Sunday, Tranquil Sunday

If there is one thing I've learned to love and appreciate as I get older, it is those quiet, subdued, Sunday mornings.  You probably know them.  I'm talking about the ones where you wake to no sound, no noise-pollution of the city.  There is no whir of the traffic on the highway, no neighbors outside mowing the lawn yet, and certainly no sirens.  Just the quiet hum of the coffee-maker and the pitter patter of pajama-clad footsteps coming down the hall, your little ones or your significant other looking for something warm to eat and for a mommy to snuggle.  No matter the weather, no matter the time of year, the entire neighborhood, town, and state that we live in seems to slow down and revel in the peacefulness of the morning.  Even the birds seem to sleep in.

In our house, Sundays are often "pajama day."  We usually take our time getting out of bed, we drink our coffee until noon, Dave and I watch sports, and Dylan gets unlimited time playing his iPad games and watching "Tom and Jerry", or "Cat and Mouse", as he calls it.  I also often take this time to catch up on cleaning and laundry, which may not sound very relaxing, but, believe me, skipping a shower, allowing my toddler  to zone out to cartoons, and getting things done in yoga pants is a lot easier than trying to buzz through a regular weekday.

I imagine most Mom's have similar weekdays like mine; filled to the brim with dishes, laundry, cooking, constructing schedules, driving to appointments, play-dates, and grocery-shopping, all the while with a toddler in tow and a gnawing instinct to continually teach, correct, and entertain your child (or children) while you complete each task.  And if you're a working mom then you have to pile all of that in with your job (How the hell you do that is a mystery to me.  And I applaud you.)

During those weekdays, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you actually get done, you still manage to go to bed while mentally organizing the following day of tasks and chastising yourself for forgetting to make a business phone call, for not working out, or for depending too much on the iPhone or the computer to entertain your child.

And no matter how much reassurance from your husband, you can sometimes still feel more "mom", than woman.  While trying to squeeze everything in, you often skip the makeup, opt for the easy ponytail, and neglect your razor.  This is all fine and good for a couple of days, but, come mid-week, I usually find myself over-analyzing my un-tweezed eyebrows and scoffing at my hair every time I look in the mirror.  Then I beat myself up over every calorie, every carbohydrate consumed.

I think that is why Sunday mornings are so refreshing to most people.  The world suddenly moves at a snails pace, there are no business hours, no expectations, and no dress code.  You can take your time in the bathtub, allow yourself several hours to fold the mountain of laundry on the couch, and breathe easy while your children plant themselves in front of electronics.  In our house, Sundays are snuggly, guilt-free, and a much-needed break from the hustle and bustle of the weekday.  Just like Genesis, on the seventh day, He rested.

Even my music slows down.  I often opt for the sweet, mandolin-rich melodies of a quiet bluegrass band like Alison Krauss and Union Station, the honey-soaked voice of Billy Holiday, or the trance-like tunes of Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, instead of the rowdy guitars, banjos, and drums that I prefer during the weekday.  The music change provides a nice, calming soundtrack to all of our lazy Sunday tranquility.

I even manage to feel more like a woman, more like myself on a Sunday.  Which is weird because the skipped shower and lack of makeup would usually make me feel the opposite.  I suppose it is because I actually pause long enough to find my self-worth within, rather than in the mirror.  I take time out to do things that make me feel better, like slowly sipping my coffee, or eating a delicious, indulgent meal or writing in my blog or taking a long walk with Dylan or watching a favorite movie with my husband.  I take time out to see the beauty in my family, to remind myself of all of my blessings, and to not just be thankful for them, but to actually enjoy them, really take time out to enjoy them.

On a Sunday, a stack of books is no longer that list that you beat yourself up for not having read yet.  But it is an tower of endless adventure, words woven into thick, soulful poetry, an awe-inspiring work of art.

On a Sunday, that mountain of laundry you've been dreading all week, suddenly seems like a mole-hill.  And washers and dryers seem like the most amazing things ever invented.

On a Sunday, Tom and Jerry are no longer a naughty mommy cop-out, but, rather, it is a way to induce a heart-melting giggle out of your little one.

On a Sunday, yoga pants are no longer a beauty-sacrifice or an unsexy, lazy replacement for form-fitting jeans, but they are a smooth, sultry way to show off your legs.  Every Sunday, Dave reminds me that he loves me in yoga pants.  There is only one thing better, he says.  Yoga pants with extra tuffs.

On a Sunday, beds are warmer, hugs are longer, and food tastes better.  Even Dylan seems to notice this.  You see, I think he needs a break sometimes too.  He loves time out with his Mommy and Daddy.  He loves not having to run errands just as much as I do.  And he loves to lay in our bed, with endless snacks and cartoons and cuddles.

This Sunday is no different.  And while I am still catching up on several leftover chores from mine camp, I also seem to be blissfully unaware that there is or ever will be a schedule to keep, a dress code to follow, or a crazy world that, come Monday, will return to a brisk, hurried pace.  Right now, it is just me and my blessings.  And, Lord, am I thankful.  I hope your day is similar.  Peace and love to you all on this fine, beautiful Sunday.

"Come, rest awhile, and let us idly stray
In glimmering valleys, cool and far away.

Come from the greedy mart, the troubled street,
And listen to the music, faint and sweet,

That echoes ever to a listening ear,
Unheard by those who will not pause to hear­

The wayward chimes of memory's pensive bells,
Wind-blown o'er misty hills and curtained dells.

One step aside and dewy buds unclose
The sweetness of the violet and the rose;

Song and romance still linger in the green,
Emblossomed ways by you so seldom seen,

And near at hand, would you but see them, lie
All lovely things beloved in days gone by.

You have forgotten what it is to smile
In your too busy life­come, rest awhile."

~Lucy Maud Montgomery~

The Dempsey's are back in Mineral Creek!

Mornings at mine camp are usually short and hurried.  The crew wakes, drinks coffee, eats breakfast, and races off to their duties.  Lunchtime is similar as each worker takes turns breaking for twenty or so minutes and goes to their respective camper for something warm and filling to fight against the rain and cold.  And dinner is a welcome end-of-the-day treat.  It is what is discussed between the “camp cook crew” (Rita, Peggy, and I) from morning until serving time.  We decide who is cooking the main dish, what protein needs to be taken out of the freezer to thaw, who is making a side dish, which camper to dine in, and if there should be the rare, sugary dessert.

Last night, for instance, we all pitched in a little something.  Rita grilled some pesto and Cajun salmon filets, while I took care of the salad, and Aunt Peggy made some buttery wild rice.  We didn’t make a dessert, which was noticed by one of our crew members, Doctor Dan.  So to make up for last night’s missing sweet treat, Peggy is making baklava tonight.

Also tonight, Dave and I are taking Rita and Dani up on a babysitting offer and going into to town for a dinner-date.  Dave proposed this idea to me yesterday, much to my welcome surprise, and today he added that we should take the side-by-side four-wheeler, wear our xtra tuffs and some clothes that we can muddy on the wet, seven-mile drive.  Then he said I could bring my laptop and post a blog entry if we can find some wi-fi at the Fat Mermaid where we will be eating pizza and cheeseburgers. 

Ah, the romance.  A date night that involves mud, xtra-tuffs, blogging, and excessive carbohydrates is right up my alley!  The man knows how to speak to my heart.  So, of course, I eagerly agreed and we are meeting at the four-wheeler at three o’clock sharp.

And now I am frantically writing this entry to update you all, my favorite people, on the goings-on of mine camp.  I know I am the worst at actually keeping this blog up to date and for that, once again, I apologize.  But this year I would like to play the pregnancy card and blame my fluctuating hormones for my absent-mindedness and lack of motivation, or, as my doc’s mid-wife calls it, my “placental-brain-drain.” 

Despite my blogging absence, I am happy to report that this mining season, so far, has given us few problems and minimal bumps and bruises.  Knock on wood.

We started in May as Dave and Dan worked hard at trommel maintenance and sluice box extensions.  They decided that the sluice needed about 40 more square feet in order to ensure that we weren't losing any gold off the end of it.  This required a lot of craftsmanship and welding, two things that I have an embarrassing lack of knowledge about, but that Doctor Dan is pretty much superhuman with.  There were two days of this, followed by a trip home to Anchorage for some R and R, and our final pack job.

The pack job always puts me in a tizzy even though it shouldn't.  For the most part, it can be approached as an extended camping trip.  But, since I have a kiddo and I am pregnant, and since we are seasoned miners now, I tend to approach it as if I were doomsday prepping.  

First, there is the stuff you need like food and clothing.  Then there is the stuff that is just there for comfort and pleasure like books, movies, coffee, and beer. And, finally, there is all the stuff to bring for all of those "what if" scenarios.  What if someone cuts himself or herself on the job?  Throw in the first aid kit.  What if Dylan is plagued with the stomach flu again?  Throw in those extra sheets, blankets, and towels I was debating about.  And what if, just what if, the road collapses again??  Throw in the cell phone booster so we might have a chance to call for help.

And there is a completely different packing experience being had by Dave.  He spends his hours searching Craigslist for needed gear and supplies, making trips to NC Machinery and Jackovich for equipment parts, and cleaning out our garage of tools and loading everything into our truck and trailer.  These things take days, even weeks, to weed through and organize, as it is like I said… doomsday prepping.  You just never know what might happen or what you might need.

Even with all of that preparation, you are never really ready.  I must admit, all romance aside, that our trip to town tonight also has another agenda.  We have a grocery list and a parts list to pick up for all of our crew, as well as a few loads of laundry to get done at Captain Joe’s Laundromat.  Even with all that packing, we are still running into things that we forgot or that we need.

But something that we are not lacking this season is worker bees.  We are blessed to have Uncle Mike and Aunt Peggy for the summer again.  Doctor Dan is now retired and he and Rita have fully committed to Dempsey Mining for the season.  Dani has returned for a two-week cameo to lend a hand before she and her husband go to his hometown in Croatia for a family visit.  And the big surprise this summer… Dave’s brother Kevin is pulling a camper up here from Eugene, Oregon, to put in six weeks of work at the end of the season!  We were all very excited to hear that we get to see him two years in a row and that the Dempsey boys will get to play in the dirt side by side once again.

This is adding up to be a fun, family-filled year.  Dempsey Mining is being good to us.  Dave, Doctor Dan, and Uncle Mike spent two weeks opening the road, which entailed plowing through four colossal avalanches and smoothing out some of the bumpier parts.  It is still the road from hell but they made it passable enough for us to bump our campers down it on one long, kidney-jarring day. 

We are all comfortably camped and falling back into sync with the Mineral Creek timeline.  We have been fully operating for three days now and seen some promising signs of that elusive Valdez gold.  As usual, I miss my all of my friends and family this summer.  But until my next two-week hiatus at home, here is another smoke signal from your loving, loyal sister, niece, daughter, and friend.  Peace from Mineral Creek, Valdez, Alaska.