come sit by my fire

I've Been Thinking About Art Today...

2009-11-10T21:57:00.005-06:00

Care to join me?

watch this
answer - Do you dare?
look at these and these
ask yourself - Can I do something like that?
read this
grab a pen - Write your own list.
come back to your computer - Leave a comment and tell me about your art.

Thanks, GKGirl, for the nudge. Art close-up by Chrysti.

at this moment...

2009-11-09T21:12:00.007-06:00

Time.

Time is a fleet-footed young girl. She scampers away on tip-toe; tiny nails painted shell pink. She's so quick all you see is a flash of her scarlet skirt. Sparkle. There she goes again. Drifting away. Leaving behind only fading memories. Memories that feel more like dreams. Memories of magic. Of smiles. Of breathless laughter. Of butterfly kisses and, "Do it again, Daddy. Do it again."

I keep turning corners just two steps behind her. Trying desperately to catch a hold of her skirt. To stall her just for a moment. To keep just a little of this fleeting beauty. Be still, I whisper. Be still.

But she doesn't. She won't. She can't.

But, oh.
How I wish that she would.

Image by Jamie M.

Sloane, at 7

2009-11-08T23:55:00.005-06:00

Tomorrow my little girl turns eight. And while she'll always be my little girl, but she's not so little anymore. She's growing up and it is much, much too fast for this Momma. My heart aches tonight. It's the kind of ache that's accompanied by a lumpy throat and stinging, brimming eyes. How can she be eight? Stop!, my heart cries. Wait. Please, please wait.

I read once that when a child is born, two people are created; a child and a mother. Jeffrey would tell you that the truth is three people are created. My Mom would say five to seven, depending on which people had grandchildren already. No matter the head count, you get the point. And it's true. So true. I became a new Relyn when Sloane was born. A better, more fun, more thoughtful, hopefully wiser version of me. Definitely a safer-driving version.

Sloane and I played around tonight and I took some pictures of my seven year old, just before bed. This is what seven-nearly-eight will always look like to me.

It looks like silliness. And jokes about bums and booties. It looks like sleepy eyes and snuggles. Like giggle-filled whispers and dirty fingernails. It looks like drawings and stories and non-stop chatter. It looks like freckles across a nose and skinny arms cuddling two American Girl dolls.

It looks like love. Just like love.

If you'd like to wish the birthday girl a happy day, please visit her here. She'd really, really love it.

Creature Comforts

2009-11-07T10:38:00.002-06:00

My friend Jessica wrote the post that inspired this one.

This November morning is gorgeous! Bright and blustery and the most beautiful golden light. Like so many do at this time of year, my thoughts are turning to nestling in, getting cozy, creating warmth and a feeling of contentment in my home.

I'm thinking of....

* a downy comforter and thick pillows * a big pile of magazines and a long evening at home * a purring cat on my lap * a big stack of books * a good pen and my journal * a nice piece of chocolate * super-warm slipper socks * chicken and rice * the scarf knitted for me by a girlfriend * warm cookies and cold, cold milk * quiet piano music as I drift into a nap * the memory foam we added to our mattress - heaven * long hugs * the first fire of the season * warm sun on a chilly day * comfort island * rich cello music * painting Sloane's fingers and toes * writing Christmas cards * bundling up in my gorgeous pink coat, the one I get compliments on every time I wear it * a massage * peppermint scented lotion *Jeffrey's Carhartt * soft, soft purple mittens * the moment when the car's heater finally starts to warm you * hot cocoa * apple crisp * switching to my winter lipstick: deeper, redder * knowing that Christmas is coming, but ready to enjoy Thanksgiving first * fleece * hot homemade soup in the ski lodge * the first beef stew of the season * our deep seated, cuddly sofa * a good night's sleep with the thermostat turned low * Scoopy - Sloane's special blankie friend * sweater weather *

Ahhh... November

Date Night

2009-11-06T23:56:00.004-06:00

We went to a movie tonight since Sloane was at a slumber party. Never mind which one, it was kind of a dud. We almost never get to see movies in the theater anymore. Wouldn't you know it? It has become inevitable that we pick a dud. Anyway...

The best part of the movie was the people-watching before the show began. Our favorite this time was the group of six teens directly in front of us. The canned pre-show music switched to YMCA and I found myself doing the motions along with the song. Kind of in my lap, but still doing them. I looked up and saw four of the six teenagers we'd been watching groovin' to YMCA. They were doing the motions, too. Only they were doing them big and high and proud. I just love teenagers! All that exuberance.

Stormtroopers like the YMCA, too. Image by JD Hancock.

It's the Cinnamon Sticks...

2009-11-05T20:31:00.004-06:00

Cold then. A slow gritting lorry flashed its orange globe at me as I came here. I see our parents have left a glass jar of pot-pourri with you-fir cones in it, cinnamon sticks. A dried, golden pear. I don't know what its scent is-spice, but also a musk, of some kind. Frankincense? Nor do I know very much of how love is shown, for I so rarely show it. But these are the gestures people remember, or kneel at, I know that much. It isn't the big declarations. No brass bands playing. It's cinnamon sticks, or a drawing of a sleeping dog. Or the gift of a stone moved with the sea for so many years that its rolled into a smooth round ball.
~ The Oystercatchers

Many years ago, when I was a very young woman and my own love was new, I had a friend who was in her sixties. Reenie told me a story I've never forgotten.

Her life, her love was a disappointment. She and her husband had spent years growing apart, becoming strangers. They had become roommates. The kind you are assigned in college, not the roommates we excitedly choose for ourselves. Their love had become a dim memory, made bittersweet by the sadness that always accompanies years of disappointment. After more than a year of considering, Reenie decided to divorce her husband. Decided to spend the last decades of her life alone rather than with a man who no longer loved her.

On the evening she planned to tell him, Reenie took a shower to help steady her nerves. When she opened a drawer to get out her underthings, she found a Snickers bar tucked inside. Her favorite. He remembered. He brought her one for no good reason. Just because. He left it there to surprise her. To do something nice. To make her smile. A Snickers bar.

I imagine her sinking to the floor, still damp and clad only in a towel. Eating that Snickers, savoring that sweetness. Deciding then that the sweetness of being known was worth the sadness of feeling distant. Deciding then that things could change between them. Deciding to stay.

And that's exactly what she did. She stayed. She loved. She started again.

And so did he.

Excerpt from the book Oystercatchers by Susan Fletcher. The perfect image, called Forever, is by Daria Sukhanovska.

Better Late Than Never

2009-11-04T22:09:00.003-06:00

I'm gonna do it.

No, silly. You are too busy. You'll overwhelm yourself.

Nope. I'm gonna do it. I need a project to get my out of my too-much-obsessing over work rut.

Crazy, girl. You're too late. This is already November 4.

Zip it, critic! I'm in. It' better late than never.

I've seen NaBloPoMo posts all around the blogisphere and thought how daunting it would be to post every day for a month. But, I'm in. I'll be posting here every day in November. So, I hope you'll stop by a little more often this month and chat.

Walk the Line, above, and other wonderful images by Boopsie.Daisy can be found right here.

P is for...

2009-11-02T05:33:00.005-06:00

* peace * poetry * pie * paper * playgrounds * princess breakfasts * painting * punctuation marks * Puccini * potluck * photography * Pride and Prejudice * pretty little girls in sailor suits * pink * pumpkin pie * peanut butter * participating wholeheartedly * penguins * piping on a cushion * pirouettes * pens * purple sunsets * palace * plumes * perfect bites * pleasure reading * parks * polka dots * punctuality * posing * pasta * potpies * pompadours * popcorn * Penelope * puzzles * picture books * pale colors * pragmatism * Pop Art * prince on a white horse * partnership * Paul Revere * politics * pansies * pedantic conversations * pictures * pupils * paint palette * pirates * plows * pandas * pelicans * Pippi Longstocking and her monkey * patisserie * principals * patients * pencils * productions * pots and pans * painting word pictures * plums * pastimes * prayer * portraits * purple plastic purses * projectors * prancing ponies * pickles * pastries fresh from the oven * peanuts * peregrine * parkas * pins * Parcheesi * patience * Parmesan cheese * pigs * particle accelerators * peeping chicks * peculiar people * Peruvian sweaters * ponytails * pizza * pink poodles * peanut butter cup ice cream * peaking * Peter Pan * panther * primary colors * piddling around * pipe tobacco * productive days * pedaling your bike * pi * poking around old bookshops * pedal pushers * potpourri * peeping Toms * projects completed * police officers * pentominoes * penthouse * pony rides * panties, the big girl kind *

Don't you just love the alphabet?

To see more work from these excellent photographers, click the individual links. P by Claudecf. Portraits & Photography by .ultraviolet. Piroutte by Bichxa. Pleasure Reading by Pensiero. To find out more about the Alphabetica project, see the sidebar. To see the entire project so far, click the Alphabetica label at the end of this post. To see the unposted mosaics, click here.

Pink... With a Little Help From My Friends

2009-10-29T10:00:00.007-05:00

Once upon a Thursday, a blogging teacher asked her second graders a question. "Would you all be willing to help me out? I am making a list and I'd like your help." As all kids do, they rushed in to aid any adult who was willing to ask. "Tell me, class," she said, "When I say pink, what do you think of?"

flowers
butterflies
a pig
pretty paper
strawberry cake
flamingo
strawberry ice cream
yogurt
crayons
sand
scented markers
moon sand
pearl necklace
coral
Mrs. Lawson's picture frame
girls
taffy
cotton candy
those silly makeup cars
one dollar Lawson Bucks
post-it notes
Mrs. Lawson's pens
sugary sweets
Sloane
lipstick
lip gloss
colored pencils
Piglet
tiny pencil bucket
nice feelings
makes me feel beautiful
princess dresses
"That's a girl color!"

Happy Pink Thursday, everyone.

Oh, one more bit of goodness. I recently discovered a terrific new blog. She has a fantastic Etsy shop, and she's having a giveaway. Won't you stop by and visit? You'll be glad that you did.

The image above was taken by one of my favorite Flickr photographers, mjmatt.

Small Delights

2009-10-28T00:39:00.001-05:00

Oh, I have so much to tell you!

I have to tell you about the way that YoYo Ma swayed toward the music like a sunflower toward the sun. About sea lions that teach themselves to smile. About little girls who laugh delightedly and dream of growing up to be marine biologists. About little boys who have a goal to write a story that everyone will love. About the way that I always walk down the school's halls with two second graders attached to my sides by the hands they hold and the love they feel. About how badly penguins actually smell, and the black giraffe I didn't know could exist. About the chimpanzee who held his own feet as he slept, and all the beds we jumped on this weekend. About music that was so marvelous, so MAN ALIVE, that all I did was cry. And cry.

Oh, I have so much to tell you!

But, until then. A little story that I told my friend, Pixiedust.

Your bird made me think of the most amazing sight I saw this weekend. We were at a red light and I looked up. The power lines were covered in birds. I mean COVERED! Not hundreds. Thousands. I mean that without one bit of exaggeration. That was cool enough in itself. But then. One bird flew in and snuggled himself down among his buddies. And all down the line, literally thousands of birds flew up one by one and settled again just a tiny space to the right. It was like watching piano keys that whoosh off the piano in a cartoon. It was amazing.

Those birds have it right. It may take a little bit of readjusting, but there's always room for one more.

Both images were taken this weekend. This wonderful, wonderful weekend.

Hello, Dear Friends....

2009-10-24T07:44:00.005-05:00

I can't believe I've been away for a week. I have missed you! I wont' be able to stop by for a visit for a little bit longer, but I did want to say hello.

If the past weeks have been wonderfully, crazily full (see last post), then this weekend is overstuffed. Cram-packed with goodness. Just look:

Thursday night - Sloane took me to a local production of Alice in Wonderland. The tickets were my birthday present. It was just wonderful! The costumes were the kind to set you dreaming. Then, we talked and laughed and sang all the way home.

Friday night - Jeffrey took me to our university's production of Because I Love You. The tickets were part of my birthday present. Do you see a pattern here? My favorite part of the musical was the last song. The lyrics said, "It would be easy to say, 'I love you anyway.' But, the truth is, 'I love you because.'" And, really, isn't that the truth? Real love is seeing someone quirk's, faults, and foibles. And loving them for it.

Today - The three of us are off in just a few minutes for St. Louis, which is about a four hour drive. We've got a bag full of snacks, an iPod full of tunes, a book or two for family read aloud, and a book or five for each of us. Not to mention a huge pile of magazines for me and drawing materials for Sloane. Yeah, we're ready for our mini-road trip. We're going to the zoo first. If you can ever make it to St. Louis, you should visit just for the zoo. It's the best I've ever been to. After the zoo, we'll go to our hotel and clean up. Then it's off to a nice dinner and YoYoMa. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it!

Sunday - We got a hotel with an indoor pool. We'll play and swim all morning. After a great brunch, we'll enjoy SLAM (St. Louis Art Museum) before we head home.

Doesn't that sound fantastic?

The delighted girl above was drawn by Brett Helquist for a wonderful book called Milly and the Macy's Parade by Shana Corey.

It's a Wonderful, Full Life...

2009-10-17T09:17:00.005-05:00

I've noticed that more and more often when people describe their lives their first adjective it busy. And, yes, it's true. We are all so busy and getting busier all the time. But, I think there are better adjectives we can use. Let me show you what I mean.

The short story of a our busy week Last weekend we had company & no time to do regular weekend activities like laundry and grocery shopping. This put us behind all week. Jeffrey has a TOUGH Master's class, a big project, and a mid-term next Tuesday to study for. This is the final week of this quarter so we had tests and grade reports to add to the usual craziness of a teacher's life. On Wednesday we found out that the carpet installers can finally come and make up their previously canceled time. If they didn't come Wednesday, they couldn't come for a month. So, they did carpet on Wednesday. We had company coming on Thursday so we had to stay up most of the night putting our house back together. Then, company arrived on Thursday afternoon. We still hadn't had time to do laundry or grocery shopping.

The short story of our full and blessed week
Last weekend we got to spend the entire weekend with Grammy. Oh boy, did we have fun. Including setting up a blog for her. Then we had a chance to see just how much our students had learned this past quarter. In the middle of the week we were blessed enough to have new carpet through our entire house. It's gorgeous! My sweet mother knew we were in a time bind so she gave up her evening and came to help us put the house back together. Just a day later we had some of our best friends come visit from Oregon. Best of all, we still have the entire weekend to enjoy time with them. What could be better?

Yes, my life is busy. But, I prefer the word full. I believe that our words affect our attitudes. And, I believe our attitudes affect everything. What things are making your life full and blessed right now? I really do want to know what's going on with you.

Our view last night as the grown ups watched the sun sink below the trees while the kids enjoyed an amazing playground.

Pink Wishes

2009-10-15T23:47:00.007-05:00

On this Pink Thursday I wish for us all...

breathtaking beauty

contentment

quiet spaces and room to breathe

good health

and a cure for this terrible disease

To beguile an hour of your day, do visit Quizz's photostream. This amazing picture was only a taste.

This One's For Jaime...

2009-10-12T23:41:00.001-05:00

Before you read this, won't you please go here and read Jaime's post? Thanks.

Oh, I LOVE this...

~ October
~ furry cat faces
~ finding a perfect skipping rock
~ the morning chill that tickles my nose
~ the smell of stew and cornbread cooking
~ when people I love let me talk them into things
~ the way he massages my feet as we watch a movie
~ the way the leaves try on touches of red and orange
a glove here, a purse there, a peep toe shoe on that tall maple
and overnight, the trees are wearing their ballgowns and ready to dance
~ filling my arms with warm towels and sheets, fresh from the dryer
~ piles and piles of books from the library, too many to fit in my library tote
~ spraying Sloane's fresh sheets with lavender water as I put them on her soft bed
~ friends who write to say, "I'm thinking of you. Tell me how you're doing. Really tell me."
~ Sloane always says, "It's my new watermelon shampoo" when I tell her she smells good

Life is good. And so very, very sweet.

Pink Thoughts

2009-10-08T01:21:00.003-05:00

I am joining Christina, the queen of great ideas, for Pink Thoughts. Every Thursday in October, in honor of all the woman who have fought the battle with breast cancer, we will be posting something pink. Care to join us?

Pink is such a delicious color.

It can be innocent, like the ribbon running through the lace of a christening dress.

Or as sweet as cotton candy.

Pink can be bold and blustery, like neon lights burning through the night.

Or exciting, like a pink-scrawled address or a brilliant umbrella.

Pink can be hopeful, like a girl with Bonnie Bell on her lips.

Pink can be unexpected.

Or just right.

It can remind you of a little girl.

Or a sophisticated lady.

Pink can be the color of courage.

The color of a ribbon.

The color of survival and of loss.

Happy Pink Thursday, my friends.

So many wonderful photographers lent their images for this Pink Thursday. Click on the picture to go directly to the photostream of the wonderful photographer of each image.

Thinking Pinkly

2009-10-01T05:21:00.003-05:00

I am joining Christina, the queen of great ideas, for Pink Thoyghts. Every Thursday in October, in honor of all the woman who have fought the battle with breast cancer, we will be posting something pink. Care to join us?

Today I want to tell you about my mother-in-law.

You know, I really do want to tell you about this woman who raised the most perfect man. This man I call my husband, my life. My love. But, what to tell you? About her legendary sweetness? The way that she is so kind and delightful, so dog-gone sweet, that you'd swear you could lick her like an ice cream cone. Should I tell you about her fierce Momma-love? Tell you about the way that her 6'1" and 6'3" tall boys are instantly obedient to their tiny mother? Instantly because they love her. And respect her. Should I tell you about how she can stretch a nickle past the breaking point and still make delicious meals and give glorious presents? Should I tell you that she's been married to the same man for almost fifty years, and she's still passionately in love with him? Should I tell you about the way that her husband smiles at her? Like there is no one else in the room. Should I tell you about the way she starts every prayer with, "Our Lord, our Savior, and our God"? Should I tell you about grandma kisses, antique key necklaces, pretty yellow dresses, and shirts buttoned wrong on the hangers? What can I tell you about this wonderful woman whose life I've shared for nearly twenty years?
How about this?

She's a survivor.

This November my mother-in-law will have been cancer free for eighteen years. Eighteen years. Alive and vibrant. Happy and at peace. Living a life of service. Living to love her family. Living to serve her Father. What can I say about my mother-in-law? Just two words.

Thank God!
I love you, Ethel.

I choose these pink pictures for my mother-in-law. Because she likes pretty. Thanks to madgirl, reflectingtruth, and lesliesophialindell for the loan.

Again and again and again...

2009-09-29T20:58:00.006-05:00

I'm sitting here in my quiet house, slightly chilly in front of the open windows, just wanting to write. To you. Wanting to connect. With you. Again. Again and again and again. Have I told you lately how much I love my space here? My time with you? Those few minutes as I read and reread your comments and feel, more than loved, understood? I do. I love you. I am grateful for you. Grateful for every kind thought, birthday wish, sweet gift, gentle word, loving thought. Just very, very grateful.

In the quiet peace of my home, I want to count my blessings. Again. Again and again and again. Know that when I do, I think of you. and you. and you.

I write my list and I whisper, "Thank you. Oh, thank you, Lord."

for friends who are not near, but are never far
for a friend who celebrates my birthday all week long
for my love, my child, my home
for the constant generosity of blogging friends
for people who make a difference
for the chance to serve
for books and books and books
for autumn and the way the trees are shyly changing into their ballgowns
for favorite people who just can't quit blogging
for perfect birthday presents
for beauty
for love
for peace
for joy
for contentment
for laughter

What about you? What blessings do you count again and again and again?

The amazing picture above was taken by my friend, Se'lah and given to me as a gift when I admired it. Don't you just love people like that? Oh, you'll love Se'lah. For sure.

As the Years Pass

2009-09-26T15:00:00.006-05:00

My birthday was on Wednesday last week. I turned 39. Thirty nine?? How on earth did that happen? Some days I'd swear I was still 12, stuck in Jr. High Hell. Some days I'm 17, full of life and adventure and excitement, with everything ahead. Most days I've just turned 30, went skydiving on my birthday, am feeling strong and happy and good. How could I be staring 40 in the face?

I have a confession to make. One that doesn't make me proud. I've spent too much time this past year feeling vaguely bothered at the thought of turning 40. Feeling awed by that inexorable march of time. It never ends, does it? Won't slow down for even a minute. Worried about where my life is heading, and feeling far too stunned by mere numbers.

Yes, yes, I know. You are only as old as you feel. Your best years are still ahead. Life is sweet. Old age is better than the alternative. Blah, blah, blah. I do know all that. I do. It doesn't help much when you're the one turning 39. Thirty nine sounds so... so middle aged somehow. How on earth could I be middle aged??? No way is my heart middle aged. Not my mind either. But, well. My body just might be. I've occasionally heard these little groans come out of me when stand up after sitting for a while. YIKES!! I've noticed that I squint and adjust my arm length when I have to read the small print. And, what's the deal with needing to go to the bathroom two or three times a night? MY GOSH! My Mom was right. Getting older's not for sissies.

So there I was up until a few weeks ago. One part of me was feeling disgruntled and sort of lost. The other part of me could hear my internal drill sergeant yelling, Get up soldier. Age is just a number. Get up! Get moving! What's your problem anyway?

I still can't tell you what my problem was exactly. But, I can tell you what helped. Actually turning 39 helped, of course. More than that, friends helped. Christina turning 40 and confiding that it made her feel sexy and powerful helped. Robin being so strong and confident and happy and past 50 helped. Grammy telling me that she's happier in her 60s than she's ever been helped. And Meri. My friend Meri really helped. This is what she told me:

I think the key to growing beautiful old is to keep learning, to stand in awe at the wonder of the universe, to stay open to whatever arises, to do what makes you happy at least once a day, to express yourself creatively in whatever form suits you, and to laugh. It means treating yourself like a queen especially no one else does and always wearing comfortable shoes. It means saying no whenever you feel like it and shedding your guilt at not martyring yourself for the whole world. It involves having friends of all ages and mentoring younger women. It requires taking risks.

There's no choice but to grow old. The challenge is to become beautiful old. Are you up to it? I think you are......

I am. I am up to it. I will become beautiful old. What about you? How do you think we become beautiful old?

I love that picture of me. It was taken by Tangobaby when I was in San Francisco this past July. She's an amazing photographer and makeup artist and I have several very nice pictures from our time together. I probably even have a few that are more flattering. But. I love this one because it is so me. I'm laughing, and talking, and looking up. Looking up. That's the real me. The me I plan to be as I grow beautiful old.

That Corner Was Mine

2009-09-21T01:18:00.002-05:00

This is one of my posts that begins in a comment to a friend. This time, that friend was Pixie Dust. Here's what I wrote to her:

How did you do it? Make me laugh and cry in just five paragraphs? I laughed so hard when you wrote the corner was mine. In first grade, I had a corner of my own, too. I got put there for talking. Talking, talking, talking. My meanie-pants teacher made me face the corner, which only made me more obstinate than ever. I don't think he ever managed to shut me up. I turned around and talked out of plain old cussedness. I've disliked that old coot for years, but as I write this I realize that I probably owe him for my excellent verbal skills. I began honing them in his class after all.

I've been thinking about the teachers I had. Isn't it funny how we often remember the terrible ones? Perhaps we had one or two special teachers, but the rest just fade away in our memories. I wonder why that is? Or maybe it's just me. Whom do you remember better, the great teachers or the ones who hurt you somehow?

I wrote a post some time ago about speaking gently to each other, about being kind. A woman wrote back to me and told me a heartbreaking story. When she was eleven her teacher made fun of her in front of the class. More than fifty years later, she still hurt, still refused to speak in front of groups. That just makes me weep to think of. We all hold such power over each other's hearts. Sure, we all know that we shouldn't give people that power, but that's a subject for another post. I guess I just wanted to write about how important it is for us all to speak gently to each other. To be tender with each other's efforts and dreams. And choices. Most especially to be gentle and patient and tender with our little ones.

I have a tough class this year, and it has been a loooooong five weeks. Maybe I'm just writing this to remind myself of what I know deep inside. Lord knows I need reminding to be patient and speak gently as the hot afternoons grow long. When I think about my class I just keep thinking a few things over and over. And so.

And so I write them here as a reminder to me. Hoping that maybe they will be words someone else needs to read today. I keep thinking:

* I may be the only person who touches them with tenderness today.
* My smile may be the first one they've had this morning.
* The environment I create may be the only safe place they have.
* If I give an impatient answer, it could crush a spirit or extinguish a spark.
* If I listen with real attention, it might fan a tiny spark into a lifelong flame.
* My arms might be the only pair that offers a hug today.
* My sincere apology might be the first adult one they ever hear.
* When I say, "I love you", each child hears it deep in their heart.
* I will never know what small act of mine will create a life-long memory. Let my words, my attitudes, my actions be good ones. Let them be full of encouragement and affection. Let them be full of love. Every day, all day long.

Wouldn't the world be even more wonderful if we all lived as though everything we did had a life-long impact on someone? It could. You know, it really could. Just ask my friend.

The illustration above is by Gabi Swiatkowska from the book Waiting for Gregory by Kimberly Willis Holt. I think. It could be from Summertime Waltz, which is just as lovely.

The Book That Changed My Life

2009-09-14T21:21:00.001-05:00

One of the books I am currently reading is The Book That Changed My Life. It's full of essays by authors about, you guessed it, the book that changed their life. It's very interesting reading for a bibliophile. The kind of book that leads you to another book, or two, or ten. It got me thinking. What book changed my life? Hmmm....

Ummm.... Uh. I dunno. I really don't. I can't point to a single book that changed my life. I've been a voracious reader since before I could read myself. My first complete sentence was, "Momma, weed it to me. Pees?" What? Not a single book that changed my life?

Nope.

And, yet, it is true to say that every book I read and loved changed my life; at least a little. That's why we read, isn't it? To have our perceptions challenged, our complacencies shaken, our views widened? When we read a great book we get to slip into another skin, try on a new life, a new personality, a new way of thinking. How can that leave you unchanged?

Just Some of the Books That Changed My Life

The Lonely Doll is why I fell in love with black and white photography.
All-of-a-Kind Family was my first passionate love affair with a book. I checked this one out so often the librarian finally wouldn't let me any more. She said I had to give the other children a chance. I still don't like that woman.
Thirty One Brothers and Sisters by Reba Paef Mirsky was the first time I realized that everyone is kin; that we are all more alike than different.
I read the Chatain's Guardian for the first time when I was about 13. It showed me exactly what I wanted in a husband. And I waited until I found a Roman of my own. It seemed like I waited forever even though I was only 19 when I found him.
The Hiding Place is a book I read over and over again. I've read it about once a year since my first reading at 16. And you know, each time I read it, I fall in love again. Each time I read it, I learn something new.
J.B by Archibald MacLeish was the first book I ever read that seemed profound to me. That helped me understand the world with a more adult point of view. It is also the first book I took so immediately into my heart that I memorized lines of it on first reading.
Blow on the coal of the heart. The candles in churches are out. The lights have gone out in the sky. Blow on the coal of the heart And we'll see by and by . . .
I first fell in love with fantasy when I read The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. That's when I realized how much I had been missing. That's when I vowed never to skip a book again simply because I think I don't like a particular genre.
My Antonia is the book that made me realize the deep value in being a story teller.
The Bible changes me more with each reading. Every time I open it, I marvel that the ink is dry, it is so real and relevant.

And you? What books changed your life?

The wonderful image above was spotted here. I wish I could tell you about the artist.

September 12

2009-09-12T02:42:00.008-05:00

If you are teenager or older, you can tell anyone who asks exactly where you were eight years ago yesterday. It's one of those moments that has passed into history in the same way that we remember Kennedy's assassination, the space shuttles, the moon landing... We all know exactly where we were when the towers fell.

I wrote about 9/11 last year, and I don't think I can say it any better now. Instead, I want to write about September 12. You see, we all remember 9/11. We mourn. We cry. We say the Pledge. We lower our flags to half mast. We feel sad and vaguely lost all day long. And all of that is as it should be.

And then we wake up on September 12 and we do what needs doing. Just like we all did eight years ago. This year we talked about 9/11 and then I read an amazing book to my class. It was written by a class of first graders, and it's called September 12th. The book says this:

September 12th was a new day. We knew everything would be all right. because...
the sun came up and the birds started to sing again.
We knew everything would be all right because we had homework.
2+2 still added up to 4.
We knew we would be all right because our parents said they loved us.

Isn't that the truth? Here's what I told my students this year:

We've talked already about what happened eight years ago. We've talked about the heroes, we've talked about courage. We've talked about how important it is to be the kind of person who is willing to do what is right, no matter what it costs you. You know all those things. But, before we are finished, I want to talk to you about September 12. That's a very important date in American history, too.

You see, that was the day that we all knew everything was going to be alright. And, here's how we knew. On September 12, firefighters and police officers all over the country went back to work, still ready to face a burning building. Doctors and nurses and ambulance drivers, some of whom hadn't slept yet, all showed up for work. Ready to help. Mommas and Daddies woke up, made breakfast, got their children dressed, took them to school, and went to their own jobs. On September 12, teachers all over the country met their students at the classroom door with a smile. Ministers went to visit people who were sick and hurting and confused. Friends called each other, made play dates, spent time together. People laughed and cried and hugged and ate dinner. Just lived. Like we always have. Like we always do.

If you want to know what a hero is, I'll tell you. A hero is a person who does what needs doing, no matter what. But, a hero is also a person who lives through something terrible and gets back up the next day and does what needs doing. Even if what needs doing is as boring as cooking dinner or doing the laundry. Heroes aren't only people who run into a burning building. Heroes are people like you. And me. And your parents. People who wake up every day and say, "I'm going to do the best I can with whatever comes my way. I'm going to do what needs doing. If it is homework, or chores, or grading papers. And then tomorrow, I'm going to do it all again."

Happy September 12, my friends. God bless us all.

The image above is a first grade illustration from the book September 12.
Update: 11:40 a.m.: I had to come back and tell you this. My daughter saw the book September 12 and said, "Hey we read that. Momma, how come everybody thinks a hero has to be a person who does something like saving a life? That's not right."
"What do you mean that's not right, Sloane? Tell me what you think it takes to be a hero."
"Everybody can be a hero, Momma. All it takes is to help somebody. It can be something like when you see someone fall down and you go and help them up."
That gave me delighted shivers, let me tell you. We hadn't talked about this subject before. Ever. Sloane just knew it. Do you want to know who my hero is? Well, Sloane is one of them. For sure.

Another Silly Celebration

2009-09-09T21:58:00.002-05:00

A little more than a year ago, I wrote a very similar post to this one. It was so much fun that I thought I'd do it again.

I am the kind of girl who gets weepy at Hallmark commercials and emotionally involved in things that don't matter very much. I really, really get excited to hear some one's good news. I feel sympathy pains when someone gets hurt or sick. I am usually the first person my friends come to when they get a new car because they know I'll be thrilled for them and demand a ride as soon as possible. I think the word for what I am is ENTHUSIASTIC.

Today is an example of the silly things I get excited about. Did you know today's date is 09-09-09? Seriously, how cool is that? And so, in honor of the day and of being excited over the little things, I offer you this post.

Nine Lists of Nine
all lists in no particular order

Nine easy treats to make a tough day a little better

slowly eating a Snickers ice cream bar
finding a personal letter in the mail
slurping Sonic coke with extra ice
calling your mom on the drive home from work
having your best friend call just to check on you
Chinese take out and a movie
curling up with a great book
a long, long hug from someone you love
going to bed early

Nine comfort foods for when you need to bring out the big guns

homemade mashed potatoes and gravy
hot rolls with too much butter
homemade biscuits with too much butter and strawberry jam
warm, chewy chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven
cornbread and chili for supper
grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup
a big bowl of macaroni and cheese
chicken enchilada casserole piled high with sour cream
saltines slathered with mayo and topped with slices of sharp cheddar cheese (Yes, I really do eat this, but only when I'm really down.)

Nine songs for when you're feeling blue

Bring It On Home To Me
Lean On Me
I Say A Little Prayer For You
Everybody's Got a Laughing Place
Get Up Offa Dat Thing
Viva La Vida (You've got to watch this.)
Oi To The World
Oh Happy Day
Joyful, Joyful

Nine things you should do at least once in your life

sky dive
skinny dip
write a fan letter
perform for a crowd
see your favorite band live
send flowers for no good reason
mentor someone who needs you
laugh till coke squirts out your nose
take a moonlight ride in a horse-drawn carriage

Nine things to do every day

sing
pray
read
dance
give thanks
smile at strangers
drink lots of water
laugh, a lot, a whole lot
hug at least three people

Nine wonderful newish-to-me blogs

Nine things on my to do list

print student's pictures and get them hung on the classroom door
catch up on my thank you notes
paint and hang my inspiration board for the Sparkle Room
make a great apple cobbler for Jeffrey
read my camera manual
get a new pedicure
spend my iTunes giftcard
have another craft day with Sloane
make my next Alphabetica post

Nine things on my To Buy list

this book
and this one
this movie
and this one
this necklace
and this one
a new stapler for school
this completely cool container
a navy and white striped top

Nine things to be grateful for

music
Jeffrey & Sloane
my cozy, comfy bed
that hard days always end
that every day is a new beginning
my job; even when its hard, it's mine
that PMS is not an every day occurrence
that you can't stay grumpy when you dance and sing
that I can always count on laughter, love, and gratitude

Happy 09.Day to you.

The photos above are from Other Things and Leo Reynolds.

Speaking of Wishes,

2009-09-02T23:27:00.001-05:00

I have more. Of course I do.

I wish you

the same sense of perspective that time at the ocean always seems to bring

magical moments that make you feel all lit up inside

the feeling of freedom you had when you rode downhill on your childhood bike

days when you know and enjoy your own beauty

empty spaces and room to breathe

Be well my friends. Be happy.

All photos were taken by i.Anton and are used with permission. You can purchase some of her wonderful images here.

I Wish...

2009-08-30T01:54:00.001-05:00

Tonight I was reading Elizabeth Berg's blog. She is one of my favorite authors; mostly because she knows how to savor the little things. I'd been planning to write a post tonight, but wasn't sure what I wanted to say. When I read paragraphs below, I knew I had my post.

I'm thinking a fragrant, lukewarm bath is in order. Summer pajamas. Then the books. I wish I could read by fireflies, like I did as a little girl one summer night when I was nine. I loved it. The fireflies did not, I think. I let them all go the next morning and not a one of them looked back and said, "Hey, thanks for the hospitality. Loved the holes you punched in the jar lid."

Also, I wish we could have fireflies in winter. Wouldn't THAT be pretty? Those little lanterns against the snow? Someone once said to me, "Boy. You sure wish for things a lot." And I said, "SO?????" I should have said, "I wish it wouldn't bother you so much."
~ Elizabeth Berg

I wish a lot, too. Don't you?

I wish...

** I wish to travel back in time to that perfect night when Jeffrey first held my hand. We were in a clearing in the middle of the woods and the sky was lit by a million stars. More than twenty years later, I still feel that same delighted fizz when we hold hands. Still, I'd like to live that night again.

** I wish for an old fashioned bathtub, the kind that keeps the water hot for hours and is deep enough to sit in and still soak to the chin.

** I wish air travel were as cheap and convenient and fun as road trips. That way I could visit far away friends and family much more often.

** I wish I had a first edition, autographed copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

** I wish I had the good manners and generous spirit of Atticus Finch.

** I wish I could sing just once with an amazing singer. Just me and him and a piano. Nobody else around. Somebody like Frank, Willie, Bono, or Aaron.

** I wish I could start working on my doctoral degree. For free.

** I wish I could find season two of McLeod's Daughters for cheap.

** I wish Domino, Country Home, and Mary Englebreit's Home Companion would come back.

** I wish I could be sure that I actually did manage to teach all of my students to love reading.

** I wish parents would work a little harder to teach their children good manners.

** I wish it were still as much fun as it used to be to sneak reading in bed by candlelight.

** I wish sugar and chocolate were healthy and fiber was bad for you.

** I wish my kitchen were big enough to hold two adults at a time.

** I wish I could be funny when I write.

** I wish she would hurry up and write another book.

** I wish we could have fireflies in winter. And one snowfall each summer.

** I wish I could write one perfect fairy tale. For Sloane.

What about you? What are you wishing for?

The wonderful picture is by scottwills.

When Thelma Met Louise

2009-08-25T22:08:00.003-05:00

It's been a month since I returned from San Francisco, and I still haven't written about the people portion of my trip. Funny since that was the most important part. Meeting friends was the real reason for the trip. I think I haven't written about meeting blogging friends because I hold that experience so close to my heart. The relationships we formed feel far too precious to write about casually. I feel like my "blog camp" friends deserve a trumpeting fanfare, a parade with them waving from the back of a cherry red convertible. They should, at the least, be showered in confetti and gifts. All I have are words. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
This picture, taken by an obliging stranger, is my favorite of the entire trip. Look at us. See how much we enjoy each other? It's all right there, in our faces. Real affection, laughter, kinship.

These pictures are of Robin and I. Our S F pals are much too camera shy for these posts. But, the kinship exists with them as well. How could it not? We laughed until our sides ached. We walked until we needed foot reflexology. We took more pictures than you can imagine. We inspired and challenged each other. Most of all, we talked. We talked about goals, about our pasts, about our passions, about old hurts and new joys. We were real. We connected. We looked deeply at each other. We saw each other. And we liked what we saw.

Dutchbaby and I met the most wonderful couple on the beach. They were both in grad school, and were building their first sandcastle. Those two were delightful, so full of life they fairly sparkled. As we talked DB mentioned that we were blogging friends that had only met the day before. Our new friends were shocked. The girl said,"Really? I just knew you two were lifelong friends." My answer? "We are. It just goes forward instead of back." And that's it. Those two sentences sum it up. When you meet a blog friend, when you spend time together, you become lifelong friends - going forward.