This holiday season will have me contemplating thankfulness for years to come, although I may not feel so great now. One thing is for certain, as much as I love my Silpada jewelry from JBL, the best gift - that came in wrapping paper, anyway - was music.
I am totally loving Tyler Ramsey right now. Spectacular.
Can anyone, even God, explain the power of music? It creates a space for your heart to roam free. There is no pressure, no boundaries, nothing to hold you back. And freedom lets you feel in a way you may not in every day life. Deep, broad, far and wide. Like my love for JBL.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Snowy NYE
What is it about waking up to a coating of snow that makes one feel like a child again? I was so delighted I had to come downstairs and find JBL (already working away in his office).
It is quiet and cold. Every tree's limb is delineated with an inch of white powder. The crows call to each other across the field. The sky is gray and promising.
I know as soon as J wakes up she will want to go outside and play in it. There will be angels. There will be piles gathered and mittens licked. (Do all children like to taste handfuls of snow like J? She also loves sucking on icicles like lollipops.) There will be clomping boots.
We are supposed to have rain later, and that will probably spell doom for the snow just fallen. But for now - with the Christmas tree still glowing merrily in the family room - it is a perfect winter wonderland.
It is quiet and cold. Every tree's limb is delineated with an inch of white powder. The crows call to each other across the field. The sky is gray and promising.
I know as soon as J wakes up she will want to go outside and play in it. There will be angels. There will be piles gathered and mittens licked. (Do all children like to taste handfuls of snow like J? She also loves sucking on icicles like lollipops.) There will be clomping boots.
We are supposed to have rain later, and that will probably spell doom for the snow just fallen. But for now - with the Christmas tree still glowing merrily in the family room - it is a perfect winter wonderland.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Cleaned up
It's been an effort, but we're 90% cleaned up from the big party. I say 'we', but JBL did most of it. I have helped with the more normal/boring floors and rugs, plus putting toys away in the basement.
Now the house still looks dressed for Christmas, while the bar is still set up and the decorative plates and napkins are still out. You know what it makes me think? We should have another party!
Now the house still looks dressed for Christmas, while the bar is still set up and the decorative plates and napkins are still out. You know what it makes me think? We should have another party!
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Anticipation
Big party tonight. It's yet another permutation of a birthday celebration for me. Hurrah!
I bought a fancy casual outfit for said party at Ann Taylor yesterday, and feel somewhat guilty about it. I am also worried that I'll be way dressier than everyone else. But it's my party, right? And I'm only wearing jeans with a satin blouse. They may be $90 jeans, but they're still jeans. Ok, feeling guilty again.
I can't wait to see everyone, especially my best friend who lives in New Jersey. I saw her in September, but previously it had been over a year. Her visit is a gift in and of itself.
Otherwise, I just love a good party. The morning of the event is as good as Christmas eve for me. I still have a long list of things to clean, and as always, have unreasonable hopes of pre-party exercise. I'm all a-flutter with anticipation. Maybe I should get to it, rather than writing, hmmm?
I bought a fancy casual outfit for said party at Ann Taylor yesterday, and feel somewhat guilty about it. I am also worried that I'll be way dressier than everyone else. But it's my party, right? And I'm only wearing jeans with a satin blouse. They may be $90 jeans, but they're still jeans. Ok, feeling guilty again.
I can't wait to see everyone, especially my best friend who lives in New Jersey. I saw her in September, but previously it had been over a year. Her visit is a gift in and of itself.
Otherwise, I just love a good party. The morning of the event is as good as Christmas eve for me. I still have a long list of things to clean, and as always, have unreasonable hopes of pre-party exercise. I'm all a-flutter with anticipation. Maybe I should get to it, rather than writing, hmmm?
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Everything and more
Perfect Christmas.
The snow hung around until the rains hit last night, making the whole week leading up to yesterday morning's festivities post-card perfect. J absolutely loved everything about the whole process - even more so than when she was four. Every fiber in her being thrummed with excitement at seeing Christmas lights, opening the advent calendar every day, wrapping gifts for others, admiring the tree, and now playing with her presents. She is wearing her outfit from last night - she was so tired when we got home from my brother's, we just put her in bed as-is. All I see of her is a blur of hair and a bright-red Christmas shirt covered with a Flacco jersey floating by on a Razor scooter. Again and again around the house. And then there's the occasional comment.
"Mommy, I know how Santa stays warm in his sleigh."
Really? How?
"Magic!"
I think that about says it all.
The snow hung around until the rains hit last night, making the whole week leading up to yesterday morning's festivities post-card perfect. J absolutely loved everything about the whole process - even more so than when she was four. Every fiber in her being thrummed with excitement at seeing Christmas lights, opening the advent calendar every day, wrapping gifts for others, admiring the tree, and now playing with her presents. She is wearing her outfit from last night - she was so tired when we got home from my brother's, we just put her in bed as-is. All I see of her is a blur of hair and a bright-red Christmas shirt covered with a Flacco jersey floating by on a Razor scooter. Again and again around the house. And then there's the occasional comment.
"Mommy, I know how Santa stays warm in his sleigh."
Really? How?
"Magic!"
I think that about says it all.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Recently
I have been having trouble sleeping lately.
I find that I am child-like in my grumpiness when my routine is mucked with. About to hop on the treadmill, hoping that will help.
I think Christmas Eve is better than Christmas Day. Anticipation at it's peak.
I have no New Year's resolutions, but probably should. Maybe something about more creative fun with the girls. Or more concentration and improved time management. Or....what was I just saying? Oh well.
I confess I want to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie. Robert Downey, Jr. Yummy.
Every time I hear the story about the boy in Brazil reunited with his father, I get singing "Reunited" by Peaches and Herb. It is the reason I bought my very first album (a Time Life compilation that also included "I Want You to Want Me" by Cheap Trick - Cry! Cry! Cry!). It still kind of makes me smile.
I painted my toenails for the first time in 6 months. It's a shame I won't be wearing sandals again for a very long time. *sigh* I hate winter.
"Mommy, I know how Santa gets back up the chiminimee. He puts his finger aside of his nose." Really? Phew, holding onto magic for one more year.
I find that I am child-like in my grumpiness when my routine is mucked with. About to hop on the treadmill, hoping that will help.
I think Christmas Eve is better than Christmas Day. Anticipation at it's peak.
I have no New Year's resolutions, but probably should. Maybe something about more creative fun with the girls. Or more concentration and improved time management. Or....what was I just saying? Oh well.
I confess I want to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie. Robert Downey, Jr. Yummy.
Every time I hear the story about the boy in Brazil reunited with his father, I get singing "Reunited" by Peaches and Herb. It is the reason I bought my very first album (a Time Life compilation that also included "I Want You to Want Me" by Cheap Trick - Cry! Cry! Cry!). It still kind of makes me smile.
I painted my toenails for the first time in 6 months. It's a shame I won't be wearing sandals again for a very long time. *sigh* I hate winter.
"Mommy, I know how Santa gets back up the chiminimee. He puts his finger aside of his nose." Really? Phew, holding onto magic for one more year.
Monday, December 21, 2009
More J quotes
"I love Scotch tape." And she does. She has gone through 8 packages of it in the last year.
----------------------------
"Sponge Bob is a weird show. I know why Squidward is called that - he's a squid. And Sponge Bob is a sponge. Mr. Crabs [knowing look, nod]."
"But what about Patrick?" I ask.
[Far away look] "Is Patrick another word for 'starfish'?"
----------------------------
"Sponge Bob is a weird show. I know why Squidward is called that - he's a squid. And Sponge Bob is a sponge. Mr. Crabs [knowing look, nod]."
"But what about Patrick?" I ask.
[Far away look] "Is Patrick another word for 'starfish'?"
Thursday, December 17, 2009
At altitude
It's hard to believe I am back already - back to yelling to get the kids out to the bus stop on time, back to hunching over my laptop as soon as I return home, back to ignoring laundry. Just a few short days ago I had an amazing experience. So amazing that I am still struggling to process it all.
Nature tends to be a touchstone for me. When outside, whether for exercise or play with the family, I am always revitalized. Is it the air? Is it the enjoyment of life around me? I am not certain, but it's true just the same. I guess if it weren't so cold out this morning, I would go out on the deck and stare at the trees for a little so I could forget that I put J on the bus in tears. *sigh* Christmas vacation is almost here, and everyone is crawling to the finish line. But anyway.
I was ready to be bowled over by Arizona, and Arizona did not disappoint. From the windows of the airplane I began to absorb the new environment, so completely different from what I am accustomed to.
We drove up to the Grand Canyon from Pheonix. It was a haul, and one that took till after dark thanks to a morning flight delay, but it wasn't terrible. At least we got to enjoy being surrounded by cactus and palm trees before climbing into the hills at sunset.
It was pitch black and cold when we finally arrived. How cold? Well, it had been 60 when we hopped in the rental car. The car's thermometer read 4 when we pulled into the parking lot at El Tovar. There had been a storm a few days earlier, and the entire Grand Canyon park was coated in a heavy blanket of snow that made me feel like we were driving through the set of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. The feeling was only heightened when I saw the hotel - over 100 years old - fully decked out with Christmas decorations and lights inside and out. Just beautiful.
Our East Coast internal clocks woke us before 6am, and we stumbled into the hotel dining room before sun-up. Over breakfast we chatted about our first hike, discussing water supplies, turn-around points, etc. I could see the light growing in the sky. JBL pointed out some huge icicles that had formed from the porch roof, visible through the plate glass window behind me. I turned to admire the scene when I realized there was enough light out now to illuminate the canyon. It was barely 50 yards away.
We scrambled to finish up and get our gear on. After a quick stop at the village shop to buy crampons and rent poles, we were off to the Bright Angel Trail. It's one of the most popular ways to get down in the canyon, and is considered fairly easy. Because of it's many 'switchbacks', the descent isn't terribly steep. But it's significant nonetheless, and with the snow and mule...er...droppings, I found the footing to be a bit of a challenge.
We hiked for SIX hours total, and didn't even get a third of the way down. Bright Angel is beautiful, and at one point I opined that it is the trail equivalent of driving Highway 1 in California: a sheer rock wall up on one side, a steep downhill on the other.
When we started off it was clear, but snow moved in by the time we climbed out. Luckily we got both stunning views of the canyon.
The next day's trek took us down the South Kaibab Trail, known for it's steep declines and panoramic views. Unexpectedly, the footing was easier on this trail - less slushy snow, and no mule poop. We didn't mind the more challenging hike - both because we were conditioned well enough, and because the views were just so incredible. One stunner after another. This trail was also much less populated, with us eeking by about half the people than we'd seen the previous day. It's relative quietness left us feeling at many points like we were the only people left on Earth.
It may sound utterly ridiculous to say this, but I could not, can not wrap my mind around the enormity of the canyon. The last photo is our lunch break on the Kaibab. We were on a ridge that jutted way out in the middle of our portion of the south rim and faced east, and that view behind me - that was what we saw in every direction we looked, as far as we could look. The beauty of the light playing against the colors of the canyon rock, reaching back billions of years, cannot be overstated. There are no words, really, to describe it. I was alternately moved to laughter and tears, literally.
After that four hour hike, and a bit of a struggle back to the rental car ("Trusty") because of the snow on the rim, we headed south to Sedona.
We arrived at dusk, so were not fully able to appreciate the scene around us. I, however, was taken aback by the lovely accommodations JBL had arranged. Enchanment Resort lives up to its name. Beautiful, tucked into the rock walls of Boynton Canyon (which made me think of Sandra Boynton books - I am a mom, after all).
The next day it rained cats-and-dogs in the morning, so we shelved our hike plans and hit the town. It was uninspiring in the wet and cold, clearly designed for warm and dry conditions with many outdoor courtyards and shops spaced far apart. I will appreciate all the art galleries and post-hippie offerings (what the heck are 'aura' photos, anyway?) if we go again in the Spring.
The afternoon was spent at the spa, and my GOD, what a spa it was. Three hours for a facial and massage? Yep, that's my idea of a good time. Dinner was casual and quiet, and drinks followed by the generous fireplace in the 'library' area between the two restaurants.
The last full day was spent mostly outdoors. I began with a run among the sage and cactus, headed back to Mii Amo for a yoga session, then grabbed JBL for a hike into Boynton Canyon. Behind the resort, the trail hunkered into a frosty forest with high red rock cliffs on either side.
After a leisurely lunch, we (sadly) packed up Trusty, and checked out, heading for one last hike. Doe Mountain. Not a real mountain, mind you, but a 'moderate' climb to a mesa outside of town with a 360-degree view of all of southern Sedona. Would it be wrong to use the term stunning again? This is when I went into full sensory overload. Long afternoon shadows, the smell of cedar, the sounds of robins, but not the same kind as live in EBF Maryland. I imagined lizards and scorpions and snakes, probably plentiful in the heat of summer.
JBL and I soaked it in one last time before heading back down to Pheonix for the night. I would have more to say about Pheonix if A) we had been there for more than 10 hours, and B) if I hadn't already been so incapacitated by all I'd seen before. Let me just say one thing, though. If you ever have a chance to stay at the Royal Palms, do not hesitate to do so. Insane.
So that was the big trip. I left 39, and came back 40. I also came back feeling changed - insignificant and soaked through with the beauty of the land out west. I can't wait to go back.
Nature tends to be a touchstone for me. When outside, whether for exercise or play with the family, I am always revitalized. Is it the air? Is it the enjoyment of life around me? I am not certain, but it's true just the same. I guess if it weren't so cold out this morning, I would go out on the deck and stare at the trees for a little so I could forget that I put J on the bus in tears. *sigh* Christmas vacation is almost here, and everyone is crawling to the finish line. But anyway.
I was ready to be bowled over by Arizona, and Arizona did not disappoint. From the windows of the airplane I began to absorb the new environment, so completely different from what I am accustomed to.
We drove up to the Grand Canyon from Pheonix. It was a haul, and one that took till after dark thanks to a morning flight delay, but it wasn't terrible. At least we got to enjoy being surrounded by cactus and palm trees before climbing into the hills at sunset.
It was pitch black and cold when we finally arrived. How cold? Well, it had been 60 when we hopped in the rental car. The car's thermometer read 4 when we pulled into the parking lot at El Tovar. There had been a storm a few days earlier, and the entire Grand Canyon park was coated in a heavy blanket of snow that made me feel like we were driving through the set of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. The feeling was only heightened when I saw the hotel - over 100 years old - fully decked out with Christmas decorations and lights inside and out. Just beautiful.
Our East Coast internal clocks woke us before 6am, and we stumbled into the hotel dining room before sun-up. Over breakfast we chatted about our first hike, discussing water supplies, turn-around points, etc. I could see the light growing in the sky. JBL pointed out some huge icicles that had formed from the porch roof, visible through the plate glass window behind me. I turned to admire the scene when I realized there was enough light out now to illuminate the canyon. It was barely 50 yards away.
We scrambled to finish up and get our gear on. After a quick stop at the village shop to buy crampons and rent poles, we were off to the Bright Angel Trail. It's one of the most popular ways to get down in the canyon, and is considered fairly easy. Because of it's many 'switchbacks', the descent isn't terribly steep. But it's significant nonetheless, and with the snow and mule...er...droppings, I found the footing to be a bit of a challenge.
We hiked for SIX hours total, and didn't even get a third of the way down. Bright Angel is beautiful, and at one point I opined that it is the trail equivalent of driving Highway 1 in California: a sheer rock wall up on one side, a steep downhill on the other.
When we started off it was clear, but snow moved in by the time we climbed out. Luckily we got both stunning views of the canyon.
The next day's trek took us down the South Kaibab Trail, known for it's steep declines and panoramic views. Unexpectedly, the footing was easier on this trail - less slushy snow, and no mule poop. We didn't mind the more challenging hike - both because we were conditioned well enough, and because the views were just so incredible. One stunner after another. This trail was also much less populated, with us eeking by about half the people than we'd seen the previous day. It's relative quietness left us feeling at many points like we were the only people left on Earth.
It may sound utterly ridiculous to say this, but I could not, can not wrap my mind around the enormity of the canyon. The last photo is our lunch break on the Kaibab. We were on a ridge that jutted way out in the middle of our portion of the south rim and faced east, and that view behind me - that was what we saw in every direction we looked, as far as we could look. The beauty of the light playing against the colors of the canyon rock, reaching back billions of years, cannot be overstated. There are no words, really, to describe it. I was alternately moved to laughter and tears, literally.
After that four hour hike, and a bit of a struggle back to the rental car ("Trusty") because of the snow on the rim, we headed south to Sedona.
We arrived at dusk, so were not fully able to appreciate the scene around us. I, however, was taken aback by the lovely accommodations JBL had arranged. Enchanment Resort lives up to its name. Beautiful, tucked into the rock walls of Boynton Canyon (which made me think of Sandra Boynton books - I am a mom, after all).
The next day it rained cats-and-dogs in the morning, so we shelved our hike plans and hit the town. It was uninspiring in the wet and cold, clearly designed for warm and dry conditions with many outdoor courtyards and shops spaced far apart. I will appreciate all the art galleries and post-hippie offerings (what the heck are 'aura' photos, anyway?) if we go again in the Spring.
The afternoon was spent at the spa, and my GOD, what a spa it was. Three hours for a facial and massage? Yep, that's my idea of a good time. Dinner was casual and quiet, and drinks followed by the generous fireplace in the 'library' area between the two restaurants.
The last full day was spent mostly outdoors. I began with a run among the sage and cactus, headed back to Mii Amo for a yoga session, then grabbed JBL for a hike into Boynton Canyon. Behind the resort, the trail hunkered into a frosty forest with high red rock cliffs on either side.
After a leisurely lunch, we (sadly) packed up Trusty, and checked out, heading for one last hike. Doe Mountain. Not a real mountain, mind you, but a 'moderate' climb to a mesa outside of town with a 360-degree view of all of southern Sedona. Would it be wrong to use the term stunning again? This is when I went into full sensory overload. Long afternoon shadows, the smell of cedar, the sounds of robins, but not the same kind as live in EBF Maryland. I imagined lizards and scorpions and snakes, probably plentiful in the heat of summer.
JBL and I soaked it in one last time before heading back down to Pheonix for the night. I would have more to say about Pheonix if A) we had been there for more than 10 hours, and B) if I hadn't already been so incapacitated by all I'd seen before. Let me just say one thing, though. If you ever have a chance to stay at the Royal Palms, do not hesitate to do so. Insane.
So that was the big trip. I left 39, and came back 40. I also came back feeling changed - insignificant and soaked through with the beauty of the land out west. I can't wait to go back.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Tuesday Happy
Feeling happy. Cheerios and hot coffee in a quiet house after putting a sparkling chatty J on the bus.
My schedule today includes keeping an eye on work while wrapping Christmas presents, doing laundry in anticipation of my trip to the Grand Canyon this week, and delivering cupcakes to neighbors helping with J while we're gone.
It's still snowy outside, and our enormous Christmas tree waits patiently in a bucket of water, leaning against the house down on the patio. Too big for the garage, even. Hope it doesn't freeze...
Speaking of the tree, I have no idea how we're going to get it inside. It wasn't put into one of those plastic mesh sleeves, and it's current diameter is easily three times the width of any doorway we have. The effort to bring it in will involve significant cutting to narrow the trunk for the stand, a tarp to wrap it in, lots of duct tape, and prayers. From JBL, there will be cursing. Surely help from neighbors will be called for. If only I had that Bewitched nose-twitch-magic thing...then I might actually be able to help.
Speaking of neighbors, Sarah with the Six Kids (that's usually how I refer to her, yes) has embarked on her usual winter odyssey. She informed me last night that 3 of the kids have pneumonia, and one just has a really bad cough. Having lived through last week's vomit-fest, I simply cannot fathom caring for that many children when they are that sick. How can you hold them all? How to manage to let the healthy ones sleep while the others cough all night since, as you can imagine, there are a lot of shared bedrooms? The littlest one, just 3, had chest x-rays as part of her ordeal. My hair falls out just typing that.
She manages spectacularly well - one of those women who is just a natural superstar mom. Even with her skills, I don't envy their life between November and March. Hopefully my cupcakes will brighten their morning a bit. Hopefully some of my Tuesday Happy will be delivered to them...
My schedule today includes keeping an eye on work while wrapping Christmas presents, doing laundry in anticipation of my trip to the Grand Canyon this week, and delivering cupcakes to neighbors helping with J while we're gone.
It's still snowy outside, and our enormous Christmas tree waits patiently in a bucket of water, leaning against the house down on the patio. Too big for the garage, even. Hope it doesn't freeze...
Speaking of the tree, I have no idea how we're going to get it inside. It wasn't put into one of those plastic mesh sleeves, and it's current diameter is easily three times the width of any doorway we have. The effort to bring it in will involve significant cutting to narrow the trunk for the stand, a tarp to wrap it in, lots of duct tape, and prayers. From JBL, there will be cursing. Surely help from neighbors will be called for. If only I had that Bewitched nose-twitch-magic thing...then I might actually be able to help.
Speaking of neighbors, Sarah with the Six Kids (that's usually how I refer to her, yes) has embarked on her usual winter odyssey. She informed me last night that 3 of the kids have pneumonia, and one just has a really bad cough. Having lived through last week's vomit-fest, I simply cannot fathom caring for that many children when they are that sick. How can you hold them all? How to manage to let the healthy ones sleep while the others cough all night since, as you can imagine, there are a lot of shared bedrooms? The littlest one, just 3, had chest x-rays as part of her ordeal. My hair falls out just typing that.
She manages spectacularly well - one of those women who is just a natural superstar mom. Even with her skills, I don't envy their life between November and March. Hopefully my cupcakes will brighten their morning a bit. Hopefully some of my Tuesday Happy will be delivered to them...
Thursday, December 3, 2009
But anyway
And there I was, yesterday morning, at the dreaded Food Lion buying supplies. The cashier met me with a bright smile and the usual, "How are you today?"
"I'm OK," I reply as I gaze at the items on the conveyor belt. A huge bottle of Clorox. Two boxes of jello mix. A bottle of Pedialyte. All being purchased by someone with uncombed hair at nigh 7am.
"Great! You know, I walked out of my house this morning..." she rambled on as she scanned my items.
Now, wouldn't you have expected her to put together what I had waiting for me at home? Hello?!
"I'm OK," I reply as I gaze at the items on the conveyor belt. A huge bottle of Clorox. Two boxes of jello mix. A bottle of Pedialyte. All being purchased by someone with uncombed hair at nigh 7am.
"Great! You know, I walked out of my house this morning..." she rambled on as she scanned my items.
Now, wouldn't you have expected her to put together what I had waiting for me at home? Hello?!
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
This song of mine, in three-quarter time
Well, it finally happened. J threw up last night.
I know - it's not remarkable in any way. After all, she is five. Little kids get sick all the time, right? But it is remarkable, and for two reasons. One: She has never had a stomach bug of any kind. Ever. Colds? She has the market cornered on them. Otherwise, she is heretofore the healthiest girl around. This past year she also had her very first ear infection and bout of strep throat. Amazing.
Two: I have been dreading last night my entire life, so I was convinced that the event would occur much sooner with all my obsessing. As I may have mentioned before, I am positively phobic about vomiting, and would do almost anything to avoid it. Seriously. When JBL and I were just dating, and K would get the stomach flu, I would speed away in my car, shaky and distraught, and leave them alone for days. I've been known to hurriedly exit the bathroom rather than hold a girlfriend's hair after a night of too much imbibement. (On an unrelated note, I got a misspelling warning on that last word, and one of the suggestions was impalement, which was disturbing in its own right). I am getting nervous-tummy even writing about this.
And so here we are. She made it through her whole baby and toddlerhood, plus two years of preschool without stomach issues. She was as shocked as we were. Luckily for all involved, her case was short-lived, and as of 6am this morning she has been vomit-free.
I handled it as well as I would have imagined - in short, not very well. I forced myself to stay in the room as long as possible, but kept finding excuses to go and get something, or do something, even as JBL handled much of the clean-up and laundry. I only donned rubber gloves to help once during the whole affair. When she actually let go in front of me at one point, I even plugged my ears and cringed as I encouraged her with, "There! You're going to feel so much better! You're doing great!" Though I can be happy I didn't run for the hills, I wish I had been warmer about the whole thing. Closer.
I remember a lot of things about my childhood - good and bad. While my relationship with my mom was tumultuous, I can tell you she was very good at taking care of me when I was sick. I remember jello and icy-cold watermelon balls. I remember encouragement to take small sips of soda, and genuine sympathy over shakes and headaches and fever. When I was an adult and had my one taste of the flu, she came over and took my dog for me, and kept him for three days while I slept. When I was recovering, she made me homemade french onion soup (I don't like chicken noodle), calling my favorite restaurant for the recipe.
The memories of these hard times are as warm and soft as the memory around more classic family happy times like Christmas. Do you love Frank Sinatra's Christmas Waltz as much as I do? That dreamy beginning always instantly transports me back in time. I am little. The fragrant tree is tall and thick. The happy ornaments tucked in the boughs almost glow from within. The living room is dark except for the sparkling lights. There are candles on the mantle and a crackling fire in the fireplace. Frank Sinatra, Henri Mancini, Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians, and Perry Como croon to me softly from the stereo in the corner.
The flood of memories is always accompanied by a bone-deep feeling of peace and relaxation, and it was all my mom's doing - with my dad (not unusually I suppose) along for the ride. She loved the joy we experienced along with her the whole season. Watching the Nutcracker on TV. Picking out just the right tree. Cookies. Music. Local holiday light displays. You name it.
Though I hang my hat on similar memory-making, I realize there is more to being a mom. There should be, always, kind words and soft hugs. There should be favorite meals and shared play. There should be encouraging smiles and (God help me) silence and understanding. And there should be comforting touches when you are throwing up. I clearly have a lot to work on.
Still, I was gratified earlier this week when I brought up the Christmas decorations bins from the basement. The girls simply could not contain themselves. Though I had planned on opening them after lunch, K begged to open the immediately. And so she went to work. She arranged everything just-so, based on where we always put the decorations, even dragging chairs around to set snowmen and nutcrackers in high places. Meanwhile, J just pulled items out of the bins, exclaiming each time with new enthusiasm, "MOMMY! Do YOU remember THIS?! Where should we PUT THIS?!" There were contended smiles and shrieks of joy. The Christmas (excuse me, holiday) M&Ms came out. And there was a request for music.
"What shall we play?"
"Frank Sinatra!" came J's immediate reply.
"Yeah, Frank Sinatra," agreed K. And so I searched out A Jolly Christmas on the Squeezebox, and soon we were all singing along. And for a moment I was the mom I long to be.
J just woke up from her long afternoon nap, making up for last night's distress. I gave her a big bowl of strawberry jello, a small stack of Ritz crackers, and a big, warm hug.
I know - it's not remarkable in any way. After all, she is five. Little kids get sick all the time, right? But it is remarkable, and for two reasons. One: She has never had a stomach bug of any kind. Ever. Colds? She has the market cornered on them. Otherwise, she is heretofore the healthiest girl around. This past year she also had her very first ear infection and bout of strep throat. Amazing.
Two: I have been dreading last night my entire life, so I was convinced that the event would occur much sooner with all my obsessing. As I may have mentioned before, I am positively phobic about vomiting, and would do almost anything to avoid it. Seriously. When JBL and I were just dating, and K would get the stomach flu, I would speed away in my car, shaky and distraught, and leave them alone for days. I've been known to hurriedly exit the bathroom rather than hold a girlfriend's hair after a night of too much imbibement. (On an unrelated note, I got a misspelling warning on that last word, and one of the suggestions was impalement, which was disturbing in its own right). I am getting nervous-tummy even writing about this.
And so here we are. She made it through her whole baby and toddlerhood, plus two years of preschool without stomach issues. She was as shocked as we were. Luckily for all involved, her case was short-lived, and as of 6am this morning she has been vomit-free.
I handled it as well as I would have imagined - in short, not very well. I forced myself to stay in the room as long as possible, but kept finding excuses to go and get something, or do something, even as JBL handled much of the clean-up and laundry. I only donned rubber gloves to help once during the whole affair. When she actually let go in front of me at one point, I even plugged my ears and cringed as I encouraged her with, "There! You're going to feel so much better! You're doing great!" Though I can be happy I didn't run for the hills, I wish I had been warmer about the whole thing. Closer.
I remember a lot of things about my childhood - good and bad. While my relationship with my mom was tumultuous, I can tell you she was very good at taking care of me when I was sick. I remember jello and icy-cold watermelon balls. I remember encouragement to take small sips of soda, and genuine sympathy over shakes and headaches and fever. When I was an adult and had my one taste of the flu, she came over and took my dog for me, and kept him for three days while I slept. When I was recovering, she made me homemade french onion soup (I don't like chicken noodle), calling my favorite restaurant for the recipe.
The memories of these hard times are as warm and soft as the memory around more classic family happy times like Christmas. Do you love Frank Sinatra's Christmas Waltz as much as I do? That dreamy beginning always instantly transports me back in time. I am little. The fragrant tree is tall and thick. The happy ornaments tucked in the boughs almost glow from within. The living room is dark except for the sparkling lights. There are candles on the mantle and a crackling fire in the fireplace. Frank Sinatra, Henri Mancini, Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians, and Perry Como croon to me softly from the stereo in the corner.
The flood of memories is always accompanied by a bone-deep feeling of peace and relaxation, and it was all my mom's doing - with my dad (not unusually I suppose) along for the ride. She loved the joy we experienced along with her the whole season. Watching the Nutcracker on TV. Picking out just the right tree. Cookies. Music. Local holiday light displays. You name it.
Though I hang my hat on similar memory-making, I realize there is more to being a mom. There should be, always, kind words and soft hugs. There should be favorite meals and shared play. There should be encouraging smiles and (God help me) silence and understanding. And there should be comforting touches when you are throwing up. I clearly have a lot to work on.
Still, I was gratified earlier this week when I brought up the Christmas decorations bins from the basement. The girls simply could not contain themselves. Though I had planned on opening them after lunch, K begged to open the immediately. And so she went to work. She arranged everything just-so, based on where we always put the decorations, even dragging chairs around to set snowmen and nutcrackers in high places. Meanwhile, J just pulled items out of the bins, exclaiming each time with new enthusiasm, "MOMMY! Do YOU remember THIS?! Where should we PUT THIS?!" There were contended smiles and shrieks of joy. The Christmas (excuse me, holiday) M&Ms came out. And there was a request for music.
"What shall we play?"
"Frank Sinatra!" came J's immediate reply.
"Yeah, Frank Sinatra," agreed K. And so I searched out A Jolly Christmas on the Squeezebox, and soon we were all singing along. And for a moment I was the mom I long to be.
J just woke up from her long afternoon nap, making up for last night's distress. I gave her a big bowl of strawberry jello, a small stack of Ritz crackers, and a big, warm hug.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Where does inspiration come from?
I don't know, but J continues to burst forth with creativity. I like to think her love of art comes from me...
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Personal insights
I now realize the reason I took on the organization of all my group projects in grad school is not because I enjoyed the combining and proofing of others' work, but instead it is because I am a control freak who is convinced I have the best approach to every problem to be solved.
Apparently I have not changed much in the last ten years. This is not a good thing. Must review with self...
Apparently I have not changed much in the last ten years. This is not a good thing. Must review with self...
Saturday, November 21, 2009
On a lighter note
I am having a festive, get-together-laden weekend. Last night: happy hour with neighbors that lasted til 10:30 ("Why limit happy to just an hour?"). Tonight: get-together with some of my favorite ladies for gnoshing and sipping out of the house. With no kids. Tomorrow: visiting a friend recovering from surgery, then walking through the Symphony of Lights with J.
Oh, yeah, and I'm doing some work for a deadline that (which?) has already passed, and have to run 10 miles today. But that's not going to take away my festive air!
Oh, yeah, and I'm doing some work for a deadline that (which?) has already passed, and have to run 10 miles today. But that's not going to take away my festive air!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Throw me a rope
Nervous. Exposed brick walls. Original art. Foreign furniture, knick-knacks, smells. I sit. I struggle to keep my legs uncrossed. I grip my knees to hold still. Bells cling, swirling in a circle. His eyes are closed and a small, knowing smile plays at his mouth. I try not to laugh. This is ridiculous.
"You are very unsteady," he says. "You aren't trusting your intuition. Why is that?"
I am taken aback. Of course that is right, but I am not going to admit it. How does one answer a question like that anyway? "I don't know," I say.
He goes on to make observations both accurate and otherwise. My father sees that I am struggling and wants me to just move forward. He says that I keep wishing things will change, and every day I wake up and start the cycle over again. This second part, at least, I know is true. I hide. I make it through the day. I am worn out afterward and look forward to the oblivion of sleep. I find great happiness around me, but...
"Nothing you do brings you joy. What would bring you joy?" Again, a shrug. My mind reels. The feel of J. Running. Being with JBL. These are small outposts. Without them I swirl in...what? I shrug again. "I like to write," I reply softly.
Whether or not any of this is true, he has hit on pain points that are unique to me. Parts of myself that I look away from constantly. I keep my face intentionally blank. He continues.
"What are you afraid of? Is it money? You know money has always been there when you needed it." Also true.
"Is it him? He doesn't let you do what you want. You love adventure. He doesn't let you have adventure." The 'he' is presumably JBL, and on this point the Advisor is wildly off track. Do I tell him of my recent Christmas present - a trip to Tuscany? "No, he does not hold me back."
"But there is something there."
"Yeah. I guess. It's me."
He sits back, eyes narrowing, smile disappearing. "Ah."
I don't remember what he said for the next few minutes - I was so nervous in admitting to a complete stranger that I was holding myself apart from loved ones. From the most important person. I have an audio tape of the session, but I don't want to listen to it. I know we finished by talking about next steps - how to begin the process of moving forward. I silently cursed my friend who encouraged me to come. I thought it would be fun to prove the process wrong, to laugh about missed predictions and accurate platitudes. It was probably all still good reading of body language and cultural cues, but the whole thing was so spot-on, I felt vulnerable and shaky.
Walking out into the late-summer sun, I remember trying to decide if I would do anything with what I had just experienced. I did indeed chew on the insights for some time, sharing the observations with close friends, and even (for the most part) JBL. Then there was the tough transition when J left for Kindergarten, and the struggle to find the new normal.
Now I have a fluid routine and a set of priorities for the short term. I am aware I have the great luxury of time to figure out the next few years, and will actively create new goals and corresponding plans to achieve them. But I know I have still been hiding.
When I first met JBL I felt the shock of two huge feelings: that someone was seeing me for who I really am, down to the core, and that I liked the person they saw. I am sure that is what Big Love feels like for everyone, but this was off the charts. It's even too much to write about here. Over time, my sense of joy in my own skin dissipated (as it is wont to do), and I have been left with my natural levels of self appreciation, which I fear are sometimes unhealthy. But it's easy to look away, to live just a few inches below the surface. Isn't it? You can almost see things clearly, and no one really knows that you are under water. You almost look normal.
Then last week, JBL threw me a rope. He told me what he is giving me for my big 40th birthday, due next month: he is taking me hiking in the Grand Canyon (notice the term is 'hiking' rather than 'camping' - the former implies evidence of a 4-star hotel, rather than a tent outside in December - thank God), followed by a few days of spa and fun in Sedona. Something about this gift yanked me above water. I could see JBL clearly. I could see myself, somewhat more the person I wanted to be. Now the trick will be holding on to this feeling. Knowing that as the girls continue to grow, and as I continue to push myself in new and positive directions, I have the ability to stay here. More importantly I need to learn how to keep myself here, and not look away. I hope I can figure out how...
"You are very unsteady," he says. "You aren't trusting your intuition. Why is that?"
I am taken aback. Of course that is right, but I am not going to admit it. How does one answer a question like that anyway? "I don't know," I say.
He goes on to make observations both accurate and otherwise. My father sees that I am struggling and wants me to just move forward. He says that I keep wishing things will change, and every day I wake up and start the cycle over again. This second part, at least, I know is true. I hide. I make it through the day. I am worn out afterward and look forward to the oblivion of sleep. I find great happiness around me, but...
"Nothing you do brings you joy. What would bring you joy?" Again, a shrug. My mind reels. The feel of J. Running. Being with JBL. These are small outposts. Without them I swirl in...what? I shrug again. "I like to write," I reply softly.
Whether or not any of this is true, he has hit on pain points that are unique to me. Parts of myself that I look away from constantly. I keep my face intentionally blank. He continues.
"What are you afraid of? Is it money? You know money has always been there when you needed it." Also true.
"Is it him? He doesn't let you do what you want. You love adventure. He doesn't let you have adventure." The 'he' is presumably JBL, and on this point the Advisor is wildly off track. Do I tell him of my recent Christmas present - a trip to Tuscany? "No, he does not hold me back."
"But there is something there."
"Yeah. I guess. It's me."
He sits back, eyes narrowing, smile disappearing. "Ah."
I don't remember what he said for the next few minutes - I was so nervous in admitting to a complete stranger that I was holding myself apart from loved ones. From the most important person. I have an audio tape of the session, but I don't want to listen to it. I know we finished by talking about next steps - how to begin the process of moving forward. I silently cursed my friend who encouraged me to come. I thought it would be fun to prove the process wrong, to laugh about missed predictions and accurate platitudes. It was probably all still good reading of body language and cultural cues, but the whole thing was so spot-on, I felt vulnerable and shaky.
Walking out into the late-summer sun, I remember trying to decide if I would do anything with what I had just experienced. I did indeed chew on the insights for some time, sharing the observations with close friends, and even (for the most part) JBL. Then there was the tough transition when J left for Kindergarten, and the struggle to find the new normal.
Now I have a fluid routine and a set of priorities for the short term. I am aware I have the great luxury of time to figure out the next few years, and will actively create new goals and corresponding plans to achieve them. But I know I have still been hiding.
When I first met JBL I felt the shock of two huge feelings: that someone was seeing me for who I really am, down to the core, and that I liked the person they saw. I am sure that is what Big Love feels like for everyone, but this was off the charts. It's even too much to write about here. Over time, my sense of joy in my own skin dissipated (as it is wont to do), and I have been left with my natural levels of self appreciation, which I fear are sometimes unhealthy. But it's easy to look away, to live just a few inches below the surface. Isn't it? You can almost see things clearly, and no one really knows that you are under water. You almost look normal.
Then last week, JBL threw me a rope. He told me what he is giving me for my big 40th birthday, due next month: he is taking me hiking in the Grand Canyon (notice the term is 'hiking' rather than 'camping' - the former implies evidence of a 4-star hotel, rather than a tent outside in December - thank God), followed by a few days of spa and fun in Sedona. Something about this gift yanked me above water. I could see JBL clearly. I could see myself, somewhat more the person I wanted to be. Now the trick will be holding on to this feeling. Knowing that as the girls continue to grow, and as I continue to push myself in new and positive directions, I have the ability to stay here. More importantly I need to learn how to keep myself here, and not look away. I hope I can figure out how...
Thursday, November 12, 2009
French Bread
Say, hypothetically speaking, you have an afternoon at home. Maybe you already have soup going on the stove, or have lasagna in the freezer ready to be re-heated for dinner. You're doing laundry or some such. You just might think to yourself, "I wish I had some really good bread to go with dinner."
Well DING DING DING, have I got the bread for you! This recipe was ridiculously easy, requiring literally about 15-20 minutes of effort - assuming you have a standing mixer with a dough hook as I do - resulting in the most delicious-crusty-warm-fleshy bread I have ever made. (Truth be told, I have only ever made dessert breads and bread-machine breads, so it's sort of an apples-and-oranges comparison. But anyway.) You totally have to try this:
1 package dry active yeast
1 1/4 C warm water (105-115 degrees F)
1 1/2 tsp salt (add cracked pepper to taste if you want)
3 1/2C AP flour
1 TBSP olive oil
2 TBSP flour or cornmeal for the baking sheet
1 egg white
1 TBSP cold water
Dissolve yeast in warm water (give it a good stir to get it started) for about 5 minutes. In the bowl of your standing mixer, whisk together the salt and flour. Once the yeast mixture is ready, attach the dough hook and turn the mixer on low, adding about half the mixture. Drizzle in the tablespoon of oil, then add the remaining yeast mixture. The dough will be fairly dry compared to, say, pizza dough. I had to gather it together a bit with my hands. Not a big deal.
Let the machine knead the dough on medium for 15-20 minutes. That's right - just walk away from the machine and change over that laundry or whatever it is that you're doing. Just make sure to oil a bowl and find a warm, draft-free spot in your kitchen. After the kneading, turn the dough out into the bowl, roll it around until it's all covered in olive oil, cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set it in said warm area, and let the First Rise begin. Look for the dough to almost double in size - mine took about an hour and half. The timing is affected by temperature among other things.
After the first rise, punch down the dough and roll it out on a lightly floured surface into a 12 x 15 inch rectangle. Sprinkle your baking sheet with flour or cornmeal. Roll the dough up tightly, jelly-roll style, beginning with the long edge. Set the log seam-side down on the baking sheet, through a tea towel over it and put it back in the warm place, and walk away for another couple hours for the second rise. Now, you can muck with the shape a little - some prefer the more torpedo-narrow ends. It's your call. Oh, and I have heard not to use terry cloth when covering dough. I am not sure why. Anyway. Take this time to pick up the kids from school or exercise or whatnot. Look for the dough to be about 3/4ths the size of a regular loaf of bread.
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Make four vent slices diagonally across the top of the loaf with a sharp knife, and pop it in the oven for 25 minutes. In the meantime, mix the egg whites and water together. After 25 minutes or so, brush the top of the loaf with the egg wash, then bake for 5-10 more minutes, or til Golden Brown and Delicious. Cool on a wire rack. Beat the family off the bread until you're good and ready to serve it.
Now find an excuse to make this. Go!
Well DING DING DING, have I got the bread for you! This recipe was ridiculously easy, requiring literally about 15-20 minutes of effort - assuming you have a standing mixer with a dough hook as I do - resulting in the most delicious-crusty-warm-fleshy bread I have ever made. (Truth be told, I have only ever made dessert breads and bread-machine breads, so it's sort of an apples-and-oranges comparison. But anyway.) You totally have to try this:
1 package dry active yeast
1 1/4 C warm water (105-115 degrees F)
1 1/2 tsp salt (add cracked pepper to taste if you want)
3 1/2C AP flour
1 TBSP olive oil
2 TBSP flour or cornmeal for the baking sheet
1 egg white
1 TBSP cold water
Dissolve yeast in warm water (give it a good stir to get it started) for about 5 minutes. In the bowl of your standing mixer, whisk together the salt and flour. Once the yeast mixture is ready, attach the dough hook and turn the mixer on low, adding about half the mixture. Drizzle in the tablespoon of oil, then add the remaining yeast mixture. The dough will be fairly dry compared to, say, pizza dough. I had to gather it together a bit with my hands. Not a big deal.
Let the machine knead the dough on medium for 15-20 minutes. That's right - just walk away from the machine and change over that laundry or whatever it is that you're doing. Just make sure to oil a bowl and find a warm, draft-free spot in your kitchen. After the kneading, turn the dough out into the bowl, roll it around until it's all covered in olive oil, cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set it in said warm area, and let the First Rise begin. Look for the dough to almost double in size - mine took about an hour and half. The timing is affected by temperature among other things.
After the first rise, punch down the dough and roll it out on a lightly floured surface into a 12 x 15 inch rectangle. Sprinkle your baking sheet with flour or cornmeal. Roll the dough up tightly, jelly-roll style, beginning with the long edge. Set the log seam-side down on the baking sheet, through a tea towel over it and put it back in the warm place, and walk away for another couple hours for the second rise. Now, you can muck with the shape a little - some prefer the more torpedo-narrow ends. It's your call. Oh, and I have heard not to use terry cloth when covering dough. I am not sure why. Anyway. Take this time to pick up the kids from school or exercise or whatnot. Look for the dough to be about 3/4ths the size of a regular loaf of bread.
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Make four vent slices diagonally across the top of the loaf with a sharp knife, and pop it in the oven for 25 minutes. In the meantime, mix the egg whites and water together. After 25 minutes or so, brush the top of the loaf with the egg wash, then bake for 5-10 more minutes, or til Golden Brown and Delicious. Cool on a wire rack. Beat the family off the bread until you're good and ready to serve it.
Now find an excuse to make this. Go!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Sad
Add my name to the list of moms who raid their kids' Halloween Candy. What is the acceptable period of time after which the candy can mysteriously disappear (to Daddy's office or wherever)?
Sour apple Blow-Pop. Just not as satisfying as I thought it was going to be.
Sour apple Blow-Pop. Just not as satisfying as I thought it was going to be.
Monday, November 9, 2009
J Insights
Heard in the back seat today:
(Driving past Executive Park Drive.) "Mommy, the people who work in these office buildings are so lucky! They can eat at Chick-fil-A WHENEVER THEY WANT TO!"
(Seeing a 40 MPH speed limit sign.) "Hey! Daddy's for....oh, wait. He's 41 now. Wow, it seems like he was 40 just yesterday!"
Updated: "Mommy, I am going to put a lid on my cup so it won't spill."
"Babe, you are both wise and prescient."
"I'm wise beyond my ears!"
(Driving past Executive Park Drive.) "Mommy, the people who work in these office buildings are so lucky! They can eat at Chick-fil-A WHENEVER THEY WANT TO!"
(Seeing a 40 MPH speed limit sign.) "Hey! Daddy's for....oh, wait. He's 41 now. Wow, it seems like he was 40 just yesterday!"
Updated: "Mommy, I am going to put a lid on my cup so it won't spill."
"Babe, you are both wise and prescient."
"I'm wise beyond my ears!"
Friday, November 6, 2009
I'm in love with fall. At least for the moment. True, my ardor is normally reserved for months where life is effusive and promising, but the whisper of change in the air these days has me enthralled.
I wake in the morning to see the green, green grass dusted with frost. As the sunlight spills over the horizon, the protected hollows gather up a subtle mist that clings to the dried flowers and cattails, the discarded leaves of maple and ash. The tree tops hold on to a smattering of leaves that brightly wave in the breeze - a bittersweet parting gesture to help me forget the months of gray and brown that await.
Some plants still flourish. The lavender continues pushing up happy purple sprigs, the parsley revels in the chilly overnights, and the allyssum flowers still proudly hug the ground in blatant disregard of the freezes that have come and gone over the past several weeks. A lone iris blooms like the one child in the family who can't sleep.
The air is cool and damp, and smells of decay and woodsmoke. No birdsong mars the silence, nor muffles the melancholy cry of the trains who call from several miles away, snaking their way to points West. Stratus clouds sit dark and brooding against a blue sky scrubbed clean by recent showers, their tops lit by the sunlight in the season's haze-free atmosphere. The sun still feels warm on my face, and the breeze has not yet taken on winter's icy bite.
November is the month of change - like it's vernal counterpart, May. It begins with as many comfortable days as not. It ends like the brisk season we are about to endure. It whispers to me to make warm bubbling dinners that simmer for hours on the stove top. It makes me consider bundled-up bike rides followed by apple cider or hot chocolate. It inspires treasure hunts where the goal is the happiest collection of acorns, or the one perfect fall leaf.
The real treasure is the end of the day, where the early-darkening evenings bring everyone indoors, around the fireplace, snuggling close. There are smiles and card games and music. We are warmed by the fire although the cool house still prompts sweatshirts and soft socks. We have not yet pulled out the space heaters, but layer on thick down comforters when we tuck the girls into bed. They are still covered and curled up around their stuffed companions when we kiss them at our bedtime, rather than splayed wide and uncovered, as we often find them in summer.
Thank you, fall, for your quiet joys and glimpses of fleeting beauty. Thank you for the opportunity to look for new kinds of happiness, and for encouraging us to enjoy the moment rather than worry about the cold to come. We are blessed.
I wake in the morning to see the green, green grass dusted with frost. As the sunlight spills over the horizon, the protected hollows gather up a subtle mist that clings to the dried flowers and cattails, the discarded leaves of maple and ash. The tree tops hold on to a smattering of leaves that brightly wave in the breeze - a bittersweet parting gesture to help me forget the months of gray and brown that await.
Some plants still flourish. The lavender continues pushing up happy purple sprigs, the parsley revels in the chilly overnights, and the allyssum flowers still proudly hug the ground in blatant disregard of the freezes that have come and gone over the past several weeks. A lone iris blooms like the one child in the family who can't sleep.
The air is cool and damp, and smells of decay and woodsmoke. No birdsong mars the silence, nor muffles the melancholy cry of the trains who call from several miles away, snaking their way to points West. Stratus clouds sit dark and brooding against a blue sky scrubbed clean by recent showers, their tops lit by the sunlight in the season's haze-free atmosphere. The sun still feels warm on my face, and the breeze has not yet taken on winter's icy bite.
November is the month of change - like it's vernal counterpart, May. It begins with as many comfortable days as not. It ends like the brisk season we are about to endure. It whispers to me to make warm bubbling dinners that simmer for hours on the stove top. It makes me consider bundled-up bike rides followed by apple cider or hot chocolate. It inspires treasure hunts where the goal is the happiest collection of acorns, or the one perfect fall leaf.
The real treasure is the end of the day, where the early-darkening evenings bring everyone indoors, around the fireplace, snuggling close. There are smiles and card games and music. We are warmed by the fire although the cool house still prompts sweatshirts and soft socks. We have not yet pulled out the space heaters, but layer on thick down comforters when we tuck the girls into bed. They are still covered and curled up around their stuffed companions when we kiss them at our bedtime, rather than splayed wide and uncovered, as we often find them in summer.
Thank you, fall, for your quiet joys and glimpses of fleeting beauty. Thank you for the opportunity to look for new kinds of happiness, and for encouraging us to enjoy the moment rather than worry about the cold to come. We are blessed.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Along for the ride
I'm about to head out for another class with my friend Kavita (the last one being the kickboxing class where I might have killed a puppy when asked). This time it's Bikram yoga, also known as 'hot' yoga.
Now, I've been practicing yoga off-and-on for ten years, and I can tell you a few things:
- I'm no more flexible now than when I started
- I get 'it' about the focus and the breathing, but I still struggle with 'it' every time
- I still love yoga because I truly come away from each session feeling refreshed in mind and body
No joke. That same feeling you have when you've been away for a long weekend and have temporarily forgotten your worries - that's what I have after yoga. It's a lot easier on the wallet and waistline, too. I can switch it up and do any number of videos or classes to get different types of challenges. I can do it outside on my patio, in my family room, or in a class full of happy acquaintances. Unlike with running, I never think at the beginning of a 90-minute practice that I can't wait to just be done already.
But of course, that is all thanks to regular yoga. Hot yoga is a different matter. The same 26 poses everywhere no matter the studio or teacher. Temperature in the studio must be 105 degrees Fahrenheit, with 40% humidity. You are encouraged to simply make it through the class without passing out/having to leave the room. Heh-heh. Yeah.
This is so Kavita. She is the most type A person I have ever met. If she's going to run, she's going to do a marathon. If she's running the NYC marathon (as she did this past weekend), she is using it as a training run for Boston. If she's taking a class at the gym, she's going to find the toughest instructor. If she's doing yoga, then goddamn it, it's going to be Bikram.
I have no idea why Kavita is drawn to me, or ropes me into her adventures, but I'm somewhat flattered, I have to say. I tend to be the most reserved and cautious person in the room. Maybe she is fooled by my loquacious and busy tendencies. Maybe she heard rumors that I am a better athlete than I am. In any event, I am happy to be along for the ride. I just hope I don't pass out today...
Updated: I did not pass out, but felt like it at several points. I'm going to try it one more time next week to give Bikram a 'fair shake'. Phew! I need some water...
Now, I've been practicing yoga off-and-on for ten years, and I can tell you a few things:
- I'm no more flexible now than when I started
- I get 'it' about the focus and the breathing, but I still struggle with 'it' every time
- I still love yoga because I truly come away from each session feeling refreshed in mind and body
No joke. That same feeling you have when you've been away for a long weekend and have temporarily forgotten your worries - that's what I have after yoga. It's a lot easier on the wallet and waistline, too. I can switch it up and do any number of videos or classes to get different types of challenges. I can do it outside on my patio, in my family room, or in a class full of happy acquaintances. Unlike with running, I never think at the beginning of a 90-minute practice that I can't wait to just be done already.
But of course, that is all thanks to regular yoga. Hot yoga is a different matter. The same 26 poses everywhere no matter the studio or teacher. Temperature in the studio must be 105 degrees Fahrenheit, with 40% humidity. You are encouraged to simply make it through the class without passing out/having to leave the room. Heh-heh. Yeah.
This is so Kavita. She is the most type A person I have ever met. If she's going to run, she's going to do a marathon. If she's running the NYC marathon (as she did this past weekend), she is using it as a training run for Boston. If she's taking a class at the gym, she's going to find the toughest instructor. If she's doing yoga, then goddamn it, it's going to be Bikram.
I have no idea why Kavita is drawn to me, or ropes me into her adventures, but I'm somewhat flattered, I have to say. I tend to be the most reserved and cautious person in the room. Maybe she is fooled by my loquacious and busy tendencies. Maybe she heard rumors that I am a better athlete than I am. In any event, I am happy to be along for the ride. I just hope I don't pass out today...
Updated: I did not pass out, but felt like it at several points. I'm going to try it one more time next week to give Bikram a 'fair shake'. Phew! I need some water...
Monday, November 2, 2009
Knock on wood
J is home sick today but is not really sick. She was only sick through yesterday, but the school has the 24-hour-fever-free rule, so... I don't mind. It's nice to force one more nap on her, especially considering she still has little appetite. It's also nice to snuggle with her whenever I want to.
The liquid-y cough she's had for weeks is really starting to make me uneasy, though. Friends recommended a humidifier at night, and allergy medicine. Once she's back to normal, I will start one or both of these approaches. Ain't no way I'm taking her to a doctor's office with The Flu going around. All she had yesterday was a low-grade fever (100-ish) and a case of the droops.
On an unrelated note, I am making serious headway in addressing my OCD Issue. What has it been - 2 months now? Maybe not even that long. The activity has pretty well stopped, but I still think about it. I still feel like doing it. It's hard, and makes me realize how far I had let it go. How encompassing it had become. I am praying for my resolve to continue. I am thinking of treating myself to a facial if I can hold out through the holidays.
Of course, I am waiting to see what JBL has planned, if anything, for my big 4-oh! It's coming ever-closer, but I still feel ok about it. I'll feel even better if I get a big fun surprise or something!
The liquid-y cough she's had for weeks is really starting to make me uneasy, though. Friends recommended a humidifier at night, and allergy medicine. Once she's back to normal, I will start one or both of these approaches. Ain't no way I'm taking her to a doctor's office with The Flu going around. All she had yesterday was a low-grade fever (100-ish) and a case of the droops.
On an unrelated note, I am making serious headway in addressing my OCD Issue. What has it been - 2 months now? Maybe not even that long. The activity has pretty well stopped, but I still think about it. I still feel like doing it. It's hard, and makes me realize how far I had let it go. How encompassing it had become. I am praying for my resolve to continue. I am thinking of treating myself to a facial if I can hold out through the holidays.
Of course, I am waiting to see what JBL has planned, if anything, for my big 4-oh! It's coming ever-closer, but I still feel ok about it. I'll feel even better if I get a big fun surprise or something!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Mulligan
Maybe it was the weather (day 2 of morning rain), the fact that I sobbed my eyes out last night over Poltergeist (no one told me that once you become a mother, movies in which children suffer are gut-wrenchingly painful to watch), or maybe it was my interrupted sleep ("Mommy, I had an accident!" - followed by me getting back in bed and promptly worrying about things for another hour and a half), but I woke up on the Wrong Side of the Bed this morning. Despite trying to be warm and loving, offering J a special treat of leftover pancakes for breakfast, and getting home in time to make muffins before JBL woke up, I managed to put a frown on everyone's face before 9am. Thank you petulance and accusatory tones.
Oh, and I may have offended my neighbor with the flu by offering to host the Halloween party if she's still sick - you know, so we can also invite more people than she had intended to if she were hosting. Niiiiice. Man, I suck sometimes.
But the sun has come out and I am feeling repentant. Well, at least not quite as self-centered. After dropping off treats at school for the Halloween bake sale, I made a point to find J and give her a big hug. I talked nicely to JBL when I got home (hey, I can only do so much). I bought flowers for my neighbor. I am planning one of my family's favorites for dinner - burgers with my Secret Seasoning*.
Still, today feels like a bit of an uphill battle. I am reminded of J - lately when I wake her up, she hides under her blanket and pushes aways any attempt at contact as I gently try to pry her out of bed. I wish I could hide now, too, from myself.
Instead I will look outward for inspiration: I can see the sun dancing in the trees outside my kitchen window, reflecting firey yellows and oranges from the leaves now devoid of their chlorophyll. It glistens on the grass still wet from the earlier rain. It warms the room as it streams in. I am home. I am happy. It's a beautiful day. Life is good.
*It's not so secret - it's Montreal seasoning + Worcestershire sauce gently mixed into the ground beef of your choice. I don't know about you, but I am not sold on this whole 20% fat makes the best burger thing.
Oh, and I may have offended my neighbor with the flu by offering to host the Halloween party if she's still sick - you know, so we can also invite more people than she had intended to if she were hosting. Niiiiice. Man, I suck sometimes.
But the sun has come out and I am feeling repentant. Well, at least not quite as self-centered. After dropping off treats at school for the Halloween bake sale, I made a point to find J and give her a big hug. I talked nicely to JBL when I got home (hey, I can only do so much). I bought flowers for my neighbor. I am planning one of my family's favorites for dinner - burgers with my Secret Seasoning*.
Still, today feels like a bit of an uphill battle. I am reminded of J - lately when I wake her up, she hides under her blanket and pushes aways any attempt at contact as I gently try to pry her out of bed. I wish I could hide now, too, from myself.
Instead I will look outward for inspiration: I can see the sun dancing in the trees outside my kitchen window, reflecting firey yellows and oranges from the leaves now devoid of their chlorophyll. It glistens on the grass still wet from the earlier rain. It warms the room as it streams in. I am home. I am happy. It's a beautiful day. Life is good.
*It's not so secret - it's Montreal seasoning + Worcestershire sauce gently mixed into the ground beef of your choice. I don't know about you, but I am not sold on this whole 20% fat makes the best burger thing.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
No coincidence
This morning it occurred to me that many of this fall's brightest, most beautiful trees already have half their leaves on the ground.
This morning it occurred to me that I will be 53 when J graduates from high school.
This morning it occurred to me that I will be 53 when J graduates from high school.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Perfect day
Awoken at 7:30. Told J to play on the computer so I could sleep a little longer. She tip-toed out of the room and did just as I asked. I didn't fall back to sleep, but that doesn't matter.
J and JBL ran errands, and I completed my long run in peace on the treadmill. When they came home, JBL tells me of their discussion in the drive-through line at McDonald's.
JBL: "If kids get Happy Meals, what do adults get? Angry Meals?"
J: "NO Daddy. They get Disappointed Meals."
After an hour or so of knitting while watching the first football game of the afternoon, J and I walk down the lane at the end of our street, collecting acorns in her purple bucket. We get a tour of the neighbor's tree house. We amble back in time to start dinner. The leaves of fall are bright like fire against the blue blue sky in the late afternoon sun.
Dinner is pasta with homemade marinara - a last taste of the summer sun rescued from the freezer. Sunset is a classic, with clouds turning alternately peach/orange, pink, then purple as the sun sinks behind the trees.
JBL turns up the music, an old song list, while he and J play a beloved pre-bed game as I clean up dinner.
Blessed, blessed, blessed.
J and JBL ran errands, and I completed my long run in peace on the treadmill. When they came home, JBL tells me of their discussion in the drive-through line at McDonald's.
JBL: "If kids get Happy Meals, what do adults get? Angry Meals?"
J: "NO Daddy. They get Disappointed Meals."
After an hour or so of knitting while watching the first football game of the afternoon, J and I walk down the lane at the end of our street, collecting acorns in her purple bucket. We get a tour of the neighbor's tree house. We amble back in time to start dinner. The leaves of fall are bright like fire against the blue blue sky in the late afternoon sun.
Dinner is pasta with homemade marinara - a last taste of the summer sun rescued from the freezer. Sunset is a classic, with clouds turning alternately peach/orange, pink, then purple as the sun sinks behind the trees.
JBL turns up the music, an old song list, while he and J play a beloved pre-bed game as I clean up dinner.
Blessed, blessed, blessed.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Well, which is it?
Last week I took a kickboxing class with a friend down in Columbia. Though there were periods of 'active recovery,' I was really worn out by the end. It was a full hour of high intensity work.
My friend rightly noted that classes can be much more challenging than working out to a video at home, and I agreed. The people around you bring so much energy to the room, and push you to do your best. And after all, not only are you seeing yourself in a big mirror, but lots of other people are looking at you in that mirror (and - gasp! - from behind). How can you slack?
At the end of the class, while we were all still jogging in place to cool down, the teacher - wearing one of those microphones strapped to her ear - yelled above the blaring music, "Did you give 100% today?" A roar came from the packed room, "YEAH!" She then asked, "Can you give me MORE?!" And the reply came again, "YEAH!"
"How can you give me MORE if you've already given 100%? Do the math!" she yelled.
Gotcha! That just made me laugh. I know part of the reason we said yeah was because she had mentally broken us like a drill sergeant. Throughout the class, if we weren't loud enough in counting down the remaining reps with her, or in replying to a call-out for enthusiasm, she would make us do another eight of whatever (kicks, squats, punches). So by the end we would have yelled out anything if she had asked, "Do you want to kill a puppy?!" just to keep her happy.
But our response probably would have been the same even if she hadn't been the alpha dog throughout the session. Wouldn't yours? Would you ever say in a group that you didn't fully participate? Would you ever say you wouldn't give still more? I felt chagrined, though I'm not sure why...
My friend rightly noted that classes can be much more challenging than working out to a video at home, and I agreed. The people around you bring so much energy to the room, and push you to do your best. And after all, not only are you seeing yourself in a big mirror, but lots of other people are looking at you in that mirror (and - gasp! - from behind). How can you slack?
At the end of the class, while we were all still jogging in place to cool down, the teacher - wearing one of those microphones strapped to her ear - yelled above the blaring music, "Did you give 100% today?" A roar came from the packed room, "YEAH!" She then asked, "Can you give me MORE?!" And the reply came again, "YEAH!"
"How can you give me MORE if you've already given 100%? Do the math!" she yelled.
Gotcha! That just made me laugh. I know part of the reason we said yeah was because she had mentally broken us like a drill sergeant. Throughout the class, if we weren't loud enough in counting down the remaining reps with her, or in replying to a call-out for enthusiasm, she would make us do another eight of whatever (kicks, squats, punches). So by the end we would have yelled out anything if she had asked, "Do you want to kill a puppy?!" just to keep her happy.
But our response probably would have been the same even if she hadn't been the alpha dog throughout the session. Wouldn't yours? Would you ever say in a group that you didn't fully participate? Would you ever say you wouldn't give still more? I felt chagrined, though I'm not sure why...
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
Wine notes - October 9th, and then some
We recently had some spicy meals - take-out Thai, followed by chicken stir fry - that called for a wine that could stand tall, and we found one in Tait's Ball Buster 2005. The name and its in-your-face humor give away that it's Australian, and you would therefore probably guess that it is a Shiraz blend. And you'd be right. From the Barossa Valley, the Ball Buster provides a spicy kick to the head for your palette, but thanks to the small amounts of cabernet sauvignon and merlot, it also has a round finish with underlying fruit and floral notes. I'd put it right up there with The Dead Arm for it's ability to match well with powerful and complex flavors, and would even recommend it for heavier/fattier foods like ribs. Wow!
------------
Earlier this week, JBL and I marked our 7-year anniversary. Seven years of wine and roses, of cooking and laughing, of loving kids and sometimes being happily without them, of being best friends. I can't put into words how happy he makes me, or how thankful I am to have him as my partner for life. Eternity is not long enough. Sorry for the sap, but may all who read this have Big Love in their lives....
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Or do you prefer cole slaw?
The girls love it when JBL brings home fried chicken from the local purveyor on a random Friday night. K prefers the drumsticks, just like I did when I was little. JBL and I usually tackle the breasts. J? Well, she will tolerate the chicken. But really what she's in it for is the salad.
What kind of salad, you ask?
Why, "Acrimony Salad," of course.
(You know it's really macaroni salad, right? No, JBL did not coach her in any way on this name.)
What kind of salad, you ask?
Why, "Acrimony Salad," of course.
(You know it's really macaroni salad, right? No, JBL did not coach her in any way on this name.)
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Freedom of mind
After the world's busiest schedule last weekend, I am SO looking forward to piddling around the house this coming weekend. On my to-dos wish list:
- Clean out the garden and beds around the house, bring in the tropicals for the season and clean out the planters
- Deliver overgrown parsley to close friends
- Clean out the house - for example, do I really still need the shoes from my wedding? Does J still need her Easter dress from 4 years ago? etc.
- Clean out the garage - send JBL to the dump with all our cardboard, bring the wood bin inside, put all the outside kid toys back in their bin, etc.
- Go through all the kids' toys and summer clothes for a pre-Christmas purge/donation run
- Begin Fall Cleaning - dust the ceiling fan in the family room and chandelier in the entrance way, clean all the windows inside and out, wipe down the kitchen cabinets and scrub the floor (you know, instead of giving it a once-over with a Swiffer wipe), etc.
- Research some new fall recipes to try (or revisit old ones - we discovered quite a few last year)
- Buy pumpkins and other fall decorations with J
I don't think I'll quite get to everything, do you? But oooh, I can't wait to try! I know. I need to get out more often...
- Clean out the garden and beds around the house, bring in the tropicals for the season and clean out the planters
- Deliver overgrown parsley to close friends
- Clean out the house - for example, do I really still need the shoes from my wedding? Does J still need her Easter dress from 4 years ago? etc.
- Clean out the garage - send JBL to the dump with all our cardboard, bring the wood bin inside, put all the outside kid toys back in their bin, etc.
- Go through all the kids' toys and summer clothes for a pre-Christmas purge/donation run
- Begin Fall Cleaning - dust the ceiling fan in the family room and chandelier in the entrance way, clean all the windows inside and out, wipe down the kitchen cabinets and scrub the floor (you know, instead of giving it a once-over with a Swiffer wipe), etc.
- Research some new fall recipes to try (or revisit old ones - we discovered quite a few last year)
- Buy pumpkins and other fall decorations with J
I don't think I'll quite get to everything, do you? But oooh, I can't wait to try! I know. I need to get out more often...
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Ruminations
What's more surprising: that I'm watching A Few Good Men for the umptiumpth time, or that I am shocked that 1992 was almost twenty years ago?
Monday, September 28, 2009
Notes on 5
Sometimes I find myself thinking J is older than she is. I will chastise her for throwing toys into the middle of the room in the basement rather than putting them in their proper drawers, or for leaving blobs of dried spit mixed with toothpaste in her sink. These are things we have talked about numerous times, but before I assess a proper punishment, I have to remind myself. She is five.
There are delightful things about five as well - she still loves to run around outside after dinner sans shoes. And now, like last night, she also likes to direct the play.
"Daddy, you chase me and Mommy! Mommy! Daddy's car is base! No, now this tree is base! You chase me and Daddy!" (Yes, everything is said in exclamation-point voice.)
She may try to look cool for her friends at school, choosing just the right headband or belt to go with her uniform and ignoring me when I suggest she might want to brush her hair. But she still realizes she has to use the bathroom at the last minute, hopping out of her stool at the kitchen island and streaking down the hall to the powder room, one hand firmly clutching her...uh...peepee area, hair billowing wildly.
She still denies being the least bit tired mere moments before she falls sound asleep at 7:30pm. She still wakes up electrified with energy, bounding out of bed and chattering with excitement about the day to come.
She may try to mimic the older-kid speech, using the word 'like' entirely too often when describing something she and her friends did on the bus. But she still wears a lot of the food she most enjoys like makeup drunkenly applied around her mouth, most notably cream cheese, peanut butter, and any type of batter licked off of beaters.
Books, shows and movies with suspense and/or monsters still frighten her terribly. She won't even let me read a permutation of the three little pigs in one of her favorite books of shorts stories.
She still speaks for her Bunny with a funny voice out of the side of her mouth, "Good morning Mr. Jon. Good morning, Miss Lisa."
Best of all, she still LOVES her Momma, and will take any opportunity to climb, crawl and lay on me whenever we're together. Ah, 5, where is your 'pause button'?
There are delightful things about five as well - she still loves to run around outside after dinner sans shoes. And now, like last night, she also likes to direct the play.
"Daddy, you chase me and Mommy! Mommy! Daddy's car is base! No, now this tree is base! You chase me and Daddy!" (Yes, everything is said in exclamation-point voice.)
She may try to look cool for her friends at school, choosing just the right headband or belt to go with her uniform and ignoring me when I suggest she might want to brush her hair. But she still realizes she has to use the bathroom at the last minute, hopping out of her stool at the kitchen island and streaking down the hall to the powder room, one hand firmly clutching her...uh...peepee area, hair billowing wildly.
She still denies being the least bit tired mere moments before she falls sound asleep at 7:30pm. She still wakes up electrified with energy, bounding out of bed and chattering with excitement about the day to come.
She may try to mimic the older-kid speech, using the word 'like' entirely too often when describing something she and her friends did on the bus. But she still wears a lot of the food she most enjoys like makeup drunkenly applied around her mouth, most notably cream cheese, peanut butter, and any type of batter licked off of beaters.
Books, shows and movies with suspense and/or monsters still frighten her terribly. She won't even let me read a permutation of the three little pigs in one of her favorite books of shorts stories.
She still speaks for her Bunny with a funny voice out of the side of her mouth, "Good morning Mr. Jon. Good morning, Miss Lisa."
Best of all, she still LOVES her Momma, and will take any opportunity to climb, crawl and lay on me whenever we're together. Ah, 5, where is your 'pause button'?
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Sunshine
Busy weekend. Lots of parties and rushing around. Amidst it all, this morning, a brief pause. Sitting over coffee and reading the news, singing to myself as I cruise from one site to another. J pipes up.
"Mommy, you are a good singer!"
I don't know how much that's worth, coming from a 5-year-old, but I'll take it. She's like sunshine on a rainy day....
"Mommy, you are a good singer!"
I don't know how much that's worth, coming from a 5-year-old, but I'll take it. She's like sunshine on a rainy day....
Friday, September 25, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Trifecta
Should I be worried? I was driving down 70 yesterday, riding behind a flat-bed truck for some time. It was carrying large cement containers, and I stared at them idly as I listened to the radio. When I had the opportunity to pass the truck, it occurred to me that the containers were burial vaults. OMG. This may not be inherently creepy, but I don't know. It's just not something you see every day.
After I gathered myself mentally, and switched back into the middle lane, I got behind another truck (it is a big interstate highway, after all). This time it was an innocuous tanker - no hazmat warnings or signs of petroleum products. For all I know, the tank was filled with milk. I popped on my iPod and sang along with the Jayhawks or some other group I have played incessantly for the past 10 years. Then I focused on the words on the tanker's mud flaps. The left flap read, "Leftside" and the right flap read, "Suicide." What?! Yikes.
And then what should come up on my song list? Why yes, Conor Oberst's "I Don't Want to Die in the Hospital." (Help me get my boots on!)
Weird.
After I gathered myself mentally, and switched back into the middle lane, I got behind another truck (it is a big interstate highway, after all). This time it was an innocuous tanker - no hazmat warnings or signs of petroleum products. For all I know, the tank was filled with milk. I popped on my iPod and sang along with the Jayhawks or some other group I have played incessantly for the past 10 years. Then I focused on the words on the tanker's mud flaps. The left flap read, "Leftside" and the right flap read, "Suicide." What?! Yikes.
And then what should come up on my song list? Why yes, Conor Oberst's "I Don't Want to Die in the Hospital." (Help me get my boots on!)
Weird.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Shhh....
Lots of work I could do this morning, but I think I need to make my hands busy to quiet my mind.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Quiet
Summer is shutting down and pulling up stakes. I am sitting at the kitchen island, typing away with the windows open. It is still green and lush outside, but it is foggy and cool this morning. There are no sounds of air conditioning units churning, or lawn mowers buzzing. Just the crickets and an occasional bird.
Rather than the incessant chatter of robins, I now hear the cry of a lone cat bird, the tambourine-like chirp of a cardinal off in the trees, the call of a band of crows (yes, I know it's a 'murder', but to me they always seem like a group of unruly 15-year-old boys, prowling the neighborhood to pick through trash or sit on my roof and peck at each other).
It is quiet, like all the animals are holding their breath and waiting for the season to change. Can they feel us flying through space, tied to the center of the solar system by the invisible string of gravity? Can they feel us, sitting on the top half of the Earth, tilting farther away from the sun?
Rather than the incessant chatter of robins, I now hear the cry of a lone cat bird, the tambourine-like chirp of a cardinal off in the trees, the call of a band of crows (yes, I know it's a 'murder', but to me they always seem like a group of unruly 15-year-old boys, prowling the neighborhood to pick through trash or sit on my roof and peck at each other).
It is quiet, like all the animals are holding their breath and waiting for the season to change. Can they feel us flying through space, tied to the center of the solar system by the invisible string of gravity? Can they feel us, sitting on the top half of the Earth, tilting farther away from the sun?
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Space and time
I don't really know what made this pop into my head just now. We have all thought that, if we knew what we know now when we were 17, 24, or even 30, we might have made different (better) decisions. Maybe we think we would have tried harder, or alternately, we may have been more relaxed.
Have you ever thought back to what you expected you would be like at this age when you were 17? I always assumed I would be settled inside, and that I would have all the hallmarks of a true grown-up. Family. Job. Home. But I was also a bit unsure - what if I got things wrong? What if I didn't take care of myself physically? What if I never succeeded, or even found a decent career?
If the 17-year-old 'you' could see you now, would she be proud of what you have done so far? For me, I think the answer would be a hesitant yes. I have had many a cringe-worthy moment in the past, but I am currently sitting in what anyone would deem a comfortable, albeit marginally successful spot. That unsettled inside feeling is still there, but I am fairly confident that this is normal, and perhaps better defined as ambition. It is the feeling of not really being able to be still, isn't it? To keep moving forward.
And what would the 60-year-old me yet-to-come say? Having gone through everything to date, do I know enough about myself to say she will be proud of the (almost) 40-year-old me? Would she say I should relax more, or try harder?
What will your 60-year-old you say about you now?
Have you ever thought back to what you expected you would be like at this age when you were 17? I always assumed I would be settled inside, and that I would have all the hallmarks of a true grown-up. Family. Job. Home. But I was also a bit unsure - what if I got things wrong? What if I didn't take care of myself physically? What if I never succeeded, or even found a decent career?
If the 17-year-old 'you' could see you now, would she be proud of what you have done so far? For me, I think the answer would be a hesitant yes. I have had many a cringe-worthy moment in the past, but I am currently sitting in what anyone would deem a comfortable, albeit marginally successful spot. That unsettled inside feeling is still there, but I am fairly confident that this is normal, and perhaps better defined as ambition. It is the feeling of not really being able to be still, isn't it? To keep moving forward.
And what would the 60-year-old me yet-to-come say? Having gone through everything to date, do I know enough about myself to say she will be proud of the (almost) 40-year-old me? Would she say I should relax more, or try harder?
What will your 60-year-old you say about you now?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
WHAT?
So now Joe Wilson is a racist? Thanks Maureen Dowd and Jimmy Carter. Until you brought it up, I almost forgot what color my president is (partly). MUST....STOP....FOLLOWING....MSM.....
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
My need to lighten up continues
I just got off the treadmill, where I had been watching an Ace of Cakes episode on the DVR. This particular episode featured, among other things, a cake for a 6-year-old boy. It was a big deal for the members of the AOC crew, since they had made a cake for all of the boy's previous birthdays.
Now I could have let a sentimental smile wash over me, and think how lucky these people are to watch this little boy grow up in a way. They have shared in a very special part of the life with his whole family. They've seen the love and creativity displayed by his parents at each specially-themed party.
Instead I thought, "Are you KIDDING me?" His parents have paid through the nose for a special birthday cake, plus decorated the whole house in a ranch theme, plus brought in a PETTING ZOO?! Yes - a petting zoo with baby animals including pigs, lambs, ducks, rabbits, and I can't remember what else, besides a pony for pony rides. In their back yard.
I couldn't help but think these parents will have a heck of a time upping the ante every year. What is this kid's 16th birthday party going to involve? Hookers and tequila shots for his high school classmates?
As you can imagine, I'm not exactly the 'fun' parent in my household. No wonder I felt a strange kinship for Justin's father when I first read Justin's twitter feed.
Now I could have let a sentimental smile wash over me, and think how lucky these people are to watch this little boy grow up in a way. They have shared in a very special part of the life with his whole family. They've seen the love and creativity displayed by his parents at each specially-themed party.
Instead I thought, "Are you KIDDING me?" His parents have paid through the nose for a special birthday cake, plus decorated the whole house in a ranch theme, plus brought in a PETTING ZOO?! Yes - a petting zoo with baby animals including pigs, lambs, ducks, rabbits, and I can't remember what else, besides a pony for pony rides. In their back yard.
I couldn't help but think these parents will have a heck of a time upping the ante every year. What is this kid's 16th birthday party going to involve? Hookers and tequila shots for his high school classmates?
As you can imagine, I'm not exactly the 'fun' parent in my household. No wonder I felt a strange kinship for Justin's father when I first read Justin's twitter feed.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
YOU tell ME what this means
Three weeks ago, J and I were watching Popeye. I know, it's terribly formulaic, is it not? Kind of like Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. These things never occur to you when you're five. Like J, I would watch anything as long is it was a cartoon. Anyway. In this episode Olive Oil was acting as an entertainer down Cuba way, doing a funny version of Carmen Miranda. I said as much.
J was all, "Who's that?"
"Honey," I replied, "Let's ask our friend Internet."
As expected, YouTube had quite a selection of Carmen Miranda videos, and J was enthralled. It may have been the additional mindless entertainment, or that she was getting to sit on my lap in front of the computer (something that I don't usually allow since I read lots of news with big words and right-wing conservative propaganda that she's too young to appreciate), but then again those fruit hats can be mesmerizing. I was glad to have expanded her cultural horizons.
Fast forward another week. I was visiting a friend in Pennsylvania, and we were out for dinner with a mess of her friends. Kim and I were knee-deep in serious conversations and pomegranate martinis when I heard someone ask, "Who is that singer from the 40's that always wore the fruit on her hat?" My head tilted to the side like a dog hearing a high-pitched noise, considering the unusual coincidence. "Carmen Miranda!" I piped up, delighted with my own knowledge. Hey, some people are book smart, while others are common sense smart. I am neither, but I can remember lots of really unimportant things. Which is nice.
Now go another week forward. J and I are watching Cash Cab, and a $50 question came up for a lucky contestant. "Name the woman who was the highest paid entertainer in 1945 [?], famous for wearing fruit on her head." I looked at J in amazement. What in the name of Sam Hill....? "Carmen Miranda!" I shouted at Ben. Then I turned to J and asked, "Can you believe that?" She had forgotten the name and relation to fruit, and really couldn't care less. I felt deflated but still dumbstruck. Seriously - what are the chances that this name would come up so frequently in such a short period of time? Freaky.
Then last weekend JBL and I are getting ready to watch football, and I note Chiquita Banana has a new ad campaign. Now, think about this. When is the last time you saw a Chiguita Banana commercial? For me, I can honestly say it has been decades. But, of course you know the logo for this brand of bananas. IT'S CARMEN EFFING MIRANDA. My head almost fell off at that point. I told JBL of my string of coincidental run-ins with her persona, and he just chuckled.
This really has to have some Greater Meaning, but for the life of me, I cannot think of one. Any ideas would be appreciated. I'm going to eat a banana...
J was all, "Who's that?"
"Honey," I replied, "Let's ask our friend Internet."
As expected, YouTube had quite a selection of Carmen Miranda videos, and J was enthralled. It may have been the additional mindless entertainment, or that she was getting to sit on my lap in front of the computer (something that I don't usually allow since I read lots of news with big words and right-wing conservative propaganda that she's too young to appreciate), but then again those fruit hats can be mesmerizing. I was glad to have expanded her cultural horizons.
Fast forward another week. I was visiting a friend in Pennsylvania, and we were out for dinner with a mess of her friends. Kim and I were knee-deep in serious conversations and pomegranate martinis when I heard someone ask, "Who is that singer from the 40's that always wore the fruit on her hat?" My head tilted to the side like a dog hearing a high-pitched noise, considering the unusual coincidence. "Carmen Miranda!" I piped up, delighted with my own knowledge. Hey, some people are book smart, while others are common sense smart. I am neither, but I can remember lots of really unimportant things. Which is nice.
Now go another week forward. J and I are watching Cash Cab, and a $50 question came up for a lucky contestant. "Name the woman who was the highest paid entertainer in 1945 [?], famous for wearing fruit on her head." I looked at J in amazement. What in the name of Sam Hill....? "Carmen Miranda!" I shouted at Ben. Then I turned to J and asked, "Can you believe that?" She had forgotten the name and relation to fruit, and really couldn't care less. I felt deflated but still dumbstruck. Seriously - what are the chances that this name would come up so frequently in such a short period of time? Freaky.
Then last weekend JBL and I are getting ready to watch football, and I note Chiquita Banana has a new ad campaign. Now, think about this. When is the last time you saw a Chiguita Banana commercial? For me, I can honestly say it has been decades. But, of course you know the logo for this brand of bananas. IT'S CARMEN EFFING MIRANDA. My head almost fell off at that point. I told JBL of my string of coincidental run-ins with her persona, and he just chuckled.
This really has to have some Greater Meaning, but for the life of me, I cannot think of one. Any ideas would be appreciated. I'm going to eat a banana...
Also recently
[Out of the backseat, after a pause in unrelated conversation:] "I don't like cheesecake. Not at all."
[When asked if she wants to make a wish, blowing on a dandelion:] "But why, when they don't always come true?"
Yes, J is grappling with a new, bigger and more complex world. The jury is still out on how school is affecting her. She comes home daily on an adrenaline-like high, almost frenetic. She appears to be over the moon about her classmates, the school itself, and MY GOD, the snacks! Multiple snacks a day! But when asked about what she actually does (besides gym, recess, and eating), I get the typical 5-year-old response. "I don't remember."
Is she too tired to think about it? Does she honestly forget? Does she want to keep it from me, since it's something she's doing out of my watchful control?! I imagine that we'll need another month or so to be sure. As for now, I have glimpsed only snippets of her day, which for me is a shocking change. (Did I mention we still have the little camera in her room so that, at least when it's light enough, I can watch her sleep? I guess that sounds creepier than it is.) I'll hear a song they learned in class as she is showering. K will ask how she liked the hay ride.
"Hay ride?" I inquire.
"Yes, we picked and cleaned the pumpkins, and the little kids come out to the plot and select pumpkins to take back to their classroom." Part of the school property has a giant vegetable garden where kids and parents alike can participate in the growing of food for use in the school cafeteria and for charities. Pretty cool. Anyway, I swung my head around and stared wide-eyed at J. "You had a hay ride and picked pumpkins?!" I daresay I was a bit wounded.
"Yeah!" J replied, gazing distractedly out the window as if she had already told us the story numerous times.
Clearly I am still adjusting to her being gone, but it didn't occur to me that I would have trouble being ignorant of what she does all day. I emailed one of her teachers, asking at least for a general curriculum overview. So far I've heard bubkis. Humph.
As for now - ah, Saturday - she is sitting next to me at her little work desk in the kitchen, drawing up a storm. It's good to have her home.
[When asked if she wants to make a wish, blowing on a dandelion:] "But why, when they don't always come true?"
Yes, J is grappling with a new, bigger and more complex world. The jury is still out on how school is affecting her. She comes home daily on an adrenaline-like high, almost frenetic. She appears to be over the moon about her classmates, the school itself, and MY GOD, the snacks! Multiple snacks a day! But when asked about what she actually does (besides gym, recess, and eating), I get the typical 5-year-old response. "I don't remember."
Is she too tired to think about it? Does she honestly forget? Does she want to keep it from me, since it's something she's doing out of my watchful control?! I imagine that we'll need another month or so to be sure. As for now, I have glimpsed only snippets of her day, which for me is a shocking change. (Did I mention we still have the little camera in her room so that, at least when it's light enough, I can watch her sleep? I guess that sounds creepier than it is.) I'll hear a song they learned in class as she is showering. K will ask how she liked the hay ride.
"Hay ride?" I inquire.
"Yes, we picked and cleaned the pumpkins, and the little kids come out to the plot and select pumpkins to take back to their classroom." Part of the school property has a giant vegetable garden where kids and parents alike can participate in the growing of food for use in the school cafeteria and for charities. Pretty cool. Anyway, I swung my head around and stared wide-eyed at J. "You had a hay ride and picked pumpkins?!" I daresay I was a bit wounded.
"Yeah!" J replied, gazing distractedly out the window as if she had already told us the story numerous times.
Clearly I am still adjusting to her being gone, but it didn't occur to me that I would have trouble being ignorant of what she does all day. I emailed one of her teachers, asking at least for a general curriculum overview. So far I've heard bubkis. Humph.
As for now - ah, Saturday - she is sitting next to me at her little work desk in the kitchen, drawing up a storm. It's good to have her home.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Mmm-mm good
Kissing J goodnight.
"I think you're wonderful," I say.
"I think you're mommy-licious!" she replies.
Does it get better than that?
"I think you're wonderful," I say.
"I think you're mommy-licious!" she replies.
Does it get better than that?
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Now what?
Tuesday. Quiet house. Planning for J's daily departure for kindergarten took a lot of time and emotional energy, and the void of her absence has settled in. Time to stop pining and get my act together. So...yeah, what now?
Possibilities include:
- Finding a way to quickly increase my workload in my part-time job. Not really under my control.
- Begin volunteering, either locally or at J's school.
- Tackling a home project.
* Framing photos
* Painting the white-walled rooms
* Finding a rug to replace the one in the dining room
-> These all involve spending money, which of course makes me anxious.
- Finding a new, long race to train for. I'm already signed up for an 8K in November, but why not look for a spring half-marathon? I don't know if I'm ambitious enough to sign up again for the local metric marathon in December. Maybe that's just because I'm tired and recovering from yesterday's Labor Day cookout.
I am feeling guilty for being at home and not quickly making more money, though I am helping JBL with a new business idea. How do women deal with this feeling? Ugh. One thing is certain, though - I still love being at home, and am grateful every day for the opportunities available to me. I am blessed beyond belief...
Possibilities include:
- Finding a way to quickly increase my workload in my part-time job. Not really under my control.
- Begin volunteering, either locally or at J's school.
- Tackling a home project.
* Framing photos
* Painting the white-walled rooms
* Finding a rug to replace the one in the dining room
-> These all involve spending money, which of course makes me anxious.
- Finding a new, long race to train for. I'm already signed up for an 8K in November, but why not look for a spring half-marathon? I don't know if I'm ambitious enough to sign up again for the local metric marathon in December. Maybe that's just because I'm tired and recovering from yesterday's Labor Day cookout.
I am feeling guilty for being at home and not quickly making more money, though I am helping JBL with a new business idea. How do women deal with this feeling? Ugh. One thing is certain, though - I still love being at home, and am grateful every day for the opportunities available to me. I am blessed beyond belief...
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Wine Notes - September 5
We have more than steak for dinner - honest. But with school starting this week, plus some late nights working for JBL, and dinners with friends, last night was the first sit-down dinner without the girls, which is typically when we'll do something with nicer wines.
Why steak again? Well, Costco has started carrying beef rated 'prime', typically only available to restaurants but now here for us thanks to the effects of a lagging economy on steak houses, and we picked some up last week. After all, in addition to being an oenophile, JBL loves quality food. Why not have ribs shipped direct from Memphis for the summer party? Why not regularly order bagels from Manhattan when our options around here are so pitiful? Of course we'll drive 45 minutes for the best smoked salmon for our holiday open house. Wouldn't you?!
So there we were, hunkered over the coffee table, finally watching show 1 of Mad Men's third season, eating the best damn steak I've had outside of Ruth's Chris. We went lighter on the seasoning than with last week's filets, and they were just perfect. What else do you need besides bread with good olive oil and salad to accompany it?
But enough about the food. JBL came up with a 1998 Viader - a blend of cabernet sauvignon and cabernet franc - from the St. Helena region in Napa Valley. Another block buster, and more mature than our previous splurge. Thanks to the cab franc, it was a little softer on the tannins, but still round, luscious and weighty.
I don't really have much more to say than about the whole meal than, wow - you really out to treat yourself to this. Hopefully you will.
Why steak again? Well, Costco has started carrying beef rated 'prime', typically only available to restaurants but now here for us thanks to the effects of a lagging economy on steak houses, and we picked some up last week. After all, in addition to being an oenophile, JBL loves quality food. Why not have ribs shipped direct from Memphis for the summer party? Why not regularly order bagels from Manhattan when our options around here are so pitiful? Of course we'll drive 45 minutes for the best smoked salmon for our holiday open house. Wouldn't you?!
So there we were, hunkered over the coffee table, finally watching show 1 of Mad Men's third season, eating the best damn steak I've had outside of Ruth's Chris. We went lighter on the seasoning than with last week's filets, and they were just perfect. What else do you need besides bread with good olive oil and salad to accompany it?
But enough about the food. JBL came up with a 1998 Viader - a blend of cabernet sauvignon and cabernet franc - from the St. Helena region in Napa Valley. Another block buster, and more mature than our previous splurge. Thanks to the cab franc, it was a little softer on the tannins, but still round, luscious and weighty.
I don't really have much more to say than about the whole meal than, wow - you really out to treat yourself to this. Hopefully you will.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Alone
It just occurred to me that it is noon, and I have finished lunch and my 5 mile run for the day. That means I have exactly 3.5 hours to do whatever I want uninterrupted. I will choose work, but it's thrilling to know I could do it naked if I wanted to. Not that I would, but, you know. I could.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Milestones
How do I describe yesterday - J's first day of kindergarten? It began with the anticipated early wake-up, followed by an excited and barely-hungry-because-of-nerves breakfast time. Suddenly we were at the bus stop, and then suddenly the bus pulled away and I found myself at home with watery eyes posting photos on Facebook.
The house was not entirely quiet - JBL chose to work from home. I think I might have liked it better had I been totally alone, with space to be vulnerable and not feel like I had to have any particular expression on my face. Does that make sense?
The day went by quickly, with a surprising amount of work, coupled with the usual exercise, cooking and laundry. Finally it was time to go back to the bus stop. J and K tumble off in a flurry of chatter and excitement at seeing Daddy again. Riding home, my inquiries about the day were rebuffed as J wondered incessantly who in the neighborhood would be available to play.
There was garden time, TV time, dinner help, and play with neighbors before bed. J's ebullience continued to bubble over, causing her to flop all over the bed as I attempted to read to her. "I can't WAIT to go back tomorrow!" she sang.
Later in my own bed, I marveled at how incredibly blessed I am. How could I have possibly hoped for a better day? My husband was there to support me and share in the celebration, my daughter - my littlest rabbit - was all smiles, even when she wasn't feeling brave, and she returned to me as joyous as she has ever been, delighted to finally have all the stimulation she so richly deserves. (Not to leave her out - K had a great day as well, making friends with several of the new children at the school, loving her 'advisory' teacher (akin to a homeroom teacher), and enjoying being back with her best friends. But entering 6th grade is a whole different thing from entering kindergarten. I have my own separate feelings about this continued progression into womanhood, and will write more on it soon.)
But how do I describe how it all felt? There isn't a mother out there who wouldn't cite the same emotions: pride, grief, trepidation, and pride again. These small words, however, barely scratch the surface of the depths of these feelings. And they are different for different people. Some may feel utterly bereft if motherhood is their life's ambition. Some may feel guilty for taking this new freedom as an opportunity to pursue personal goals. Most will have trouble explaining the biologically-deep feeling of loss, or the sense that time is washing over us, past us.
I suppose my feelings run the gamut. It is not as simple as being glad for the ability to focus on tasks for more than 15 minutes at a time. It is not as plain as the need to hear J's voice, feel her soft skin, to be in her sparkling presence. It is not as easy as feeling at a loss after bearing full responsibility for her life until now, only to have her disappear for what seems like years at a time. It is all these things and more. I look forward, and my life is open and changing. My identity and goals are morphing. My love for J seems to spike in intensity as she continues to gradually step away from me.
I am still left with the ability to control her destiny for now - to give her everything possible, and love her thoroughly through it all. That is all I can ask for, isn't it? And so there I was last night, holding her while standing in the kitchen. Late afternoon shadows and a warm breeze filtered lazily through the open windows. The sound of wind chimes offered a gentle lullaby.
"Tell me more about your day," I begged.
"I already TOLD you!" she laughed. "But what I really need to do is THIS!" She threw her arms open wide and tipped back precariously from my body, then lunged forward, wrapped herself entirely around me and kissed my cheek wildly. Big, wet kisses. Then suddenly she was down and scampering upstairs to play, singing to herself. And my arms were empty.
The house was not entirely quiet - JBL chose to work from home. I think I might have liked it better had I been totally alone, with space to be vulnerable and not feel like I had to have any particular expression on my face. Does that make sense?
The day went by quickly, with a surprising amount of work, coupled with the usual exercise, cooking and laundry. Finally it was time to go back to the bus stop. J and K tumble off in a flurry of chatter and excitement at seeing Daddy again. Riding home, my inquiries about the day were rebuffed as J wondered incessantly who in the neighborhood would be available to play.
There was garden time, TV time, dinner help, and play with neighbors before bed. J's ebullience continued to bubble over, causing her to flop all over the bed as I attempted to read to her. "I can't WAIT to go back tomorrow!" she sang.
Later in my own bed, I marveled at how incredibly blessed I am. How could I have possibly hoped for a better day? My husband was there to support me and share in the celebration, my daughter - my littlest rabbit - was all smiles, even when she wasn't feeling brave, and she returned to me as joyous as she has ever been, delighted to finally have all the stimulation she so richly deserves. (Not to leave her out - K had a great day as well, making friends with several of the new children at the school, loving her 'advisory' teacher (akin to a homeroom teacher), and enjoying being back with her best friends. But entering 6th grade is a whole different thing from entering kindergarten. I have my own separate feelings about this continued progression into womanhood, and will write more on it soon.)
But how do I describe how it all felt? There isn't a mother out there who wouldn't cite the same emotions: pride, grief, trepidation, and pride again. These small words, however, barely scratch the surface of the depths of these feelings. And they are different for different people. Some may feel utterly bereft if motherhood is their life's ambition. Some may feel guilty for taking this new freedom as an opportunity to pursue personal goals. Most will have trouble explaining the biologically-deep feeling of loss, or the sense that time is washing over us, past us.
I suppose my feelings run the gamut. It is not as simple as being glad for the ability to focus on tasks for more than 15 minutes at a time. It is not as plain as the need to hear J's voice, feel her soft skin, to be in her sparkling presence. It is not as easy as feeling at a loss after bearing full responsibility for her life until now, only to have her disappear for what seems like years at a time. It is all these things and more. I look forward, and my life is open and changing. My identity and goals are morphing. My love for J seems to spike in intensity as she continues to gradually step away from me.
I am still left with the ability to control her destiny for now - to give her everything possible, and love her thoroughly through it all. That is all I can ask for, isn't it? And so there I was last night, holding her while standing in the kitchen. Late afternoon shadows and a warm breeze filtered lazily through the open windows. The sound of wind chimes offered a gentle lullaby.
"Tell me more about your day," I begged.
"I already TOLD you!" she laughed. "But what I really need to do is THIS!" She threw her arms open wide and tipped back precariously from my body, then lunged forward, wrapped herself entirely around me and kissed my cheek wildly. Big, wet kisses. Then suddenly she was down and scampering upstairs to play, singing to herself. And my arms were empty.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
From the mind of J
Driving home last night, we pass a Dodge Stealth.
"Mommy, that's an unusual car."
"Why, yes. Yes it is."
"I wonder if there's an unusual person inside."
Indeed.
"Mommy, that's an unusual car."
"Why, yes. Yes it is."
"I wonder if there's an unusual person inside."
Indeed.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Wine Notes - August 31
Lots of things make me happy - my family, running, cooking, business analysis (yes, I am a dweeb) for starters. But two things that make me inordinately happy are eating and, well, drinking. How can I make that sound better? Enjoying festive beverages. Enjoying adult beverages. Hmm...guess I'll have to work on that.
In the meantime, I thought I'd write about our meal last night, and the wine that went with it. After a whirlwind sort of weekend ending with a lovely glass of chardonnay with Brian and Linda while the kids swam, I decided I had no idea what to do for dinner. The obvious answer for a (late) summer evening*? Throw some steaks on the grill. More specifically, have JBL cook while I set the table and then sit on my ass watching preseason football.
Now as a preface to all this libation talk, I have to say I am extremely fortunate to be married to a man who not only loves wine, but loves to buy it in mass quantities. I know not everyone has this luxury, and am not tooting our collective horns when I talk about what we are able to enjoy. Know my sharing of this stuff comes from a place of simple happiness, rather than snootiness. And heck, there are probably people out there who would read this and think, is that the best you poor palettes can experience? Rural mid-Maryland rubes.
Onwards. The meal was nothing elaborate - just filet mignon (thank you Costco) seasoned liberally with dried thyme and oregano, garlic and onion, and cumin and cayenne, along with grilled corn and some good Italian bread (thank you Concetta's). No, nothing green. We weren't in the mood.
JBL selected Whitehall Lane's 2003 Cabernet Sauvignon. This is a solid producer of big reds (as well as whites) in Napa Valley, and this particular bottle was a perfect example of what you'd expect from them. The cab was big and luscious though it still tasted 'tight' (my description of young reds that need more aging before they can really open up and offer all their potential flavors). I imagine it would have done better had it been allowed to breathe for a longer period - we had only uncorked it about 30 minutes before the meal.
Per our friend Sarah, it fit into a common category for us - being 'toasty-oaky-cherry-berry', and it's acid and subtle spice cut nicely through the buttery flavors in the meat. It also stood up well to the spice on the steaks, with round notes of vanilla. Overall, a yummy powerhouse red I would highly recommend.
*Last night was that first evening when, as the sun was setting, we all looked at each other and noted a light jacket would be appreciated. It will be fall before we know it! Boo!
In the meantime, I thought I'd write about our meal last night, and the wine that went with it. After a whirlwind sort of weekend ending with a lovely glass of chardonnay with Brian and Linda while the kids swam, I decided I had no idea what to do for dinner. The obvious answer for a (late) summer evening*? Throw some steaks on the grill. More specifically, have JBL cook while I set the table and then sit on my ass watching preseason football.
Now as a preface to all this libation talk, I have to say I am extremely fortunate to be married to a man who not only loves wine, but loves to buy it in mass quantities. I know not everyone has this luxury, and am not tooting our collective horns when I talk about what we are able to enjoy. Know my sharing of this stuff comes from a place of simple happiness, rather than snootiness. And heck, there are probably people out there who would read this and think, is that the best you poor palettes can experience? Rural mid-Maryland rubes.
Onwards. The meal was nothing elaborate - just filet mignon (thank you Costco) seasoned liberally with dried thyme and oregano, garlic and onion, and cumin and cayenne, along with grilled corn and some good Italian bread (thank you Concetta's). No, nothing green. We weren't in the mood.
JBL selected Whitehall Lane's 2003 Cabernet Sauvignon. This is a solid producer of big reds (as well as whites) in Napa Valley, and this particular bottle was a perfect example of what you'd expect from them. The cab was big and luscious though it still tasted 'tight' (my description of young reds that need more aging before they can really open up and offer all their potential flavors). I imagine it would have done better had it been allowed to breathe for a longer period - we had only uncorked it about 30 minutes before the meal.
Per our friend Sarah, it fit into a common category for us - being 'toasty-oaky-cherry-berry', and it's acid and subtle spice cut nicely through the buttery flavors in the meat. It also stood up well to the spice on the steaks, with round notes of vanilla. Overall, a yummy powerhouse red I would highly recommend.
*Last night was that first evening when, as the sun was setting, we all looked at each other and noted a light jacket would be appreciated. It will be fall before we know it! Boo!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The surfer
Last week we were in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. This is by far one of my favorite places to vacation, what with its sparsely populated beaches, its bevvy of nice restaurants, shops and tourist attractions, and its bounty of natural beauty. I love the big houses we rent with the in-laws. I love that we always stay right on the beach, often leaving our gear on the sand all day as we come and go from the house. I love the flat running routes all along the beaches and paths that parallel 12 North. I love how my family settles into the laid-back lifestyle as easily as you slip into your favorite pajamas. The whole thing is effortless and comforting.
The week started out with calm seas nearly as warm as bath water. K was able to regain her mastery of the ocean's challenges - monitoring the current just offshore, timing her handling of the waves, and enjoying boogie-boarding. J was able to try out her new swimming skills (with the life vest on, of course), joining her dad and big sister in the gently undulating waters. I took my favorite perch, now under the umbrella reading, now snapping photos of the girls burying themselves in the sand, plucking shells along the shoreline, taunting the waves flirting subtly with their feet.
As the week progressed and hurricane Bill made his way up the corridor between Bermuda and the east coast, the surf became rougher, the water colder, the air damper. By Friday we could no longer venture beyond the breakers, and were relegated to the foam and froth that now fairly roared halfway up to the dunes. It was no hardship to be sure. There were still long afternoons contemplating the plover and sanderling, the cirrus and the cumulus.
On Saturday, after the great mists had lifted and the breakers became once more distinct, I began to look for surfers. JBL mentioned overhearing them at Wee Winks before the storm brushed by us, discussing the possibilities for good waves. Now, looking out from our deck at the 10-12 foot swells bending into perfect curls that spilled cleanly south-to-north along the beach, I scanned the water for them. What surfer could resist these exaggerated waves, powerful and unyielding?
There. I saw one man sitting, stradling his board a good distance out from the shore. Though his board faced south, he looked constantly, continuously over his left shoulder, out to sea. I imagined he was waiting for the clearly-defined swell in the distance that promised to become the wave he could take safely for a decent run. When wave after wave passed him by, I began to wonder what he was really looking for on the horizon. Was he afraid? Or did he think each wave that passed was too small to ride? Heck, maybe he was just out on the water looking to avoid his family and be alone for awhile.
But as I looked out over him from my perch high on the deck, well above dune level, I wondered why he couldn't see what was coming more clearly. There were at least three times I wanted to jump up and down yelling, "Here comes one! Turn your board and start paddling!!" It was so clear to me - why couldn't he see the swells forming each time he crested waves passing him by?
He never did get a ride that day - at least not that I saw. I lost interest after the next ten minutes, and went back inside, likely seeking out the next pina colada. The rest of the trip passed in a blur of sunscreen, swimming, and lovely meals largely comprised of shrimp. (Who knows why. I was in a shrimp place I guess. Insert Bubba Gump reference here.)
As the week waned, JBL and I went out on our 'date night' while the in-laws enjoyed some girlie time. At some point in the evening, after several glasses of champagne, I expressed my dread of J's upcoming indoctrination into kindergarten.
"I just feel like I'm turning her over to someone else," I wailed. JBL assured me that J would fare just fine, that her time with me these past 5 years has been the best thing we could have done for her, and that J is in fact Ready. I lamented that I wished someone would just tell me everything would be O.K. That SHE will be O.K. Visions of my perfect neighbor who homeschools passed before my eyes. Images of J weeping sadly after 5 hours away from home in some dank school bathroom tormented me. JBL hugged me and assured me I was being silly, which is in all likelihood true.
Back home after the vacation, I tried to reorient the family to our normal routines. However, one of us wanted to test her boundaries, choosing rather to question the status quo. Imagine that. But after a summer of managing her bike riding while reducing the need for training wheels, watching swim lessons where she conquered every skill except getting her face wet, and introducing The Shower to replace The Bath (which went well except for the aforementioned fear of getting the face wet), I was in no mood when J insisted she brush her own teeth before bed.
Previously I had allowed her to brush her teeth unsupervised in the morning, while reserving the before-bed session for me so that I could give her a more thorough cleaning. She had always liked this arrangement, cringing when I threatened to leave her to her own devices morning and night when she turns six. Then, suddenly, she insisted on doing both sessions herself. What gives?
Tonight at bedtime, after reading, I sing to her the same songs we have sung every night for the past five years. In the middle of 'You Are My Sunshine,' she interrupts me.
"Eleven plus eleven is twenty-two."
"That's right. Did someone tell you that?"
"No. I just thought of it. It's two more than ten plus ten."
And I want to cry. I am like the surfer looking out on towards the horizon, not seeing the perfect waves coming to me, passing me by. I have missed all the signs I was looking for, until now, telling me that J is more than ready for kindergarten. I am the one who is not ready. My lack of perspective kept me from seeing what was coming. She is leaving me, and it will be O.K. Both of us will be O.K. This is what I wanted to know, and all along it was right in front of me. It is J. Thank you God for this insight, and for the pleasure of having taken this ride for the first part of her life. Thank you.
The week started out with calm seas nearly as warm as bath water. K was able to regain her mastery of the ocean's challenges - monitoring the current just offshore, timing her handling of the waves, and enjoying boogie-boarding. J was able to try out her new swimming skills (with the life vest on, of course), joining her dad and big sister in the gently undulating waters. I took my favorite perch, now under the umbrella reading, now snapping photos of the girls burying themselves in the sand, plucking shells along the shoreline, taunting the waves flirting subtly with their feet.
As the week progressed and hurricane Bill made his way up the corridor between Bermuda and the east coast, the surf became rougher, the water colder, the air damper. By Friday we could no longer venture beyond the breakers, and were relegated to the foam and froth that now fairly roared halfway up to the dunes. It was no hardship to be sure. There were still long afternoons contemplating the plover and sanderling, the cirrus and the cumulus.
On Saturday, after the great mists had lifted and the breakers became once more distinct, I began to look for surfers. JBL mentioned overhearing them at Wee Winks before the storm brushed by us, discussing the possibilities for good waves. Now, looking out from our deck at the 10-12 foot swells bending into perfect curls that spilled cleanly south-to-north along the beach, I scanned the water for them. What surfer could resist these exaggerated waves, powerful and unyielding?
There. I saw one man sitting, stradling his board a good distance out from the shore. Though his board faced south, he looked constantly, continuously over his left shoulder, out to sea. I imagined he was waiting for the clearly-defined swell in the distance that promised to become the wave he could take safely for a decent run. When wave after wave passed him by, I began to wonder what he was really looking for on the horizon. Was he afraid? Or did he think each wave that passed was too small to ride? Heck, maybe he was just out on the water looking to avoid his family and be alone for awhile.
But as I looked out over him from my perch high on the deck, well above dune level, I wondered why he couldn't see what was coming more clearly. There were at least three times I wanted to jump up and down yelling, "Here comes one! Turn your board and start paddling!!" It was so clear to me - why couldn't he see the swells forming each time he crested waves passing him by?
He never did get a ride that day - at least not that I saw. I lost interest after the next ten minutes, and went back inside, likely seeking out the next pina colada. The rest of the trip passed in a blur of sunscreen, swimming, and lovely meals largely comprised of shrimp. (Who knows why. I was in a shrimp place I guess. Insert Bubba Gump reference here.)
As the week waned, JBL and I went out on our 'date night' while the in-laws enjoyed some girlie time. At some point in the evening, after several glasses of champagne, I expressed my dread of J's upcoming indoctrination into kindergarten.
"I just feel like I'm turning her over to someone else," I wailed. JBL assured me that J would fare just fine, that her time with me these past 5 years has been the best thing we could have done for her, and that J is in fact Ready. I lamented that I wished someone would just tell me everything would be O.K. That SHE will be O.K. Visions of my perfect neighbor who homeschools passed before my eyes. Images of J weeping sadly after 5 hours away from home in some dank school bathroom tormented me. JBL hugged me and assured me I was being silly, which is in all likelihood true.
Back home after the vacation, I tried to reorient the family to our normal routines. However, one of us wanted to test her boundaries, choosing rather to question the status quo. Imagine that. But after a summer of managing her bike riding while reducing the need for training wheels, watching swim lessons where she conquered every skill except getting her face wet, and introducing The Shower to replace The Bath (which went well except for the aforementioned fear of getting the face wet), I was in no mood when J insisted she brush her own teeth before bed.
Previously I had allowed her to brush her teeth unsupervised in the morning, while reserving the before-bed session for me so that I could give her a more thorough cleaning. She had always liked this arrangement, cringing when I threatened to leave her to her own devices morning and night when she turns six. Then, suddenly, she insisted on doing both sessions herself. What gives?
Tonight at bedtime, after reading, I sing to her the same songs we have sung every night for the past five years. In the middle of 'You Are My Sunshine,' she interrupts me.
"Eleven plus eleven is twenty-two."
"That's right. Did someone tell you that?"
"No. I just thought of it. It's two more than ten plus ten."
And I want to cry. I am like the surfer looking out on towards the horizon, not seeing the perfect waves coming to me, passing me by. I have missed all the signs I was looking for, until now, telling me that J is more than ready for kindergarten. I am the one who is not ready. My lack of perspective kept me from seeing what was coming. She is leaving me, and it will be O.K. Both of us will be O.K. This is what I wanted to know, and all along it was right in front of me. It is J. Thank you God for this insight, and for the pleasure of having taken this ride for the first part of her life. Thank you.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Motivation, part 2
I was just about to post something about feeling sore from yesterday's kickboxing and trying to avoid my speed work today, but then I read VG's post. Man, that girl (actually, a stay-at-home mother of 2) puts me to shame.
So later today I will hit the treadmill for the usual torture of splits, and will just shut the h-e-double-hockey-sticks up about it already.
So later today I will hit the treadmill for the usual torture of splits, and will just shut the h-e-double-hockey-sticks up about it already.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Late summer
You know it when:
- There are more bugs chirping in the morning than birds
- The kids are less interested in the sprinkler and popsicles
- You're less interested in keeping the annuals well-watered
- You notice the sun lower in the sky as you're cleaning up dinner
- The petunias look rangey
- You are no longer shocked that there are back-to-school items at Target
- You start to panic when you see the back-to-school items at Target
- You are excited at that one day when it's cool enough to open the windows in the morning
- You have forgotten entirely what it feels like to walk outside and feel chilly
Here's to the close of a beautiful season...may it hold on for at least another month...
- There are more bugs chirping in the morning than birds
- The kids are less interested in the sprinkler and popsicles
- You're less interested in keeping the annuals well-watered
- You notice the sun lower in the sky as you're cleaning up dinner
- The petunias look rangey
- You are no longer shocked that there are back-to-school items at Target
- You start to panic when you see the back-to-school items at Target
- You are excited at that one day when it's cool enough to open the windows in the morning
- You have forgotten entirely what it feels like to walk outside and feel chilly
Here's to the close of a beautiful season...may it hold on for at least another month...
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Oh, no he di-in'
Cleaning up quickly before my friends come in from out of town. Early this morning, I eyed-up That Section of counter over by the pantry where clutter goes to...well, not die, but become invisible. We all have that section of counter, right? There were pictures the kids had drawn, destined for their memory boxes in Jon's basement closet. There were little sample paint cans for colors we're considering for the bedroom. There was J's little pink radio.
Several times this morning, as I flew by carrying cleaning products or running the vacuum, I would notice said things, and yell out to JBL, 'Can you help take this stuff downstairs?' He was doing other prep things, like putting the patio cushions out, but also non-prep things like checking email. Finally after 2 hours I brought the clutter up again, and he stopped me short.
"You have already asked about that."
"I know," I replied in a joking tone, "and I can't help but feel as though I am being ignored."
"Well, none of that stuff is mine!"
He says this to me with a straight face. He says it after I have cleaned three bathrooms (none of them mine) and vacuumed 5 rugs plus the upstairs bedrooms (only one of which is mine) and the hallway. He says it as I am carrying THREE laundry baskets (stacked on top of each other) with clean and folded clothes up the stairs.
I chose to laugh rather than punch him in the face. Good for me.
Several times this morning, as I flew by carrying cleaning products or running the vacuum, I would notice said things, and yell out to JBL, 'Can you help take this stuff downstairs?' He was doing other prep things, like putting the patio cushions out, but also non-prep things like checking email. Finally after 2 hours I brought the clutter up again, and he stopped me short.
"You have already asked about that."
"I know," I replied in a joking tone, "and I can't help but feel as though I am being ignored."
"Well, none of that stuff is mine!"
He says this to me with a straight face. He says it after I have cleaned three bathrooms (none of them mine) and vacuumed 5 rugs plus the upstairs bedrooms (only one of which is mine) and the hallway. He says it as I am carrying THREE laundry baskets (stacked on top of each other) with clean and folded clothes up the stairs.
I chose to laugh rather than punch him in the face. Good for me.
Friday, August 7, 2009
And it all matches
J is enjoying one of our school year purchases. Who knew the rain boots would be such a hit?
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Cha-ching
I am now finished 90% of my school shopping for J. What a process! I was with a friend when I bought her school-monogrammed shirts. "Cha-ching," she said, "And the first of many cha-chings to come." School store - cha-ching! Land's End - cha-ching! Target - cha-ching! Last on the list is The Blazer, to be worn on formal dress days only. I saw them online for $80. For a 5-year-old. EIGHT - ZERO. I think my face is going to fall off with the money stress. There are cheaper versions around...I am sure...aren't there...?!
It will be nice for J avoid the fashion worries that often cripple young ladies, what with the uniforms and all. But I do so miss the days when I could stock her fall wardrobe for under $100 (including shoes, winter coat/snow pants and boots) at Target and Wal Mart.
I guess the whole thing is weighing on me because the clothing is truly a drop in the bucket compared to the school tuition. Over her lifetime, between now and high school graduation, we will spend the equivalent of a townhouse in Paris in tuition. Or at the very least a set silver-plated drool cups and toilet chairs for when I get The Alzheimer's. JBL has let me make this decision for her, and I feel good about it, but still...
Someone recently told me to stop worrying about money. Seriously. Can you believe that?
"What has happened in your life when you've needed money? I mean, have you EVER not had money when you really needed it?"
"No," I replied quietly. I thought of my grandfather helping me with the down-payment on my house, my company helping pay for my graduate degree, and the kind folks at Visa who financed my trip to San Fransisco so I could freak out when I needed to, and pay for it (in more ways than one) at my leisure.
But this is such a huge and long-term commitment, it frightens me. Factored in are the adult responsibility for the here-and-now, the wisdom required to plan for my own future (I'm almost 40 for crying out loud), and the knowledge that my decision affects my partner-in-life as well as my daughter. And believe me, JBL would rather have the house in Paris.
Additionally, this is about second-guessing myself. Did I really make this choice because I think J is 'advanced' - beyond where my local schools could challenge her? Or is it about my need to keep up with the proverbial Jones's? I know she's smart. REALLY smart. But couldn't I just opt for homeschooling, and save all that money? I am fully capable of teaching her, and would in fact get a kick out of it. I know several parents who have chosen this option, and their kids are both socially healthy and academically superior to their peers.
Maybe the stress is about letting go, not about money at all. Someone else will have her ALL DAY. I am paying through the nose to no longer be her everything. She falls down? Someone else holds her while she cries. She has a question about math or reading? Someone else gets to answer her...gets to watch her mind chew on it, and take it all in.
I am sorry this blog is all about my worries, fears and weaknesses, but it really does help to write it all out. Here it is. I am penny wise and pound foolish. I want J to go to the same school as K does because I think she deserves it, and I am willing to risk a comfortable future to make that happen. I think she's smarter than even this school can keep up with, and I am afraid I won't have the energy or follow through to continue to challenge her myself once she's gone all day and I'm working more like full-time. And OH GOD I am going to miss her when she's not here with me all the time. And I know it will be OK.
It will be nice for J avoid the fashion worries that often cripple young ladies, what with the uniforms and all. But I do so miss the days when I could stock her fall wardrobe for under $100 (including shoes, winter coat/snow pants and boots) at Target and Wal Mart.
I guess the whole thing is weighing on me because the clothing is truly a drop in the bucket compared to the school tuition. Over her lifetime, between now and high school graduation, we will spend the equivalent of a townhouse in Paris in tuition. Or at the very least a set silver-plated drool cups and toilet chairs for when I get The Alzheimer's. JBL has let me make this decision for her, and I feel good about it, but still...
Someone recently told me to stop worrying about money. Seriously. Can you believe that?
"What has happened in your life when you've needed money? I mean, have you EVER not had money when you really needed it?"
"No," I replied quietly. I thought of my grandfather helping me with the down-payment on my house, my company helping pay for my graduate degree, and the kind folks at Visa who financed my trip to San Fransisco so I could freak out when I needed to, and pay for it (in more ways than one) at my leisure.
But this is such a huge and long-term commitment, it frightens me. Factored in are the adult responsibility for the here-and-now, the wisdom required to plan for my own future (I'm almost 40 for crying out loud), and the knowledge that my decision affects my partner-in-life as well as my daughter. And believe me, JBL would rather have the house in Paris.
Additionally, this is about second-guessing myself. Did I really make this choice because I think J is 'advanced' - beyond where my local schools could challenge her? Or is it about my need to keep up with the proverbial Jones's? I know she's smart. REALLY smart. But couldn't I just opt for homeschooling, and save all that money? I am fully capable of teaching her, and would in fact get a kick out of it. I know several parents who have chosen this option, and their kids are both socially healthy and academically superior to their peers.
Maybe the stress is about letting go, not about money at all. Someone else will have her ALL DAY. I am paying through the nose to no longer be her everything. She falls down? Someone else holds her while she cries. She has a question about math or reading? Someone else gets to answer her...gets to watch her mind chew on it, and take it all in.
I am sorry this blog is all about my worries, fears and weaknesses, but it really does help to write it all out. Here it is. I am penny wise and pound foolish. I want J to go to the same school as K does because I think she deserves it, and I am willing to risk a comfortable future to make that happen. I think she's smarter than even this school can keep up with, and I am afraid I won't have the energy or follow through to continue to challenge her myself once she's gone all day and I'm working more like full-time. And OH GOD I am going to miss her when she's not here with me all the time. And I know it will be OK.
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