And .... *Part 2*

I walked into a university classrooom for the first time as a real student.  I need to take a college level algebra and statistics class towards the degree I want (Landscape Horticulture and Design) and I took one look at the textbook for the class and felt sick to my stomach.  It may as well have been written in Swahili.

  So I am taking a "refresher" math class.  I am by farrrrrr the oldest person in there.  The other students are freshmen who didn't do well in math their last year of high school, so they are taking this non-credit class.  They went over all of this last year, they just didn't do well at it.  The last time I even thought about half of the things we're covering in class (and even then, not much) was 15 years ago when I was in high school.  Humbling.  They yell out answers while I furiously write down everything that comes out of the professor's mouth.  They finish their homework in 30 minutes, it takes me hours.  They have no idea about not being able to start your homework until after you put your kids to bed, which comes after you've worked a full day and taken care of housework and made dinner and cleaned up.   But I'm working through it and I WILL learn all this. 

Mooch's school was looking for volunteers to head up the landscaping committee, so guess who volunteered?  Yup.  It's an excuse to play in the dirt.  I'm also chairing the vegetable garden committee. 

And Mooch is now a big stinky first grader and Butterbean is a little stinky preschooler.  Bean loves school, she was so excited to start, and Mooch loves her new teacher. 

My only little garden was woefully under-utilized this year, but I intend to plant a few winter crops and get a truckload of new soil in the spring.  It's hard to get excited about the garden when things between me and the Mister are so uncertain.  The phrase "polishing brass on the Titanic" keeps popping into my thoughts.  Especially since one day we are relatively happy and the next day it hits us both how bad things are. 

I'm still exercising, but with everything going on I'm not as consistant as I was.  I'm just tired in the mornings and it's really hard to get up, but I always feel so much better when I do.  This morning I woke up at 5:40, put on my running stuff and headed out.  The temp was low 70's, it was perfect - and after 3 miles I felt recharged and a bit more peaceful.  I walked up my block and was appreciating the beds I put in on either side of my driveway and how well they've done, filled with flowers and herbs, and this phrase popped into my head and I felt like I could breathe: