If you are not into college football it is hard to explain.

I love the space of Nebraska.  I love that even in the city I do not feel the crush and rush that I feel in other cities.  And yet there is this space.  We smash in here and: We are NOT Penn State.  Ha!  (I just had to get that joke in there.)  Seriously, it is fun.  And it is good to be with friends and my son.  It's also good to win a football game.

What I love about Nebraska football?  We love our Defense.  We cheer our defense and appreciate them.  And they win games.

I started my "stroke refinement class" a/k/a "grown up swim lessons" last night.  I was really nervous about it.  I worried that I would be the slowest swimmer and have a panic attack in the pool and get pulled out by the instructor.  When I showed up I was one of 2 women.  There were six men.  I was definitely the fattest.

We got in the pool for some drills, and to my surprise, not only could I do them, I did them well.  I was relatively fast - on my back I beat everyone else in the class by half a length - on my front I was still the first one to the other side of the pool.  Apparently I have good positioning in the water.  My weaknesses are my breathing and my stroke, which is why I signed up for the class.  I am absolutely over the moon about all of this.  I am proud of myself for signing up and going despite my anxiety.  I am looking forward to the coming classes.  I can really see how the drills that we're doing will develop my stroke and help my breathing.  "We'll have you flying across the pool by the end of the session," my instructor commented while I waited at the end of the pool for everyone else to finish their lap.

I believe him.

Last night the oldest daughter stayed over.  It's actually nice to have her visit these days.  She and I chatted while I baked cookies.  She updated me on her job and voting for the first time.  She observed that she didn't know her dad was so political until she moved in with him.  It was easy conversation.  We didn't talk about life goals or household chores or argue about money.

Then she help me set Fandor up on my Roku.  I have had a Fandor subscription, but I have only been able to watch it on my laptop since I couldn't figure out how to add it to the Roku menu.  (And incidentally, I really love Fandor.  There are so many more options than Netflix - the type of stuff I like - foreign movies, documentaries and independent films.)  We joked about how I am old enough to need help with this sort of thing and she assured me that she would visit me when I am "old" and help me set up my tv.

We settled on "Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench" which was visually interesting - black and white, very little dialogue, unclear setting, etc.  It was a very simple story done very well.  We chatted for a bit after the movie about why we liked it and what we thought happened to the characters at the end of the movie, and then we brushed our teeth and went to bed.

Normal is wonderful.

My entire state is red.  All Republicans.  Every national representative and my governor.

It's hard to explain sometimes why I live here when it is politically so divergent from my beliefs.

I love the sky.  And bird migration.  And the change in seasons.  And the affordable cost of living.  Great public schools.

And there are Democrats/Liberals here.  We just don't show up on the electoral result maps.

My office building has all the liberals - Nebraskans for Peace, the Nebraska ACLU, Nebraska Appleseed (a Ralph Nader nonprofit that works on systemic change) and Legal Aid of Nebraska.  There's even a telemarketing firm that does canvassing for liberal causes.  It's not like I hang out with Republicans.  The Department of Insurance also rents space here.  They have two floors.  And they LOOK different than us.  I am not kidding you that they are greyer and grimmer.

Yesterday the ACLU bunch was on the elevator and it came up instead of going down and we joked about the ancient elevator and how you never know what floor it is going to.  I suggested that we needed to be more Zen and just be in the moment with the elevator and not have an agenda of our own.  When I press "1" it may go up to "9" first and then down to "1."  The elevator has a purpose.  We then proposed a romantic comedy about a crazy liberal and an insurance department employee who ride the elevator together and that is the elevator's purpose.

Liberals in Nebraska have a sense of humor.  We have to.

What is with the month of November being about gratitude?  All the Christian moms on my Facebook are doing a daily, I am thankful for my husband/my mixer/my kids/my bible study group thing.

Stuff I am really, really digging right now.

1.  Spinning class.  I have become one of them.  I love, love, love spinning.  "What do you like better?  Hills or speed?" I asked Shirley on the bike next to me at our Monday spin class.  "Hills!" she said without hesitation.  "Yeah, me too," I said.  "I think it is because I sweat more," she added.  And yeah, I think that's why it's that way for me as well.

2.  Shirley.  She is my adorable coworker who has gotten me off my ass and competing in triathalons and all that entails.  I swim laps twice a week.  What the hell?  I go to spinning classes.  I bought a cyclocross bike that I love.  It feels good to enjoy exercise again.

3.  Tango.  I am always complaining that the music is not loud enough and that I want to be inside the music.  Tango makes me feel like I am inside the music.  So, yeah, apparently I tango dance twice a week.  And I found a tango music program on my local community radio station.  I'm crazy for the tango right now.

4.  Having my 18 year old out of the house.  I am really enjoying my two youngest kids.  Meals are fun.  There is less competition for my attention (they aren't as insecure and needy as my oldest, I am realizing) and they get along better.  Last night we went shopping for the 13 year old boy and his 15 year old sister really helped him with his "look" in a way that I could not.  He listens to her.

5.  Having all these great blogs to read.  It's so different than Facebook.

My favorite thing about being a divorced parent is that I get a kid-free house on a regular basis.

I am up, read the paper, made a to do list, and I am about to knock it out before the kids get home this afternoon.  I have recognized that I don't mind doing the majority of the housework as long as no one is laying on the couch eating crackers and watching Dr. Who endlessly.  I prefer to have an empty house when I clean. It keeps me focused and positive.  The kids help with chores during the week, but the major house cleaning is generally me and I am ok with that.  It sounds completely horrible, but it works to think, I love my family and my house and I want us to have a clean house because I love them.

The best thing on my to do list?  Make cookies.  A couple of months ago I impulsively bought a red cookie jar with a squirrel on the lid and since then I have been regularly filling it with cookies.  Peanut butter, chocolate chip, butterscotch, nutella cookies, and then this weekend I bought some Heath chips and some peanut butter chips to make chocolate peanut butter cookies.  A batch of cookies in the cookie jar is a nice way to start the week.

"You're so lucky that your mom bakes cookies," my daughter's friend commented as he helped himself to another chocolate chip cookie.

A piece of parenting advice.  Your own teen will never think you are cool or that they are lucky.  Aim for the friends.  You want the friends to acknowledge that you are cool and that the kids are lucky.  No one ever acknowledges that the house is clean.  Just that it is dirty.  Sigh.

I feel disconnected at work. My personal issues overwhelm me and my personal interests distract me. I do not feel as invested in my job as I have in the past. I am not phoning it in, but I am not giving 110% as they say.

But the hits just keep on coming.

I got a notice yesterday that an appeal of mine has been bumped from the state Court of Appeals to the state Supreme Court. This is a big deal. My coworkers are envious. My director is emailing me. My supervisor is delighted with me.

I'm pretty much freaking out and hoping that I don't stomp my foot during oral argument and call the case worker an idiot (or worse).

Last night my son had a band concert.  My middle daughter and I went and we sat with their dad as we usually do at these events.

We've been divorced for twelve years now.  Much longer apart than we were together.

After the concert the kids and I were headed to the taco shop with the amazing pop machine and impulsively I said, "Would you like to come along?"

"Sure, I'll come for chips and pop," he said.

And that is how we found ourselves doing the most ordinary thing - sitting in a booth sharing chips and salsa and drinking pop from the machine that boasts there are 100 flavor possibilities.  Most families sit together and eat every day.  Our family sits together and eats on very rare occasions.

We were talking about the funny places downtown and live music.

"Your mom and I saw Nirvana at Duffy's next door," he said.  He grinned at me.  I grinned back.  I felt myself crack open a little bit inside and let in the happy, good memories of being together.  Duffy's is small.  The size of my living room and dining room at home.  We saw lots of great bands there before they were too big to play there anymore.

My son was impressed.  "Wow!  What was that like?"  He meant the band, not dating each other. 

"It was loud!" their dad said.  We laughed.  "I dunno.  I guess it is not as memorable as maybe it should have been.  I remember when Nevermind came out and we realized we had seen them a year ago.  That was pretty cool."

He walked us companionably back to the van and then waved as he went to his car.  I have no desire to be with him.  I am glad we are apart.  I am also glad that we also get along well enough to sit at a band concert and go out for a snack.

Bill is having an eye problem that seems like a really big deal.  His retina detached and he has had a laser procedure twice now and it is still detached.  So he got a referral from his current specialist to an even more special specialist in Omaha.

Eye surgeon waiting rooms are the most depressing place on Earth.  Everyone is 80s years old.  Seriously!  And there are so. many. walkers.  Canes, wheelchairs, scooters - just all kinds of mobility assistance.  And the patients are ugly.  Not old ugly.  (I'm not THAT shallow.)  Ugly ugly.  Given up on living ugly but for some reason still hanging in there ugly.  Baggy stained sweatshirts and dry, dry, dry grey skin.  We were the fucking prom king and queen sitting there in the waiting room for fucking ever.

So the special specialist thinks another laser treatment, but not a scalpel to drain the eye treatment.  This is all said very calmly and matter of factly.