is, of course, the 9th. The choir was fantastic and it’s hard to keep from smiling when the full ecstatic chorus (the Ode to Joy part) is going. It is quite the juxtaposition to hear that masterwork with some of my daily Beethoven — we’re working through his teen years right now and among other things, there was a lieder that was an elegy on the death of a poodle. Apparently he had some breadth in his work.

After, we met up with other friends for drinks and then did dinner at a place where I ordered a cocktail that involved carrots and wasabi. I believe I slept for 9 hours straight in my hotel room. Always a treat of traveling! The next day I flew back to PHL and, because there are no actual business travelers on a 1 p.m. Saturday flight, I got a surprise upgrade. That is also an occasional treat of traveling (though it’s a really short flight…).

The second adventure: on Sunday, my husband and 15-year-old and I went to the Eagles game. We went to the Eagles/Packers game two weeks ago and enjoyed being part of the crowd and that energy. I did not feel sad about watching the blizzard game last week on TV, but when the Eagles won that game, and the weather forecast looked decent for this past Sunday (in the mid-30s and partly cloudy during game time), I decided to look for tickets. I was stalking Stubhub and when some seats came open in a section I like that were priced far below a lot of the others, I grabbed them.

I know the game was a blowout, but it didn’t actually feel that way until the last quarter. So it was exciting to watch, and then as it became clear that the Eagles were going to win, the buzz in that stadium just rose and rose. We stayed until the end, but then because a lot of people stayed for the ceremony afterwards, we were able to get out of the parking lot with very little traffic. So a win all the way around! We were home by 7:30 pm, which meant our Sunday evening proceeded as it normally would to get everyone in bed and ready for the week.

In the meantime, here’s another wintry sonnet, currently called “Wind chill.”

Here winter has a scent — a hint of smoke,
as somewhere, fire warms a drafty room.
My footprints mar the snow, a deer’s hooves broke
the sweeping white already, and a plume

of flakes lofts with the wind. I huddle close
into my coat, exhale a great grey puff.
The cold demands you think of it. My nose,
exposed, feels like I cannot get enough

of this tight air, it freezes down the throat.
But one can’t while the days away inside,
and so I burrow deep into this coat,
and face a sun whose warmth is just implied.

How strange to be so chilled, and yet the light
makes dazzling diamonds, blinking cold and bright.

I had hoped to go to Longwood Gardens on Saturday night, but all the kids had done stuff during the day (playdates! skiing! tech rehearsal for a play!) so no one wanted to go. Rather than fight to drive an hour and walk around in the bitter cold (the wind chill was something like 11 degrees) my husband and I elected to go out to eat instead while the big kids babysat. We went to a tapas place — it was really good. Maybe I can add that to the list of first-weekend-of-January traditions!

Something I don’t hope to add to the tradition list: We just got the robo-calls from the district that schools are closed tomorrow. It doesn’t really look like we’re getting that much snow, but we shall see. There will be a lot of screen time, but if it does really snow, maybe there will be some sledding too…

In the meantime, here’s a little sonnet on singing Bach’s B-Minor Mass…

For this, I leave the house by six-fifteen.
For this, I sit in traffic near downtown.
For this, I work to make melismas clean
until the notes sound as they’re meant to sound.

For this, three hours on a Monday night.
For this, some ninety minutes in the day.
For this I’m testing out the parts, the tight
chromatic harmonies, the rhythmic play.

For this he labored centuries ago.
For this he pulled a life’s work in a piece.
Did he imagine how we’d get to know
such genius that with time does not decrease

in beauty? When it strikes we stand in awe.
Whatever cost, it’s worth it — worth it all.

I came home and then mostly finished the wrapping. There are only a few small items left to do. The sibling presents (minus the 15-year-old’s since he ordered online for delivery today or tomorrow) are under the real, more informal tree (my kids call this the “tree of the people.”). The family presents for Christmas day are under the “fancy tree”  (the fake one with all white/silver/gold lighting and ornaments). My extended family’s presents are in my office, to be taken out when they show up this weekend.

I’m thinking maybe next year a goal could be to finish more of the shopping earlier. I start to feel more relaxed about Christmas when everything is procured and wrapped. So if this was done at Thanksgiving, December could mostly be about experiences.

Easier said than done of course, as people change their minds about their Christmas lists, and there are more gift-oriented items on sale by December. But something to think about.

In the meantime, here is a currently-unnamed sonnet. Looking for something catchy as a title!

Before the stars, before the planets set
into their orbits, which define a day
and year, then what was time? The alphabet
came after words, one could still chance to say

“I love you” never knowing what was “v”
or “l” or what it meant to write a thought.
These constructs come after the thing, we see
our rules imposed on things existing not

because of rules — and yet, how good to know
that if we say we’ll meet at 3 p.m.
at the appointed point of spin we’ll go
to our shared spot on earth and on a whim

we’ll write each other notes, sweet nothings, such —
these lines that mean so little and so much.

*Getting together with friends for breakfast and coffee and hearing from more far-flung people.

*Going out for Mexican food (a margarita! guacamole!) with my family. They gave me miniature accessories for my miniature kitchen, and some puzzles.

*Hearing my church choir sing Happy Birthday at rehearsal — pitched very very high as part of the warm-up. I will never hear it sung that high at a birthday party!

* The birthday thread on our Patreon page! SHU asked people to post something they’d learned from me and it is making me feel many warm fuzzies to know my catchphrases are going through people’s heads!

* I’m headed to Longwood Gardens with my husband this weekend to see the lights and Christmas displays.

So, lots of good stuff. As for content, the Before Breakfast podcast suggested people “Plan a Monday adventure” and “Go in search of lost time.” As the longer episode, I did a time makeover of a Before Breakfast listener named Haley, talking about some various things she tried in her life and how they worked.

Over at Vanderhacks, my Substack newsletter, I discussed how to make time for speculative projects in a post called “Put big dreams first.” Behind the paywall I had tips on “How to make virtual events more engaging,” and ideas on “How to enjoy your birthday as an adult.”

Finally, here’s a sonnet, called “Bus stop.”

Four weeks before the solstice, and the sky
is full of shadows, lengthened on the street.
The school bus stops, the children shout and try
to stop the boy from racing off. His feet

are pushing out his shoes, his elbows taut,
his eyelashes are tangled and his hair
is rumpled. See, he reaches — soon he’s caught
a single yellow leaf. The autumn air

is chilled with wind, then warm in setting sun,
this moment in between when all is light.
So why should we be sad? The boy will run,
and any thoughts of darkness take to flight

like squawking birds, against the golden gleam
of afternoon, of joy that’s like a dream.

But there was also a fair amount of open time — some of which I didn’t have the 4-year-old for. So I kept thinking that I should be getting ahead on all the stuff for the holidays. I know December is about to hit like a big storm, and I’m thinking that I should be stocking up on metaphorical pop-tarts and bottled water. I made and ordered our Christmas card. The 13-year-old picked out family pajamas and ordered them. She and I also started on the Christmas Lego set! I mostly have the holiday fun list (coming later this week) and I worked on choosing dates for anything that needs an assigned date. If something is on the list without a date there’s a big chance it won’t happen as — guess what! — the holiday season is really short this year. We come out of Thanksgiving weekend and it’s already December. There are only 3 December Saturdays before Christmas this year. The gift shopping will be something and that is no where near started but it will happen eventually. And I shouldn’t rush through Thanksgiving as there is a lot of fun happening with that too…

Anyway! Perhaps I am not very good at relaxing. I did spend a bit of time working on my puzzle. And a lot of time practicing music for 3 upcoming concerts before New Year’s Day. Also, there are three kid music concerts too in December…

In the meantime, this might be the last of the autumnal sonnets, with a working title of “Past Peak”:

November afternoon, tonight the rain —
for now the ashen clouds are gray and low;
the contrast with the leaves makes things mundane
seem holy, with the forest bright, aglow.

A maple’s scarlet in the cedar trees;
a gingko, golden, shakes a few leaves loose,
undressing just a bit with every breeze,
and by the woods there stands a single spruce

as sentry, soon the only color left
in three days time when all will fade to brown.
We linger in this moment, till bereft
of hue the trees must start to hunker down.

Still there’s this afternoon — these precious days.
Before it withers, all the world’s ablaze.

Yesterday we had a crew here installing lights on the trees. I’d decided to do  professional Christmas lights installation this year, and so it will be festive to look out the window and see the trees all wrapped in lights. I forgot to take a picture last night so unfortunately that isn’t an accompanying photo for this post, but hey. We’ve started working on scheduling in parts of the holiday fun list. It’s going to be a tight year because Thanksgiving is so late. We did buy 7 tickets to the Rockettes! And the breakfast-with-Santa tickets are purchased. Still trying to figure out when the Nutcracker and Longwood Gardens are happening…

(I’ll probably publish that list next week.)

In the meantime, here’s this week’s content round-up.

The Before Breakfast podcast interview featured Charles Duhigg, author of Supercommunicators, and The Power of Habit. We talked having better conversations and his own productivity tips. In the shorter episodes, I suggested that we “Don’t consent and resent” (it might be better to just say no!) and I asked “What’s on your holiday fun list?”

The Vanderhacks newsletter suggested that people “Set relationship goals” and “Reduce chores, don’t reschedule them.” I suggested that we can serve the people around us by being a calming force — “Be the eye of the storm.” Behind the paywall, I suggested “A little way to take your reading up a notch.” The Vanderhacks newsletter turns one later this month. I’ve had a lot of fun doing it, and hope to grow this newsletter over the next year. Please consider a free or paid subscription!

The Best of Both Worlds podcast featured an interview with Gabrielle Blair (the Design Mom). Over at our Patreon community, we’ve been discussing suggestions for filling the time from 5-8 p.m. when it’s dark and cold outside. We also — believe it or not — had a camp question already. Is it better to put kids in one day camp for the whole summer, or to curate different camps on different topics? There are arguments for both. Please come join the discussion! Membership is $9/month. We’ll have our next Zoom meet-up on November 26th to discuss holiday planning.

Finally, a sonnet, called “The coat.”

A London park, October, and the leaves
are bright amid the city’s settled gray.
Two people walk, our narrator perceives
that they are lovers, new ones, as they stray

from sidewalks we take notice of her coat:
a brilliant white, as shiny as their bond.
Would travel mar its luster? She might float
that thought, but then her roommate might respond

that no, you need to wear it — on this trip.
This is the girl that fell short on the rent.
Another mindset, but, my friends, we skip
two decades forward, care cannot prevent

a coat from turning beige. But memory’s true —
that coat is London, all still bright and new.

Aurora

The air turns cool, the dark descending fast
on this October evening, Thursday night.
I huddle in my coat, this is the last
of several happy outings, all is bright

beneath the street lamps, feel the bustle, buzz.
Two hundred people line up for a show.
They’ve stood all day, and now crowd, as one does,
to be the first inside, first standing row.

We hustle past — then “look up!” In the chill,
a streak of red makes brush strokes in the sky,
and through the camera lens more colors still.
We shout and join the faces pointed high.

The northern lights have come to play around
this autumn night, like music without sound…

—-
Bar Harbor, 4:45 p.m.

Now rocking on the porch, I see the light
turn golden, all the maple leaves aglow
on this cold island, all the aspens bright,
as even parking lots put on a show.

Some nineteen years ago we ran a race
to mark one year. A thought — did that seem long?
I only once had thought about this place.
Somewhere a book is written, we belong

to larger narratives, the great unknown.
We travel many years, if glad we can.
Tomorrow, I must wake before the dawn
with many miles waiting, per the plan.

Just always moving, here this tree still stands
a hundred autumns, chilling many hands.

I guess it is officially fall now, so those might be among the last pool trips. September can sometimes be a bonus summer month, with very pleasant days, albeit cooler mornings and nights. I’ve been trying to seize these lingering days.

It was a physically active weekend for me. On Saturday morning I went and ran loops at a local nature trail. I did three loops, which came out to 8.3 (maybe 8.4) miles. I did this in 88 minutes, so that is roughly a 10:40 pace or so, which is close to what I’m hoping to do in my upcoming race. Originally I planned to do 10-plus miles, but then I found out a local trail association was doing a guided hike on Saturday that I wanted to do with them. So, after running the 8.3 miles I quick went home, got a little more coffee and food, then met the group and hiked about 4 miles on some fairly substantial hills.

It all felt pretty decent — this, my 12-plus mile morning — which is…welcome. I’m sending a reassuring message back to January Laura (who couldn’t walk) that this would be possible in September. Here’s hoping this trajectory continues. There’s also just the reality of training for a long race that as you run progressively longer long runs, the earlier long runs don’t feel quite so long. Having run 10.7 miles the previous weekend, 8.3 felt short!

On Sunday evening I went to a performance of Bach’s Musical Offering (BWV 1079) by Filament, an early music group. I enjoyed this, as I also enjoyed listening to several violin pieces as part of my daily Bach listening. As I near the end of that project, I’m pondering what my 2025 year-long project will be. We shall see.

In the meantime, here’s a sonnet called Monday Night:

The asters by the porch have bloomed, a leaf
or two falls in the blue, confetti, gold.
The dusk descends, and with it, disbelief
that summer ends. The smaller boys behold

the driveway, fading, almost hard to see.
Two little bikes go hurtling, racing time
they’ve got a favorite gnarled cherry tree
and so the older one begins to climb.

I help the younger up — their branches part,
and there, in the September sky, the moon
is full, is orange, the evening clouds just start
to tiptoe in, to genuflect, and soon

we all are silent, spellbound by the sheen
and that, what could be hidden, we have seen.

Lately, however, some changes in the podcast industry have nudged me to try to shake things up. So I’m excited to announce that, starting today, Before Breakfast will feature one longer episode per week. These episodes will likely run on Wednesdays, and will usually feature an interview with a fascinating person sharing advice on how they take their days from great to awesome and how we can too.

I’m launching the series with none other than Sarah Hart-Unger! Not only is she very productive, she has lots of great tips. And, I’m pretty used to talking with her, which I figured would make me less nervous for producing this thing.

So if you’d like to hear her morning routine and life hacks, go check out today’s episode. And please consider subscribing to Before Breakfast. Each week features four new short episodes, plus the interview, and then on the weekend I rerun “classic” episodes from the past 5.5 years. We call those “Second Cup.” You know, morning coffee themed…

While I’m shaking things up…I also decided to add a video component to the Vanderhacks newsletter. Starting next Tuesday, I’ll do one video post a week, sharing a quick tip. You can go here to subscribe.

Thanks for reading, listening to, and watching my work! I really appreciate it.

And while you’re here, how about a September-themed sonnet, called “Remembering”…?

September blue is different, brighter, thin,
the sky a hue that August can’t quite match,
the trees aglow as light begins to bend.
A wisp of wind blows stronger, tries to catch

a twirling leaf, the first of many — scouts
the landscape, finds a spot on cooling ground.
I find myself nostalgic, hereabouts,
recall Septembers past, those days first bound

by early night, by waning heat, by gold
on sidewalks — I once walked these pathways, new.
I watched the city brace itself for cold,
I pondered dreams that only I then knew.

What can I catch? A leaf, a hope, I may —
but others, just like autumn, drift away.

Photo: Believe it or not, this was one of the promotional images I snapped for Before Breakfast back when it launched in 2019…