Remtana – Thanks for coming to my TED talk…

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Part 11 of the Remembering Montana series. The boy and I are on a side trip to Helena, leaving behind Hubby and the girl. I mention Freedomhill in this post; this is a project that is currently on hold but that I would desperately like to see come to fruition. As you read this entry, you’ll see why:

the boy took this photo from the car on our early morning drive through McDonald pass to Helena

Day 12, October 1, 2018:

What a Monday! After a 2 hour stunningly gorgeous drive, Adam and I arrived just in time for the Set the Week meeting at the 3rd Agile Learning Center and 4th SDE (self-directed education) community on our 2018 ALC/SDE tour. Cottonwood ALC in Helena, Montana.

The Monday morning Set the Week meeting where learners decide which of the offerings they’ve requested or are offering themselves will make it on the schedule. None of it is required unless an rsvp was necessary to bring in a particular subject expert to teach a class. If not enough learners are interested, the expert just isn’t brought in. Learners often get a say in the selection process of said expert.

In preparation to open Freedomhill Project ALC in Boise, Idaho, we’ve been immersing ourselves in the daily magic that unfolds through implementation of the ALC model of education. Agile Learning Centers are designed to equip children with the skills to take responsibility for and manage their own time. These centers operate under some basic but radical assumptions about humans (taken from agilelearningcenters.org) :

  1. Learning. Learning is natural. It’s happening all the time.
  2. Self-Direction: People learn best by making their own decisions. Children are people.
  3. Experience: People learn more from their culture and environment than from the content they are taught. (The medium is the message.)
  4. Success: Accomplishment is achieved through cycles of intention, creation, reflection and sharing.

The philosophy, rooted in sound research about human nature, aims to preserve young humans’ internal loci of control, creativity, and self-esteem by not reprogramming them with punishments and rewards and ranking them according to how their abilities compare with the average.

Instead, children are trusted to gain the knowledge needed to thrive in the current culture by pursuing their interests, thereby learning content in a much more efficient and effective manner–when it is relevant to their pursuits. Adult facilitators are present to guide when conflict resolution is necessary (using non-violent communication) and to assist young learners to develop resourcefulness and intentionality.

These centers each evolve an intentional but unique culture through a process of rapid iterations when issues need to be addressed in the communities. The children brainstorm and test solutions until they master new practices that meet the needs of all. It’s an amazing process to witness and leaves no doubt that children are people, capable of much more than we typically give them credit for. The opening of self-directed learning centers is picking up momentum, quickly becoming an international movement toward a more hopeful future for all.

the boy spent most of his time while we were indoors at Cottonwood in this maker’s studio where he designed and made a masking tape shoe, learned how to use a sewing machine and made a pillow, and also made a miniature helicopter with a working propeller — he asked for an adult to assist him once and show him how to operate the sewing machine

My 12 yo boy knows that as one of the founding learners, he’ll get to heavily influence the culture at Freedomhill Project and he’s collecting ideas from each of these visits so he can advocate for his vision for the center. He’s also making amazing new friends and becoming part of a growing network of savvy youth who, I’m confident, will be better prepared for an unknown future, with fiery spirits intact, and the 21st century skills (so often lauded in education policy agendas) to actually adapt to whatever that future may look like.

Do I feel strongly about this approach to education? Yeah, you could say that. A meme my daughter has been saying often, “thanks for coming to my TED talk.”

Remtana – patience

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I did it! And it was easy; took just a few minutes to move this video from Facebook to Youtube so I could share it here on WordPress. There was an extra step I never would have thought of or known how to do without good ole trusty Google to answer my question. Technology is amazing, isn’t it?

This is part 10 of the Remembering Montana series and is just a brief and incomplete recap of a day. I thought of leaving it out, but I love the video that accompanies it and this post is the first mention of the 3-day side trip to Helena that the boy and I are leaving behind the other half of the family for…

Day 11, September 30, 2018:

Patience. This video is not in slow motion. Joe moves slowly. Isn’t this the sweetest?

We went into Missoula again and the boys watched football at Tamarack Brewery. They had a make it yourself Bloody Mary bar!

Hubby and I reconnected with a friend that we worked with over 15 years ago that lives in the area. (He saw my posts on Facebook and realized we were in ZooTown.) He invited us to dinner at his house so we purchased a raspberry-rhubarb pie from Bernice’s Bakery to take for dessert. So fun to meet his family (he has two boys so ours had similarly aged playmates for the evening,) eat delicious homemade chili, and learn how likely we were to meet a bear. They just texted to let us know their dog treed a baby black bear shortly after we left.

It was a very busy Sunday, but this post is short. The boy and I leave at 6:30 in the morning to drive to Helena where we will spend the next few days visiting Cottonwood ALC. The founders of the learning center have insisted we stay with them while in town. I know that I often struggle to post regularly when couch-surfing, so this may be it for a few days…

User Error

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I got up this morning and not feeling inspired by any particular topic, knew I would just publish the next day of Remtana. However,

first I realized that the post I had scheduled for yesterday didn’t publish. I didn’t panic–even though this meant that I’d missed my own deadline on my 60 day blog challenge. I congratulated myself for not throwing a little tantrum as I would have done in the past when, say, I wasn’t the first to turn in a math test, or some other unforeseeable obstacle or silly mistake caused me to miss a point or two on some assignment. Intent counts, right? Progress on letting go of perfectionism…

I went ahead and hit the publish button and the reflection showed up at the top of my posts list but indicated it went live 21 hours ago–like the time I had originally scheduled it for? What? Okay, I’ll take it. Still on track for daily publishing, I guess?

Then I tracked down Day 11 of last year’s social media posts for the next installment of the Remtana series. It would have been the shortest post with no real central topic but still it made sense to include it since it introduced the adventure within the adventure that the boy and I were about to embark on.

Each time I publish one of last year’s social media posts, I scroll down through my Facebook timeline to procure one of the images that are currently housed only on FB to accompany the blog. The one that goes with Day 11 is a painfully adorable video of my boy and his donkey, Joe. Well, it’s Jane’s donkey, but these two boys, mine and Jane’s, had the sweetest bond and the video captures it perfectly.

Argh. I am challenged in my technology skills. I don’t think I do too bad considering that I’m about to enter my 6th decade. Holy shit! I’m almost 50! With that said, I don’t know how to get the video from Facebook to YouTube. I’ll see if I can figure it out and if so, will add that installment to Remtana tomorrow. Or not. It will depend on how long it takes me since I don’t have lots of time to devote to that between now and then.

So, the theme today: technology can be a bitch but I won’t let it keep me from my goal of 60 consecutive days of publishing.

Remtana – disturbed

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Read on with caution. Montana was challenging in many ways, but there was one situation in particular that eliminated the possibility of us accepting future stays on this ranch. A morbid fascination may get you through to the end.

This is part nine of the Remembering Montana series of posts reflecting on my family’s three weeks on a small Montana ranch in the fall of 2018. While most of the posts are slightly adapted from those I shared on social media while we were at the ranch, others are recent reflections. (Scroll down then navigate back to read previous posts.) This one took some time and distance for me to be able to write about it and share it out.

We’d found the gig on trustedhousesitters.com. I’d communicated with the owner of the ranch via Skype and knew the rescue dogs were going to be a handful, but while I got a good view of Kiki (described in the introductory Remembering Montana) post during that epic Skype call with Jane (read Remtana – Let’s get real.,) the other dog was mentioned only briefly and we were not sufficiently introduced until we got to the ranch.

Teddy was…well…gross. I know that sounds terrible and I felt awful for him and his current state, but there was no denying what an assault he was to the senses.

Teddy looked like he might be a Westie, a small white terrier. He was also a rescue dog, and while totally blind, he was able to find his way downstairs to the doggie door to let himself out. Thank God! We had to carry Kiki downstairs to take her out every 2.5-3 hours because of her age and her apathy about where she relieved herself. Got it and no problem, because, well, Kiki had hair.

Teddy only had hair on his face and along the ridge of his spine—the places he couldn’t reach to pull it out. The poor dog was so traumatized from whatever situation he’d been rescued from that he’d developed this disgusting habit of yanking out his own hair. As you can imagine, he was a sorry sight.

We hadn’t been there long when we were treated to the experience of Teddy’s actual hair pulling practice. There were dog beds scattered throughout the house, primarily on the main floor, and he frequented the one near Jane’s Murphy bed. My husband and I shared a concerned look when we heard the loud, wet snuffle/snort sounds that Teddy made while chewing at himself followed by gagging sounds like a cat coughing up a hairball. (You might remember from a previous reflection that our host, Jane, is completely deaf.)

It was obvious he did this several times a day, but it was that first night when we were in the open loft where we’d sleep, right above Jane’s Murphy bed and Teddy’s favorite dog mat, that we both groaned, “Noooo!” when he started up the hair pulling with enthusiastic vigor and it sunk in that our nights would be haunted by these repulsive sounds.

Another result of this nasty habit was the smell. It wasn’t terrible the day we arrived. Jane had said she usually bathed Teddy at least once a week. This routine served to wash away the oils his skin secreted that would normally be absorbed by the curly white hair that covered the bodies of this type of dog. She had bathed him that morning before our arrival and assured us he’d be fine for the duration of our stay.

Wrong. Not fine. The main floor (the only floor with chairs) quickly became a place to avoid because of the strong odor left behind on all the dog mats and blankets. It was unfortunate that there was a pile of mats right off the kitchen area; it made food preparation very unpleasant. Washing the blankets frequently and covering the mats with these was the only thing that made it remotely tolerable.

Jane didn’t have to experience the associated sounds, but it seemed pretty obvious she’d left out the other details. And bless her heart, that dog loved her and knew when she was getting ready to leave that no one else could love him like she did. (We weren’t the first housesitters who would not be returning for future sit opportunities.)  Teddy barked loudly and sharply at her feet the whole time she was preparing to head for the airport, and it was clear she was distraught about leaving him.

Once Jane was gone, Teddy stayed to himself. Both dogs were aloof (and smelly,) to be honest, but we tried to get Kiki to warm up to us. Everyone was amused when she’d run from me on her tiny legs each time I went to take her out. (I dedicated an old sweatshirt worn only for this task because of the strong odor left behind.) Evidently, I was trying too hard? Funnily enough, when Hubby–who had no interest in bonding with the little stinky yet pretentious dog–had to fill in for me on occasion, she’d jump right into his arms.

Jane had encouraged me to take Teddy out in the morning when we took Kiki out for the first time each day, but this involved picking him up and carrying him out. The first day I used a blanket to accomplish this because I just couldn’t bring myself to touch him directly. He clearly didn’t enjoy it either, so the two of us agreed to not do it again.

The family stayed as far away from him as possible. When I brought his food to him in the morning like Jane had showed me, I would talk to him gently and let him know I hoped he was doing okay. I don’t think he believed me; his increasingly fervent scratching and pulling had resulted in some raw, red, even bloody spots on his exposed skin. I reported this to Jane, and she assured me this was normal. Eventually I even offered to bathe him (mostly to address the smell,) but Jane insisted that he was fine and I shouldn’t attempt this.

After a bit, we started finding occasional pee puddles around the house; Jane insisted that Teddy wasn’t the culprit, that it had to be Kiki; however all evidence pointed to Teddy, though we never came upon him in the act. While he behaved as though he were oblivious to us, I think he wanted us to know we were not a suitable substitute for his usual human.

There were many inconveniences we had to endure while we were there that I think, for the most part, were character building for all of us. Teddy, on the other hand, was beyond heartbreaking. It was clear his quality of life was questionable though arguably much better now that he was in Jane’s care. The most difficult part was the shame-inducing revulsion all four of us experienced. Had we been given an honest picture of Teddy’s situation, it would definitely have been a deal breaker. I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t know, or we would have missed out on so many magical experiences.

With that said, my super-sensitive, gentle-hearted, animal-loving son is still a bit traumatized. He has very low tolerance for unpleasant stimuli, and he’s also the biggest dog-lover among our dog-loving family. So to be completely grossed out by a canine that endured such a miserable existence really messed with him. Montana is a dark and troubled memory for the boy, even though he loved the donkeys and horses, especially Joe with whom he had a special bond. Unfortunately the experience of Teddy cast a shadow over all the other amazing things we got to see and do. He will forever associate our Montana adventure with that bald, stinky, disturbed dog. 

No picture this time. You’re welcome.

Remtana – magic

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Ah Montana Magic. One more warm and fuzzy post before tomorrow’s disturbing dose of reality.

This is part eight of the Remembering Montana series of posts reflecting on my family’s three weeks on a small Montana ranch in the fall of 2018. Some reflections are recently written, but this post came from those I shared to social media while we were at the ranch. Scroll down then navigate back to read previous posts.

Day 10, September 29, 2018:

It has been almost a year since I had a relieving epiphany about my little family. The four of us had become seemingly disparate in our daily lives. How had this happened?!

We all had very different interests, and not only was I having a nearly impossible time finding activities we all enjoyed together, but simple conversations with each other could be extremely challenging. My kids and husband were tired and cranky at the end of their “work” days, and my efforts to now intentionally create a tight knit culture after years of distancing ourselves were met with little receptivity. I was getting desperate and coming to believe it was just too late–I’d blew it by not forcing this sooner!

Then, on our annual Thanksgiving roadtrip to SoCal where we always spend the holiday with dear family friends, I noticed how much better we do when we’re interacting with the world as a unit–like we’re forced to do when we travel. We just relate to each other differently. We’ve got to figure things out together. We need each other.

And my absolute favorite part–my kids reach out to each other for company and comfort. There were many moments on this particular trip that reinforced this awareness for me, and it hit me that we needed more of THIS. Adventures might just be the key to the culture I wanted for my family. (Over this past year of intentional implementation, I’ve learned there’s an additional requirement–these adventures must be consensual. And that sometimes means we’re not all there!)

Mind you, we’re still healing and it takes some time to fall into that ease. I’ve learned forcing it doesn’t work; I have to be patient, and watch for the magic and even then, I have to be careful not to “notice it” out loud though I do sometimes quietly point it out to my husband. It starts with just a moment here and there, then longer periods of togetherness emerge.

I can’t overstate the importance of allowance rather than insistence. I’m thrilled to share that we’ve spent many hysterical hours here, downstairs at the ping pong table making up new games with those paddles and the ppball. The boy and I have fallen into an easy routine feeding the horses together each morning; the girl will occasionally slip one of her earbuds into my ear to share podcast highlights with me; Hubby and the boy kick the soccer ball around the yard or hike out to explore something in the pasture…

But yesterday! So far yesterday is my favorite. Because instead of spending most the day each doing their own thing with occasional moments of togetherness, my kids chose to hang out with each other, like ALL day! After freezing our butts off at the Missoula farmer’s market, then picking up some lunch, we went to Lowe’s to pick out the Venus Flytrap the boy’s been dying to get.

He and and his sister talked excitedly the whole 30 minute drive back to the ranch: what to name it (Dragon,) where to keep it, predicting how long the mosquito trapped in the container with Dragon would last, etc. Then they disappeared into the RV for hours–in fact, Hubby and I took off and had a beer together in Stevensville then stopped at the store for the Italian soda supplies the girl had been requesting.

When we got home, the kids came back to the house where they worked together to concoct fruit flavored simple syrups and their first homemade Italian sodas while Hubby and I heated up leftovers for dinner. We enjoyed our meal together at the kitchen island. The conversation was easy and enjoyable. I can’t help but think this is how life is supposed to feel…at least most the time, right? Yet, it was magical. More of this, please.

Remtana – my view

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This is part seven of the Remembering Montana series of posts reflecting on my family’s three weeks on a small Montana ranch in the fall of 2018. Some reflections are recently written, but this post came from those I shared with social media while we were at the ranch. Scroll down then navigate back to read previous posts.

Day 9, September 28:

It’s Friday evening and hubby has completed his first full week of working remotely. His metrics were as good or better than what he normally accomplishes at the office. He also managed to muck the horse stalls, stay on top of our laundry, help me keep our temporary home clean, play an occasional game of ping pong with his son, and also eat lunch with the family each day.

Freedom. We live in an amazing time where if you’re a little scrappy, you can have the most spectacular adventures! The sharing economy affords us many ways to escape the mundane but it requires some resourcefulness, sacrifice, and a daring spirit. It’s not the life for everyone, but freedom is a value I hold dear, and typing this post, sitting on this patio and watching the light play on the distant mountains, the chill wind nipping a little too cold, a glass of cheap, red wine on this rusted metal patio table–well, it makes me feel alive…and free. Sweet, delicious freedom.

Spring of 2014, I informed the school where I was teaching that I would not be renewing my teaching contract for the fall. I set out to be an entrepreneur, not really knowing what that meant. I’ve made some money over the last 4.5 years, but not nearly as much as I’d hoped. Mostly, I’ve been on a journey of discovering–remembering, really–who I am and what it means to be authentic…and free. I can no longer imagine myself showing up to a career on Monday morning. Not that I mind work–I love work that feels meaningful. In fact, I’m often accused of working too much (for too little financial gain) but not at what most would consider a respectable career. In fact, I’m looking at some part-time, location-independent gigs to financially contribute to my family. Whatever it takes to keep my freedom.


I’m so grateful for a husband who’s willing to indulge my less than conventional lifestyle, for my sometimes reluctant kiddos who think I’m a little crazy, for books like Tim Ferris’s Four Hour Work Week (give it a read if you want to create location independence) for location independence, for unschoolers who’ve gone before and blazed a trail, for sites like trustedhousesitters.com and the strangers who trust other strangers with their precious pets and belongings–I love the way these sites are facilitating connections between like-minded souls and making the world smaller and more accessible. And I’m grateful for freedom…and for my view. 😉

Remtana – Living the Dream

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This is part six of the Remembering Montana series of posts reflecting on my family’s three weeks on a small Montana ranch in the fall of 2018. Some reflections are recently written, but this short post focusing on my daughter came from those I shared with social media while we were at the ranch. Scroll down then navigate back to read previous posts.

Day 8 (September 27, 2018):

The girl is 14 and demonstrating much of a typical 14 yo’s individuation process. In fact, she often fantasizes about living alone and whenever she has our home to herself, she calls it, “living the dream.” She inspired our move this year from the traditional classroom to the world as our classroom (a long story for another day.) Funny, since she’s not a big fan of travel–but she was intrigued by the idea of living with horses and when she found out she’d have her own “apartment”, she decided to embrace this current adventure.

Our second day here, she “moved” into the RV that Jane keeps on the property. It’s a cute little space complete with electricity, but no running water, a sofa, a swivel chair, and a small recliner. I’ve only popped in a few times and saw that she is keeping her temporary home quite tidy (a far cry from how she keeps her bedroom back in Boise.) I noticed the table had been arranged so that when she sits on one side, she can play the electronic keyboard she brought with her, and when she sits on the other side, she draws and paints the characters she’s forever depicting.

She visits us occasionally throughout the day–mostly for meals and to use the bathroom, but also to share some funny podcast with me or to practice on Jane’s piano that she was excited to discover when we arrived! She also visits the horses and donkeys, and rides along on grocery runs when she’s in the mood. I’m amazed that she has no fear traveling back and forth from the RV to the house in the dark, and often uses the bathroom without us even knowing she popped over in the night.

Last night, she even invited us out to her place for a movie (on my laptop.) I hadn’t had Jiffy Pop since I was a kid, I think! It was gross, but what is childhood without at least one Jiffy Pop experience?!  

Remtana – camping?

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This is part five of the Remembering Montana series of posts reflecting on my family’s three weeks on a small Montana ranch in the fall of 2018. Some reflections are recently written, but this short and sweet post came from those I posted to social media while we were at the ranch. Scroll down then navigate back to read previous posts.

Day 7 (September 26, 2018):

Sometimes it feels like we’re camping–especially when we want bacon for breakfast.

There were never vents installed in the kitchen. Are these a requirement for cooking meat? Seems reasonable. Jane is a vegetarian (transitioning into veganism) and clearly an avid animal-lover and advocate for sustainable living. She let me know early in our communications that we would not be able to cook meat inside the house because of the vent situation. Do I believe that’s the only reason? Maybe, because when I asked if we could bring something to cook meat outside, she said, “of course!”

Jane trains dogs and has written extensively about her methods. I’m not sure she realizes it, but she uses non-violent communication with all her “fur-kids”. Who knew that even animals respond to “dialogue” over rewards and punishments? I take great comfort in this new knowledge. And while Jane and I differ on certain sustainable living principles, she’s clearly a badass from whom I have lots to learn!

So, this is our set-up. Imagine us squatting around our single burner propane stove on this porch cooking (sustainably-raised 😉 ) meat. I love camping!

Remtana – Let’s get real.

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So far, this Montana adventure of ours sounds pretty idyllic, I imagine? A beautiful ranch with majestic horses, affectionate donkeys, a sustainably built home with beautiful views from the upstairs deck. Sweet deal, right?

This is part four of the Remembering Montana series of posts reflecting on my family’s three weeks on a small Montana ranch in the fall of 2018. Scroll down then navigate back to read previous posts.

This sweet deal was not all it was cracked up to be. It would be our first (and so far only) foray from the guest side of the Trusted Housesitters platform (we’ve had great success from the host side,) and while we knew it wouldn’t all be cake, this adventure had some pretty crazy components. 

This is a post outside of those I wrote and shared last year; I’ll include a few of these in this Remembering Montana series. Last year, I purposely left out some of the more trying aspects of our adventure for a variety of reasons. I’ll try to clearly distinguish between these reflections and the more social media-friendly posts I wrote and shared during our actual stay. (I have changed the names of our host and her animals.)

So…let’s get real:

Our host, Jane, had completely lost her hearing about ten years prior to our meeting her; I learned this detail after she and I had moved our communication from the housesitters platform to emails that grew longer with each exchange. It was soon evident how solitary her Montana life was, and she seemed a bit starved for quality human interaction.

I was surprised how easy it had been to get buy-in from the family on this adventure, and I’d nervously (but excitedly) agreed via email to take the sit after Jane’s reassurance that we could handle the chores though we had no experience with caring for horses. She and I set up a time to “chat” via Skype to talk about what the duties would entail.

It could hardly be called a conversation because while Jane’s able to speak clearly, I was limited to using the chat feature which only seemed to display the first sentence or two of my responses. Essentially, she’d talk for long stretches with me trying to communicate with facial expressions (ineffective for reasons you’ll discover in the next paragraph) and a few typed words here and there.  I also quickly deduced she was more comfortable communicating with her animals than with humans, and probably preferred their company. With that said, she seemed to like me and that turned into a pretty painful two hours with dawning realization of just how challenging this sit would be.

Jane had already had one sitter back out and she was up against the wire with a pretty big investment in her airfare. I had already promised we’d take the gig, and frankly, I thought the challenge would be good for my family and an excellent addition to our worldschooling adventures. Plus, I wanted to do something generous for this woman who seemed to be losing faith in humankind.

Once there, the extent of Jane’s communication deficits quickly became clear. She handed me an ipad to capture my voice, but it was constantly riddled with errors–really frustrating because of the high chance and risks of miscommunication. One would think that she’d adapt to her hearing deficit by depending on visual cues, right? Instead, she’d avert her eyes and talk until she was finished with her thoughts, which could trail on and on for many minutes, before she’d look my way indicating she was ready for a response. Then, once I started speaking into the ipad, she’d look away and start talking again which would mess up the recording.

The rest of my family quickly gave up trying to communicate with her, making me the designated mouthpiece. It was an exercise in patience and a good one at that. I definitely had lots of sympathy for her situation and respected her lifestyle and how she managed to run this ranch (I’ll do another reflection on Jane’s minimalist practices.) I had no choice but to quickly develop efficient ways to express my mind. I pretty much stuck to the necessities, which is not the way I typically communicate. If you’ve followed me for long you know I like to wax philosophical.

She left us the phone numbers of her two sons that she would be visiting (each in a different state,) and this would be the only way for us to contact her in an emergency. That emergency happened while the boy and I were away for three days in Helena on a little side adventure. Stay tuned for more on the emergency, and on the Helena side adventure…

Remtana: precious time

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Part three of the Remembering Montana series of posts. Scroll down then navigate back to read previous posts.

Day 6 (September 25, 2018):

Time has officially slowed down here. I love it. I have so many engaging things going on in my life that it often feels like time is flying by. At 49 years of age, that’s the last thing I want to happen! I also tend to spend lots of time in my head (in Strengthsfinder language, that’s called intellecting; in therapy, that’s called ruminating–I prefer the former 😉 ) Staying present and relishing each moment is effortful for me, but it’s my ongoing challenge.

We’ve gotten into the rhythm of the day here and the chores don’t take that long. Hubby is working remotely and our exploration of our beautiful surroundings is limited by Kiki’s potty breaks (discussed on Day 3.) I’m sharing my electronics with the boy–I know it seems a travesty to not just do away with them as much as possible, but I am traveling with teens and trying to strike a balance. Their schooled minds are less enthused by these adventures I insist on and I don’t want to turn them off completely. Plus I’m also trying to develop my skills–researching, capturing, writing, sharing–so staying electronically connected is important to me also.

With all that said, each day here passes more slowly than the last, and I’m loving the leisurely pace and all I can indulge in these long days: exploratory walks, bike rides, podcasts, naps… I brought the girl’s long-forgotten round loom with me and made my first cowl scarf, albeit riddled with mistakes, in only two days. Yummy, precious time. I’ll pamper myself with it while I’m here, roll around in it, wrap myself in it like a cozy blanket, knowing that this adventure will soon be behind me, and these lusciously long days, gone in a flash…