Tag Archives: grandchildren

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #59. It’s Not All Bad (January 2021)

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I’m slowly coming to realize, or possibly to admit, that this whole global pandemic hasn’t been an entirely bad thing. It was good for the planet, at first, with less toxic emissions, since we weren’t driving as much; but bad because of the drastic increase in plastic consumption. Yes, it has been catastrophic on so many levels, but it has given us pause. Another opportunity to go inward, listen, and change direction. We are who we are, however an occasional wallop can help us to wake up and pay attention.

We have all been affected by the coronavirus, however, let me begin by acknowledging those who have been devastatingly ripped apart by the virus or from its consequences. I am deeply sorry for all you’ve been through.

The biblical words, this too shall pass, doesn’t mean that we should stand by and blame those around us until it goes away. Our frame of reference must change—if we are to go on as happy, positively adjusting individuals who are capable of adding our contributions to the collective—for the good of everyone.

When this pandemic first hit home, I was unmoored, and worried for the community and our family of kids and grandchildren. Everything changed in a day. No more substitute teaching, no more tutoring, and my husband no longer went to his merchandising jobs. We had no idea at the time that our working days, as we knew them, were over.

I began eating less, to conserve the food we had, and foraged for wild greens here in the canyon. We wandered the hills, soaked up the sunshine, and ate a super healthy, mostly vegan diet—to boost our immune systems and lay the seeds for happiness.

After a month or two, with no improvement in sight, our daughter started coming up with her kids once a week to get a good healthy dose of countryside (as they continue to do). We lay in the tender new grass growing in the spring, watching the clouds float by and telling stories to each other. Our grandson chose to lie in the hammock, reading, while his little sisters splashed and played in the creek nearby.

It so happens that the first book in my new series had just come out and the shutdown forced an end to the book signings and events that had been scheduled. Being creative is my outlet—my sanctuary. I think we were all flailing during those first few months. Obviously, this does not promote happiness and well-being, but that’s what we need to stay healthy.

When the recession of 2008/2009 hit, we found ways to adjust. We had to think outside the box and piece together multiple jobs to make ends meet. As a culture, perhaps it was a temporary lesson on living within our means. To us, it meant getting creative with our streams of income. We dabbled in several things, but I won’t weigh you down with the details.

The positive things that this pandemic has given me were hidden at first. But I now embrace working at home, for the most part, and spending more time in nature. When the kids visit, we no longer sit around inside. Instead, we take walks, play in the sand pile, go for wagon rides, have BYO picnics… Because their extra-curricular activities have been curtailed, they now have more time to spend with us. And that is wonderful.

My inability to not ‘do’ has allowed me to get a lot of writing done. I published two books last year and am planning on two this year. One is a novel I’ve been tinkering with for the past decade and am finally taking this opportunity to just do it. Who knows if I would have ever gotten around to it otherwise? And this feels great. Luckily, Kent is onboard and reads my work and offers feedback. I’m grateful that he at least seems to enjoy it.

And speaking of gratitude—this appears to be the ticket. I’m so thankful that I can feel gratitude for the way things are, for the most part anyway. I still hope the pandemic ends soon, but, in the meantime, I’m going to try to continue to find the little things in life to be grateful for. So—cheers, everyone. Happy New Year!  

Chi Varnado’s latest novel, The Dance Centre Presents the Nutcracker, the second book in her MG/YA series, was released in August 2020! The Dance Centre Presents Giselle is the first. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are also available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com. You can follow her on Instagram or on www.Facebook.com/dancecentrepresents.

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #51. Just Another Cog in the Wheel (July 2018)

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I drove along Main Street this morning, very slowly, wanting to observe the local businesses opening up for the day. I thought back to summers past, when I, too, would open the doors of Town Hall and sweep the steps and sidewalk leading out to Main Street, preparing for the first dance class of the morning. I reminisce quite often about the dance career I left behind two years ago, deciding to let it go after thirty-seven years – in order to make room for other things in my life. Of course, I miss it, but now I can focus more on grandchildren, my writing, and taking care of our rural property and home.

It’s not that I have copious amounts of free time on my hands, but it feels even more important now for me to pause and reflect and take time out for silence and stillness. And driving slowly along Main Street – taking stock of other’s occupations – somehow connects me to that ongoing current of livelihood. We’re all cogs in this massive wheel.

Now that my current YA manuscript about a dance studio is finished, for the moment, anyway, I’m sending query letters to literary agents seeking representation for my work. It’s not very exciting – on the computer clicking through screen after screen after screen, and logging rejections. This process saps my energy and leads to self-doubt, blurry vision, and a plethora of other rather unpleasant side effects. I know – poor me. What a sob story. Maybe I’ll start reworking another manuscript that’s been sitting a few years.

Since summer arrived, I seem to have hit some kind of wall. One that feels very foreign and a little scary. That usual “To do” voice in my head, which has been badgering me almost nonstop for practically my whole life, is much quieter now and not so insistent. Or perhaps I’m becoming hard-of-hearing as I enter into my seventh decade of life. Or just lazy? This lethargy, for lack of anything else to call it, is a bizarre new feeling. I’ve never been a procrastinator and I get things done in a timely fashion. By the way, there are down sides to this. Needing to constantly accomplish things is an exhausting, never-ending, vicious cycle, with very little down time. Once you finish one thing, and check it off your list, another one pops up in its place.

My manic work ethic is ingrained deep within me so when that inner voice became silent – I got worried. I still am. Being productive is intricately woven into my self-worth. It’s who I am. At least up until now it has been. But I’m trying to go with the flow more now while searching for any new types of hearing aids that may be out there to try. Meanwhile, I’ll meditate, wander in nature, watch the birds… They all help, but we’ll see. Let me know if you hear of anything.

 

Chi Varnado is working on a new YA novel about a dance studio. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com. You can follow us on www.Facebook.com/gnomewoodcanyon.

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #50. Another Ramble (March 2018)

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Three years old! My second grandson turned three the end of February. Where did the months and years go? By the time we get well into our second half-century of life, time whizzes by at an alarming rate. So I figure I’d better stop and take a minute to aim my lasso, in order to try to catch the moments that I don’t want to miss out on. This takes premeditated intention – so the most important things don’t slip by before it’s too late. And one of those things is spending time with the grandkids – both individually and as a group. Each one is a terrific human being with an outlook on life specifically their own. I learn a lot from each of the three.

One of my favorite things to do, when I’m with just one of them, is to be quiet and simply observe. I can almost see the wheels turning in their heads as they work through the process of discovery: building with Lego’s, filling a bucket with sand, looking at a book, re-enacting real life… It fascinates me. I’m spellbound watching them entertain themselves. I sincerely hope that they can keep this interest in learning alive, and not let boredom and a constant need of outside stimulation take over.

The young bring us new life and fresh ways of looking at things. Spring has almost arrived. Already, little squirrels are scurrying over rocks and eating the chickens’ food, in spite of getting pecked at. Lilac buds threaten to burst into bloom. Some already have and emanate intoxicating fragrances. A juvenile Red-tailed Hawk carries on throughout the day, begging his busy parents for nourishment. Sometimes he calls from a tree on the ridge or a crag in a boulder. At times, he’s on the wing, calling from above, and I always pause to acknowledge him. I feel it’s an honor to inhabit the same place and time as these sentient beings. The green grass is thriving, thanks to the recent rains and warm sunshine, filling the horses’ bellies and blanketing the canyon’s landscape.

But trees are falling, both dead and alive, demonstrating the impermanence of life. After losing a huge ancient oak, months ago, I felt a need to honor its existence instead of sawing it all up for firewood. After extensive research and networking, I contacted some expert wood workers in the San Diego area and, to make a long story short, much of the tree’s lumber has now been milled and a few bowls were turned. Two of them adorn my kitchen as graceful reminders of life’s beauty and fragility.

So again, I come back to the importance of living my life more consciously, trying to embrace what is, as best I can, and act with reverence toward all plants, animals and minerals. And attempt to consume less, in any fashion, so that all may benefit more. Here’s to you, me and us. May we all cherish the moment.

 

Chi Varnado’s memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com. You can follow us on www.Facebook.com/gnomewoodcanyon.