I've had a post brewing in my head for over a week now. I just didn't have the time or energy to make it tangible. And then something happened that slowed my thoughts down and made me evaluate, pause, compute...
My neighbor June, the spunky diva who came to neighborhood functions in lime green linen pants suits, with lucite and rhinestone jewelry, a beautifully coiffed wig, tattooed makeup, and stilettos, died on Monday night.
I first met June last year, the week after we moved into our new house. I saw red flip flops walk up our walkway from our opaque ground-level bedroom window. I wasn't expecting anyone, and I was thrilled to meet the owner of the sea-foam house across the street. She brought a bouquet of alstromeria with the Albertson's pricetag still attached to the cellophane.
June had gall-bladder surgery 2 weeks ago; I had been checking in on her frequently, made dinners, and even an emergency batch of my caramel corn one Friday afternoon when she was craving it. I think the last time I talked to her I was holding Leah, she was in her typical weekday get-up of a long, v-neck white t-shirt, bare feet with silver toenail polish, shaved head, and red reading glasses. She told me that she had an infection in one of her incisions. I told her she needed to go to the doctor. She said she already had. I gave June my cell phone number and told her that we'd be away for a week in Southern California, but if she needed anything to give me a call.
As I was loading the girls up to head for the gym on Monday morning, another neighbor, Louise, saw me and asked if I had heard about June. I guess she knew that I was June's surrogate granddaughter-figure in the neighborhood, and probably saw me more than once, running barefoot across the street with mismatched Tupperwares full of our extra dinner. I was surprised and horrified to hear that June wasn't expected to make it through the night. Monie, June's daughter, had been frantically trying to get a hold of me all week to see if I could help June out. When I finally talked to Monie on Monday morning, she told me that she had found my cell phone number in June's bedside table. June had been too delirious to remember that she had put it there.
June had a tough life from everything that I've been able to piece together. Her husband died over 30 years ago in a freak job-related accident. She had two children in Southern California, no grandchildren, a few good friends. Three years ago, after a different surgery, June ended up with an infection and was in a coma for three months. She teetered on the brink of life and death, and then miraculously came through. She was a fighter. She had been living in extreme pain for the past three years.
So even though I know that June is beautifully restored, refreshed, renewed, free of her infirmities, and with her long-lost husband, I still couldn't hold back tears as I turned onto our street and saw June's red Grand Am, parked in her spot in the carport, with personalized license plate, "PROUD ONE." And when I went to her home today to talk to her son and daughter, I saw everything I had surveyed so many times before when visiting with June: plush white carpets, crystal animal figurines, couch with plastic covers, beautiful bouquet of silk poppies, things that aren't really my own taste, but I love because they were so June . . . I missed her.
And I think what I will miss more than anything, is the opportunity to serve someone who needed it so much. I realize now how much satisfaction I got every time I brought a meal over to her, every time I could be a listening ear, or help her in any way. It might be a little selfish, but I miss those opportunities already.
I told Leah about June's death and she gasped. She's never known anyone who died. I told her that June's body had died, but that her spirit was going to live with Heavenly Father and her husband. She said, "Mom, but how is June going to get there? Is she going to drive?" And I still think that she's a bit confused. As we were going over to offer condolences to June's children, Leah looked around and grabbed a baggy of strawberries off of our counter. (She always got to hold one of the Tupperwares of food for June . . . usually the dessert.) She told me that she wanted to bring them over to June.
And when I think of June chilling with her husband, with her hair, without the pain that has plagued her for years, I get happy. My tears are tears of joy.
5.18.2006
5.06.2006
Rice Pudding: A Memory
As I was reading Tropical Velvet's blog about her daughter writing a note to herself which read: "Let the lunch ladies give you gravy," my brain stumbled upon a little jewel of a memory in "me own life," dealing with hot lunch and perhaps the beginnings of my OCD tendencies. I'll share:
Back in good ole Centralia, WA, the land of my years 0-14 (save a two-week period post-birth before my parents moved from L.A. to WA), hot lunch was actually somewhat coveted. I remember the school lunch calendars passed out each month. My eyes would quickly scan to see when burritos were being served. Yes, this is pretty pathetic, but it is the truth. I loved hot lunch burritos. I thought the kids who were on the subsidized lunch program (about 90% of the kids at my school) were the lucky ones. I, on the other hand, had to bring home-packed lunches, consisting of sandwich, apple, and a treat.
(Quick memory diversion: S, my sister, and I remember the day of shame when my mom packed us raisin bread with tuna fish sandwiches. Okay, I know that I went to a very delish Cafe Barrone several months back and actually ordered this, but when I was in 2nd grade, it didn't go over too well. Sus even remembers strategically holding the sandwich so that her fingers covered up the raisins--as if she would be the laughing stock of the lunchroom.)
So back to the burritos. They usually had burritos at least once a month, and I was allowed to take a dollar to school once per month to indulge in the Ford's Prairie Elementary School burrito. This particular memory is from 3rd grade. Burrito occupied one of the menu squares, so it was my lucky day. My mom was a little skeptical after she looked over the rest of the menu for that day, which probably looked something like:
Yummy Bean Burritos
Tasty Tater Nuggets
Fabulous Fruit
Creamy Rice Pudding
The rice pudding was where she stopped. Rice pudding at a school cafeteria? WE were definitely not a rice pudding family. In fact, I don't think I had ever even heard of the concept until that moment. She was concerned that I wouldn't like the rice pudding, and that I would waste it. But, I wanted the burrito and I wouldn't back down. I assured her that I would eat every last morsel on my tray.
So I got and gobbled up the bean burrito, tater nuggets, and fruit. But the rice pudding. Oh, the rice pudding. I sat and stared at it, ate one grain, stared longer, ate another grain, stared longer, ate . . . . . . you get the picture, until I was the last one in the cafeteria. The custodian came to mop and I was still there. He put up all of the other tables but mine and did everything else he could until my table was the last of his job. So he told me that I'd have to go---afterall, the other kids had already been at lunch recess for a good 15 minutes.
A sick sense of guilt and dread waved through my body. I couldn't throw the rice pudding away. I picked up my tray and moved it to the walk-through counter area and stood and continued, one grain at a time. Finally, recess was over and it was time to go back to class; there was no longer any choice. I had to be finished. I took a huge bite, stacked my tray, and walked, recessless, back to Mr. Dunn's classroom.
Dr. Phil--whom I never watch, although I have 2? of his books (should I be embarrassed?)--talks about finding the 10 defining moments in your life. I think the rice pudding incident might be number 9 for me. After all, next month I'll be thirty and I still remember the dread I felt that day in that crusty cafeteria--when I was in 3rd grade.
To this day, I have never had rice pudding again. I've heard it's pretty good.
Back in good ole Centralia, WA, the land of my years 0-14 (save a two-week period post-birth before my parents moved from L.A. to WA), hot lunch was actually somewhat coveted. I remember the school lunch calendars passed out each month. My eyes would quickly scan to see when burritos were being served. Yes, this is pretty pathetic, but it is the truth. I loved hot lunch burritos. I thought the kids who were on the subsidized lunch program (about 90% of the kids at my school) were the lucky ones. I, on the other hand, had to bring home-packed lunches, consisting of sandwich, apple, and a treat.
(Quick memory diversion: S, my sister, and I remember the day of shame when my mom packed us raisin bread with tuna fish sandwiches. Okay, I know that I went to a very delish Cafe Barrone several months back and actually ordered this, but when I was in 2nd grade, it didn't go over too well. Sus even remembers strategically holding the sandwich so that her fingers covered up the raisins--as if she would be the laughing stock of the lunchroom.)
So back to the burritos. They usually had burritos at least once a month, and I was allowed to take a dollar to school once per month to indulge in the Ford's Prairie Elementary School burrito. This particular memory is from 3rd grade. Burrito occupied one of the menu squares, so it was my lucky day. My mom was a little skeptical after she looked over the rest of the menu for that day, which probably looked something like:
Yummy Bean Burritos
Tasty Tater Nuggets
Fabulous Fruit
Creamy Rice Pudding
The rice pudding was where she stopped. Rice pudding at a school cafeteria? WE were definitely not a rice pudding family. In fact, I don't think I had ever even heard of the concept until that moment. She was concerned that I wouldn't like the rice pudding, and that I would waste it. But, I wanted the burrito and I wouldn't back down. I assured her that I would eat every last morsel on my tray.
So I got and gobbled up the bean burrito, tater nuggets, and fruit. But the rice pudding. Oh, the rice pudding. I sat and stared at it, ate one grain, stared longer, ate another grain, stared longer, ate . . . . . . you get the picture, until I was the last one in the cafeteria. The custodian came to mop and I was still there. He put up all of the other tables but mine and did everything else he could until my table was the last of his job. So he told me that I'd have to go---afterall, the other kids had already been at lunch recess for a good 15 minutes.
A sick sense of guilt and dread waved through my body. I couldn't throw the rice pudding away. I picked up my tray and moved it to the walk-through counter area and stood and continued, one grain at a time. Finally, recess was over and it was time to go back to class; there was no longer any choice. I had to be finished. I took a huge bite, stacked my tray, and walked, recessless, back to Mr. Dunn's classroom.
Dr. Phil--whom I never watch, although I have 2? of his books (should I be embarrassed?)--talks about finding the 10 defining moments in your life. I think the rice pudding incident might be number 9 for me. After all, next month I'll be thirty and I still remember the dread I felt that day in that crusty cafeteria--when I was in 3rd grade.
To this day, I have never had rice pudding again. I've heard it's pretty good.
4.26.2006
Long Time No Blog
I've been taking a little blogging hiatus. (You may or may not have noticed.) It has actually been quite refreshing. Don't get me wrong; I have loved blogging, and the acquaintances I've renewed through it, the friends I've been able to keep in touch with, and the new people I've been able to "meet" via this medium. I've also loved being able to sit and write---and to have a reason to do so. I used to be a major journal-writer, but I gave that up at about the time I got married. Don't know why, just didn't take the time. So it's been really amazing for me to reconnect with my "writing self" and think about the perfect word in a sentence--because my two lovely gills don't really care about perfect words yet, a great image, etc...and venting via blog has been fabulous too.
But, I think there are a few blogging drawbacks that finally forced me to cave a bit. And maybe I'm alone on this, and maybe I'm not, but regardless--I felt a little strangled by blogging.
MY personal BLOGGING BEEFS:
*I found myself thinking, "what can I blog about today?" more often than I should have. This made me feel slightly pathetic.
*I found myself thinking, "I HAVE to blog about that!," as if a wonderful/frightening/amazing/emotive experience was only legitimized by blogging about it.
*I found myself divulging more info than I should have on my blog. (Think Brazil?) Somehow, telling the "world" something personal on my blog was frighteningly easy. Just let my mind flow, hit publish, and voila! there I am up close and personal. YIKES!
*I was blasted by negativity from one lurker in particular, and through that realized that what I was writing was being read by more people than I ever intended. And that makes me uncomfortable.
*There are tons of freaks in the world who fill their days as computer predators. Am I endangering myself or my family? I know that sounds paranoid and extreme, but all of these heinous Dateline specials on internet predators (there's another one tonite!) have given me cause to pause.
*I was spending too much time blogging. I wanted to keep up with several different blogs, and that takes a lot of time. At the end of the day, I didn't like realizing that I had spent maybe an hour (more sometimes, less sometimes) blogging. The world is too real and immediate and important to spend so much time on the computer, right?
*I crave friendship and connections and women to converse with and I find myself in a bit of a vacuous setting for that right now (some fabulous exceptions 20 miles away duly noted). So blogging has been a great outlet to feel more connected. But why am I not out in my community more, trying to strengthen myself where I'm at?
*I'm also in the throes of starting darlybird.com, and quite honestly, that has taken so much of my time, and i've been LOVING it. (watch for a summer launch date TBA!)
I don't know if this makes any sense, or if any of you feel the same way or have the same reservations. I value the friendships I've made and rekindled via blogging. I really do. I wish I lived near all of my fun friends, bloggers and non, and that I could throw wildly wonderful parties every month (or week, or day!) and be with so many great people--in their presence. Computer presence is not enough.
So, I will continue to blog. I think the good it's done for me outweighs the bad. I just need to be more careful about my time, my personal info and boundaries.
If anyone has any great answers to this conundrum, please fill me in on the process. I've just kind of been through blogging detox, and I think I'm ready to put one foot back in the door.
But, I think there are a few blogging drawbacks that finally forced me to cave a bit. And maybe I'm alone on this, and maybe I'm not, but regardless--I felt a little strangled by blogging.
MY personal BLOGGING BEEFS:
*I found myself thinking, "what can I blog about today?" more often than I should have. This made me feel slightly pathetic.
*I found myself thinking, "I HAVE to blog about that!," as if a wonderful/frightening/amazing/emotive experience was only legitimized by blogging about it.
*I found myself divulging more info than I should have on my blog. (Think Brazil?) Somehow, telling the "world" something personal on my blog was frighteningly easy. Just let my mind flow, hit publish, and voila! there I am up close and personal. YIKES!
*I was blasted by negativity from one lurker in particular, and through that realized that what I was writing was being read by more people than I ever intended. And that makes me uncomfortable.
*There are tons of freaks in the world who fill their days as computer predators. Am I endangering myself or my family? I know that sounds paranoid and extreme, but all of these heinous Dateline specials on internet predators (there's another one tonite!) have given me cause to pause.
*I was spending too much time blogging. I wanted to keep up with several different blogs, and that takes a lot of time. At the end of the day, I didn't like realizing that I had spent maybe an hour (more sometimes, less sometimes) blogging. The world is too real and immediate and important to spend so much time on the computer, right?
*I crave friendship and connections and women to converse with and I find myself in a bit of a vacuous setting for that right now (some fabulous exceptions 20 miles away duly noted). So blogging has been a great outlet to feel more connected. But why am I not out in my community more, trying to strengthen myself where I'm at?
*I'm also in the throes of starting darlybird.com, and quite honestly, that has taken so much of my time, and i've been LOVING it. (watch for a summer launch date TBA!)
I don't know if this makes any sense, or if any of you feel the same way or have the same reservations. I value the friendships I've made and rekindled via blogging. I really do. I wish I lived near all of my fun friends, bloggers and non, and that I could throw wildly wonderful parties every month (or week, or day!) and be with so many great people--in their presence. Computer presence is not enough.
So, I will continue to blog. I think the good it's done for me outweighs the bad. I just need to be more careful about my time, my personal info and boundaries.
If anyone has any great answers to this conundrum, please fill me in on the process. I've just kind of been through blogging detox, and I think I'm ready to put one foot back in the door.
3.26.2006
UPDATE
For those of you who followed my Pluto's incident, I just thought I should let you know that 2 months have passed and I still haven't received my free salad. What's a girl to do?
because these two apply...
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
--DJ e.e. (cummings)
Something to look forward to
Menopause--word used as an insult:
a menopausal woman, mind or poem
as if not to leak regularly or on the caprice
of the moon, the collision of egg and sperm,
were the curse we first learned to call that blood.
I have twisted myself to praise that bright splash.
When my womb opens its lips on the full
or dark of the moon, that connection
aligns me as it does the sea. I quiver,
a compass needle thrilling with magnetism.
Yet for every celebration there's the time
it starts on a jet with the seatbelt sign on.
Consider the trail of red amoebae
crawling onto hostess' sheets to signal
my body's disregard of calendar, clock.
How often halfway up the side of a mountain,
during a demonstration with the tactical police
force drawn up in tanks between me and a toilet;
during an endless wind machine panel with four males
I was token woman and they with iron bladders,
I have felt that wetness and wanted to strangle
my womb like a mouse. Sometimes it feels cosmic
and sometimes it feels like mud. Yes, I have prayed
to my blood on my knees in toilet stalls
simply to show its rainbow of deliverance.
My friend Penny at twelve, being handed a napkin
the size of an ironing board cover, cried out
Do I have to do this from now till I die?
No, said her mother, it stops in middle age.
Good, said Penny, there's something to look forward to.
Today supine, groaning with demon crab claws
gouging my belly, I tell you I will secretly dance
and pour out a cup of wine on the earth
when times stops that leak permanently;
I will burn my last tampons as votive candles.
--Marge Piercy
(and I know the last one is slightly graphic, but if you can't laugh at some of the images, i don't know what to tell you...and I think of the votives every time my rainbow of deliverance shows itself...)
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
--DJ e.e. (cummings)
Something to look forward to
Menopause--word used as an insult:
a menopausal woman, mind or poem
as if not to leak regularly or on the caprice
of the moon, the collision of egg and sperm,
were the curse we first learned to call that blood.
I have twisted myself to praise that bright splash.
When my womb opens its lips on the full
or dark of the moon, that connection
aligns me as it does the sea. I quiver,
a compass needle thrilling with magnetism.
Yet for every celebration there's the time
it starts on a jet with the seatbelt sign on.
Consider the trail of red amoebae
crawling onto hostess' sheets to signal
my body's disregard of calendar, clock.
How often halfway up the side of a mountain,
during a demonstration with the tactical police
force drawn up in tanks between me and a toilet;
during an endless wind machine panel with four males
I was token woman and they with iron bladders,
I have felt that wetness and wanted to strangle
my womb like a mouse. Sometimes it feels cosmic
and sometimes it feels like mud. Yes, I have prayed
to my blood on my knees in toilet stalls
simply to show its rainbow of deliverance.
My friend Penny at twelve, being handed a napkin
the size of an ironing board cover, cried out
Do I have to do this from now till I die?
No, said her mother, it stops in middle age.
Good, said Penny, there's something to look forward to.
Today supine, groaning with demon crab claws
gouging my belly, I tell you I will secretly dance
and pour out a cup of wine on the earth
when times stops that leak permanently;
I will burn my last tampons as votive candles.
--Marge Piercy
(and I know the last one is slightly graphic, but if you can't laugh at some of the images, i don't know what to tell you...and I think of the votives every time my rainbow of deliverance shows itself...)
3.12.2006
appreciate THIS
So it was Friday and Jon and I were planning on a date to our new IKEA to eat in the cafeteria (Swedish meatballs, anyone?) and browse sans children. Our dear friends Ethel and Jefferson volunteered for babysitting duty, and we were all set. Or so we thought. That afternoon Ethel had a fabulous idea: "Why don't you guys just stay the night somewhere and we'll stay with the kids and you can come home in the morning." Hmmm....a very tempting offer. But I have a hard time leaving my kids with weeks of notice, let alone 4 hours of notice. And we've never BOTH left Esther, And the girls' meals are pretty complicated, And where would we stay? I'm no snob, but Motel 6 wasn't sounding too appealing for a getaway. And I didn't want to stick E & J with the burden of the bedtime/wake-up routine with the two monsties.
But Ethel being Ethel (love ya!) insisted, especially when I threw out the idea of it being a surprise to my Jonnie, the underappreciated husband. So for the next few hours, I frantically planned, plotted, and schemed. It was no small feat.
Needless to say, the evening was extraordinary, meatballs et al., and Jonnie loved ALL of the surprises. We decided that for the next who-knows-how-long, he will be doing my bidding to repay me my kindnesses. Isn't marriage such a great give and take?
But Ethel being Ethel (love ya!) insisted, especially when I threw out the idea of it being a surprise to my Jonnie, the underappreciated husband. So for the next few hours, I frantically planned, plotted, and schemed. It was no small feat.
Needless to say, the evening was extraordinary, meatballs et al., and Jonnie loved ALL of the surprises. We decided that for the next who-knows-how-long, he will be doing my bidding to repay me my kindnesses. Isn't marriage such a great give and take?
3.07.2006
I'm it now, too!
Phoebe tagged me. And now I finally feel loved, or wanted, like when you're not the last to get picked for teams in grade school, jr. high, and high school. So I'm not that athletic...or interesting...but someone finally PICKED ME! :)
4 Jobs I've had:
1. Calf babysitter at Livestock Auction (12 yrs. old and $3.25/hr.)
2. Billing clerk for David K. from age 14-24
3. Brackman's Bagels bagel artist
4. Jr. High/High School English Teacher
5 movies I can watch over and over:
1. BBC Pride and Prejudice ("FYMD," Martin!)
2. The Mirror Has Two Faces
3. Moulin Rouge
4. Anne of Green Gables
5. Room With a View
4 Places I've lived:
1. Centralia, WA
2. Provo, UT
3. Davis, CA
4. L.A. (Born and raised--for 2 weeks)
4 Places I Want to Live:
1. Carmel
2. Vernazza
3. La Jolla
4. Anywhere Marin
4 TV shows I love:
1. Gilmore Girls
2. American Idol
3. The Today Show (but I never get to watch it...)
4. ?? I used to like the Bachelor for the first few seasons (ashamed, yes) but I haven't watched it forever because the hoochy factor has been multiplied by 99 million.
4 Highly Regarded TV shows I've never watched a minute of:
1. ER
2. Law and Order
3. West Wing
4. Arrested Development
4 Places I've Vacationed:
1. Paris
2. London
3. Vernazza
4. Kauai
4 Places I Wish I Could Vacation:
1. Maui
2. Madagascar
3. a safari somewhere
4. Thailand (and a lot more once the kiddos are grown.)
4 Favorite Dishes:
1. Roasted Vegetables with Focaccia
2. Indian Feast
3. Tortilla Soup
4. Fruit Salad
4 Sites I Visit Daily:
1. mail.google.com
2. smallbusiness.yahoo.com
3. and all of my friends' blogs at least every few days? i'm sure that makes more than 4.
4 Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:
1. beach
2. beach
3. beach
4. beach
4 People I'm Tagging:
(I always feel like I'm a tele-marketer or pyramid-schemer when I enlist other people into these chains, so sorry and don't feel like you have to, but it's kind of fun....)
1. Tropical Velvet
2. Righteous Mama (sorry public, this blog is now members only...thanks for inviting me!)
3. Bluebell
4. Nat's Notes
4 Jobs I've had:
1. Calf babysitter at Livestock Auction (12 yrs. old and $3.25/hr.)
2. Billing clerk for David K. from age 14-24
3. Brackman's Bagels bagel artist
4. Jr. High/High School English Teacher
5 movies I can watch over and over:
1. BBC Pride and Prejudice ("FYMD," Martin!)
2. The Mirror Has Two Faces
3. Moulin Rouge
4. Anne of Green Gables
5. Room With a View
4 Places I've lived:
1. Centralia, WA
2. Provo, UT
3. Davis, CA
4. L.A. (Born and raised--for 2 weeks)
4 Places I Want to Live:
1. Carmel
2. Vernazza
3. La Jolla
4. Anywhere Marin
4 TV shows I love:
1. Gilmore Girls
2. American Idol
3. The Today Show (but I never get to watch it...)
4. ?? I used to like the Bachelor for the first few seasons (ashamed, yes) but I haven't watched it forever because the hoochy factor has been multiplied by 99 million.
4 Highly Regarded TV shows I've never watched a minute of:
1. ER
2. Law and Order
3. West Wing
4. Arrested Development
4 Places I've Vacationed:
1. Paris
2. London
3. Vernazza
4. Kauai
4 Places I Wish I Could Vacation:
1. Maui
2. Madagascar
3. a safari somewhere
4. Thailand (and a lot more once the kiddos are grown.)
4 Favorite Dishes:
1. Roasted Vegetables with Focaccia
2. Indian Feast
3. Tortilla Soup
4. Fruit Salad
4 Sites I Visit Daily:
1. mail.google.com
2. smallbusiness.yahoo.com
3. and all of my friends' blogs at least every few days? i'm sure that makes more than 4.
4 Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:
1. beach
2. beach
3. beach
4. beach
4 People I'm Tagging:
(I always feel like I'm a tele-marketer or pyramid-schemer when I enlist other people into these chains, so sorry and don't feel like you have to, but it's kind of fun....)
1. Tropical Velvet
2. Righteous Mama (sorry public, this blog is now members only...thanks for inviting me!)
3. Bluebell
4. Nat's Notes
3.02.2006
if i had a million dollars...
i would buy you all a real-time computer movie camera so you could see estie rockin out to "lack of color" (death cab for cutie) and "fix you" (coldplay) right now. so dang cute!
let's just get on with it...
I feel that we're on the verge of something. Something I know not what. And that's the problem. I'm generally someone very averse to change: when my family moved to Provo 15 years ago, I was determined to not make friends for at least the first two years. And besides the occasional hang-out with beloved eroo (and a certain r.c. from provo, and my mia maid class--wednesday nights were my weekend equivalents) I made good on my promise; when I got married, I literally thought I was going to die for the first 4 months--I was tested for lupus, MS, read pamphlets from my doctor on fibromyalgia, interstitial cystitis, chronic fatigue, had an MRI--until I realized that I was having a 24/7 marriage-induced panic attack; when I had my first baby, I went through the ringer with insane post-partum obsessive compulsive disorder and thought that I had become evil (this, sadly, is not a joke). So why, now, do I feel like I want some big change to come and knock me totally silly for at least four months, maybe even two years, maybe even more?
I thought I liked the conventional lifestyle: husband goes to work, kisses the wife and kids goodbye while they're still in bed, wife and kids do random projects and chores and social excursions all day, husband comes home to cozy and cute wife and kids, warm dinner, and smiles abound all around. Well, I'm finally coming to the stark conclusion that this doesn't really work for me--and I certainly don't think it works for Jon-- and I'm ready for something big to change in this department. So what is it?
Not sure. Any suggestions?
I'm starting my business, darlybird, at a medium-slow pace (hope to launch by May 1), Jon's going to a job that he finds completely boring and usually thankless, and often we aren't cozy or cute when Jon gets home, and there isn't anything warm and waiting on the dinner table. So I realize that we are living the American Undream--we have the house, the 2.0 kids, the huge mortgage payment, and the hope that things will get better in their own due time. But I'm sick of the "own due time" clause, and I want to enact change now.
Jon's various proposals over the past year have included: quitting law job and moving to Costa Rica under some very favorable conditions, i.e. we pay $10,000 / year to live with a Costa Rican family and Jon teaches English every day for free. (Sounds like a mission without any of the spiritual perks. This is the time when I coined my phrase: "That is the STUPIDEST thing I've ever heard." He actually thought it was semi-reasonable and felt very attacked by my rude reaction. I almost reverted back to the who-in-the-hell-did-I-marry panic attack mentioned previously.) Another plan: move to Tanzania to work on international water issues for the U.N. Sorry, honey, a war-torn African country is not the best place for one, possibly two, very severely food allergic children to grow up; nor is it an ideal location for a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. So his plan of this week? Manage the Palmyra atoll somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Better. But I need social interaction to thrive. And sea-life doesn't count. The best thing I can think of saying when he suggests these plans is, "I'm sorry, but you really married the wrong person..." which I hope he never realizes and acts upon. I suggested selling climbing equipment online. Not risky enough. So what is a family to do? All we want is a little plot of land, a fabulously wonderful modern home, a garden, a few fruit trees, good schools, safe neighborhoods, and a whole lot of love.
Wait a second, I think we already have that.
I thought I liked the conventional lifestyle: husband goes to work, kisses the wife and kids goodbye while they're still in bed, wife and kids do random projects and chores and social excursions all day, husband comes home to cozy and cute wife and kids, warm dinner, and smiles abound all around. Well, I'm finally coming to the stark conclusion that this doesn't really work for me--and I certainly don't think it works for Jon-- and I'm ready for something big to change in this department. So what is it?
Not sure. Any suggestions?
I'm starting my business, darlybird, at a medium-slow pace (hope to launch by May 1), Jon's going to a job that he finds completely boring and usually thankless, and often we aren't cozy or cute when Jon gets home, and there isn't anything warm and waiting on the dinner table. So I realize that we are living the American Undream--we have the house, the 2.0 kids, the huge mortgage payment, and the hope that things will get better in their own due time. But I'm sick of the "own due time" clause, and I want to enact change now.
Jon's various proposals over the past year have included: quitting law job and moving to Costa Rica under some very favorable conditions, i.e. we pay $10,000 / year to live with a Costa Rican family and Jon teaches English every day for free. (Sounds like a mission without any of the spiritual perks. This is the time when I coined my phrase: "That is the STUPIDEST thing I've ever heard." He actually thought it was semi-reasonable and felt very attacked by my rude reaction. I almost reverted back to the who-in-the-hell-did-I-marry panic attack mentioned previously.) Another plan: move to Tanzania to work on international water issues for the U.N. Sorry, honey, a war-torn African country is not the best place for one, possibly two, very severely food allergic children to grow up; nor is it an ideal location for a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. So his plan of this week? Manage the Palmyra atoll somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Better. But I need social interaction to thrive. And sea-life doesn't count. The best thing I can think of saying when he suggests these plans is, "I'm sorry, but you really married the wrong person..." which I hope he never realizes and acts upon. I suggested selling climbing equipment online. Not risky enough. So what is a family to do? All we want is a little plot of land, a fabulously wonderful modern home, a garden, a few fruit trees, good schools, safe neighborhoods, and a whole lot of love.
Wait a second, I think we already have that.
2.27.2006
a few funny things...
*leah, post-saturday-night bath, pranced naked out of our bedroom where she had been hiding for a few minutes and said: "daddy, do i look different?" and then i heard a huge gasp . . . and i ran, and saw a little girl with a curly mullet, kind of cindy lauper/boy george style (one side long, other side really short). curls littered the bedroom floor. i couldn't help but bust up; it was tragic, yet hilarious.
wish i had a camera, because it would have been so priceless. dang, that canon! anyway, i swept her into the bathroom and did a little here-a-little-there-a-little snipping and !viola! she is a new girl. i was worried that she was going to hate it....about 13 months ago i decided to cut her hair short because it was getting pretty gnarly/nappy/dreadlocky. and right after i did it, and she saw the new her in the mirror, she started sobbing, "i look like a boy!" i answered, "you look darling and girly." she sobbed, "i look like a girly boy!"
this time around, she cried for a minute and then started dancing around. i said she was a pixie, and she loves that idea.
awhile later, as jon was tucking her into bed (he always does, and that's one of the reasons i married him, because i knew he was going to be the tucker-inner type, and as i type this i realize that i'm really missing out because the person who tucks in is the person who is the most special, but oh well...), i overheard him ask her, "how did you get this idea [to cut your hair]?" one word answer/giggle: "mulan." dang disney! funny thing number 1.5: i initially typed "damn disney," but then edited myself because i don't swear in word or in print, and only at drastic moments, i spell swear words. as if that makes it okay or somehow immune to the whole dilemma. it works for me; maybe you should try it too.
******
*we (me, leah, esther) stayed home from church on sunday because i was tired/apathetic and had a trace of a sore throat. let's just say that i needed to chill. so we chilled. and, in a moment of wanting to maintain some sunday holiness, i told leah that sunday is a day to thank Heavenly Father for our bodies and our spirits. next thing i knew, she was out dancing in the peace room, singing, "Heavenly Father, thank you for my body and my spirit." It was priceless...so I ran out and told her that I love her SO MUCH, and then she smiled and said, "Mom, when you were a baby, we were best friends." Couldn't help but think that our spirits ARE the same age, and that we ARE best friends (and no, i'm not going to be the non-disciplinary mom who helps her daughter sneak bad behavior under the dad's radar . . . i just don't think there's anything wrong with being a best friend of your kids and still being their parent figure, ok? maybe i watch too much gilmore girls.)
*************
*a few means at least 3, and i can't think of another funny thing to save my life. so, i'll tell you what i'm listening to at this very moment: jack johnson's curious george soundtrack. i went to noggin.com to print off some coloring pages for leah in a moment of desparation this afternoon, and i saw that you could listen to said album in its entirety. so i clicked, and now i'm listening for the second time. i recommend it. i especially love the sondre lerche remake and the lullaby . . . it's very mellow. ENJOY! Here's the jack johnson link.
********************
oh! one more un-funny thing: i got the most awesome table at target for $27.99 on saturday. it was 90% off in the global bazaar section. it was a minor miracle that no one else figured out that it was THAT cheap. it's a black lacquer table (shiny) that seats 6. i'm pretty happy about it. mostly that i got such a rocking deal. now all we need to do is save the $10K to do the kitchen remodel so we can fit a kitchen table into our kitchen. minor detail. i'll keep you posted.
wish i had a camera, because it would have been so priceless. dang, that canon! anyway, i swept her into the bathroom and did a little here-a-little-there-a-little snipping and !viola! she is a new girl. i was worried that she was going to hate it....about 13 months ago i decided to cut her hair short because it was getting pretty gnarly/nappy/dreadlocky. and right after i did it, and she saw the new her in the mirror, she started sobbing, "i look like a boy!" i answered, "you look darling and girly." she sobbed, "i look like a girly boy!"
this time around, she cried for a minute and then started dancing around. i said she was a pixie, and she loves that idea.
awhile later, as jon was tucking her into bed (he always does, and that's one of the reasons i married him, because i knew he was going to be the tucker-inner type, and as i type this i realize that i'm really missing out because the person who tucks in is the person who is the most special, but oh well...), i overheard him ask her, "how did you get this idea [to cut your hair]?" one word answer/giggle: "mulan." dang disney! funny thing number 1.5: i initially typed "damn disney," but then edited myself because i don't swear in word or in print, and only at drastic moments, i spell swear words. as if that makes it okay or somehow immune to the whole dilemma. it works for me; maybe you should try it too.
******
*we (me, leah, esther) stayed home from church on sunday because i was tired/apathetic and had a trace of a sore throat. let's just say that i needed to chill. so we chilled. and, in a moment of wanting to maintain some sunday holiness, i told leah that sunday is a day to thank Heavenly Father for our bodies and our spirits. next thing i knew, she was out dancing in the peace room, singing, "Heavenly Father, thank you for my body and my spirit." It was priceless...so I ran out and told her that I love her SO MUCH, and then she smiled and said, "Mom, when you were a baby, we were best friends." Couldn't help but think that our spirits ARE the same age, and that we ARE best friends (and no, i'm not going to be the non-disciplinary mom who helps her daughter sneak bad behavior under the dad's radar . . . i just don't think there's anything wrong with being a best friend of your kids and still being their parent figure, ok? maybe i watch too much gilmore girls.)
*************
*a few means at least 3, and i can't think of another funny thing to save my life. so, i'll tell you what i'm listening to at this very moment: jack johnson's curious george soundtrack. i went to noggin.com to print off some coloring pages for leah in a moment of desparation this afternoon, and i saw that you could listen to said album in its entirety. so i clicked, and now i'm listening for the second time. i recommend it. i especially love the sondre lerche remake and the lullaby . . . it's very mellow. ENJOY! Here's the jack johnson link.
********************
oh! one more un-funny thing: i got the most awesome table at target for $27.99 on saturday. it was 90% off in the global bazaar section. it was a minor miracle that no one else figured out that it was THAT cheap. it's a black lacquer table (shiny) that seats 6. i'm pretty happy about it. mostly that i got such a rocking deal. now all we need to do is save the $10K to do the kitchen remodel so we can fit a kitchen table into our kitchen. minor detail. i'll keep you posted.
2.14.2006
2.12.2006
i think these be crazy
Dick Cheney
The woman at the California State Fair 2005 who had this emblazoned in tattoos across her chest: "These be the n****** I love" with ensuing list. (Unfortunately I didn't see it...as told by a friend, and Jon asked me to edit the word because he says it's too offensive to put on the internet. I guess I agree....it's the whole "I can call my brother a jerk, but the minute someone else says it, they're busted" thing. Get it?)
crazy yum? make this.
crazy beautiful? go here.
crazy nostalgic (and seriously enjoyed by me, right now)? dig out your old albums and live it up!
crazier than crazy facts (found on this website....and this is all quoted.)
"If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would produce enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee. (Hardly seems worth it.)
If you farted consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb. (Now that's more like it!)
A pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes long. (In my next life, I want to be a pig.) **My note: this is so freakin' disgusting. Jon's comment: "No fair."**
A cockroach can live up to nine days without it's head before it starves to death. (Creepy. I'm still not over the pig.) "
crazy cute: just one click away
The woman at the California State Fair 2005 who had this emblazoned in tattoos across her chest: "These be the n****** I love" with ensuing list. (Unfortunately I didn't see it...as told by a friend, and Jon asked me to edit the word because he says it's too offensive to put on the internet. I guess I agree....it's the whole "I can call my brother a jerk, but the minute someone else says it, they're busted" thing. Get it?)
crazy yum? make this.
crazy beautiful? go here.
crazy nostalgic (and seriously enjoyed by me, right now)? dig out your old albums and live it up!
crazier than crazy facts (found on this website....and this is all quoted.)
"If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would produce enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee. (Hardly seems worth it.)
If you farted consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb. (Now that's more like it!)
A pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes long. (In my next life, I want to be a pig.) **My note: this is so freakin' disgusting. Jon's comment: "No fair."**
A cockroach can live up to nine days without it's head before it starves to death. (Creepy. I'm still not over the pig.) "
crazy cute: just one click away
and that's it for now. what do you think be crazy?
2.10.2006
A V-Day Poem for all the ladies in the house
especially jet set carina and this post. I say you beat him to it:
FORTY SOMETHING
She says to him, musing, "If you ever leave me,
and marry a younger woman and have another baby,
I'll put a knife in your heart." They are in bed,
so she climbs onto his chest, and looks directly
down into his eyes. "You understand? Your heart."
--Robert Hass (yes, one of my fave poets, and the ex-poet-laureate of the usa)
p.s.: at valentine's day at vaca high (where i taught for 2 of my teaching years), i shared this with my students, along with some pablo neruda that was far too steamy for horny high schoolers. I thought they'd like the violent side of love with this one, but I think they just thought I was a bit scary. One of my bad judgment calls as a teacher.
FORTY SOMETHING
She says to him, musing, "If you ever leave me,
and marry a younger woman and have another baby,
I'll put a knife in your heart." They are in bed,
so she climbs onto his chest, and looks directly
down into his eyes. "You understand? Your heart."
--Robert Hass (yes, one of my fave poets, and the ex-poet-laureate of the usa)
p.s.: at valentine's day at vaca high (where i taught for 2 of my teaching years), i shared this with my students, along with some pablo neruda that was far too steamy for horny high schoolers. I thought they'd like the violent side of love with this one, but I think they just thought I was a bit scary. One of my bad judgment calls as a teacher.
2.09.2006
don't have much to say...so why am i saying nothing?
I've wanted to post this quote for a long time, but just haven't. Don't know why. Sometimes I squirm at the "quote" culture. But this one is well worth it. Memorize it:
"Courage for the great sorrows in life, and patience for the small ones. And when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake." --Victor Hugo
oh, and that crappy drawing of my family is done by yours truly. someone (beccalecca) asked if it was leah's drawing. so i'm not much of an artist....and i didn't scan it in just for my blog. i had it in my computer because i sent it to my jonnie-o-jonnie at work so he could see that i was doing something semi-educational (making books) with our daughter. she's bound to be an english major.
"Courage for the great sorrows in life, and patience for the small ones. And when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake." --Victor Hugo
oh, and that crappy drawing of my family is done by yours truly. someone (beccalecca) asked if it was leah's drawing. so i'm not much of an artist....and i didn't scan it in just for my blog. i had it in my computer because i sent it to my jonnie-o-jonnie at work so he could see that i was doing something semi-educational (making books) with our daughter. she's bound to be an english major.
The way it is...
Leah really wanted to write books on Tuesday. She wanted me to write one too. And this is my book. We bound them with yarn and she's been carrying her book around with her ever since. It has pictures of her best friends, our family, Dora's house, and her pillow. Oh, the brown squiggles in the upper right hand corner of this picture say "rachel."
2.06.2006
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy
If you want to read about/see a beautiful birth experience, check out my dear friend's blog. Chantel, you're amazing! Congratulations!
2.05.2006
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