As of July 1, I will be unemployed. Here's what I have come up with so far as to what I will do with my time thereafter:
1. Fill up my "Drink It" board on Pinterest with tasty summer beverages.
2. Start my own family business: Finally set up that lemonade stand my girls have been bugging me about since they were 5.
3. "Like" every single post and comment from my FB friends.
4. Re-memorize the lyrics to Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire."
5. Read all the books on my Kindle.
6. Self-medicate (see #1).
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
Snapshots
Kathleen has been my friend for just about 16 years. We don't see each other very often, but I follow her blog and catch up with her on FB. We used to make coffee together at a hip local coffeehouse in the early 90's, when we were young and went to the beach on a whim and shopped at thrift stores and rolled our eyes a lot. Kathleen is a photographer. And she takes the most incredible pictures. The world through her camera lenses is magical and joyous.
She inspires me to try new things, to see the loveliness in the mundane. Nearly a handful of years ago, when her little sparkle of a son was born, she resolved to take a single snapshot of him each day for a year. What an amazingly simple thing, right? Just point, click, done - easy, no? Well... no. At least for me. I often don't see the preciousness of each day, even as I've developed wrinkles around my eyes (which I can't even seem to moisturize every day) and approach my 40's. I've always glossed over memories that come from daily life, instead looking for some big event that merits remembering. And yet, I barely remember my wedding at the courthouse 13 years ago or the day my girls took their first steps.
My 13-year old (yes, you do the math!) Suzannah saved up and recently bought herself a DSLR. She takes it with her to sleepover parties, so there are many, many images of hairstyles, pajamas, and silly faces. But there are also precious images of our whimsical dog Annie, of an annoyed younger sister, and close-ups of the things that clutter our home. Suz reminds me of Kathleen in many ways - cheerful, kind, and giving, but with a quick wit that saves her from being too soft. Her photos also show me that she sees the magic in each day.
She inspires me to try new things, to see the loveliness in the mundane. Nearly a handful of years ago, when her little sparkle of a son was born, she resolved to take a single snapshot of him each day for a year. What an amazingly simple thing, right? Just point, click, done - easy, no? Well... no. At least for me. I often don't see the preciousness of each day, even as I've developed wrinkles around my eyes (which I can't even seem to moisturize every day) and approach my 40's. I've always glossed over memories that come from daily life, instead looking for some big event that merits remembering. And yet, I barely remember my wedding at the courthouse 13 years ago or the day my girls took their first steps.
My 13-year old (yes, you do the math!) Suzannah saved up and recently bought herself a DSLR. She takes it with her to sleepover parties, so there are many, many images of hairstyles, pajamas, and silly faces. But there are also precious images of our whimsical dog Annie, of an annoyed younger sister, and close-ups of the things that clutter our home. Suz reminds me of Kathleen in many ways - cheerful, kind, and giving, but with a quick wit that saves her from being too soft. Her photos also show me that she sees the magic in each day.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Goodnight, Song
Every single night for most of Suzannah's life and for all of Charlotte's life, I have recapped what we did that day and then sang a song to them before kissing them and tucking them in for the night. We've always called it our "goodnight song."
The original goodnight song was "I've Been Working on the Railroad." Then it became "You Are My Sunshine," but with a slight change in a couple of the verses; I sang, "and when I woke up, I saw you sleeping/so I laid my head down and smiled" instead of the original verses: "when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken/so I hung my head down and cried." Less traumatic. Slightly.
The goodnight song saw my girls through a lot of changes. I sang it to an infant Suzannah when she wailed in the middle of the night. I sang it to a toddler Suzannah after her little sister was born. Through all the years of (loud) fighting with their dad, I sang them the goodnight song. The song became a trio during the separation and the divorce.
At some point this summer, the goodnight song was no more. And I can't remember how a routine that became like brushing my teeth just... stopped. Was it all the consecutive sleepover nights with friends? Was it that we were so tired at the end of the day that we fell right to bed in the evening? Was it that I was so distracted that I stopped offering the goodnight song?
It doesn't matter. Having shared the goodnight song with each other for so long, we are better prepared to be there for one another going forward. And I can't wait.
The original goodnight song was "I've Been Working on the Railroad." Then it became "You Are My Sunshine," but with a slight change in a couple of the verses; I sang, "and when I woke up, I saw you sleeping/so I laid my head down and smiled" instead of the original verses: "when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken/so I hung my head down and cried." Less traumatic. Slightly.
The goodnight song saw my girls through a lot of changes. I sang it to an infant Suzannah when she wailed in the middle of the night. I sang it to a toddler Suzannah after her little sister was born. Through all the years of (loud) fighting with their dad, I sang them the goodnight song. The song became a trio during the separation and the divorce.
At some point this summer, the goodnight song was no more. And I can't remember how a routine that became like brushing my teeth just... stopped. Was it all the consecutive sleepover nights with friends? Was it that we were so tired at the end of the day that we fell right to bed in the evening? Was it that I was so distracted that I stopped offering the goodnight song?
It doesn't matter. Having shared the goodnight song with each other for so long, we are better prepared to be there for one another going forward. And I can't wait.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Fickle
So, dear Blog, I've been cheating on you with Facebook. Or FB, as I affectionately call him. FB was just so new and exciting - I felt ALIVE with FB. Sob. But I swear, I thought about you all the time. Ok, some of the time. I got addicted to FB; it's like crack for nerds (oh wait. that's Star Wars).
Anyway, I'm back. Don't be frightened.
Anyway, I'm back. Don't be frightened.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tweet my fears
Now that I'm a grownup, I've decided to face my fears. What am I afraid of? Monkeys, over all else. Also, touching raw meat. And the feel of gristle in my mouth. Plus also I have a paralyzing fear of failure and of disappointing my loved ones. However, I have decided to address my fear of Twitter at this time.
I'll let you know when I've decided on a username, which could take a while. Why? I am afraid of committing to one username.
I'll let you know when I've decided on a username, which could take a while. Why? I am afraid of committing to one username.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
I'm a big girl now!
I watched Juno the other night, finally. Really liked it. But there was a scene that got me thinkin, which doesn't usually produce good outcomes. The scene was where Juno tells her stepmom that she hung out with the guy who made up half of the couple who were going to adopt Juno's baby, and that he was really cool, played guitar, etc. The stepmom then says that it's not right to hang out with a married man and that there are rules.
What are these rules? Where can I get a copy?
Other than a glib thought that, in 2008, a woman should be able to be friends with anyone she wants, including married folks regardless of gender, I've never really thought about the propriety or impropriety of friendships with those in marriages or serious relationships. When I was a preteen, I remember my mom saying that proximity breeds desire. I thought that was just old-woman-crazytalk back then, but now I think there's something to that. Think about interoffice romances, the boss doing his secretary, Jim and Pam, Dwight and Angela. Think about Jaime Gumm: We covet what we see every day.
Now that I'm in the most mature relationship of my life (mature as in we are both trying to act unchildish, not mature as in we are both approaching middle age, for Christ's sake), I no longer act like the cool girlfriend (Mental Note: blog about that later). I see that it's necessary to be vulnerable, to express emotion, to let the other person know I appreciate him and think about him. And I found all this out when I met pretty much my equal in this relationship. He can be as hard-to-read and aloof and fiercely independant as I am. A good friend of mine characterized our early relationship as 2 icebergs colliding. Yikes. But now we both talk about our hopes for this relationship and about each other. It feels like a new & different place for me, but it's warm & comforting too.
What are these rules? Where can I get a copy?
Other than a glib thought that, in 2008, a woman should be able to be friends with anyone she wants, including married folks regardless of gender, I've never really thought about the propriety or impropriety of friendships with those in marriages or serious relationships. When I was a preteen, I remember my mom saying that proximity breeds desire. I thought that was just old-woman-crazytalk back then, but now I think there's something to that. Think about interoffice romances, the boss doing his secretary, Jim and Pam, Dwight and Angela. Think about Jaime Gumm: We covet what we see every day.
Now that I'm in the most mature relationship of my life (mature as in we are both trying to act unchildish, not mature as in we are both approaching middle age, for Christ's sake), I no longer act like the cool girlfriend (Mental Note: blog about that later). I see that it's necessary to be vulnerable, to express emotion, to let the other person know I appreciate him and think about him. And I found all this out when I met pretty much my equal in this relationship. He can be as hard-to-read and aloof and fiercely independant as I am. A good friend of mine characterized our early relationship as 2 icebergs colliding. Yikes. But now we both talk about our hopes for this relationship and about each other. It feels like a new & different place for me, but it's warm & comforting too.
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