Witness to serendipity

Today I was meeting with a guy about a potential project.  We had never met but only spoken on the phone and via email.  After discussing lots of options for locations (suburbs? office? city? cafe?), we settled on a cafe near a subway stop in Somerville (right outside of Boston). Convenient and both of us knew where it was.

I got there first and scoped out all the tables.  I hate this part: trying to determine who is your meeting guy.  I know that (a) everyone in the cafe thinks this is like a meet-up from Match.com and (b) they are all watching to see if I get stood up. (C) I feel like I'm re-enacting Are You My Mother? in a post-modern, grown up version (Are you my meeting?  No?  Are you my meeting? No...okay, bye.)

After determining that every single man was NOT my meeting (so embarrassing),  I settled down to a table by the window and eventually let him find ME.  We had a great meeting, very productive, and all of the sudden he jumped up and knocked on the window at a passing pedestrian.  The guy outside did a double take and beamed with recognition.  Meeting guy jumped up, excused himself and said "that's my college roommate!" then dashed outside, where they hugged and talked for a few minutes and grinned at each other.

What are the chances?

~Meeting guy was in town from Chile, where he lives and works.  He's only in Boston once or twice a year.

~He hadn't seen his roommate for over 5 years and they had lost contact--no email, no Christmas cards, didn't know where the other was.

~Of all the places we discussed meeting, we chose this one place at this time where I chose a place by the window and his friend walked down the street into the "perfect storm" for crossing paths.

I think I was excited as meeting guy was (or almost) although  refrained from running out and hugging the guy myself.

I love serendipity!

(Also the movie Serendipity was cute.  Sometimes I think G looks a little like John Cusack.)

Hope ahead

A few things are turning my daily trudge through life into something more like a skip as I look forward to some lights at the end of the tunnel. 

(I love looking forward to things almost as much as doing them.)

• my friend Jen got us tickets to the U2 concert in September.  I've been a huge fan of U2 for ages but never been to a concert (unless seeing Rattle and Hum the movie counts). Can't wait to see them in person.  Plus the added benefit of a visit from friends. Thanks Jen--I couldn't be more thrilled!  

• we reserved a farmhouse on the Maine coast for a week in August.  We're not going west this summer but wanted to do something as a family to mark the summer holiday.  Greg and Sam loved their time in Acadia a couple of years ago so we're heading back there this summer.  Near Bar Harbor, Acadia, and Mt. Desert Island.  
  

Ah, it makes me relax just looking at that view. 

{By the way, have you tried HomeAway or VRBO?  We have had great luck finding wonderful places to rent in Denmark, Italy, Vermont, and now Maine (they cover just about any destination). It's like having a cabin of your own without all the work.}

• I'm heading to Denver on Wednesday for a child development research conference.  And I'll get to see my brother and a few other people. {Any child development topics anyone really wants to know about? Put in your requests now ;).}  While this is a school/work trip, I'm definitely looking forward to quiet reading time on the plane, seeing Matt, catching up with friends, and a hotel room to myself.  Kind of like living with the bears a la Grandma Brockbank.

• Spring!  A few days this week have felt a little springish. Even today, with its torrents of rain, made me hopeful for greenness soon. Hints of weather ahead--I'll take it.  Plus I've almost made it through March, traditionally my worst, blah-est month. Trudge, trudge.

What are your lights at the end of the tunnel?

Pubs & Pogues

A couple of years ago (back when G worked for a British company and I rode his coattails as often as I could when he went there for meetings) we wandered into a pub on a little side street in London.  As a non-British non-drinker, I was always fascinated by the whole pub experience (do I choose where I sit?  do I walk over to the bar and shout my soda order? is someone going to yell at me? and what about the crowd of people lingering outside?  do I just walk up and make conversation? are they already in groups of friends?)  

As you can tell, I overthink things.

This time it was irresistible.  It was the night of the European Football Playoffs  and there was a jolly chaos inside that we couldn't ignore.  So we went in, joined in the happy cheering and jeering, suddenly die-hard English football fans by virtue of pub-adoption. I grinned through the whole jubilant exuberant night and left feeling like I had jumped, Mary-Poppins-and-Burt-style, into another world.  Minus the penguin waiters.

* * *

Last Friday G and I had tickets to the Pogues concert at The House of Blues.  Let's see...Irish folk/punk band in Boston?  In a concert hall with five bars along the interior perimeter?  Think that'll be lively?

I'm pretty sure we were the only sober ones there.

I'm pretty sure lead singer Shane MacGowan was the least sober one there.

I'm pretty sure 85% of the attendees were singing along with the band at the top of their lungs.

It brought back memories of that merry pub experience (multiplied by 10). There aren't any seats at the House of Blues concert venue, which makes for a lot of dancing and interactions. Lots of grown tough burly Irish American men dancing jigs, complete with locking elbows and spinning.  Pretty much like this:

For instance: At one point I was walking on the way back from the loo and a guy put his finger on top of my head. I looked at him quizzically and he and his girlfriend said "spin! spin!" so I did and they all cheered.  (Apparently I was the first who did. I kind of felt like "Norm!" at Cheers).  It was amazing fun.   We laughed a lot--at the dancers, at the manic mood of the whole audience, at the enthusiasm.

And at the same time, a bit of sadness on the underside of the evening.  Looking at addiction's ravages in Shane MacGowan (he looks decades older than his age) you wonder why the extreme lows and destructiveness have to so frequently accompany the joyousness.

{In fact, the Boston Globe called the show "a blended blur of life's emotional extremes: joy, laughter, tears, and sorrow. Beating at the music's clamoring heart were the Pogues, who ultimately left us wondering whether there ever was a band so perfectly, equally suited to playing either a wedding or a wake." } 

Other Pogue favorites:  Fairy Tale of New York, Love You Till The End

photo via MaryElle St. Clare's Flickr page

somebody stop me!

Hi, my name is Annie and I am a blog addict. It seems I just can't stop adding new ones.

After admiring so many others' I gave in and started a catalog of my favorite home-related photos, ideas, recipes, and quotes. It's really just a digital place for me to put all those things that I used to tear out of magazines + put into files + then forget. The tumblr platform doesn't even accept comments but feel free to visit if you'd like to see the clips.  Or not.  It's called Gather.  And it's all about hygge and you know how I like my hygge.

You're probably wondering "what's next? a blog documenting Annie's breathing patterns? a catalog of her grocery receipts? her ideas for sculpting with dryer lint?" and to that I say, Maybe.  I don't rule these things out.  (I really am considering one more: a child development-dedicated site. What? I can stop anytime I want.  Really.)

* * * *

Meanwhile, I'm heading off to meet a lovely friend for lunch. {Actually Chrissi was my sister's friend growing up (and Matt's, too)} We caught up with each other again when we lived near each other in DC a few years ago and now she and her family are in Connecticut at Yale for a year.  She's an amazing photographer (see below); if you live in the area & are looking for someone to take some great photos, send her a note.  And her husband's a psychiatrist in the military so--who knows?--maybe they'll be headed close to you next.

Magical thinking

The topic for that class’s session was Loss, Death, and Dying. Pretty heavy for the second session, I remember worrying. I wanted to not just talk about dry theories and research (Kubler Ross’s “stages” of grief, research on palliative care, on grief at different developmental stages) but to be able to talk about real issues and experiences. These are social workers in training, after all. I prepared a few extras to generate conversation, illustrate the concepts and provide a bit of variety to the class.

Scenes from Away From Her. And Ponette (a gem).

And, also, audio clips from StoryCorps. Here and here.

{I’m a crier. If my heart is at all cracked open, the tears flow. Truthfully, at home I kept crying during those scenes and so I had to watch them over and over so I got used to them enough to maintain my composure in class.}

It went well, better than I expected. As I played the clips--narratives of real people talking about their experiences with death--one of my students, just inside my line of sight to the left, started weeping quietly. She searched her pockets for tissues and dabbed at her face for several minutes. At the end she left class before I could catch her so I emailed her to make sure she was okay and that the class hadn’t brought up some painful experiences or memories.

“Thank you for checking in” she wrote back. “I am okay :) but I was definitely struggling to balance my emotional mind and rational mind! Those were wonderful clips and I am glad you exposed us to them--thank you; it must be a difficult subject to have to teach, as well.”

As a fellow crier, I have had a soft spot E ever since. In a room full of wonderful and inspiring students, she is a favorite. We chat now and then, before or after class. But I am her professor and we are not really friends.

I received an email from her last week during break. “I just wanted to let you know I’m going through a difficult time right now. After our recent break-up, my boyfriend of three years has gone missing. We’re all worried and desperate to find him.”

And then, on the weekend, an email from her roommate. They found his body. He took his own life. E is, of course, devastated.  But she plans to continue the semester and attend her classes.

And so I cannot stop thinking about her. Can I even imagine what she must be going through? My mothering instincts outpace my professorish professionalism. I want to hug her. To slip a handkerchief into her hand inscribed with “it will eventually feel better.” Mostly, I want to go back to the second session and prepare her for the looming tragedy, to whisper soothing and protective words. To find some secret formula to ward off this kind of pain. 

I know, I'm not in that kind of role in her life. But I'm too new at this to have that fact even matter.  All those theories and research suddenly feel too paltry.

Ah, life.  Sometimes I don't know what to do with you.

Oh brothers!

I wasn't going to do birthday tributes this year but...

Oh well. I can break my own rules if I want to.

And this one's a two-fer.

Both of my fabulous brothers have birthdays this week.

Chris's is today, the Ides of March. (Beware!) 

He's in Mali on a Peace Corps assignment.

I miss him. We miss him.

He is a world-traveling,

music-making

(that's him with the guitar),

people-loving,

cool-styling

(in the middle, below)

good-hearted man.

Hard to believe my baby bro is 29.

(especially since he was 7 when I left for college)

Happiest of days to you, Chris.

Sure do love you.

* * *

Matt's birthday was on Friday.  

Matt is one of my favorite people.

If you know him, you know what I mean.

Funny.

Smart.

(or wicked smaht, as we say here)

Talented.

Interesting.

Tender-hearted.

Authentic.

And he seriously knows how to rock the Halloween costume.

blue Matt group ^

Love you, Matt.

And sorry for pushing you down the slide

at Dennis the Menace Park that time.

Et cetera.

xoxoxo

*pictures swiped from their Facebook accounts. Thanks, brothers.

For your reading pleasure...

Just passing along some favorite writing I've discovered lately around the internet. 

Oh, the delight of words well spent!

Hula Seventy's lovely written snapshot of her plane flight. Are you a stander or a sitter? {I can't seem to link to her post directly, so scroll down to "flight 749"}

Having had my share of "feedback opportunities" lately, I can so relate to Mental Tesserae's post on frescos, failures, and feedback.

I love Stephanie Kallos's writing (I'm reading her newest, Sing Them Home right now.  When I was starting Letters to a Parent, she was gracious enough to write a post in the midst of wrapping up the editing process for that novel.  Also, it was Stevie who inspired my How to Find Me post. See? I love her.) Her website includes several essays, including the lovely Things Dorie Taught Me, dedicated to her mother.

Finally, have you seen 1001 rules for my unborn son?  Clever and true, with rules both practical (don't use a chisel for anything but its intended purpose; and don't make a scene; and keep it short, lose the notes, and thank your dad) to life enhancing (jazz is for dancing; and be subtle, she sees you).  

* * *

Have a great weekend!

{I'm looking forward to going to see Two Men of Florence tonight}

{tomorrow we have a miraculously free Saturday! Local road trip, maybe?!)

photo via trio of love songs

Slivers of spring break (or: Moms need a spring break, too)

This week I have really needed to get some things done.  But the whiny eternal student in me complained "but it's my spring breaaaaaaak!"  So I caved a little and let the squeaky wheel get a little grease in the form of some tiny slivers of spring breakness.

On Monday I went back to bed after the kids left for school.  I figured that I needed it, with the time change and all.  And plus?  It's my spring break!  Afterwards, I got all responsible and checked items off my list. 

spring break sliver: 1 hour

Another day,  after a semi-productive morning on the computer, I watched Under the Greenwood Tree on dvd in the early afternoon before the kids came home. {Loved it.}  Plus.  I met Ellen for pizza--a twofer day!

spring break sliver: 1.5 hours + 3 hours

Yesterday I read for fun in the middle of the day, a wonderfully lovely Rosamund Pilcher novel.  In the bathtub.  I always think of my mom when I read in the bathtub, since most of her novels are water stained at the bottom few centimeters from their trips to the bath.  Any small way I can be a teeny bit more like my mom is a good thing.  I embraced it.

spring break sliver: 30 minutes

You get the idea.  Somehow I found ways to be a little indulgent because the calendar said it was my spring break.  Those six little hours (thus far) have made a huge difference in my outlook!  Maybe I should declare every week spring break from here on out.

* * * 

Which got me thinking.

The educational system figured out long ago that there was great value in taking a week off, midway through the semester, to clear the brain and recharge the dedication + motivation for learning.

I think the same reasoning (but more so) applies to moms, stay-at-home or not, with kids of any age.  What job is more demanding, 24/7? So why not take a break to clear your brain and recharge your dedication + motivation?

For most women I know, the biggest barrier to taking a break is simply giving yourself permission to do it.  So here I am, begging you & giving you permission----->

Take a spring break!!!

I'm not talking about ditching the family and going off to Acapulco to star in a Momz Gone Wild video.  I'm talking small slivers where you give yourself permission to treat yourself.  Pick a week (NOT your kids' spring break, when you are engineering their week of fun) and do it. Write it on your calendar.  

Plan some fun. 

Please.  

Small slivers of spring breakness. 

(Or big ones.)

Plus

If you leave your address here in the comments (or email it to me) telling me when you are taking your mom spring break, I will send you your choice: a spring break postcard from my little corner of the world or a spring break permission note to prove to your family that you are indeed on spring break.

picture via flickr

Everything's relative

Last night, 7:30 p.m.

Maddy:  You know what bugs me?  My friend Kylie always teases me that if I cut my hair short I'd look exactly like Sam.  She tells everyone that, even though she knows it makes me feel bad.

Sam (overhearing & calling from the other room):  Hey! I think she's giving you a compliment!

photo from summer 2007

It turns out...

  l that hosting a teenage sleep-over on the weekend of the "spring forward" time change is a recipe for a very lethargic and sleepy Monday.

 l  that Miss Saigon was powerful and the lead voices really rose to the challenge (in particular our extremely talented neighbor who played Kim and the boy who played John--his "Bui Doi" was amazing and every bit as good as the one below...it's an amazing number. Have you seen it?-->)

...but I still feel like the production is beyond the developmental appropriateness for high schoolers (as young as 14).  Even though the message of the play is to criticize the objectification of women in that way, it's still wacko to ask young girls to dress and play prostitutes in the same mature way the West End and Broadway productions did.  In my humble opinion.

l that just because it's 55 degrees and sunny on Sunday doesn't mean you're immune to a Monday morning sleet and snowstorm.

l that having a "spring break" that is a different week from your kids' spring break is not a terrible thing.  (Although difficult when their week rolls around next month.)  I'm enjoying a relaxed schedule this week and catching up on some much-neglected house projects and reading (both for school and for fun).  Oh, who am I kidding?  I still have a to-do list a mile long but am giving myself a few moments of vacation-like indulgence.

l that I really enjoy trying some new recipes for the family (who knew?).  This is a new development, folks. Recent hits:

1. cinnamon waffles with caramelized apples
   
2. cauliflower soup (although the kids didn't love it)
   
3. Ina Garten's shrimp scampi
   
4. Sopa de lima from the Turtle Bay Tacqueria cookbook (one of our faves when we go to Pacific Grove)

Um...we won't talk about the quiche I made last night that somehow ended up with broken glass in it.  The only thing I can think of is the frozen spinach must have had some shards in it, since everything else (half-and-half? grated cheese? chopped onions?) was fine.

l that, in order to take advantage of an offer of two free airline tickets, we would have to charge $500 on our AmEx by tomorrow. Our own little economic stimulus package (or, rather, AmEx's). Not sure we're up for that, but just for the sake of discussion, what would you spend it on?

A Party City is Very Good

{Quick explanation of the inside-joke title to this post.  When G and I were dating, he came to my grandparents' mountain cabin to meet the extended family.  My grandpa built it decades ago and, as a confirmed europhile (especially Germany) one of the personal touches he created is a carved mantle with his favorite Luther quote: Ein feste burg ist unser Gott, or A Mighty Fortress is Our God.  When he heard that Greg speaks Danish, my grandpa asked if he could translate the phrase on the mantle.  Greg, sensing this was a litmus test for future inclusion in the family, took his time studying it, looked up and said,  "A Party City is Very Good?" It was very endearing.  Apparently Danish and German languages don't play well together.}

Anyhoo, I'm prepping to host a slumber party here tonight with all the young women (12-18) from our church youth group.  Good times, y'all.  

Chick flicks, check.  

Easter candy, check.

All other manner of junk food, check.  

Louie sent to the dog hotel, check.

Make kids vacuum, check.

Fresh flowers, check. (Here's my floral philosophy.)

We'll be making those fabulous tissue paper pom-poms (^)for an event next week. Check.

A little preventive nap this afternoon, check.

Pancake breakfast makings, check.

Bedroom two floors away from the "sleeping," check.

One baby step closer to achieving my goal of kool-aid mom. A party city is very good, I say.

* * *

And tomorrow we'll attend Miss Saigon at the high school.  Remember the drama when we found out they picked it for this year?  {Lauren decided not to audition since they weren't watering it down AT ALL for the high school production.}  Love the music, still not sure it's the best choice for a high school production.  I'll let you know...  

edited to say: picture courtesy of Martha Stewart

Mirror Mirror

The newest post to Letters to a Parent is a great reminder that a parent can be one of the most important mirrors for their children, giving long-lasting answers to the unspoken, yearning questions like Am I beautiful?  Am I enough?  Thanks, Jenny, for your honest and thought-provoking post. 

Click on over and tell us what you think.

And psssst.  Join in on the conversation + submit a post of your own for the Letters project.  Or let me know if you think you know someone who you'd like to hear from and I'll do the inviting.  {I'm longing to turn my attention back to that neglected, patient project soon.  Soon!}

The Last Derby

^making last minute adjustments & weight addition

{G flew in from a work trip to Arizona just for this...

driving straight from the airport to the derby.}

^don't you love the one with the skier?

It didn't fare so well in the race but I think

it deserves a quirkiness award

^The first of many heats (Sam's is far left)

I'm a little sad that this phase of our life is over!

Like every other year,

Greg and Sam have spent many nights over the last few months

designing, cutting, sanding, measuring, painting, adjusting.

There's a lot wrapped up in that little car.