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© Catherine Haslag

My Office

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My Office

I have three offices – one on campus, one at my house, and one at a nearby coffee shop.

My coffee shop office is a round table with three chairs in the corner near east-facing windows. Before the pandemic, you could find me in my coffee shop office nearly every Monday through Friday for a few hours. I would get hot or iced tea (depending on the weather) and maybe a scone, pull out my laptop and headphones and get to work.

My coffee shop office.

I would see people I know and spend some time chatting with them as they came in for their respective coffee group or grabbed a refreshment during a break from work. It was a joke among the people who worked there, those who frequented the coffee house, and my friends that I should put a plaque marking that table as my office. I have received photos from friends on two different occasions showing me that they were using my office in my absence.

Then the pandemic came, and my office wasn’t safe for a while. I missed my sunny workspace and the people I saw there regularly. I went through withdraw during the lockdown and struggled to find spaces in my own home that could be my new “office.” I reorganized and repainted my home office to take advantage of the sunlight and view of the street. I sometimes worked at my dining room table or even the kitchen counter. These spaces allowed me to work, but they weren’t the same.

While the pandemic isn’t over, I do spend a little time in my office nearly every week. I sometimes have meetings there, or I might spend a few hours on Friday afternoon when the coffee house is generally slow. Of course, I still enjoy a hot or iced tea and maybe a baked sweet treat, but it’s not the same.

The space hasn’t changed, but I have. It doesn’t quite meet my needs like it used to. I’m not fond of the commotion of the coffee shop as much as I once did. Living along during a pandemic has shown me how much I need quiet and space from other people.
Now, I much prefer the desk in my home office. I can spread out my notebooks, computer, and papers while revising a lab for my classes, going down a research rabbit hole, or writing a new blog. But, I still enjoy a cup of tea, play music, light a candle. So, this is the workspace I need now.

Sometimes things change, and sometimes we change. I miss what was then and is no more. But, I am grateful that it existed and was there for me when I needed it. I hope it provides the space others need to do their work.

© Catherine Haslag

Sauna

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© Catherine Haslag

Unanswered

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I thought about you during yoga class tonight. Smiled as I remembered how we would leave work and head to have tea/coffee before yoga class. First classes with Beth and Tammy. Then eventually with Abbe at the old firehouse on Commercial. It was one of our rituals. You turned me onto this practice of dogs that face upward and downward.

Our lunches at Tea Bar and Bites was another ritual. We practically ran from the building on those days. Our little retreat from that toxic office. Our table was in the backroom, where we could talk privately. Then there was that period we ate lunches and played backgammon on a fellow yogi’s porch in Roundtree. I can’t remember her name. You taught me backgammon. I loved our games. I can’t bring myself to play now.

Our table at Tea Bar and Bites – a respite from a miserable job.

You showed me the little things in life that made it wonderful. Walks in beautiful neighborhoods, the joys of living simply. Good food. Soft sheets and towels. You said the things you touch should feel good. I still only buy things that feel good to the touch.

We met when I was a young wife, a new homeowner, and fresh to the full-time workforce. You were my friend who had “been there, done that.” Marriages, kids, jobs, life. You had seen a lot of life. You helped me see I deserved more from life. Gave me space to figure out what to do as my marriage disintegrated. Provided the wine, sympathetic ear, and friendship on many nights, I miss those conversations at your Stickley kitchen table where we talked about life and solved the world’s problems.

You encouraged me to find a new job. Move away. Gave me a kick in the pants when I needed it. Allowed me to cry when I moved to a scary new place and was overwhelmed by it all. We talked for hours on the phone nearly every night for months. Five hundred miles disappeared with a single phone call.

I know we had been drifting apart for a while. I know our friendship wasn’t what it once was the last time we spoke. I don’t know why you just stopped talking to me. Never returned my calls or texts. Our friendship ended in an argument in late 2017. Ten years of friendship ended in a heartbeat without an explanation.

The smell of cedar bows at Christmas in your home. The warmth of your hug. The joy of drinking wine and talking with you.

Your company was gone in an instant.

© Catherine Haslag

Home

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Oscar

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His name was Oscar.

He lived at Westphalia Hills for some period of time that covered at least the end of November 2019 to the very beginning of December 2019. I don’t know exactly how long he was there, just that his stay overlapped with my uncle’s time there in hospice.

Photo obtained from Shutterstock.

I encountered Oscar every time I entered the complex. Oscar wanted someone to help him back into bed and he wasn’t shy asking for help to reach this goal.

His ONLY goal.

And he pursued it with single-minded dedication.

This was my only interaction with Oscar. He would politely ask me to help him back to his room. Then he wanted help getting into bed.

This wasn’t a dirty request. He wasn’t being inappropriate. He just wanted to be in his bed…and stay there.

The first time I went to find a nursing assistant to help him, I found out this was Oscar’s game. He roamed the building all day looking for someone to take him to his room and help him into bed. But the staff didn’t want him in bed. They wanted him out and active, even if his only activity was finding a way to get back into his bed.

You always knew where Oscar was. You either heard him asking for help (Oscar wasn’t a quiet guy) or someone yelling at him to get out of their room. Oscar often rolled into the rooms of other residents. I still remember the day he ended up in the room of a pair of ladies. You would think a fox had just gotten into the hen house based on the commotion that erupted.

I tell this story not to make fun of Oscar but rather to share the comic relief he provided to me and my family at this time. As we were watching my uncle take his final steps from this world, we had Oscar’s antics as a distraction. We shared stories about what he was up to each day and what trouble he caused. He provided levity during a very heavy time. Oscar will never know how he broke the tension of a very difficult time for us.

I don’t know who Oscar was before or after those three weeks, but I am grateful for the encounters we had.

I think of him often, smile, and hope he achieved his goal.

© Catherine Haslag

Pre-Flight

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I flew for the first time when I was 10.  I went with my grandma and uncle to California to visit my other uncle.  We flew TWA out of St. Louis.

I recently took my first plane trip in 2 years.  I flew to Las Cruces to visit some friends.  As I sat in Chicago for three hours waiting for my connecting flight, I started thinking about how air travel has changed since I took my first flight in 1990.

We used to stand in line at the airport to check in and get our boarding passes.  It was common to check a bag and you were allowed to check one for free.  Now, I check in from my cell phone.  It costs $30-$50 to check a bag, so I pack everyone I need in my carry-on.  If it’s not necessary for the trip, I don’t take it.  I have gotten really good at packing light.

Boarding passes were printed.  You had to be careful notto lose it.  I spent a lot of time checking my pockets to make sure I still had it.  They also doubled as a great bookmark for the trip.  Now, I pull my boarding pass up on my cell phone or watch.  No more checking pockets and no more handy bookmarks.

I don’t remember having any layovers when I was a kid.  It was a lot more common to get a direct flight from St. Louis to California or D.C.  Now, I always expect a layover.  I can’t tell you the last time I flew and didn’t have a layover in Chicago (ORD), Dallas (DFW), or Denver (DEN).  Oddly enough, I have never had a layover in Atlanta (ATL).

I remember my grandparents, uncles, cousin, and I all going to the airport together when I was a kid.  When my Uncle Dick flew in or out for a visit, we went and sat with him at the gate until he boarded his flight, or we met him right at the gate, searching the faces of the people walking up the gangway for his.  Now, those human moments of hugs and delight at seeing your loved one again happen at baggage claim or in the “kiss and fly” zone.  Unless you are a ticketed passenger, you aren’t getting past security.

There were meals and a snack on the planes.  Every flight.  I would get off a plane with a full belly.  As a kid, I was very concerned with what our flight would be serving.  Now, you are lucky to get a drink and a cookie.  Airlines don’t give nuts out on flights anymore because of allergies. The only meals I see served on planes are for international flights…and they aren’t as good as they used to be.

There used to be in-flight movies, usually a family-friendly film that was recently released but may or may not be in theaters at the time of the flight.  It was projected on a few screens scattered throughout the plane. Now, large planes offer each passenger their own mini entertainment center with movies and TV shows they can scroll through and choose from.  If your flight doesn’t offer you this option, most travelers have a phone or tablet they can watch downloaded movies and TV shows on to view in flight.

There have been changes in luggage styles, services offered in the airport, the way passengers dress and entertain themselves on flights.  Walkmans have been replaced by ear pods and iPhones.  Books and trashy magazines are still a standard. Hudson News is still a standard shop in many airports.

Security has changed too.  You still run your bags through a scanner, but now you have to take off all jackets, shoes, and items that aren’t the layer above your bra and panties.  Body scans are standard practice, often followed with a pat-down that in other situations would qualify as sexual assault.  I have literally had a woman with TSA put her hands in my pants.  When I went through security for my first flight, my 10-year-old self didn’t have to strip first and no one touched me inappropriately.

Another sign of the times and how much things have changed.  Something common and mostly insignificant that reveals so much more about what our world was and is becoming.

© Catherine Haslag

One Year

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One year ago this month, I posted my first blog. I created this space to help me develop my voice and become a better writer. Over the course of the past year, I have learned a lot about myself, how I want to live my life, what I want to say with my voice, and how I want to say it. I will let you debate on the improvement of my writing skills.

Biking the Root River Trail, Summer 2021

The blogs I have shared here have come to me while riding my bike, driving to Missouri to visit my family, and tearfully at 3 am when I couldn’t sleep. I have writing ideas jotted in my various journals, in my notes app on my phone, and on my computer. Some of these ideas will become blogs posted here. Others will never get beyond those few jotted notes.

I have also drafted a few pieces that will not be shared on this blog or anywhere else. They are still too raw and do not communicate a message that I think is worth sharing with the general public. While I have a first amendment right to freedom of speech, that doesn’t mean that all of my speech needs to be shared. I strongly believe in freedom of speech, but I also feel we have the responsibility to self-censure when that speech won’t contribute to creating a productive discourse or a more perfect union.

I have learned so much over the past year while writing for this blog. I learned that I am not good at writing book reviews. While I love to read books, writing reviews is not my jam. It puts too much pressure on me and takes away some of the pleasure I get from reading.

I learned that a good piece doesn’t have to be long. One of my favorite poems is only 4 words long.

I have learned that some ideas/thoughts are not things I want to spend my time writing about, so I let them go back into the invisible universe of ideas. Someone else can use their time to explore it.

I learned that stillness, reflection, and time are key to developing a good blog post. I don’t have to shoot for the moon. The simplest of ideas tend to lend themselves to better writing. (I assume that if you are reading this that you think my blogs are at least marginally good. If you disagree that my blogs are any good, then I wonder why you are reading this and not something else.)

I learned blogging provides space for me to examine, process, and rethink my life, values, ideas, the world around me. I learned that facts are guideposts for me to locate truth, which is incredibly valuable to me. I learned that I have a hard time relating to people who don’t value facts as I do.

This space has also allowed me to take a trip down memory lane. The nostalgia has been a welcome respite during the pandemic. It has also helped me to appreciate some things in my life I had never given deep thought to previously.

I have also learned that I want to keep doing this work. Even if no one else ever reads this, I find value in writing it…and that’s all that really matters to me.

As I state on the front page of this blog, “…this blog is for my growth and learning…” I still don’t know where this work is leading me, but I am enjoying the journey.

I look forward to seeing where it takes me over the next year.

 

A Very Special Thanks…

Thanks to all of you who have read and continue to read my blogs and sent me feedback over the past year. I really appreciate your time and insights.

I want to give a big thanks to Sue Grove, who has proofed some of my blogs and helped me learn how to write using active voice. I am by no means perfect in this, but I am improving with every sentence I write.

Thank you also to my wonderful partner, Jason, who manages all the website details so I can just think, write, and post. Thank you for being a cheerleader for my vision. I love you.

©2023 Catherine Haslag, All Rights Reserved.

Fall Back

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It happened again this November 7. In the wee hours of the morning, the clocks rolled back an hour.

Daylight savings time ended.

This time of year is hard for me. The daylight is already dwindling as the northern hemisphere tilts further from the sun. I live in southern Minnesota. The summer solstice provides us with 15 hours 30 minutes and 9 seconds of daylight. The winter solstice brings a measly 8 hours 59 minutes and 2 seconds of daylight, a 42% decrease. I am writing this on November 7 where we have 10 hours 1 minute and 50 seconds of daylight. Tomorrow, we will have 1 minute 19 seconds less daylight.

The shorter days are hard on me. I try to get more exercise, take vitamin D daily, and spend time outside whenever possible to help combat the shorter amount of daylight. The gut punch each fall comes when we “fall back” by setting our clocks back one hour. There is something about that shift of daylight from being in the evening hours to the morning hours that just knocks it out of me. For me, the extra hour of sleep isn’t worth it. I feel like I spend so much of my time in the dark because the sun sets before 5p now (4:56pm to be precise). The darkness makes is feel so late so early in the evening. I could crawl into bed at 8pm this time of year…and sometimes I do.

So I hunker down, drink more hot tea, find some good books to read, take double the vitamin D, make some hot soup, and wait for March 13, 2022 when we will spring forward and have daylight in the evening again.

References

Sunrise Sunset, (2014-2021). Sunrise Sunset Times in Austin, MN. https://sunrise-sunset.org/

(Yes, I looked up all of those hours of daylight and sunsets.)

One Month

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Created using Canva.

I turned 40 last year and have started thinking more about how I spend my time, my life. The first 40 years went incredibly fast. I can only imagine how quickly my remaining years will go. I want to have a meaningful impact on the world and participate in activities that are satisfying. This desire is slowly making me more aware of how I spend my time and consider how I want to spend my time.

The other night, I was watching videos on YouTube before bed.

In one of the videos, a woman said that if you watch just 2-hours of YouTube videos each day, that over the course of a year, you will spend one month watching YouTube.

This didn’t seem possible, so I did the math:

2 hours x 365 days = 730 hours

730 hours/24 hours = 30.417 days

She was absolutely correct.

It is amazing how something so seemingly small can build into a large amount of time.

This made me think – is there really that much on YouTube worth watching that I would give up a month of my life each year for it? While there is good content on YouTube, is everything I watch worth my time? Do I really find satisfaction from this activity?

This idea can be applied to anything we spend a fair amount of time doing each day.

Do I find (Insert activity here) so satisfying that I want to spend one month of the year doing it?

This activity could be anything. Playing a video game, listening to music, running, watching TV, or scrolling through social media.

I jumped onto Screen Time on my iphone and ipad to see what I had been doing with my time. Here is what I found:

15.75 hours on YouTube

19 hours playing games (granted, a good chunk of this was walking while Pokemon Go was open in my pocket, tracking my steps, but 10.5 hours this time was spent playing Two Dots).

4.25 hours on social media

I had no idea how my screen time had added up. It impacted my ability to focus, be still, and participate in activities that matter to me, like reading, cycling, and spending time with my partner. I had spent nearly 40 hours the previous week participating in activities that The Eisenhower Matrix classifies as Not Urgent and Not Important.

This did not sit well with me.

The Eisenhower Matrix. This graphic taken from https://todoist.com/productivity-methods/eisenhower-matrix. Be sure to check out this article to learn more about the Eisenhower Matrix.

Please don’t get me wrong, I am not one of these people that feels I have to spend every minute of every day doing something productive. I understand the need for rest, hobbies, and space in the day and have worked to incorporate these activities into my life. Recreation is a very good thing; however, I wondered if this is the recreation I need? This self-analysis is about being intentional in the use of my time and not about labeling anything as “good” or “bad.” There is nothing inherently bad with watching YouTube videos, using social media, or playing video games. I just don’t want to do them mindlessly or overuse it.

I decided to track what I watch on YouTube and generally how much time in general on screens and what activities I do during that time for a week. I didn’t include work-related activities, just those done outside of my work responsibilities. I also decided that I would spend all my recreational screen time on my phone and tablet since I can track my time/usage easier on those devices.

Just being aware of how much time I spent watching videos on YouTube, scrolling through Facebook, or playing games changed my habits. By the end of week 5, my use of YouTube dropped by nearly half and I had removed two games from my devices, dropping my time spent gaming by 84%. I just didn’t find it as fulfilling anymore. My social media use stayed roughly the same the whole time. My screen time spent on social media, games, and YouTube dropped in total by half.

I also started paying attention to what I watched on YouTube and why I was watching it. Was I looking for creative ideas, entertainment, education, or simply a cute dog/cat video to lift my mood.

The time I found by changing my habits allowed me to write more blogs (like this one), binge an entire audiobook in a weekend (I highly recommend Lincoln in the Bardo. SUCH a good book!), and spend more time with the people I love.

I am not done with this experiment yet. I plan to keep going with this awareness and see where it takes me. I don’t want to stare at a screen to become a mindless habit.

I feel I have taken a good step forward on this intention.

© Catherine Haslag

Mayberry Halloween

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I grew up in a little town in a valley along the Osage River. Looking back on it, it was a bit of an idyllic place for a kid to grow up. Everyone knew everyone and looked out for each other. Don’t get me wrong, there were downsides too. Gossip and nosiness were present in no shortage. There is a line from Doc Hollywood where Vialula says regarding the gossip in Grady, “Can’t poop in this town without everybody knowin’ what color it is.” This was true of my home town as well.

Halloween 1994:  the last year I went trick or treating. I am dressed in jammies on the right. I will not identify the other two pictured in the photo to protect their anonymity and perhaps shield them from embarrassment.

Growing up, one of my favorite times of year was Halloween. There were many kids in my hometown and they all dressed up and walked around town trick-or-treating. A few of the parents dressed up too. It was like a social night full of ghouls, superheroes, princesses, and candy. One parent (or the oldest child) would take the kids out. The other parent would stay home and hand out candy.

The costume was of utmost importance. I usually thought about it for months in advance of the big night. It was a way for me to try on a new identity for a while. Dress in a way I didn’t normally dress. Over the years I was a witch, a skeleton, a clown, a princess, and when I was 8, Helen Keller. I was REALLY into Helen Keller that year. That is a story for a later blog.

I quickly figured out which houses gave out good candy and which didn’t. The worst house on my list was two doors down from my home. They had a VERY tall, poorly-lit set of stairs to climb to their deck, where the front door was located. Once you climbed to their front door, all they ever offered was that horrible taffy wrapped in orange and black paper. I HATED going to that house for candy. I thought it was a waste of time since I didn’t like the candy, but mom made me go every year because grandma liked the taffy. So I went, like a good little granddaughter, every year so I could give those 3-5 pieces of candy to grandma.

The two BEST houses on the route were Edgar and Marlene Kliethermes and Alvina and Leslie Jaegers. We always went to their homes last. The Kliethermes’ handed out homemade popcorn balls. This wasn’t my favorite, but my mom loved them and the Kliethermes were so nice. We always sat and visited with them for a while. Plus, their three youngest sons liked to hide and scare trick-or-treaters. It was fun to see what they did each year. One year, they didn’t hear us coming up their long driveway and we startled them. Always a bonus when you are a little kid.

The Jaegers house was the last house we stopped on our quest. They didn’t just give you candy at the door and send you on your way. No, kids and parents were invited inside. They had cold punch if it was hot and hot chocolate if it was cold. Alvina also worked at Scholastic Books and would give out books AND candy. I figured out that if I was the last trick or treater, she would give me all the candy and books she had left. That’s pure childhood, Halloween gold!

After the candy collection was complete, it was time to sort my loot. I would dump the contents of my pumpkin on the floor in the living room, the candy would scatter across the rug and onto the hardwood floors. My favorites (Twix, Reeces, Butterfinger…) went in one pile, the middle-of-the-road (Snickers, Hershey, Starburst…) went in a second pile, and “trash candy” (Smarties, Sweet Tarts, and other flavorless forms of sugar) went in a third pile. The favorites never made it 24 hours and I usually went to bed with a case of sugar belly.

Those Halloween nights have long since ended in my hometown. Most of the people I spoke of above have shuffled off their mortal coils. Rather than house-to-house trick or treating, now a trunk-or-treat type activity is held downtown. No more huffing and puffing to walk to the top of the church hill. No more popcorn balls. No more Halloween gold. Just my memories of this magical night through the eyes as a child.

 

Blog from the past…

I wrote about one of the books I was given by Alvina in a previous blog.  It was titled “What the Wind Told.”  Click the link to go straight to this blog.