Basic Joy

Well hello there

2009-11-18T17:04:00.003-05:00

I'm glad you stopped by. The thing is, I've moved. (It's not you, it's me.)

Please click on over because otherwise I'd miss you.

Really.

Still Basic Joy, just with a different URL and fancy colors.

Annie

Postmaster: please forward all visitors to http://basic-joy.com. Thank you.

Car talk

2009-11-17T16:22:00.003-05:00

Here's how it goes every morning: G and Lauren get up by 5, leave for seminary (early morning religious class for high schoolers) at 5:30. G drops her off at 6 and goes on in to work. Because she's the only one at seminary who attends her high school, I leave at 6:30 and go pick her up and take her to school, arriving home around 7:20. (Are you with me? Is this the most exciting paragraph you've ever read?)

Now I'm no early bird. But in spite of the crack-of-dawnness, that hour or so is one of my favorites in the day. The sunrise is usually stunning. And it's great chat time with my eldest child, just the two of us (as long as I'm not driving to seminary and all in a dither about punctuality). Don't you love how driving in a car opens up kids to all kinds of topics and reflections?

In addition to deepest thoughts and shallowest observations, we share music. Today Journey's Don't Stop Believing came on, a tune which always brings up memories of jr. high afternoon dances and the confusion about whether it was a slow song or a fast one. We were singing along and I belted out the words.

"Mom, those aren't the right lyrics."

"What?! I think I know my own era songs, thankyouverymuch."

"Mom, really, listen when that line comes up again."

I did.

She was right.

It's not "born and raised and self-destroyed" which is how I've been singing it. All. These. Years.Apparently (as I'm sure you all know) it's "born and raised in South Detroit." Whatever. I think my lyrics make more sense. And more universal, for those of us non-Michiganites.

Turnabout is fair play, though; Lauren was just getting me back from this time.

. . .

grateful for: the boost I feel after exercising, our 8 p.m. nightly gathering as a family, and keeping in touch with longtime friends (just had a great phone chat with my college roommate this afternoon)

. . .

This will be the last post on the blogger site. Come on over to http://basic-joy.com and change your subscription, if you so desire. Sure would hate to miss you over there...

Sticky situation

2009-11-15T07:59:00.002-05:00

Over the summer we replaced our hardy old minivan Ruby (~200,000 miles!) with a brand new family mobile. This was a long-awaited event and, as we cleared out the flotsam and jetsam from the trusty but stained Ruby, G extracted a promise from each of us:

No food in the new car.

The kids tried different techniques to test the paternal rule resolve. They sneaked snacks aboard in their pockets, for one. Oh, the folly of youth. These things are always discovered and woe!WOE! unto the child who sneakily munches in the back seat. By their crumbs they are judged.

Eventually we all got used to the new reign of foodlessness and all was well. We took 6-hour summer trips where water was the only allowed substance to touch our lips while inside the new vehicle. If sometimes I brought a therapeutic can of Diet Coke into the car, I claimed parental exemption and crossed my fingers.

So imagine my horror when I got into the car recently and found that the gear shift between the two front seats was verrrry difficult to move. It stuck and was almost impossible to shift into reverse or drive, especially first thing in the morning. Like something had been spilled nearby. I was pretty sure I hadn't spilled my soda. Had I? HAD I?! Looking closer, I noticed several sticky spots on and around and in(!) the shifter...

[click here for the rest of the story on the new site.]

. . .

Thankful for: my funny (+ honest!) G, the 10 a.m. schedule at church, great car conversations with my kids.

Fail.

2009-11-12T13:16:00.001-05:00

I'm over at Segullah today, writing about failure and its lessons. Do stop by and even share a story, if you're so inclined.

You can't be serious

2009-11-09T19:31:00.003-05:00

'My Funny Family' from hailey bartholomew on Vimeo.

Feel like a virtual field trip? A trip to one of my favorite new-to-me sites is a treat. This artistic Australian family of four--photographers, designers, film-makers, gigglers--knows how to have F-U-N. The Bartholemews make me want to invite more fun + zaniness + joy into my life. See them at You Can't Be Serious here. And their Christmas card photo has inspired me...look for a little zaniness from the W clan come December.

p.s. We're getting back on our feet around here! More soon.

p.p.s. Remember I'll be switching over to http://basic-joy.com so switch your reader settings if you're so inclined...

Quarantine schemes

2009-11-04T14:50:00.004-05:00

On the third day of sickness, the swine flu(?) gave to me...three coughing people, two fevers over 102, and a feeling that we'll never be free.

(via my facebook status this morn. I was pretty proud of that and it only took me all morning to think of it:))

Okay, if I'm going to be sick and ill equipped to write my qualifying paper (fuzzy brain...oh well!) then I will try to use my quarantine time to plan and scheme...

(click here for the rest...remember to change your settings to basic-joy.com, pretty please.)

The gomboo

2009-11-03T14:45:00.001-05:00

Oh, my. We've got it here, the gomboo. Fever, chills, headache, cough. I know we're kind of late to the flu party but here we are! Is there still any guacamole left? (Ugh, cancel that. Guacamole is the last thing we need at this moment. How about popsicles?)

We're all in our beds (everyone but G and Maddy), a coughing chorus of germ hosts. Books, check. Water, check. Pillows with the cool side a turn away, check. Rest time, check.

Sam, the sickest among us, groans in his sleep with every exhale, a faint little oh with every breath as he naps on the sofa. Lauren feels fine but can't shake the fever--she's been watching movies and texting and seems full of ideas, asking to go for Wendy's frosties/subway sandwiches/movie rentals/driving practice. I'm being a little productive in a slow motion, fuzzy kind of way with lots of forehead checks and drink fetching and temperature taking for the other patients. We will survive.

Finger crossed G doesn't get it. He leaves for Paris on business at the end of the week. (Here, France, is our little hostess gift to you: the gomboo.)

--------

Grateful for: 1. the skylight in my bedroom with the view of the tenacious yellow leaves 2. duvets 3. advil to bring down fevers

-->change something

2009-11-02T13:06:00.000-05:00

I have always loved change.

Changing my room around.

My hair.

My handwriting.

Planning a new project.

Yes, even moving.

(Good thing, too, since we've had lots of opportunity for that.)

I even love thinking about change, in the abstract:

how we approach it, how to do it.

So, yes, sometimes (but not always) it is as simple as:

keep doing what you're doing or change something.

After three years of blogging + keeping on doing what I'm doing, I've decided to make some changes around here on this site: changing the wallpaper and furniture, giving several of my interests separate pages, making a friendlier template, and a brand new URL: basic-joy.com. Go browse around, open house style (lots still under construction) and see what you think. Feedback welcome!

I'll continue to double-post at both sites for a bit but be sure to change your bookmarks and feeds to the new address. (Go on, I'll wait. I don't want to lose you! Really. I'm serious. Go do it.)

[pause. whistling. sorry I was so pushy.]

Fantastic.

If you have time to answer, will you be my focus group? Here's what I'm wondering:

1. I'm thinking of changing the name of Letters to a Parent to The Parentstorialist. Thoughts? (I made up the name, which is probably obvious. Does it make sense? You know--parents, telling stories...kind of like The Sartorialist but for parents...get it?) OR should I just stick with the original--straight forward, kind of boring, but already known? The new site has an upload button to submit letters/stories directly and lots of other added goodies. I love it.

2. I'm adding a page about being a student and mom because I get a lot of emails asking for advice about balancing grad school with motherhood. I'll also use that page to talk about what I'm working on so I don't bore the rest of you (and only bore those who are interested in that kind of thing...) What think ye?

3. Also, to be unveiled later, is a page on raising children. I have been longing to have a place to keep child development ideas, links & discussions and summarize research I read. What kinds of things do you wonder about or like to read about children and parenting? What sites do you use for child rearing information?

Thanks, internet friends! Stay tuned for a sitewarming party in the future...

Taking a bite out of crime

2009-10-30T17:28:00.004-04:00

In our town's police log this week (an entertaining weekly must-read):

6:50 p.m. A Lindsay Pond Road resident reported a suspicious man near her home, wearing a sweatshirt and baseball cap and carrying a beer bottle. The responding officers identified the man as a teacher at middle school, who was out for a walk and carrying a water bottle.

I wonder who was more embarrassed: the caller or the teacher?

I love our town and its hyper McGruff ways. You've gotta love the suburbs

(My all time favorite police log entry was: employee of local hospital phoned police to report that co-workers were talking about her behind her back. Dispatcher advised caller that this is not a police matter.)

. . .

Meanwhile, we are prepping for Halloween festivities around here. All three kids have parties/dances tonight. We have a good ballerina (her friend will be an evil ballerina), Pop (going with friends Snap and Crackle) and a secret agent/spy attending his first 6th grade dance. G and I are posing as taxi drivers for the evening--oh for a bulletproof barrier behind the front seat (and a running meter + tips)! Maybe tomorrow I'll go as a shady middle school teacher.

Have a happy Halloween! Obligatory costume photos to follow (eventually).

I said "tapas"

2009-10-26T18:15:00.004-04:00

Last week I was thrilled to have a visit with this wonderful lass. Liz and I met between my hometown and hers at a new tapas* bar where she treated me to a birthday lunch (don't you love it when your birthday kind of spills over into the following week?). It was fabulous (the meet-up and the food) and so much fun to sit for a couple of hours with a kindred blog friend.

I'm lucky we live in the same corner of the world. [Now I'm scheming to have my middle daughter meet her son at one of the multi-stake church dances...shhh....don't tell the kids...they tend to resist my matchmaking suggestions...]

Thanks, Liz. You're a treasure.

*when I told someone about this, they misheard me and asked "a t@pless bar?" As if.

Hello, gorgeous

2009-10-25T16:36:00.007-04:00

"I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day"

~EB White

Today? No question: enjoying.

~Annie

Here there be wild things

2009-10-17T19:49:00.009-04:00

When I think of the movie Where The Wild Things Are, I will think of Sam wiping his eyes, flat palmed with both hands, as he cried at the end.

{please don't go...I'll eat you up, I love you so...}

I noticed it from the corner of my eye and tried to give him the courtesy of not noticing. But tears sprang to my eyes (these things being contagious) and I thought Well, of course. Sam is Max, pretty much. Or was. His imagination. His emotions. His wild and tender ways. His affinity for me and home (where someone loved him best of all...). His sometimes loneliness as his older sisters (although reluctantly) abandon him to play in the world of childhood & make believe alone.

Sam is well acquainted with the wild things and where they are. Spike Jonze has said that he intended to create a movie that captured the book's spirit and what it is like to be a nine-year-old boy. Sam got that. He's not nine anymore but he recognized the geography of that age and connected with it.

Not everyone in the theater did. There was a three-year-old behind us who, after the first monster scene, said I don't want to see this movie anymore (it really isn't for younger kids...Pixar it's not). A few people grumbled under their breaths as we shuffled out of the theater that it wasn't what they expected, wasn't a kids' movie, was quiet and strange*.

Well, yes. I can see that. But it made me want to ask, "have you really read the book?" and "do you really remember what it's like to be a child?" There are scary emotions and swift boats to tantrums. There are rumpuses (rumpi?) and imperfect families and journeys back to forgiveness. There's moodiness and confusion and questions and thin, thin boundaries between delight and disappointment. Everything looms large and monsterish...life so wholly determined by other people's agendas. That's The Point.

It's not like anything you've seen. It is weird. Please though, if you go, just get in the boat, let go, and let the wild rumpus start. It's a great (and trippy) ride.

*then again, there were adult WTWTA fans dressed in footie pajamas and zigzag crowns at the theater, too. They seemed happy with it.

XXXX

2009-10-15T11:51:00.006-04:00

Okay.

I'm forty.

Just like Sesame Street

and (I learned today) Monty Python

and Brady Bunch

and people landing on the moon

and Woodstock

{1969 was a good year to be born.}

So far so good!

Yesterday (and a little bit this morning, to be honest)

was about the melancholy end of 30s.

Today is about the beginning of my 40s.

I have heard that it is a fabulous time and

I am going to embrace it with enthusiasm.

Do I feel a fun midlife crisis coming on? Maybe. What if I...

Cut my hair (or different color)

Train for a marathon (and, okay, run it)

Take up painting

Write a novel

Walk or bike across England

Stop blogging (I know. But maybe.)

Get a mammogram (Monday. Short range is good, too.)

Take my kids out of school and book a trip around the world with them (I wish.)

Buy some art.

Finish my PhD.

Don't finish my PhD.

Care less about what others think.

Laugh loudly.

Prune the unnecessary stress from my life.

Wander more, wonder more.

Connect.

* * *

Happy birthday to me #1:

Swell Season (the duo from the movie Once) are coming out with a new album next week and, to celebrate, NPR is streaming the entire album. Hooray!

Here's to finding more good music in the next decade!

Happy Birthday to me, #2
(saw this on marathonbird's twitter this morning)

I'm going to give myself more silliness in my life.

Happy Birthday to me, #3

Remember the viral video of the dancing/singing DoReMi in the train station?

I just found out that friend is creating a similar public art event in a town square in Guatemala next month.

So cool.

That just makes me happy.

Happy Birthday to me, #4

I'm loving all of the happy birthday wishes via email and facebook!

So lovely to connect with friends.

Happy Birthday to me #5

I have to go to class tonight

but tomorrow G is taking off work

and we're celebrating then with

lunch+museum+movie+together

Life is good.

* * *

painting Alma y Corazon by Cassandra Barney via

Mixed feelings

2009-10-14T14:00:00.001-04:00

I love October with a passion and an ache. Every time I gasp in glee at a tree's audacious over-the-topness it is accompanied by a melancholy that remembers the longlong stark New England winter ahead. Sigh.

Here's a little something for wallowing in the melancholy side of fall. I first discovered Eva Cassidy about 11 years ago when we lived in DC (she had recently passed away, sadly). She still gets to me, every time.

And here's something to appreciate the cozy, happy side of fall. Just what I needed to read yesterday during a rainy gray fall day. I love autumn, love the seasons, love the chance to change what we wear and do and think about. And we do earn this glorious colorful span of time with our trudge through the quieter winter season. Right?

Speaking of mixed feelings, today is my last day as a thirtysomething. It's been a fantastic decade and I feel very lucky to be learning the things I'm learning with the people I love. But it's melancholy, too, you know?

Ah, normal days.

2009-10-08T08:13:00.007-04:00

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return."

~Mary Jean Iron, via Ali

I had a fantastic and energizing trip to DC last week...also very humbling and overwhelming! I feel like I'm standing at a threshold of a door and taking a deep breath before stepping through (do I want to step through? what does it mean for my life and my family? what can I give? what should I hold back?)

I'm relishing the return to normal days this week. Sam is home sick with a fever (and will be fine soon) and we are enjoying being cozy and homebound for now. I'm baking a bit and lighting candles and breathing. Folding laundry into tidy squares. Ah, I love margins and space between the busyness of mothering/life.

photo via

Babies, bacon, & me

2009-10-07T15:53:00.010-04:00

Hey there, I'm coming to you live from beautiful Washington, D.C. I'm here for the first meeting for the fellowship and have already met (and shared a cab) with two of the other lovely fellows. Should be interesting to hear all about what everyone's doing and have the chance to discuss my project and find out ways to make it better. It's inspiring to be around all of these people who are so passionate about finding ways to help improve the lives of babies and their families. Hopefully some of their brilliance will rub off a little on me.

It's kind of weird to be a business traveler though. I've traveled before but never professionally (meaning paid for by someone else). I always imagined myself walking briskly down the airport concourse like a Charlie commercial (or is it Enjoli? except I don't bring home any bacon, really, I pretty much work for free) but instead I was sweaty and I wore the wrong shoes and I kept getting my bag handles all tangled. You know, as usual.

Speaking of babies and families, I miss mine already. (Thanks, G, for holding down the fort). Bacon for everyone when I get home! Because I might not bring any home but I sure do know how to fry it up in a pan.

Louie, Louie

2009-10-05T11:11:00.002-04:00

Louie the dog is cracking me up lately. He's decided to become Sam's long lost brother (from a different mother). Notice how he's holding the paper for Sam's coloring page*? And how fascinated he is by the whole process? I see you're using the red crayon, Sam. Good choice. I might have gone with magenta but clearly you know your way around a coloring page. This is how he is all day long: interested and involved. I unload the dishwasher several times a day but each time, it's the most fascinating thing in the world to Louie.

Wow! Dishes go in there, huh?

And then where do they....oh....in the cupboard. I get it.

Of course, he wasn't such a fan when his collar got caught somehow on the empty dishwasher rack and he pulled it out and across the kitchen floor, attached to his neck. Unexpected! The sky is falling! He's a little more wary of it now.

The other thing that never fails to make us laugh is his response to either (a) phone messages on our machine or (b) sirens. Oh, my. He howls and howls like a wolf on the prairie. I'm pretty sure he thinks the sirens are other dogs asking for his help and advice and support. Not sure what the answering machine is all about. Maybe he just misses me.

Oh, Louie. If only you didn't still steal things from the table. And jump up on shy little Chinese students. Then you'd be almost perfect.

*we had a lovely, lazy Sunday listening to conference talks at home, eating fresh picked apples and pumpkin bread, most of us remaining in pajamas all day. Sam (above) set up projects on the floor where Louie joined him.

Month of witchery

2009-10-02T12:11:00.003-04:00

...and so the countdown begins.

What are you going to be for Halloween?

Any great ideas for kids and costumes?

Do share, my witchy (& I mean that in the best sense) friends {insert wicked witch laugh here}.

p.s. Welcome, October. I love you in a happy, melancholy way.

Muppet Mad Men

2009-09-30T20:33:00.002-04:00

This is all kinds of wonderful.

Now it's our turn

2009-09-30T13:04:00.005-04:00

Remember how Maddy went to China last spring?

Well, this week we have the treat of hosting a 12-year-old Chinese student, Yexin.

Like Maddy, she is lovely and curious and bright and a bit shy.

She can't find very much to eat in this new culture. Well, except bread. Yes, like Maddy.

She has one older sister and a younger brother. Maddy, too.

Her English is pretty good (much better than our Chinese, that's for sure) and we're able to make halted conversation, mostly overly gestured and animated questions (me) and short stoic answers (her) about her family and life. She likes bananas, bread, noodles, badminton.

Like Maddy was, she's a little teary about being so far from home.

Yesterday morning when I knocked softly and went in to wake her up, I found her tucked in bed, knees pulled up, with a damp tissue in her hand. She looked at me and smiled weakly.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yes. Okay."

"Maddy was sad in China, too. It's hard to be far." (With ridiculous gesturing. I can't help myself)

"Yes."

As her American mom, I really want to sweep her up in my arms and dry her tears. Or make her laugh about some silly thing and forget about her sadness. But we don't share a similar language of affection or the nuances of humor. And her shy stiffness in receiving my clumsy hugs tells me she isn't like Maddy in these ways.

But she will be fine. And we might get a laugh out of her yet. You should have seen me last night trying to ask/mime whether she rubbed the shoe of the statue of John Harvard for good luck when she visited Harvard. There's no pretty way to do that.

We will be apple picking and corn mazing and pizza eating and fall leaf gazing and trying to show our best selves until she leaves on Monday. After that, I can't promise anything.

* * *

Elsewhere, I'm posting at Segullah today about another scene in that bedroom with a weepy 12-year-old (some of you might recognize it). Come visit.

Permitted

2009-09-28T20:32:00.002-04:00

Look who passed her driver's permit test!

(sorry, cell phone quality photo)

I guess that means she's allowed to get behind the wheel, huh?

(especially since she only got one question wrong)

Gulp.

(Those apron strings are getting stretched longer every day.)

Congrats, Lulu!

Magnificent

2009-09-22T15:08:00.000-04:00

weekend.
Thanks for coming, friends.

Jen, me, Deirdre, Vicki (behind the camera) at Burdick's Chocolate in HarvardSquare (fantastic truffles and decadent hot chocolate). Such a beautiful day. Or days. I love showing people around Boston and this weekend the city put on her best weather and represented well (not a city of blinding lights, but almost). Good food, a bit of sightseeing, great chats. It was a great chance to get together and do what friends do: show up, support + love, laugh, scheme, and be serious and indignant and silly at all the right moments. I feel refilled + replenished and hope they do too.

Anyway...

Uno, dos, tres, catorce...

Before the show. Yes, we came early...

but it was worth it.

I wasn't really prepared for how emotional an experience it would be. U2 has provided the soundtrack for a lot of my life. So many images came flooding back to me: moments of longing, joy, heartbreak, memories both manic and melancholy. There were some great melodies woven into the setlist. They combined One + Amazing Grace, added Blackbird to Beautiful Day, and a sing-along Stand by Me that got me all teary. It was such a great night*. Can't wait until next time, whenever that is. (The other three are heading to Vegas in October to see them again, the luckies.)

Now to get back to real life...

p.s. If you go (or are planning on it) get general admission tickets on the floor. I loved our seats--and they were on the 30th row so pretty good!--but if I did it again I would sacrifice sitting for being up close at the band's feet.

Notes on a Monday morning

2009-09-21T13:51:00.005-04:00

Or: Hindsight is 20/20. And less grumpy.

5:00 a.m. G leaves for the airport for a business trip. Bye, babe.

5:22 a.m. I am the early seminary driver. I have had less than three hours of sleep due to very fun visitors. I don't do early mornings very well. Drag myself up for the 5:35 departure time.

5:30 a.m. I remind daughter (who is eating breakfast) that we have to leave soon to pick up E. and drive the 20 minutes to the church. Forget to use "good morning, Mary Sunshine, voice"

5:35 a.m. I wait in the car, watching through the windows while the daughter dashes upstairs to find something, then down, then to the kitchen, then back to the upstairs. My pet peevery feelings activate, with the assistance of early morning grumpiness.

5:41 a.m. Daughter comes out, juggling folders, toast, glass of water, cell phone. No backpack. Daughter dashes back in to find backpack.

5:47 a.m. Finally we leave the house. My grumpiness breaks the dam and I gush a flash flood/ loud lecture on the benefits of advanced planning, being on time, courtesy, adding a flourish by throwing many other items into my dawn discourse. Daughter sits, silently picking at her toast. I go on far too long. And I don't feel any better afterwards, incidentally.

5:53 a.m. Pick up E.

6:10 a.m. I drop off the girls at church and drive home feeling ashamed of my tirade. Think of how awesome it is that a 16-y-o girl wakes herself up at 4:45 in the morning and goes to daily early morning religious instruction not only willingly but with eagerness. I deflated that over a 10 minute delay? Sheesh.

Can I have a do-over?
{Well, yes I can. Every morning this week.}

I'm going to bed early tonight just to be sure.

happy jumble

2009-09-18T07:17:00.001-04:00

Happy to take off my mind:

Did I register Lauren for driver's ed? Yes, I did.
the paper for the class last night. I finished it yesterday. Whew, that was a close one.
the presentation at the Harvard Faculty Club on Wednesday. Turns out, when I get exceptionally nervous I get really, really drowsy. In spite of my desire to find a quiet corner and nap, it went really well. And best of all? It's over!
Was my house clean enough for the houseguests last night? No. Not even close. But oh well.

Still whirring in my mind:

how to teach Lauren to be a good (safe, no accidents, please) driver?
hmm, why does the stake have a big youth dance on Valentine's Day and New Year's Eve?
are my kids too busy? and (unrelatedly) when will they learn to clean a bathroom really well?
and, especially, how to best love and support an awesome friend who has been massively betrayed? and help her see that she's incredible and strong and will be fine?

Happy to look forward to:

time with 2 longtime friends and 1 new one, staying with us for a long weekend*
touring around Boston in this lovely early fall weather
going to a concert by a little band that starts with U and ends with 2*
slowing down a bit more to enjoy September
maybe finally hanging a few pictures around the house? And curtains?
apples and pumpkins and mums and soup and pies...autumn is my favorite

Happy weekend to you

* I am justifying these fun things and my trip to NYC (and, I'll be honest, anything else that comes along--hear that, Christie?) by classifying them as my happy 40th birthday fall extravaganza.

photo via loveyourchaos

There, there little writing phobia

2009-09-15T16:02:00.004-04:00

"The angel doesn't sit on your shoulder unless the pencil's in your hand."

~ Mary Oliver

I have that quote posted over in the sidebar and on a bulletin board. But I've been thinking. Is that even true? For me?

* * *

I'm knee-deep in writing a paper for my public health class (my LAST class for my degree. Woohoo! Let's not talk about all the writing that is still ahead of me...).

I have such a love/hate relationship with writing*. I need writing. I love to have written. But it's painful. After 23 years of school (ahem. I know, makes you want to stage an intervention, doesn't it?), I'm finally okay with the way my mind seems to need to write. Instead of fruitless sessions of staring at a blank screen and panicking, I've gone with my natural tendencies to ruminate and organize and THEN write.

I get the assignment. Or the idea.
I start hating the assignment/idea but my brain starts mulling.
I think about it. When I'm making beds, when I'm loading the dishwasher, when I'm in the car, little ideas are floating to the top of my mind. But it counts as time working on the paper (I tell myself)! (If it's a lit review, I start reading articles and taking notes.)
I start jotting down random ideas. I am still terrified of actually writing but tell myself to just write whatever ideas have surfaced. There, there, little writing phobia.
I start organizing the randomness into a skeleton outline. Again, much soothing of anxiety and telling myself it's no big deal, just writing an outline here.
More thinking. I have to walk away several times (sometimes you just have to give in to the adult onset ADD) and come back and type a few more lines.
Finally I start writing little snippets into the outline. Again, I am really sneaking up on myself. The idea is to get everything to the stage where the writing is all that's left: the ideas, order, and structure are already done! It might look like procrastination but it's really all just my necessary prep work.
NOW I'm truly writing the paper, linking the snippets and fleshing out thought. Inevitably I start getting excited and it starts feeling easier as the paper comes together. (Like childbirth, I'll forget all the pain and effort of the beginning once I get a glimpse of the final product.) THEN I love writing.

So I'm on #7 now with this paper, which makes it sound really good but all that writing is still ahead. Ugh. (And, as you can tell, I've walked away for a bit.)

For the longest time I tried to force myself into the One True Way of Writing, which (I thought or was taught) was sitting down at the computer and writing the whole thing, or at least spending hours on end focused on the writing. I fought myself the whole way.

In reality, if I would have just let myself do it the way I naturally operate--small bursts of attention and energy with lots of unproductive-looking baby steps--I would have been much more productive and happy. A peripatetic writer, that's what I am. And not really a procrastinator after all--a lot of the work just happens below the surface.

So, how does your writing/project process work?

* * *

* does anyone have a love/love relationship with writing?

this was inspired, in part, by Marty's post about the writing muse. Have you checked out her terrific 12-week seminar? Try out her challenges for scouting out your muse. I think my muse hides under the covers or trembles in the corner until I've done all the other prep work. Or maybe she's around the whole time?

What a strange night

2009-09-14T09:45:00.002-04:00

I didn't see it on t.v. but have you heard all of the buzz about Kanye's rude behavior at the MTV video awards?

Speaking of which, he really should learn not to interrupt:

Big City weekend

2009-09-12T12:25:00.002-04:00

My mom and I spent Labor Day weekend in NYC, seeing shows, eating good food, and visiting with my sister Nancy, who lives there. I know I've said it before but New York is something of a pilgrimage for us. My parents lived there and loved it, I was born there, yada yada lalala. I grew up hearing NYC stories and feeling like it's home. It's one of our happy places. So when my mom came to Boston for a visit with us, we jumped on the chance to sneak away to the Big City for the weekend.

Big Apple, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways (and share in case others are looking for some NYC tips, especially since I got a lot of guidance from others' blogged suggestions. Isn't blogland grand?).

Good eats:

~ italian pre-theater dinner on 9th Ave at Roberto Passon : warm beet salad with goat cheese + veal scallopine

~ pear, brie, and honey sandwich at a french bistro I can't remember the name of but now I have a new favorite sandwich

~ Moto in Brooklyn: artichoke with saffron mayo + side of mashed potatoes + heavenly date cake

~ Pinkberry: coconut fro yo with dark chocolate and shaved coconut

~ Mother Burger: late night (post theater) lemonade and shared fries sitting in a courtyard and people watching

~ Magnolia Bakery (the one near 30 rock): devil's food cupcake with cream cheese frosting

~ junior mints at every show (to be expected when you're with my mom)

The Theata:

~ Billy Elliott, (with David Alvarez as Billy) Amazing.

~ West Side Story (we loveloveloved Anita and Maria and Bernardo but Tony was having an off night, although he is very handsome)

~ we decided to see The September Issue, the documentary about Anna Wintour (you know, the inspiration for the Devil Wears Prada) and producing the September issue of Vogue. I am now a huge fan of Grace Coddington; she steals the show

~ the 39 Steps (I had seen it before with G but it was still great fun. Kind of a mystery and a farce all in one)

New York moments--priceless:

~JLo and Marc Anthony sat a couple of rows in front of me at Billy Elliott. Totally surreal! He is tiny, she is gorgeous. They left with a bodyguard a little before intermission and again a little before final curtain.

~ sitting in Bryant Park with my mom, Nancy, and Nancy's boyfriend Dave. The fashion week tents were up, people were playing ping pong, and a quite crazy, slightly dressed, bearded woman nearby (she looked like Pan) made for a memorable afternoon

~ eating yogurt breakfast on a bench in Central Park

~ exploring the Brazil Day street festival on 5th Avenue, complete with mechanical bull riders, street food, loud music, and lots of yellow and green

~ hitting the candy bar at FAO Swartz

~ pretending we were guests at the Plaza Hotel (i.e., snooping through the lobby and smelling the flower arrangements to see if they were real)

~ watching the swing dancers in the center of Times Square

~ admiring the rooftop views from Nancy's apartment building in Brooklyn. Breathtaking.

~ listening to the Mad Jazz Hatters at Moto (see photo, far right. I was right next to them and loved every minute of it). Very cool early jazz + jugband + klezmer sound

~ seeing a guy in handcuffs on Times Square, standing next to some policemen. On closer examination, we saw that the guy was wearing a tshirt that said "Doesn't play well with others." Classic.

Scholar time

2009-09-11T13:53:00.007-04:00

How is it that one family can produce such different learners and learning styles?

One of my kids is easily distracted and forgets due dates, another could read and do homework in the middle of a fiesta at Disneyland.

One actually puts together a timeline for big projects with mini steps along the way without any urging (clearly not my genes coming through there), another lives in la-la denial land until the day before it's due and then panics (no comment).

It became clear, halfway through last year, that I needed to figure out a way to help all three have better study skills and planning. (This may or may not have had something to do with the mid-year report of one of the kids where missing homework assignments and such had led to a midterm warning of a very low grade. Measures were needed.)

I've always loved hyggli family routines and cultural traditions. I think I should have been British, given how much I adore the tea time tradition. So I stole the essence of tea time, slapped the title Scholar Time on it, and made it our own new tradition.

Scholar Time is from 3 to 5 at our house in the winter, later in the fall and spring (with a little variation for lessons and sports practices, as needed). It's nothing revolutionary: just a set aside learning time for my kids and me.

Truly, it's all in the spin and marketing, folks! I try to make it more of a nice ritual. Put on some music, light a couple of candles, sometimes add cocoa or a treat.

Basically:

We all unload our homework, books, etc. on the table. If there's homework, they do it (I do mine, too). But it's not just about homework.

I make everyone fess up about looming tests, quizzes, etc. If someone has a project coming up, we map out the small steps to make it feel more manageable. I ask (I learned this from my Aunt Annette) how much support they want: minimal (just reminders about due dates, etc. and putting it on the calendar), some (need materials from the store, want to brainstorm, need a proofreader), or a lot (don't know where to start, help with understanding the concepts, helping organize an outline, field trips [our high school has the freshmen find and catalog 100 different leaf varieties; that's a big one]).

If someone comes upon something really interesting, they share it with the rest of us and we stop and chat about it.

Here are the keys:

Keep in mind my kids are 11, 13, 16 and all in middle school and high school. Two hours isn't too much to ask; yours might only need 1/2 hour. We try to do it Monday through Thursday and make Friday afternoons an anything-goes day but usually at least one other day just doesn't work out.
I am there to help out. Available. Sitting right there. I think this is the biggest shift.
It's quiet as possible (for the easily distracted among us)
It's scholar time, not just homework time. So if they don't have homework (or finish early), they go over something they've learned, study for a test, outline an essay for next week, read ahead, go practice their instrument (out of earshot).
When they're done, they pack up their backpacks for tomorrow (I'm so over the hurry-before-the-bus-comes-I-can't-find-my-essay-and-math-homework). Celebrate another day of learning, woot!

As I said, nothing revolutionary but a great improvement over our laissez-faire homework-doing of the past. That particular low midterm grade? It sprang back up into the zone of better grades. Like most "programs" sometimes we're better at it than others. But I do look forward to a couple of hours of sitting with my kids + watching them learn. And I get my hyggli ritual.

(Maybe everyone already does something like this and it's just taken me 11 years to catch on! Recently a couple of families we know have asked about it since Sam was talking about "scholar time" so I thought I'd put it out there in case it makes sense for others to do, too.)

Plus, I'd love to hear any suggestions about what you do around your house to help kids stay on top of the academic demands (or what you did as a student). I think my kids have more homework now than I had as a college student!

p.s. Quizlet

2009-09-11T13:02:00.001-04:00

We are loving Quizlet, a great website for creating online flashcards (or using those that others have created). After you enter the words and meanings, the site creates exercises to complete and gives a score.

Lauren uses it for Latin and chemistry but you could use it for pretty much anything with a vocabulary to master (you can also upload images to identify). Perfect for older elementary through college (there are even flashcards for standardized tests like the ACT, SAT, and GRE).

In my own image

2009-09-09T17:05:00.002-04:00

Recently I came across this photo of myself. What ever happened to Batgirl? I thought, as though she were the girl who sat behind me in pre-algebra. Somehow we lost touch along the way.

She didn't mind wearing a cape or being photographed. She didn't worry what her thighs looked like in the tights or even really care what others thought. But it's more than that.

There's a "hello, life!" look in her eyes that I want back. She just knew what she wanted to be. Or who she was.

Batgirl, that's who.

* * *

Recently I've had the occasion to need a more formal bio photo. The people who asked for it gave me a deadline of the end of August and, while I kept intending to get it done, I was really more in summer mode. You know: procrastination + que sera, sera attitude. Plus denial. Finally, at the end of the month, I put my camera in Maddy's hands, stood in the spot of our house with the best natural light, and said "have at it!" It was after a Sunday nap and I forgot to brush my hair. That's how bad I am at being a photo subject. I did put in earrings, however.

(You may have noticed a dearth of photos of myself here on this site. I loath having my photo taken. I much prefer taking them. So this exercise was wayyyyy out of my comfort zone.)

But Maddy was the ideal photographer (for me): very positive and patient and open to suggestions. She even got me to do some shampoo commercial action hair flips and red carpet over-the-shoulder gazes. She did a great job. Here's (because I know you're wondering, not because I've suddenly embraced self-photos) what we decided on

although I would have been just as happy to send in the batgirl photo and call it done.

* * *

Sam got a Wii for his birthday in August, which means we are all enjoying his birthday bounty. One day he asked if he could do a Mii of me (which is a character that you create and can have as your avatar when you play a game). It was hilarious to see him decide on the nose and the hair and the eyebrows and the size. He made me thinner and better looking than I really am, which was very kind of him.

Or maybe that's how he really sees me?

Making me think: if the people I love think I look fine, maybe I should stop worrying and get on with things.

I think that's what Batgirl would do.

* * *

p.s. I'm back. I think. I'm dipping my toe back in the waters of everyday life, after a great visit from my mom (she left today + I'll be posting some of our adventures for record-keeping sake) and our family's August journeys. Bless you, September, with your routines and nesting. I'm looking forward to both.

Ahhhhhhhhhh

2009-08-28T16:09:00.004-04:00

Goodbye, lake. You've had this effect on all of us.

Dispatch from up north

2009-08-26T16:05:00.004-04:00

Bay View cottage, Adirondacks

(4 stings of three people in the first 15 minutes here. Ouch. We stay away from that side now.)

Conference call with a view

We're having a deliciously relaxing time in the woods of New York.

Rainy today, so we spent the day playing a 6-hour marathon of Monopoly.

If I ever run away from home, you might try looking here for me.

I'm loving this simple life of early bed times,

leisurely mornings,

and simple meals in a three-room cottage.

Why do I make life so complicated?

(I found a bar of internet coverage for a little window of time...we'll see if it loads!)

Lunch language

2009-08-22T20:44:00.000-04:00

unrelated picture but I love how they ended up posing just the same, down to the shape of their hands

Saturday morning.

We divide to conquer the day's list. Greg takes Sam with him to the barber (both need trims) and the dry cleaners, I take the girls to Costco for supplies for the trip and food for the party we're hosting when we get back from vacation. The humid air makes quick work of my hair and my clothes cling to me, damp and unflattering. We get the cart loads packed into the car, drive home, unload and put everything away. Surveying the room with our looming departure in mind, I move on to the laundry, replacing dry with wet and wet with dirty. And there's always more where that came from.

You know the drill.

In the middle of it all, Sam arrives home and, trailing me while I carry piles of laundry upstairs, asks his usual question "when are we having lunch? I'm hungry." I sigh, loudly. There's so much to do. And it feels like we just finished breakfast.

"Sam, you know where everything is. You can make it yourself, can't you?" (Once I heard someone ask "What, are your arms painted on?" and that's how I feel in this moment.)

"Um, okay." His voice trails off as he backs up down the stairs, trailing his hand down the banister. "I didn't know if we were getting it ourselves or if it would be more...together."

I watch him take his deflated self back down to the kitchen, trying to figure out what his deal is with lunch. Everyone else in the family is always content to grab something on days like this, happy to tailor the timing and content of lunch to their own preferences. No big deal. But not Sam. He's always trying to organize us into a midday meal.

Guilt-nudged, I follow him down and enlist his sandwich-making while I peel fruit. We sit down together and share communal chips and salsa. He chatters happily about Louie and contradictions and plans for middle school and the book he's reading. And thanks me three times for doing lunch.

And then it hits me.

I don't know why it's taken me so long to realize.

Lunch is his love language. Or one of them, anyway.

It's a revelation. Huh. Kids have a love language, too, not just venus-and-mars married couples. This bit of obviousness has completed evaded me before now.

Of course I knew he really likes lunch, but I suddenly understand that it's more than just a preference for my daily servitude. For him, it is connection. It is proof I care enough to stop and spend time with him. For me, lunch is simply nourishment and work. For him it is like a family sacrament, where simple bread and peanut butter transform miraculously into a dose of love.

Well. This I can do.

Now if I can just convince him that wiping up the table crumbs and putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher is my love language.

Last(ish) hurrah

2009-08-21T18:13:00.007-04:00

We are leaving for a quiet week at a rustic cabin on one of the Adirondack lakes in upstate NY. After a frenzied week of tackling the tasks list, I'm looking forward to sitting on the dock, reading through a pile of magazines and catalogs and books, paddling in the canoe, maybe making some recipes for the family from farmstand offerings, and taking some photos. And writing. Oh, writing, I'm missing you. Hopefully I can revive my writing brain soon.

In the meantime, here are some things I've been enjoying reading + seeing + thinking about:

Stephanie's entries about her summer in France and the ups and downs of fixing up the rental property she and her husband own there
the Jolly Porter goes to England + Scotland (again)
thoughts on turning envy into inspiration
a terrific love story from a back issue of Gourmet (1978) about an evening at the Waldorf
we all liked the movie Bandslam; pretty good for a teen musical. Surprisingly so, since the ads make it look like High School Musical 5. It is reminiscent of the John Cusack movies of the 80s, I thought.
Just got Pat Conroy's new novel, South of Broad, just in time to take with me to the cabin. Can't wait.
Also taking up a bit of my brain bandwidth: trying to make some decisions. Dear Mr. Frost, What happens when five roads diverge in a yellow wood? What then? Huh? I stink at decision making.

Seize* the day

2009-08-17T09:02:00.011-04:00

Never mind all the post-vacation unpacking, laundry, grocery shopping, email-returns, phone calls, cleaning, and everything else. I can't wait another minute to acknowledge and celebrate that she

turned 16 over this weekend.

Any words are inadequate to the task of expressing my feelings on this milestone. I love her dearly. She is the one who has taught me the most about myself and about mothering, the daughter who suffers from an inexperienced & flawed mother who is doing everything for the first time (and flying by the seat of my pants, mostly). We do clash sometimes (as mothers and daughters do) especially as I learn to hand over more and more of the "controlling interest" in this lovely life I have nurtured and cherished and played a role in creating (but, really, I know it is her life, after all). She is a vessel of light and laughter. She has a good heart. She makes us proud.

Look out, world, here she comes, with keys to the minivan in hand (very soon) and dates on her calendar...

Also, world, please be good to her.

*French for sixteen. I know, getting all fancy!

He's a lover not a fighter

2009-08-14T07:32:00.005-04:00

True story.

Yesterday morning I got up early, practically with the sun (why, oh why, can I not sleep in on vacation?? Never mind, it was beautiful outside). Greg got dressed to go on a bike ride and I settled down with my book in the front room (see previous post), Louie at my feet.

I watched Greg pedal away and got engrossed in my mystery novel. A few (15? 20?) minutes later Louie got up and wandered away toward the back of the house. Now and then I heard him sniffling and scuffling. At one point it sounded like he bumped into something (it happens a lot with his surfer dude haircut). I heard Greg's footsteps--way earlier than expected--so I got up, rounded the corner to the kitchen and called out "are you back already?" I saw a decidedly-not-Greg arm as someone turned around the corner to walk (scamper, run) away from me, Louie happily dancing at his heels, tickled to have a new friend.

Um.

Hello sir?

The guy, deer in the headlights and mortified, turned back at me (keep in mind, this is 6:30 a.m.) and stammered. "I'm so sorry...I'm the former caretaker of the cottage and I had to come get something out of the barn..."

Did I pepper him with questions?

For example, the barn isn't in here, is it?
Why didn't you knock first?
Why tiptoe around?

Did I threaten to call the police?

Did I refer to my karate skills or pick up a cleaver, ready to defend myself and my three sleeping children?

No, no, and no. Here's what I said, in the potentially dangerous situation I was in:

Oh, um, that's okay. I just thought you were my husband. He's out on...a...bike...ride.

Translation in criminalese: go right ahead and do whatever bad business you were up to, there's no one here to stop you! Happy to cooperate! Always thinking, that brain of mine. Safety first!

Anyway, he turned around lickety split, headed to the barn and left a few minutes later with his brother (license plate: my4sons).

I turned and looked at Louie sternly, my hands on my hips.

He looked up at me proudly, wagging his tail with a gentle smile on his muzzle. Translation in puppyese:

I did good, right? I welcomed him and licked him and followed him. I just love people. Treat? Sigh.

We're a couple of crime fighters, Louie and me. Please take away my McGruff neighborhood watch card. I'm a lousy watch dog, too.

p.s. I'm pretty sure they were legit. I'm checking with the owner just in case. Also, they really shouldn't just walk in the house. I know that much! (Or maybe he just needed to use the restroom?)

Postcard from the cottage library

2009-08-13T17:06:00.004-04:00

In my (unwritten, arbitrary) book, an ideal vacation should have two ingredients: books and naps. Oh, and good food. Everything else is just gravy! Good weather? Sure, terrific! Activities? Museums? Sightseeing? Why, sure! But, really, give me some books and guarantee a nap and I'm happy. (I know, what an exciting traveling companion I must be! Now no one will invite me anywhere...)

This time the books I picked up from the library have been duds (or I'm a dud and can't get into them) but lucky for me, the house here has a good little library of its own, with everything from the Iliad to The Golden Bowl to Jane Eyre to Winnie the Pooh to Paradise Lost to spy and detective novels, etc. I could spend a lot of time just browsing all the quirky titles and imagining who brought them here and when/why.

So I picked out a PD James mystery that takes place by the sea (Unnatural Causes). Maybe I'll have time to move on to a classic. Here's what we look like most evenings. (Notice the bongo drums? Believe me, they make a regular appearance as well... What 11-year-old boy can resist bongo drums?)

Although it's on an entirely different coast, this place reminds me of my great-grandmother's beach cottages I grew up visiting each year (one in Pacific Grove and Capistrano Beach). Modest and cozy and wood-paneled with pine cupboards and a jumble of secondhand furniture and squeaky floors and scenic views. It feels kind of familiar.

Just Dance

2009-08-12T10:49:00.003-04:00

Love this, love Kings of Convenience.

The guy is a combination of Napoleon Dynamite and a guy in college we roommates fondly called Dancin' Dave.

I proclaim August 12th as International Dance Crazy in the Kitchen Day

(also an item on my Dog Days of Summer list).

Care to join in?

{I'll make you laugh by acting like the guy who sings...

You'll make me smile by really getting into the swing...}

video via Deirdre from Uppercase Journal

* * *

The Maine adventure continues. Yesterday I got up at 5, drove 5.5 hours to Boston, taught for 2 hours, drove 5.5 hours back. It was a beautiful drive and I did lots of thinking and singing to myself (even a little in-car dancing). But I missed my Maine people, who hiked, shopped, played badminton and croquet. Today it's back to vacation mode for me, too.

One Morning in Maine

2009-08-10T11:29:00.004-04:00

We made it here in one piece. The forecasted rain has held off. Today reminded me of One Morning in Maine, where Sal (of Blueberries for... fame) spends a day traipsing after her father on the coast of Maine (spoiler alert: she loses a tooth). Have you read it? It's a favorite.

So far Maine is fulfilling my high hopes (which, honestly is not easy, when your {sometimes unrealistic} expectations come from glowing movies and enchanting children's books.)

A little slice of heaven, that's what they have right here in Maine.

(Not paid for by the Maine Travel Bureau, in case you're wondering.)

Singing the Baby Blues

2009-08-07T22:16:00.010-04:00

The Blues

Much of what is said here
must be said twice...

Nobody will listen, it would seem,
if you simply admit
your baby left you early this morning
she didn't even stop to say good-bye.

But if you sing it again
with the help of the band...

people will not only listen;
they will shift to the sympathetic
edges of their chairs...
~Billy Collins

* * *

I was thumbing through a Billy Collins poetry book last night and that one spoke to me. Maybe because I've been a bit blue. Maybe because my baby done left me, too. (I said, my baby done left me, too. Do doo do do.) Or he will someday, anyway. He up and turned 11 today. The nerve!

Actually, it's with a lot of joy that we celebrate Sam today. We were sharing our favorite memories of Sam at breakfast today and G mentioned what a great head of hair Sam had as a baby: this shock of sandy hair standing straight up in the air like a gosling. He was a hit everywhere we went and the baby mascot for our ward and neighborhood.

He's always been a tender, strong, funny, smart sweetheart of a boy. I can't wait to see where his great heart and curious mind take him.

But.

It's with a pocket of melancholy that I greet each of Sam's milestones. I grin and clap and hug and bake and (secretly, in my heart) cry a little. The crucible of the youngest child, I suppose (along with the fact that there are very few photos of just him in those early years). I did it almost from the moment he came home from the hospital (Holly Hunter style, in full sob mode: this is the last time I'll bring a newborn home from the hospital...the last time I'll watch the stumbling first steps...the last time I send a child to kindergarten).

I know, I know. Get over it. Kids grow and discover and stretch the apron strings and launch their own lives. Parents support and applaud and nudge and work themselves out of a job (or else become like the creepy stalker mom in Love you Forever...sneaking in windows and climbing up ladders).

But I still reserve the right to get myself a microphone and a back-up band so I can belt out the blues on occasion.

* * *

In other blues news, my late summer blues/blahs are lifting, methinks.

And (coincidence?) we're heading off for a week in Maine (Acadia) for some forced togetherness dressed up all pretty in the guise of kayaking and walking and biking and playing games and eating.

Marco...

2009-08-02T14:57:00.007-04:00

POLO!

We were alerted by a friend about the polo matches in Newport. Who knew?! We've lived here...what?...a total of 11 years and had no idea. The US team plays a different country's team every Saturday, June-September. People line the field with picnic blankets and tables and make a whole event of it.

So of course we had to satisfy our curiosity and make the pilgrimage ourselves. It was great fun. The announcer was hilarious, the field & horses beautiful, the people-watching like a JCrew catalog come to life.

First the horses hold a huddle to work out strategy. Just kidding. I don't know what the horses discussed but they were taking everything very seriously. Lighten up, ponies!

The requisite we-did-too-take-you-places-when-you-were-growing-up photo:

At half time (after the 3rd "chukka") everyone goes out on the field and replaces the divots on the field. We pretended we totally knew what we were doing. Except when we accidentally replaced horse manure in a divot.

More divot dancing.

Then this cute young man spectator got out his bagpipe and played a few tunes. It was awesome. (See what I mean about the JCrew thing?)

Apparently people take their polo spectating very seriously. So seriously that they bring umbrella tables and chairs, full multi-course gourmet picnic fare, crystal glasses.

Don't mind us over here, eating our strawberries off of our paper plates and drinking Fresca from a can. We'll just buy ourselves some hotdogs from the stand.

Afterwards, everyone lines the perimeter with their hands extended and the players ride around the whole circle giving high 5s to all. It was awesome except when I was trying to lift Sam up so he could receive a high five and I almost fell onto the field under the galloping horses. Good times. We've decided that now we need to have a pollo match. As in chickens. (We thought it was funny but maybe you had to be there.)

We ended our night over on the Cliff Walk in Newport. One of my happy places with people I love. August has started just fine.

Reinflating my summer hopes

2009-07-31T23:56:00.005-04:00

Summer and I, we have a tenuous relationship. I do love it, with all its sunny brightness and freedom. Around August, though, all of those summer possibilities start feeling dimmer and my optimism droops. I end up feeling a bit blue, walking around with all of those grand June plans dragging behind me like sad, forlorn deflated balloons.

So it's time to invite a bit more hope into the remaining month (or so) of summer that we have before school starts. I consider it my sandbucket (ha!) list to prop me up through to the end:

1. see a drive-in movie

2. write postcards from touristy spots

3. celebrate Lauren's sweet 16 & Sam's excellent 11

4. play

5. open each morning with a little devotional to kickstart my day

6. take lots more photos

7. wear my swimsuit without worrying (much) or being self conscious (much)

8. go rowing (kayak/canoe/inflatible raft/or huckleberry finn style)

9. pick wildflowers for an arrangement (thanks, ellen! good idea)

10. have lobster wearing a bib

11. find an open field and star gaze

12. eat fresh and local as much as possible

13. teach Lauren to drive (serenity now!)

14. put my fall schedule together with a peaceful heart and limited anxiety

15. get curtains for our front room/library/music room

16. go on lots of walks: morning, twilight

17. show my affection freely

18. make ice cream

19. read Emma out loud with Maddy

20. keep the t.v. off

21. bike rides in the evening

22. keep an open, forgiving, soft, curious heart

23. write some stories

24. grow my fingernails (always on my goal lists, ever since I was 10)

25. have a neighborhood get-together

26. make music

27. have dance contests in the kitchen

28. pick fruit and make pies

29. spend long delicious hours talking with my mom & sister & G & kids

And you?

From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Isabella Stewart Gardner

2009-07-29T16:51:00.008-04:00

Ever since I read From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler as a youngster I have had a longing to live in a museum, haven't you? If I had my druthers, I would camp out in the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, one of my happy places in Boston. It's just a block or so from the MFA but goes undiscovered by many. If you're in the area, go!

Maddy and I went there yesterday for Maddy Day 2 (and were delighted to find we both qualify to get in free!). We dressed in skirts and pretended we were fancy Boston ladies. Back in the turn of the 20th century Mrs. Gardner built a gorgeous Italian palazzo, with a courtyard at the center, to house her growing art collection.

This courtyard lifts many a Boston wintry heart, let me tell you.

Some of our favorite pieces:

^Mrs. Gardner herself. Bursting with enthusiasm, isn't she?

Here I am!

^Young Lady of Fashion

Maddy's counterpart of Renaissance Italy.

^El Jaleo by John Singer Sargent. Again with the verve and enthusiasm.

She looks like she could give me a lesson in not-caring-what-others-think.

I adore Vermeer.

Unfortunately, this one was stolen in a very famous art heist

(at least around here)

so we didn't see it at the Gardner.

But we did see the blank spot where it used to be.

Very mysterious.

I imagine the museum security is pretty heightened,

making my plans to inhabit the place a little far-fetched.

So I am forced to fall back on my other Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum dream:

wedding reception for a daughter/son/grandchild someday.

A gal can dream...

Le semaine de Madeleine

2009-07-28T10:20:00.005-04:00

This week with Sam in the town's recreation department day camp and Lauren away in New Hampshire at EFY (youth camp for church at a local college), it's Maddy's turn to be the honorary only child.

So, Maddy and I are celebrating Le Semaine de Madeleine (thank you, college French classes, for remaining in some recess of my brain so I know the word for "week"). Yesterday we got pedis, went to lunch (mmm...we found out our local cafe serves frozen hot chocolate like Serendipity 3 does!), stocked up on supplies at the drug store, browsed teen magazines looking for a new haircut, and went to the dentist (also, grocery shopping. Well, it couldn't be all good).

I'm loving this chance to have each of my kids with me one-on-one for a few days.

Note to self: try to do this every summer rather than trying to book camps all on the same week. It's worth it.

Notes from an anthropological dig

2009-07-27T17:27:00.005-04:00

I changed my mind on this post. Does that ever happen to you?
It happens a lot to wishy-washy people like me.
Sorry.

Like weeds

2009-07-19T20:02:00.002-04:00

What is it about summer that acts as MiracleGro for kids? All the extra rest and sunshine and (this year) rain?

It seems like Maddy's grown inches in the last month. She loves her new glasses and being able to see the notes on her music and the leaves on the trees. Is there anything more heartbreaking that hearing your child exclaim over and over again how wonderful it is to see finally? On the other hand, one of her middle school teachers wrote me a letter about what a great girl we have. So that evened out the eyesight neglect feelings I was having.

Lauren gave a talk in church today and did a great job--so grown up and poised. Every once in a while there are moments when I have to re-construct my mental image of my children and this was one of them. She introduced herself and said "I'm almost 16" and, while I was aware of this approaching milestone, I had to do a double take. What? My daughter? {Sunrise, sunset, etc.}

She went on the youth pioneer trek re-enactment last week and had a ball. Here she is with her friend from school who came along and a good friend from the stake (I will neither confirm nor deny that I am plotting with my friend, who is his mother, to plan their eventual nuptials.)

Sam is growing faster, even, than his sisters. His new spurt (recorded with a line and date on the door frame of course) required new shirt and pants for church. And suddenly I get a fast-forward view of the man he'll be, sooner than I would like to admit:

I can't stand it! Somebody push the pause button! No one ever told me how wonderful ten year old boys are. He's easy going, funny, and great to have around. The girls are leaving for camp this week and for a few days (I join the girls on Thursday after I teach my class in Boston) Sam will be an only child, subject to the full glare of his parents' attention.

Poor boy.

p.s. Sam always reminds me of a nice combination of my dad and G. Speaking of my dad, today's his birthday. Sure do love you, Dad.

Ministry of This and That

2009-07-13T13:18:00.003-04:00

Sam gave me a firm summer assignment. Mom, please read Harry Potter 6 before we see the movie. He carefully gathered a stack of the series and lovingly left them beside my bed over a year ago but now he's serious and so, finally, am I. I've been devouring the series for the past month or so, in between some grown-up reads here and there.

I know I'm about 9 years late to the party but I've been having a blast, especially since I have such an enthusastic 10-year-old cheering section, his face examining mine with an expression very close to the one I wore when I took the girls to their first Boston Ballet performance (isn't this great? do you love it as much as I do? how about now? and now?).

All of the fantastic titles make me smile: Ministry of Magic. Improper Use of Magic Office. Department of Magical Transport. Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee. They remind me of AA Milne and his Winnie the Pooh books with their Very Important Capitalized Terminology. And then I started thinking. What would my ministry be? Where would I be assigned?

Department of Excessive Procrastination?

Dust bunny patrol? (actually, I'd probably be arrested by them...)

Office of Realistic Optimists?

Committee of Joy and Enthusiasm Seekers?

Maybe simply this: Ministry of Happy Childhoods {for all}. Pretty much encapsulates every thing I'm doing right now, from mom to working with the teenage girls at church to school work and research. I think all of us parents would be there, toiling away as Childhood Engineers or some such.

What about you? Any ministries or departments you would envision for yourself?

And you're all invited to join Monty Python's Ministry of Funny Walks with me:

Now that would be a great job:

"I have a silly walk and I'd like a government grant to help me develop it"

A Post post

2009-07-09T12:30:00.013-04:00

postboxes from Flickr group, via Ministry of Type

I'm reading Roald Dahl's biography Boy aloud to the kids and found it endearing that he wrote to his mother every week for 32 years, from the first week (at age 9!) when he was sent to boarding school until her death. She kept all of those letters (more than 600 altogether) in piles bound with green tape in the original envelopes. It makes me long for old fashioned mail. What will we do without lovely piles of letters to read through? Will our emails survive?

Resolved: I'm going to send more real mail.

If you have younger kids, you might like this pretty wonderful card table post office. Also check out the felt mail and mail bags. I wish my kids still wanted to make believe. Or, for the grown-up version, how about this fantastic 1880 post office wall?

As a compromise, I'm acting on an idea I saw ages ago: putting mailboxes inside the house (maybe one per person near their bedroom?) for leaving notes and papers. Or maybe one or two of these great Swedish mailboxes would do the trick. Let the secret admirer/complaint department/compliments/wish making begin!

Finally, I cannot look at the sight of those glorious red postboxes without a surge of affection for G. When I was in London for six months and he was here in the US of A he was a devoted pen pal. He called, wrote or recorded something for me on tape Every Single Day. I wasn't quite as good about the frequency of return post but those red boxes temporarily held many of my dearest thoughts and fragilest hopes, on their way to him.

I wonder if they're selling one of those on eBay? {Hmm. Just found this.}

The better to see you with, my dear

2009-07-02T13:32:00.007-04:00

Breaking news: Miss Maddy needs glasses.

She's had trouble reading the board at school and some difficulty reading music when she's playing the violin. I've been putting her off, thinking it was not a big deal. Apparently, no, she wasn't faking. (Oh yeah, I forgot. That was me when I was her age. Man, I desperately wanted glasses back then for some reason.) The eye doctor said her near-sightedness will get progressively worse until she's about 19. At least that's what I heard and noted.

Here's what Maddy heard:
Your eyes will get worse and worse until you're blind at age 19.

We straightened that out in the car, where she was remarkably calm when she commented "that's so weird that I'll be blind by the time I'm 19." I would have been weeping and wailing and gnashing teeth. "Why?! Why?! How will I live without reading or seeing movies or seeing my future babies' faces? I have only six years to see! I need to take up the piano and learn to sing! Can I call my friends and tell them the dramatic news and get lots of sympathy?"

Not Maddy. She took it in stride, filed it away, and off-handedly commented about it 20 minutes later.

Does it seem unfair to anyone else that age 13 is typically accompanied by a whole slew of corrective implements, just when your self esteem and awareness are at their most fragile? Headgear, check. Retainer, check. Braces, on deck. Glasses, coming right up. Luckily she wears them well and takes it all in stride.

Hands down

2009-07-01T18:12:00.001-04:00

...the best Michael Jackson tribute yet. (Thanks to my brother Matt for sharing.)

(and then he added "doesn't this make you want to be Episcopalian?" since he is.)

Close, but no cod

2009-06-30T14:26:00.008-04:00

{Preamble: I love our town. And our neighborhood. Just last Sunday we had a block party with kids running all around, live music under a tent (a neighborhood teen singing with her boyfriend on the guitar), tons of potluck goodness, and friendly neighborhood banter. It's a good place. We feel lucky to live here.

Our particular neighborhood is very normal and modest (it's unofficially known as "Mayberry" to townies). However, the larger town we're a part of is quaint, historic, and quite...affluent. Over the top, at times, in a low-key, money-is-no-big-deal way that only the ultra rich have. A certain famous Celtics basketball player calls it home. High school kids not only have their own cars, they drive awesome cars.

It presents interesting parenting challenges. Where growing up I used to envy my friends' Guess jeans, my kids envy their friends' four houses (this is not an exaggeration; one of Maddy's friends indeed has that many). At the very least, a LOT of people we know have a "place on the Cape" where they summer. Whereas we summer at home happily.}

Now for the amble:

Every time someone says they are going to the Cape, I always remember my first summer in the Boston area. Years before moving here for good, I came for a summer in high school to earn a little money and live with my aunt and uncle and cousins. I worked at McDonald's & made a few friends there, mostly college students home for the summer and high schoolers like me. Because I was from a small college town in Utah and younger than everyone else, I was kind of treated as the ditsy mascot, a role I constantly tried to rise above.

One Friday, in between chucking stale fries and serenading each other over the drive-thru headphones, we were discussing our weekend plans. Someone asked "what are you doing, Annie?"

I knew there was a special in-the-know name for where we were going so I gave it a try:

"We're going to The Cod!" I announced confidently.

Uh, the raucous laughter clued me in right away. Not the Cod. The Cape.

Ohhhhh.

So close and yet so wrong.

And, really, who would even want to go someplace called the Cod?

{Postamble: I hope I haven't told that story here before. Lately I worry about repeating myself. Shouldn't I be about 4 decades older before worrying about that?}

No. Way.

2009-06-30T14:18:00.003-04:00

I have one, do you? A list of things you'd like to do before you die. A bucket list. Well, Maggie got some great news that's she's sharing today:

Take a look.

My response? NO. WAY!!!! I'm so happy for her.

But, on the other hand, what happens when you finish your bucket list decades before you're ready to die? I get a bit of a let down after every trip I take; I can only imagine the letdown after that. But I guess I'd be willing to give it a try :).

Note to self: go update bucket list. And, just in case, include some really fantastic things.

Summer launch

2009-06-30T13:06:00.006-04:00

One of the advantages of getting out of school later than most of the rest of the country is I had time to peruse all of the summer ideas that other families were doing. I loved Jenny's (private blog) take on being productive in the mornings and leaving the afternoons for fun. I remember visiting Christie last summer and loving how her kids earn books each week (I think she has a bin full of new books she snagged at a book fair...right, C?).

We usually like to have some kind of structure (although flexible). I wanted to be able to set aside mornings to get work done on some research and writing I've commited to this summer and, at the same time, give some guidelines for the kids to get a few things done every day relatively unsupervised (and by unsupervised I mean un-nagged). I also wanted to provide some fun ideas to stave off the blahs and the floppies (as in, flopping on the couch, flopping on the floor, and whining). So this is what we've come up with.

Summer Bingo! Stacy described her Summer Bingo idea here and I was hooked (she even includes downloadable bingo forms and rules, which I adapted for my kids' ages and interests). After the kids do their beds, pick up their clothes, do a job and practicing, they can do activities on the Bingo sheet. Some are really fun, some are enriching or educational, some will help move the kids forward on goals (scouts, personal progress). They can earn tickets toward prizes every time they get "bingo" and, if they do the whole thing each week, some $ will be put toward their school clothes or something they're saving for. The best part is that it's self guided and it motivates them to get the essentials (work and practicing) done quickly.

click to enlarge^

Maddy and her best friend, Meg, have been helping as junior counselors for the Vacation Bible School here in town in the mornings. They got home and decided to do the "make something in the kitchen" option. {Mmm. Chocolate chip cookies...keep them away from me, please.}

Sam elected to do the most decadent item on the sheet first: one hour of video games. Figures!

Lauren is babysitting for a neighborhood family all week so she has yet to dive into the world of Summer Bingo.

For the afternoons, we've put together a list of activities and field trips we'd like to do together as often as we can. Our days will be just like a mullet: business up front, party in the back.

What are you doing this summer to stay occupied and sane?

I love it that

2009-06-29T21:18:00.002-04:00

...the sky cleared this afternoon (after weeks of rain) enough for us to dash to White Pond, our favorite swimming spot. It was a nice respite, considering we have rain forecast for the rest of the week. Boo, hiss.

You be Jill, I'll be Kelly...Sabrina's up for grabs

2009-06-26T19:48:00.005-04:00

If you were a girl and grew up where I did, chances are you played Charlie's Angels at recess. We would gather in the outside stairwell in front of the Boys' Entrance (a relic from when the girls and boys entered through different doors, I suppose) and cast the roles.

Almost everyone wanted to be beautiful Jill, played by Farrah Fawcett on the t.v. show. There would be long queen-bee-ish negotiations resulting in one happy girl and several stomping away in a snit. For some reason (conflict avoidance?), I consistently opted for Kelly, who seemed pretty enough and smart enough but not extraordinarily so on either count. Somehow Sabrina was always the booby (ha!) prize role--was she too brainy or was it the page-boy haircut? Her sharper-edged voice? We would conscript a nearby boy into playing Bosley and we were set to fight crime and, more importantly, to run with our hair flowing behind us, catch boys, and wrap them up with our jump ropes.

But first! I almost forgot the most important part. Someone would recite the opening lines:

Once upon a time there were three little girls

who went to the police academy

and they were assigned very hazardous duties

but I took them away from all that

and now they work for me

my name

is Charlie

And make the all-important, gun-toting pose:

Please tell me I'm not the only one. I think in our young girl minds, we were all three women: the beautiful one, the smart one, the classy one. At least we believed it was in our future, when we reached the magical grown-up years. Probably whole feminist studies dissertations could be written on the messages we received and internalized.

I outgrew Farrah Fawcett as a role model before I left Wilson School (but in jr. high I totally had those sneakers she's wearing in the photo below). Since then I've rarely given her another thought. This isn't an "O Captain, My Captain" moment, really. But her death still makes me kind of sad, albeit in a selfish oh-no-not-my-childhood-icons/I-must-be-getting-old way. She was someone's mom, someone's sweetheart, and she seemed to handle her health ordeal with a great amount of courage.

And I kind of feel bad that she had to go on the same day as MJ. Talk about being upstaged.

That's all I wanted to say.

A kind of postmodern memento mori

and reminder to myself to carpe diem.

"I try, and I made it"

2009-06-25T20:54:00.003-04:00

I've been looking around for a little motivation since my get-up-and-go seems to have gotten-up-and-gone.

How about this? A 14-year-old Malawian who built a windmill from a library book, using a broken bicycle, some pipes and poles.

I am inspired by his quiet I-can-do-this spirit.

The power of books + individuals.

So inspiring.

Yay for people.

Here's his blog if you want to see what has happened in the last two years, including sending his sister to school; what a good brother. [And now I have a good response when I get the inevitable "I'm bored" from my kids: go build an electricity-making windmill!]

p.s. TED is one of my favorite sources for inspiration and motivation and interestingness. Have you discovered it? Here's the blurb from their website:

"TED stands for Technology, Entertainment, Design. It started out (in 1984) as a conference bringing together people from those three worlds. Since then its scope has become ever broader.

The annual conference now brings together the world's most fascinating thinkers and doers, who are challenged to give the talk of their lives (in 18 minutes) [or less]"

They have archived most of the talks over the years so you could spend days listening to short talks by designers or novelists or educators or musicians. What with all of the free time I'm sure you have.

Off kilter

2009-06-22T16:36:00.004-04:00

Something's amiss when I get this in the mail

before the kids even get out for summer vacation.

Or put on their new swimsuits.

Four more days (and counting)!

Both of my daughters are heavily ensconced in studying for finals

all the way through Thursday.

On the other hand, Mother Nature has cooperated by giving us entirely UNsummery weather.

The better to study for tests, my dear.

Life shopping

2009-06-15T13:33:00.003-04:00

My childhood best friend Shelly and I used to take the Sears catalog and "call" an item on every page spread.
"Oh! I call the green shimmery dress..."
"Well, I get the leopard print pajamas..."
on and on through the whole book, through lingerie (interesting and educational!) and power tools (I call the riding lawnmower!) and jewelry (where subtle and understated was not in our vocabulary).

Then we'd shut the book and go climb trees and pretend Donny Osmond was our boyfriend. (We were good at sharing him.) The wanting of things didn't get in the way of living our real lives; it was just a game of choosing and figuring out what we liked. We knew we couldn't have everything in there but we knew what we'd choose if we were given a choice of wigs, that's for sure.

* * *

Recently it has come to my attention that I have been treating my forays into blogland like a catalog of regrets and longing, thinking wistfully that I would love to have everyone else's life but my own

{oh! I wish I had...

a newborn baby with sweet eyelashes...

a fabulous closet of shoes...

a big happy brood of six children...

a marathon-running body...

a fixer-upper cottage in France...

a career as an actress on Broadway...

a flair for dressing with just the right knack...

exquisite phototaking talents...

a bestselling novel...

a husband who works from home...

big jolly dinners with extended family who live nearby...

an obsession with cleanliness (or at least a very clean house)...

such a hilarious way of writing about life...

etcetera...}

When I should be treating these views as a fascinating museum of lives and a chance to celebrate differentness and sameness, to say "good for her" and "well done" and "I feel for you."

{Okay, with the secret hope that you have dustbunnies sometimes, too}

I like my life. I do.

It's constructed out of a series of choices and silly luck (both good and bad) and trade-offs.

Yours is too. I like that about all of us.

I'm just relearning that lesson about shutting the book, walking away, and living my own life.

{And cheering you on while you live yours.}

Trudging toward deadlines

2009-06-13T08:53:00.003-04:00

I've been chipping away at a couple of deadlines that are looming this week and next, trying to inoculate against the procrastination that can be my default [de fault?] mode.

But, oh, those deadlines!

Actually, oy, the distractions!

I resemble this:

Unfortunately, now I have another thing to add to my distractions: post-it-note art creation. And, of course, youtube surfing.

found via

Lost, in translation

2009-06-10T17:57:00.006-04:00

I'm a little bit in love with Jorge Garcia's blog. [He plays Hurley on Lost.]

He writes short little day-in-the-life entries about his lost shoe, the oversized hotel key, the polar bears at the zoo, or strange menu items he encounters. [He seems pretty Hurleyesque to me.] Check it out here.

High {in}fidelity

2009-06-10T12:29:00.006-04:00

I must admit: I've been cheating on you, blog.

I've been tweeting.
I know, I know. I'm sorry!
It's not you, it's me. (And now the not-following-the-crowd-silly-snob in me insists on noting that I've been on Twitter for over a year, long before all of these recent press flurries about it. There, n-f-t-c-s-s Annie, are you happy?)

It's been difficult to write blog entries lately, for a variety of reasons, but somehow the little twitter tweets with their 140 character limit have been a welcome recipient of my spare thoughts (and much less time consuming!).

We just keep getting shorter and pithier, don't we? First letters, then phone calls, then emails, then blogs, then facebook, then twitter. With some texting thrown in there somewhere. I'm not sure exactly how I feel about this progression (regression?) but I do know I've become a convert to this newest thing. I like knowing what others are up to. It satisfies the curious-about-life-and-others me. Plus you get information lightning fast.

Anyway, here are some pretty mundane descriptions of what I've been up to lately:

On the bright side=my migraine last night made me go to bed at 7:30 and now I feel pretty great.about 4 hours ago from TwitterGadget
listening to Sam practice the piano. It takes much longer to convince him to practice than it does for him to actually do it.about 21 hours ago from TwitterGadget
I'm so glad I didn't buy an iphone on Saturday...I want the new one on June 19! http://www.apple.com/iphone/5:36 PM Jun 8th from TwitterGadget
Just made all of the phone calls on my list (dr., dentist, plumber, eye dr., you name it I called them). Now I deserve a reward, right?3:44 PM Jun 8th from TwitterGadget
gym-->working at home-->listening to Little Joy-->walk dog-->lunch at neighborhood shop.11:33 AM Jun 8th from TwitterGadget
Dessert for dinner: what's not to like about angel food cake, lemon curd, strawberries and whipped cream?5:39 PM Jun 7th from TwitterGadget
already looking forward to my Sunday nap.7:16 AM Jun 7th from TwitterGadget
I'm pretty sure the lecture I just gave my daughter about not procrastinating was really aimed at myself.5:46 PM Jun 6th from TwitterGadget
this might be iphone day...3:16 PM Jun 6th from TwitterGadget
fresh mozzarella and tomato salad = lunch bliss1:53 PM Jun 5th from TwitterGadget
@bridgetrawlins congrats to him! that's huge.5:19 PM Jun 4th from TwitterGadget in reply to bridgetrawlins
Reading parts of Obama's speech to my kids and chatting about it. I love that we can have these conversations (@ ages 10, 13, 15).5:19 PM Jun 4th from TwitterGadget
Now there's a bad day at work for someone:http://bit.ly/J48MQ9:19 PM Jun 2nd from web
Stooping to McDonalds for dinner tonight. My apologies, Supersize Me book.6:43 PM Jun 1st from web
Off to meet my friend Jess at the lovely Nashoba Brooks Bakery. Nice way to welcome the weekend, even if it *is* raining.9:51 AM May 29th from web
taking Louie to the vet this morning. I'm not a fan of the "bringing a sample" part.7:44 AM May 29th from web
watching the national spelling bee with my kids. Cause we're cool like that.8:03 PM May 28th from web
Up way too early this morning. If you can't sleep at 4:30 a.m. does it still count as insomnia?7:32 AM May 27th from web
You know what's a good sound? Listening to your kids doing the dishes in the next room, dancing/singing to the TingTings & Paul Oakenfold7:56 PM May 26th from web

So do you twitter?

If yes--> I'd love to follow you...just leave your [twitter]name in the comments.

If you don't but are intrigued---> give it a shot!

If you don't and are repelled by the idea-->Just forget I said anything at all. And sorry!--I'm sure my boring list of tweets did nothing to entice you.)

It really is a small world...

2009-06-03T13:49:00.004-04:00

me, Greg, and Matt making jello on a pretend stove

Once upon a time I lived next to a boy named Greg (no, not that Greg, another one...my life is replete with Gregs) and his two sisters and parents. Except he always wrote his name Gerg so that's what my family called him. He and his older sisters, along with my brother Matt, were my favorite people. We lived in two houses down a dirt lane in a small university town in Utah. We played in the snow, did lemonade stands, played "it's not nice to fool with Mother Nature" with blankets in the wind, went fishing, and all those other childhood things. I have a blurry picture of all of us hanging, cocoons in blankets, from my mom's rotating clothesline--a very downscale version of an amusement park ride:

------------------------------->

Fast forward...oh, 30-something years.

I'm sitting with Gabi having lunch while our kids play on the playground. (She was visiting New England and we arranged to get together. I can't believe I didn't ever blog about that; it was a highpoint of my April.)

Gabi mentions it reminds her of a time she met another one of her blogging friends last year.

G: Do you ever read RochelleT's blog?

A: Hmmm. Yeah. I used to...but I lost the link and it's been a while. I like her!

G: I met up with her at a park in Logan last summer when I was visiting Utah. She's not from there and she lives in Texas but her husband grew up in Logan. Aren't you from Logan?

A: Yeah. I wonder who her husband is (idly thinking there's no way I know him).

G: I can't remember his name but her last name is ...T@11m@dge

A: You're kidding! Is his name Greg?

G: Yes!

A: I do know him! Gerg! He was one of my favorite childhood friends!

Isn't life grand?

(Hi Greg and Rochelle!)

The space between

2009-06-02T16:18:00.001-04:00

Maddy at 13 and a half is a joy to behold.

Sometimes it is a little melancholy to see the sun setting on her childhood.

(For example, her dearest doll Emily

hasn't been heard from or seen for quite some time.)

But then I remember all the wonderful things ahead of her

and I just feel lucky to be able to see how it all turns out.

Staring up at the mountain

2009-06-01T17:25:00.008-04:00

I got some unexpected news over the weekend. I was selected for a fellowship from Zero to Three, the nonprofit that coordinates training and research about and lobbying for children from birth to age three. I applied back in November but it had been so long that I had pretty much counted myself out and forgotten.

It's a two-year fellowship and I will meet periodically with the other fellows to support each other in our individual projects and present and publish our results. My project will be to expand the guide and assessment I worked on in Guatemala to be used in different settings & other places in the world to train volunteers and temporary caregivers of infants and young children.

I really am excited. Do I sound like it? Cause I am. I did about 26.9 minutes of celebrating, took a big breath and started feeling a bit overwhelmed. I will have benchmarks and deadlines and expectations to meet. Yay! And: Oy.

* * *

The lesson yesterday in the young women's church class I taught was about courage. We talked about the story of Esther. And about trying difficult things and getting help when we need it. About not letting fear get in the way of good things. I read this poem to them at the closing and suddenly it felt like just what I needed to hear:

how to climb a mountain

by maya stein

Make no mistake. This will be an exercise in staying vertical

Yes, there will be a view, later, a wide swath of open sky,

but in the meantime: tree and stone. If you're lucky, a hawk will

coast overhead, scanning the forest floor. If you're lucky,

a set of wildflowers will keep you cheerful. Mostly, though,

a steady sweat, your heart fluttering indelicately, a solid ache

perforating your calves. This is called work, what you will come to know,

eventually and simply, as movement, as all the evidence you need to make

your way. Forget where you were. That story is no longer true.

Level your gaze to the trail you're on, and even the dark won't stop you.

* * *

This was funny timing, though. I had been feeling at a bit of a standstill in my PhD program, trying to decide whether to keep going. This felt like a nudge to keep going. Also, as if in ironic response to my desire for a 40th birthday trip, the first fellows meeting is over my birthday in October. Somebody out there has a sense of humor.

Sometimes you just have to give it a whirl...

2009-05-29T11:57:00.001-04:00

Happy Friday!
I've been craving creativity lately. Itching to create.

My inner critic has been working overtime, though (skeptical thing that she is).

So I made her sit down and watch this:

video by the talented Jen Gray

p.s. We're off to see Up! this afternoon. Because it's rainy. And because it's Friday. And because why do we even need to have a reason?

Get me to a nunnery?

2009-05-28T06:30:00.000-04:00

I am, at heart, a bit of a loner. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy a good friendship or gathering or love my people or crave connection. But, it’s true, if I were banished to a desert island somewhere, upon receiving the news I would happily get up, say a little too cheerfully “Really?” and run to pack my things. I don’t mind alone time is all I’m saying.

In fact, when I used to read about someone sentenced to jail time (or even solitary confinement) I felt a teensy bit jealous of all that quality time & mused “Eh…that wouldn’t be so bad…especially if I had my own cell” (sharing a cell? Not so much). In another place (and religion) I might have been well suited to the nunnery.

I trace this back to when I became a mother.

For example. When I was about to turn 30, G asked what my heart’s desire would be. I knew exactly what I wanted but I hemmed and hawed a bit before he got it out of me (I didn’t want to hurt his feelings!). What I really wanted more than any thing on earth was a weekend by myself. Keep in mind that at the time I had three kids under the age of five and a traveling, working-overtime husband. I didn’t want any demands or agendas, not even a romantic weekend with my husband. Just me, a stack of books, and 36 hours of my own free will and choice. G (knowing me as he does) didn’t blink twice, just cleared his schedule and carried my bags to the car, waving as I headed south to an inn in rural Virginia. I slept in, stayed up late, walked, took long drives around horse country, readreadread, and wrote pages and pages. I wanted to figure myself out a bit, this new 30 version of me.

Nowadays I get my fill of me, of aloneness. The kids are all gone during the day and now I miss having a little buddy tagging along with me. Lately—probably because I’m past the high-intensity early years of mommying with those constant needs, full body contact, and sticky hands, beloved but constant—I’m going back to my more social roots (my parents attest that I was a very social girl!). My 40^th birthday happens this year and I'm finding that my dream of an ideal celebration has changed over the last ten years. Now I’m dreaming of a getaway with a gaggle of people, much loud laughter and breezy conversation.

With some quiet alone time built into the schedule, of course.

Do you know of any nunneries that host that kind of weekend?

Or maybe the lovely island of Alcatraz, with its private suites and city views?

Oh for the love of movies

2009-05-27T13:43:00.005-04:00

I'm a bit of a movie geek.

I know nothing about film per se.

I just love movies.

I can work up quite a happy dance in anticipation of going to a good, old-fashioned cinematic experience.

(I may have occasionally written movie release dates on my calendar.)

And there are some beauties coming up this summer so I had to share:

Meet me on the fifth row (stadium seating please). I'll be the one with popcorn, junior mints, a diet coke, and a big smile, saving you a seat. (May or may not be doing the happy dance.)

I never...

2009-05-26T16:18:00.003-04:00

Have you ever played that ice-breaker game?

Where you say "I never....{whatever, but it needs to be true}" and you get points if you're the only one who never did that particular thing.

Shhh.

Come closer.

Here's mine:

I never read the Harry Potters.

I did read the first one aloud to Maddy and Sam but after that they sped through them on their own. And I never got around to reading the rest of them myself.

I know, a travesty in some households! I kind of wanted to relish them on my own time. And to be honest, sometimes I kind of resist doing something that everyone is doing. It's my little secret snobbish--and silly--protest.

Well the time has come, my friends. Summer reading time. I'm on Book Three (Sam is so happy for me, it's very sweet). Go Harry and Ron.

p.s. what's with the much cooler covers on the British versions?

Wringing the magic from the weekend

2009-05-26T12:54:00.009-04:00

1. at Providence's WaterFire, 2. L, contemplative at dusk 3. easy picnic on Monday

4. L @ park 5. we love the park 6.gondola @ WaterFire

7. white legs playing games 8. Miss M 9. more games

10. G on his first holiday off since January 11. protective geese parents 12. crazy Sam

We got two hours of gardening work out of each child (yay!)

went to WaterFire

had a picnic

played badminton

saw Night at the Museum (kids)/Angels and Demons (grownups)

took naps, went on walks

did a lot of lazing

had reallyreally good burgers from our grill

had patriotic, thankful thoughts

and planned and dreamed.

A good restorative weekend, all in all.

Climbed a mountain & I turned around

2009-05-25T20:03:00.005-04:00

Love this.

It's an anthem for many seasons in life
but I'd never heard it sung by children before

& it's a haunting fit.

Read more here.
Sending love to many people tonight.

Landslides come in many forms...

My life's a little bit broken lately.

2009-05-24T18:07:00.002-04:00

photo via Design is Mine

Just a little, though.

Just enough that I haven't had anything much to post. Enough so I shrug my shoulders, wonder what's the point? (laundry, cleaning, school, writing...) and go lower my expectations (often in the form of returning to bed).

You know when you have a cupboard that won't quite line up or a leak that's not major enough to call someone to get it fixed? That's the low level of brokenness of my life. The warranty on my sanity maybe just expired.

I lost two credit cards this week.
Broke my cell phone.
Reportedly ruined my daughter's love life (having to do with refusing a not-yet-16 invitation to Jr. Prom)
Made two back-to-back trips to Costco (40 minutes RT each--I forgot I had lost my credit cards)
Waited for 30minutes for a friend who didn't show (awkward!)
Had to give away our tickets for next Wednesday (to go to a fifth grade concert I forgot about on the same night, which I will love attending. But still.)
Found that my blog posting well was empty (which is just as well since...)
Have the blahs
And the weepies

All I know is, if I were a snake, I would want to wriggle out of my skin and start over, clean and new.

But I have a feeling maybe a three day weekend will also do the trick.

(Clap if you believe in the magic of weekends! I do believe in weekends, I do, I do!)

[post script: I wrote this earlier in the week but never posted. Already things are looking up. A nice long weekend with the family does do wonders. Sometimes my moods are like the weather in England: wait a minute and it will change. Hope yours is doing wonders for you too.]

Recital day

2009-05-17T21:55:00.004-04:00

Let's say you have a daughter

who makes things look easy

and has a cheery outlook

and a willing heart

so that

from the outside

others think everything

comes easily,

effortlessly.

From your motherly vantage point

you know

that the placid facade sometimes

belies

an anxious, worried interior

that invades her night-time dreams

and terrorizes quiet awake moments.

She still chooses difficult things.

She still chooses sunshine

and defies the pointy, dark worries.

Feeling proud of Miss Maddy today

who rocked her Seitz concerto

in spite of some rocky, worried weeks.

Is there a more heart-filling feeling

than seeing someone you love do difficult things

with courage and grace?

Things I have been doing to avoid writing a report I need to do:

2009-05-14T21:34:00.003-04:00

sitting outside in the sun

brushing the dog

reading books

sweeping

taking a nap

going for a walk

going to the gym

searching realtor.com listings for houses in places I want to (but never will) live

cleaning out my purse

organizing my computer desktop

uploading photos

pulling a few weeds, half heartedly

watching West Side Story

thinking of why I don't want to write the report

making lists

considering paint colors for our house exterior

deciding what to have for lunch

taking myself out to Subway for lunch

watching YouTube clips from my Facebook friends

asking Facebook friends how to overcome writer's block

thinking of ways to postpone the report's due date

sorting through the fridge contents

taking kids to orthodontist

clearing out my texts

reading about dog training

googling random names from my past

laundry and folding

watching TiVo'ed Lost and 30 Rock

and

now

this

post.

I can be so productive when I'm avoiding something.

Report is due tomorrow

Dear adrenaline, you can kick in anytime.

help. I've fallen into procrastination and I can't get up!

Bostony weekend

2009-05-13T16:42:00.004-04:00

In New England, we seem to wait all winter lonnnng (all 6.5 months of it) for a lovely, blooming weekend like the one we just had. Now that the dreary grey and brown landscape has perked up again, I can fall a bit in love with New England again. Blue skies (full disclosure: with a little showers in the morning). Sunny. Light breezes. As luck would have it, when that particular kind of Saturday rolled around we had some great reasons to be out and about enjoying it.

March of Dimes walk in the morning along the Charles.

Red Sox game in the afternoon.

Holy Boston baked beans! Now I remember why we like it here...

Now if only the Sox had won that game... 14-5 isn't pretty (you can see Sam's dismay in one of the photos). Eh...you can't have everything. And I think New Englanders secretly enjoy having something to gripe about. It brings us all together in misery:)

Less forest, more home

2009-05-08T13:56:00.006-04:00

"Sometimes our life reminds me

of a forest in which there is a graceful clearing
and in that opening a house,
an orchard and garden,
comfortable shades, and flowers
red and yellow in the sun, a pattern
made in the light for the light to return to.
The forest is mostly dark, its ways
to be made anew day after day, the dark
richer than the light and more blessed,
provided we stay brave
enough to keep on going in."

~Wendell Berry, The Country of Marriage, III

Happy weekend: here's to less forest, more home.

The boys are going camping.

{So I guess more forest for them!}

The girls are enjoying time together and walking in the March for Babies

{feel like you can throw $5 to the cause? click here}

Various and sundry social engagements for the daughters.

Baseball.

Mother's day.

Hats off to all you mothers and motherers!

Enjoy your lanyards.

photos via JF PLS's flickr

Adele and me

2009-05-06T06:15:00.001-04:00

For our anniversary gifts to each other in February, G and I went through the schedules for events this year in Boston and chose a handful that we would enjoy together. (What a treat. I think we'll do it every year...it's the gift that keeps on giving! Plus it makes me feel zesty to be out on the town with my guy.)

One of the ones we (read=me. I influenced this decision.) chose was Adele, Saturday May 2nd at the Orpheum. Oh, I love me some Adele. As the night drew closer we started realizing we had a problem. Both of our babysitter daughters had commitments that couldn't be changed and Sam's too young to stay home alone. But we had a plan B.

Which fizzled.

And a plan C--that on Saturday became impossible. G kindly offered to send me with a friend (the Celtics game 7 that night might have had something to do with his generosity) and I tried a few but it was a beautiful spring Saturday in May! Everyone already had plans & it was too last minute. Even when we offered both tickets to anyone who could go that night, no one nibbled.

I was so sad.

An hour before the concert started, I sat down to listen to the cd and have a little pity party. The boys were camped in front of the tv with the Celtics.

I listened to about 30 seconds (and had a Facebook conversation with Jen) and decided to just go. By myself (gasp!).

I've done movies by myself without blinking. Traveled solo a bit. I'm generally kind of a happy-go-lucky-by-myself kind of person. Solo concert-going felt kind of...lonelyish.

But.

Oh. My.

It was so worth it. She is one of those artists who is incredible live.

So talented. And heartfelt, emotional. And young (she turns 21 this week).

I had chills. And (I'll admit) some inspiration tears.

So I've been a bit obsessed* since, humming & playing her music.

And I found footage of the Orpheum concert so you can come with me (virtually):

This is a sneak preview of a song on her next album:

And my favorite (already posted here; I'm redundant), a cover of the Bob Dylan song:

Also good:
Best for Last
Right as Rain

I was so glad I went.
But sorry not to share it with someone.

{Until now!}

* also? I'm kind of embarrassed to admit this: Afterwards I waited a long time in line for the ladies' room. When I came out of the theater there was Adele! Getting into her bus! What did I do? Walk coolly away? No. Take a picture? No camera. No, I ran over and asked for her autograph and she signed my (two) tickets. I'm sure when I walked away she thought what's with the loser soccer mom who came alone? And I was thinking what am I going to do with two scraps of paper with a sharpie scrawl on them? What can I say? I was dazzled.

For your cinco pleasure...

2009-05-05T17:06:00.004-04:00

Try these! This is what we're having tonight: My mom's famous swiss enchiladas. They don't have swiss cheese in them. And they're not from Switzerland. So I'm not sure what the story is about that, except it's an enchilada with a {heavenly! divine! wicked!} creamy white sauce.

Gather together a group of illustrious ingredients:

1 onion, chopped

1 T oil

2 c. chicken, cooked and chopped

1 can diced chiles

1 garlic clove, crushed

18 corn tortillas

1/2 c. oil

3 c. cream (light or heavy)

3 chicken bouillon cubes

cheddar/mozzarella/monterey jack cheese

Saute onion in oil until soft, then add chicken, chiles and garlic and simmer for 10 minutes.

Set aside.

This part is optional: Heat 1/2 c. oil in frying pan and quickly fry each of the tortillas, one at a time, flipping to fry both sides. Place on paper towels to drain.

Meanwhile, heat cream and bouillon cubes in a saucepan at medium heat until cubes are dissolved.

Now for the enchilada assembly:

Take a tortilla,

dip it for several seconds in the cream mixture to soften.

Lay it on a plate,

add a spoonful of chicken mixture and a sprinkling of cheese,

roll

and place in a greased 9x13" casserole dish.

Repeat for each tortilla until the pan is filled with rolled enchilada lovelies.

Now (and this is important) pour the remaining cream mixture over the top and sprinkle with cheese.

Bake at 375 degrees for 30 minutes. Mmmm. Serve with topping options like avocados, tomatoes, sour cream, lettuce, and olives.

* * *

And if you're looking for a good read, try Rain of Gold by Victor Villasenor. Two different people recommended it to me (thanks, Jen and Celia) and I just finished it yesterday. It's a wonderful true family memoir/epic that reads like fiction. Beginning around 1900 and the Mexican Revolution, the book separately follows two Mexican families (who eventually emigrate to the US) and their adventures, travails, joys, and heartbreaks as the two main characters finally find each other, fall in love, and become the author's grandparents. I felt like I was sitting by the fire hearing a lifetime of family stories: love, revenge, meteors, gold finds, shipwrecks, bootlegging, journeys, desire, God, mysticism, work, family, life.

{On a personal note, I kept wondering if my great grandfather knew--or just crossed paths with--any of the people in the book. He lived in northern Mexico at the turn of the century and had amazing stories of his dealings with Pancho Villa and Diaz (he was once kidnapped by rebels and then let go on Pancho Villa's urging). Just wondering.}

p.s. How embarrassing; I spelled cinco wrong in that last post. Oy.

Cinqo de Percy Jackson day

2009-05-05T13:37:00.003-04:00

How can you resist a ten-year-old boy who, the first thing he says when he comes in breathlessly through the door after school is

"Can we go to the bookstore right now? Please Mom? The 5th book is out today!"

You can't. You really can't resist.

So, while we are definitely eating enchiladas and limeade, rolling our Rs, and hanging paper flowers (recycled from before) to celebrate Cinqo de Mayo...in the heart of one reader who is currently curled on the sofa flying through pages, this is cinqo de Percy Jackson day around here.

Last Lecture for now

2009-05-04T13:09:00.010-04:00

Today was the last session of the human development course I taught this semester. To wrap it up, I asked the students to bring in something about a life story, real or fictional (novel/movie clip/article, etc.) to relate to some aspect of the course. I loved what they came up with. It ended up taking the whole class since everyone had given it such thought and had so much to say. If you have a few minutes, the links (I starred the ones that were especially compelling) are wonderful:

Father of the Bride 2 -- middle adulthood, Levinson's theories of midlife change
The Perks of Being a Wallflower -- attachment, identity formation in adolescence (Erikson, Marcia)
*Mean Girls clip (3:43-5:27)-- identity moratorium, adolescent social aggression
Smashed -- Erikson's intimacy vs. isolation stage, inhibited by alcoholism
song "Time of Your Life" -- developmental transitions, exceptions to set theory
**About Schmidt final letter-- Erikson's ego integrity vs. despair in mid adulthood
song Mr. Larkin by State Radio -- older adulthood, prejudice
Old School -- exceptions to older adulthood preconceptions
Goonies -- middle childhood Erikson's industry vs. inferiority stage
*the Last Lecture -- loss, ego transendence, Erikson's generativity,
Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius -- early adulthood and Erikson's intimacy vs. isolation
When I am an Old Woman -- older adulthood, theories of positive aging
**The Giving Tree (2) -- lifespan development, attachment, Erikson's stages
*Guys and Dolls -- (first few minutes of documentary of Lars and the Real Girl-type relationships) social work practice, culture/microculture, Erikson's intimacy/isolation
Tuesdays with Morrie -- ego transendence and generativity
Archie comic book -- adolescence transition, scaffolding, conceptions of adolescence
Dalai Lama -- moral development, ego transcendence, older adulthood, "good death"
Mr. Rogers -- social learning theory, attachment

It feels so great to be done but I'm going to really miss that class, those students. They were very patient & accepting of this green, nervous, shaky-voiced first-time prof.

class of idealistic, passionate grad students + human development course content =

life affirming and hopeful alchemy

Closing another chapter

2009-04-29T21:47:00.017-04:00

It's book parade season around here, baby!

Brace yourself for the cuteness

I mean, seriously?

Don't you think this boy wanted to actually

wear his underpants but his mom/dad

came up with this solution?

oh, cute Harry.

There's a special place in heaven for this 1st grade teacher.

Right next to middle school band directors.

May I introduce Percy Jackson

of the Lightning Thief series?

He made his shirt and beads.

His watch figures in somehow.

I can't remember why.

I love the school's annual book parade.

The book parade and I,

we had a good ride

but after eight years

(with the three kids and 13 costumes,

all I can remember is

Harry Potter

Tacky the Penguin

Nancy Drew

Laura Ingalls

Madeline &

Madlenka.)

...

it's my last one.

I'm going to miss it.

Growing up is hard.

For the mom, at least.

The pride of Monroeville, Alabama

2009-04-28T13:36:00.005-04:00

Speaking of Atticus Finch (as I was yesterday), happy birthday to Harper Lee, born on this day in 1926. Let's make it a national holiday!

What to do in celebration? How about:

Break out the movie and maybe roll each other down the street in a tire. Dress like a ham. Leave carved figures in a carved out knot of an old tree. Shoot a rabid dog. Be a wise parent. Sneak into a courthouse and listen to a shocking case. Ask lots of questions. Listen to the call of a mockingbird. Sit on the front porch. Or at least read this nice tribute, a Garrison Keillor essay published in the NY Times a few years ago.

p.s. Did you know her friends gave her a Christmas gift of one year off from work so she could write To Kill a Mockingbird?

"Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird."

Imaginary mentors

2009-04-27T17:57:00.001-04:00

Back not too long ago, I worked on a research study of teen mothers. We would schedule a visit with a young mom, then go and conduct a lengthy interview about her experiences growing up

and with school

and with the baby's father

and about her pregnancy

and feelings about being a mother

and about her child.

These taped interviews would then be transcribed. Later we would each listen to them all (not just the ones we conducted but everyone's) and code their responses. It was all fascinating (it must appeal to the eavesdropper in me) but one question in particular always stood out for me:

Who are your parenting role models?

Sometimes they'd mention their own mom. More often an aunt or a grandma. But surprisingly often they would cite a fictional or celebrity mom: Claire Huxtable on the Cosby Show. Lorelei Gilmore from Gilmore Girls. Angelina Jolie. Etc.

Certainly it was sad when there were no real LIVE role models for mothering. It goes without saying (but here I go) that actual role models are important in learning how to effectively parent...That's a topic for another day.

Today I was listening to an interview on NPR where the editors of Variety asked "is there a movie that changed your life (even just a little bit)?" and I remembered those girls-almost-women and their connection with made-up characters, brand new moms looking for some other way (in many cases) than what they themselves got. And I thought, good for them. Seeking. Aspiring. Resourceful. So what if the role model is imaginary, if the lessons are real?

. . .

I have my own fictional touchstones of motherhood. Do you?

I like

yes, Claire Huxtable's feistiness and humor.

And Lorelei's sense of fun and closeness and connection with her daughter.

And, in books, Victoria Austin in the L'Engle's Austin series (growing up, I always thought that's how I'm going to be...)

And Atticus Finch's wisdom and gentleness and integrity.

And the mom in Blueberries for Sal. Just because.

What fictional moms (might) have made an impact on you?

Or am I just a little wacky?

. . .

Maddy's home tonight!

Food trip!

2009-04-25T05:01:00.000-04:00

Our road trip to DC has

~~evolved~~

~~devolved~~

transformed into a food trip.

It's all about the food, right?

especially when we're dealing with memories and nostalgia.

The kids had their must-dos:

Krispy Kreme

Generous George's

Fuddruckers

and I had mine:

Georgetown Cupcake

{mmm....cupcakes}

Good thing we're doing a lot of walking, huh?

. . .

Maddy in China: This morning she's off on the plane to Shanghai,

their last stop before coming home on Monday

Charmed, I'm sure

2009-04-24T08:58:00.009-04:00

The travel gods seem to be smiling on our DC adventure this time around.

Not that we're complaining!

We arrived Wednesday afternoon, just as several days of rain decided to leave

Good bye storm clouds...

Miraculously found an on-street parking spot

right on Capitol Hill

^ Love the Library of Congress interior.

When we were walking around there, we ran into the Alder kids, who we were supposed to meet later for dinner. Nothing like running into people you know to make you feel at home!

Then, an hour later, we ran into my cousin-in-law Jenny, who was running errands in her former neighborhood behind Capitol hill. What are the chances of that?

Caught up with Nate, Greg's best friend growing up

(They were both proud news carriers for our hometown paper,

The Herald Journal, which was posted outside the Newseum)

Then to dinner with him and his kids

and a night walk around the monuments.

I love this place.

I'm having to restrain myself from packing us up

and moving back.

{And bracing myself for a dose of bad luck

to compensate for the fabulous first day}

. . .

Today Maddy in China rode bicycles on top of the city wall,

attended Middle School for the 5th day,

visited a jade factory, a mosque, and a bazaar.

Yesterday she went to the Great Goose Pagoda,

then a tea house for a tea ceremony,

then to the Tang Dynasty Museum, and calligraphy lessons.

She had some homesickness early in the week

but we talked to her last night {and on Tuesday night}

and she's feeling much better and still loving her adventure.

She thinks the "squatty potties" are funny,

her host family is nice

(they wanted to buy her new shoes

because her {beloved Converse} looked "old"

and have treated her royally)

Oh, hello exercise!

2009-04-20T21:20:00.000-04:00

Where have I been, you ask?

Oh, you know. Around. In bed, some mornings. Or running here and there (but, no, admittedly not that kind of running.) There are several things that I re-learn. Again and again. And again. And this is one of them: I am happier when I exercise.

Sigh.

Why do I forget how great it makes me feel? Why does languishing in bed start to rule over feeling energized and lightened and vervey? (I relate to this New Balance ad "morning") Well, I'm back after a month or two of junky sloth. Feels good. Exercise + happy music=even better:

Music Playlist at MixPod.com

Meanwhile, where's Maddy in China?

Saturday she went to see the pandas at the Beijing Zoo, then the Spirit Way.
Sunday she went to the Temple of Heaven (how very Sabbathy) and the Hongquiao Market. Then the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, and the State Grand Theater in the afternoon & evening. Then they took the night sleeper train to Xi'an.
Today she went to the Han Yanling Tomb, then to a welcome lunch at the Sunshine School and met her host family (please say an extra prayer for her tonight...this is the part she was nervous about). For the next few days, she'll attend middle school in Xi'an.

That's just what we do...

2009-04-17T12:49:00.004-04:00

Once my mom was making dinner to take to someone. Again (insert teenage eyeroll here). I think I started making the initial squeaks and squawks about "why do they get that? Can't we just keep it for ourselves? Why..." Or maybe I was a little more tactful and expressed my concern about my mom's busy schedule and did she really have time for this? But I remember she put down her spatula, looked at me and said kindly/firmly "Annie, this is just what we do."

I tucked that one away and have pulled it out now and then. Who's we? Women? Mothers? People? Neighbors? Humanity? And how do we know what to do and what's enough? Make bread? Have lunch together? Donate an organ? Give spare change?

* * *

You probably already know I'm a fan of writer Kelly Corrigan. I subscribe to her blog and received a link to a new video today, which led me to another one. Both (one funny, one poignant) are lovely reminders of just what we (friends/sisters/spouses/fathers. But, I daresay, especially mothers) do.

I secretly hope we will be friends someday.

Happy Friday! {I'm heading outside to appreciate our 70 degree weather!}

Maddy in China today: According to the itinerary, she visited the Olympic Park and Bird's Nest and Water Cube.

Attended a dinner with (luckies!) a kung fu demonstration.

Notes for my pockets

2009-04-16T09:05:00.009-04:00

I was talking with a friend who has been undergoing treatment for cancer. She commented that it's been hard to reconcile the polarity that everything has changed and yet nothing has changed. Everything--her perspective, her sense of herself, of security, the new focus on healing--has changed. Yet she looks out her window and kids are still going to school, the seasons change as always, life goes on. Living with both realities, she said, is difficult but comforting.

She said it reminded her of "an old midrash [a rabbinic story...she's Jewish] about a sage who always kept two notes -- both quotes from scripture -- on his person...one in each of his coat pockets. The first one reminded him that "the world was created for you" -- God set this glorious table of creation, all the wonders of the world, just for humans to experience and enjoy.

"The second one reminded him that "from dust you came, and to dust you will return" -- individuals are so terribly impermanent, inconsequential... they come and go in an instant of history."

I love the thought of these folded up, tattered contradictory notes keeping the wise man both inspired and grounded.

{And doesn't this little film clip demonstrate both of these:}

via Keith Loutit's Vimeo

I've been thinking about that story ever since.

About contradictions.

And choosing between polarities.

Or not choosing between.

Because sometimes I feel like a walking contradiction (and it frustrates me!):

Shy/friendly. Adventurous/homebody. Confident/insecure. Serious/silly. Worrier/laid back. Planner/procrastinator. Hopeful/pessimistic. Wishy/washy. Mother/student. Seeking/content. Reverent/raucus. To name a few.

Yet choosing one or the other of the pair feels like I've left a little, other part of me behind. Some contradictions (Adam & Eve in the Garden comes to mind) certainly require choices. But my friend's midrashic story makes me wonder if some of the other contradictions each deserve a place in my pocket. And yours?

Hmmm. Maybe it's more about the balance and knowing when to switch to the other pocket...

Today's Maddy watch: en route to Beijing, flying over the north pole (maybe seeing the Northern Lights?!)

My Little China Girl

2009-04-15T07:13:00.007-04:00

Tomorrow this girl leaves for China. For 12 days.

Last May when she asked if she could write an essay to be selected for the school China trip* we thought "eh...why not?"

One year later she is packing her bags(!)

She has taken Chinese classes.

Co-produced the show that her group will put on for the students there (This Land is My Land, anyone?)

Practiced eating new things (thank you, China trip!)

Downloaded music for the lonnnnng flights.

Am I excited for her? Absolutely.

Am I aware that my own travel love and wanderlust may have contributed to this? Why, yes.

Is it easy to wave goodbye? No, not at all. I have anxiety and a wild imagination.

I have just one request....

Chesley B Sullenberger, could you please make sure you're assigned to the New York-Beijing flight tomorrow morning? (And back, too, please.) Okay, thanks.

Oh, and Maddy...take your red shoes. Just in case you need to click them three times.

*her school takes a small group of 7th graders each spring to China then, in the fall, we host a group of Chinese students here. There are plenty of teacher chaperones. They start in Beijing for a few days, take the train to Xian, where they attend middle school for a few days. Then they end their trip in Shanghai and fly home.

Lyrical

2009-04-09T15:37:00.005-04:00

We're in the car on the way to Lauren's flute lesson. The sunroof is open because it is 63 DEGREES today. Music is playing on the radio and we're singing along to Jason Mraz's I'm Yours.

L: "...listen to the music of the Mormon people dance and sing. We're just one big family..."

A: What did you just say?

L: What?

A: Did you say "Mormon people"?

L: Um, yeah. Those are the words, Mom.

A: (chuckling) Really? So is he telling people to listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir? Or David Archuleta? What music of the Mormon people do you think he's talking about?

L: (laughing) I know, right? I just think it's cool.

A: Honey, I don't think that's what he's saying.

L: Really? Oh, that's sad. And embarrassing.

A: I've got your back.

It made my whole. day.

****

Have you ever misheard/misunderstood song lyrics? (Matt was telling me one line of the National Anthem he misunderstood as a kid but I can't remember which line it was...help me out here, Matt?).

Also, as anyone else noticed that the sad, poignant music they play on Lost is the same as the chorus from Hall and Oates' "One on One"? Every time Lost gets dramatic there it goes again and I think "one on one, I wanna play that game tonight..."

Oh, Eleanor...

2009-04-07T13:33:00.000-04:00

...thank you, I needed that.

"One thing life has taught me: If you are interested, you never have to look for new interests. They come to you. When you are genuinely interested in one thing, it will always lead to something else."

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop and look fear in the face...do the thing you think you cannot do."

~Eleanor Roosevelt