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.

I got in some great bike riding this weekend. I rode on the Wabash in Iowa and stayed in a little farm house in the country. I got caught on the trail long after dark. This is not something I would plan, but it was unbelievably fun. There was a small slice of a moon through the tree branches. The temperature was dropping. The woodland critters were everywhere. I could hear them scurrying off the trail and into the brush on the side of the trail as I came upon them. The town lights were a welcome sight and so was the cheeseburger and fries that I inhaled at the diner on main street.

The farm house is not used very often. The land around it is rented out and the farm house owners live in Omaha. It is outside of a little town on a gravel road behind a stand of trees. It is as adorable as you can imagine. It has become a respite for me. My friend who owns the house recognized how restorative the place is for me. He gave me an open invitation and a key to use the farm anytime I needed it. "Wealth is access," he said. I took some time to enjoy the stars and then went to bed and slept the way I do when there is no man made sound or light. (Last time I was there I mentioned the yard light to my friend. He showed me how to turn it off so that I can have complete darkness. It's like a blanket.) I slept nearly twelve hours. That seems crazy, but then I think about my week and my wild bike ride, and it makes sense.

I went to a fun group bike ride with friends in midtown Omaha. I do love Omaha. It has a great personality. We rode as a group from the area known as Aksarben (Nebraska spelled backwards - haha!) through the big downtown park by the University and then to Dundee (cute, historic neighborhood) for beer and then to Benson (cute, historic neighborhood) to meet up at the bike shop that sponsored the ride for more (!) beer.  I won a gift certificate for my costume (really I think it was just their appreciation for me coming to Omaha for a bike ride).  It is fun to be part of a big group that literally stops traffic.  People looked a little dazed as we rode by dressed in tweed - the men wore ties, the women wore skirts and there were a couple of folks in knickers.  We rang bells and waved.  The folks in the pub we stopped at cheered when we walked in.  I felt buoyed by the energy from the ride and the group.

I had some deep disappointments last week. I am frustrated that I can be lonely despite being surrounded by people. When I am careening down the trail by myself and staying in the dark countryside I do not feel lonely. I think a big difference is choosing to be alone and wanting to have a partner and being alone.

When they were little I could dress them in matching outfits - sometimes with each other or with me.  If they were having a bad morning I would zip a screaming toddler into what I wanted them to wear and carry a very angry little person to the minivan.  I would shop for them and pick what I wanted them to wear.

Those days are over.  And it is one of those times where "interesting" can mean difficult, irritating and awesome. 

My daughter's favorite outfit these days usually consists of a giant women's blouse from the Goodwill (picture polyester with polka dots or floral in a size 2x that hangs on her body to her knees).  She pairs the giant blouse with a pair of tights or leggings and a belt.  Boots.  She looks awesome and unique.  It is not a look that many of us could pull off, but you know, you're only 15 once.

My son requested a tuxedo with a morning coat.  It's for his Halloween costume (he is dressing up like the 12th (11th?) Dr. Who), but he said that he would also wear it for chorus and band concerts.  I have no doubt that is true.  Last year he wore his pinstripe suit every other week or so.  He would find opportunities to wear his suit.  And the year before that it was a vest and bow tie.  The kid likes to look sharp.  So a tuxedo it is, kiddo.  We found a few online and I told him I would order one for him this weekend.  "With tails, mom, don't forget," he said as I dropped him off at school today.

Swimming has become very important to me. It is like yoga mixed with meditation. My arms and legs stretch in opposite directions.  My arms and legs move in their sockets.  It is a full stretch and aerobic activity without weight bearing down. It is quiet.  I am only aware of my own noises - blowing out air and the occasional splash from my feet.

As I swim my laps, my mind calms.  By the second lap I have usually fixated on a memory and I pick at the memory as the details come back. I add sounds and smells to visuals. So it is not surprising necessarily that my novel is developing in the pool. I got an idea for a story a week ago.  My two main characters talked to each other in my head while I swam this morning. I smiled listening to their voices and the other parts of their story began to develop in my mind.

I climbed out of the pool and sat in the locker room writing quick notes to myself while I dripped in my pile of towels. A quick shower and off to work. I will review my shorthand tonight and fill in my ideas. The outline! She swims!