Cup of Tea While I Ramble?

Feb 26, 2009 | This Life

I’m still getting used to working at a desk!

 

Presently, I’m waiting on the FedEx truck. On it is my box of Harney tea that, according to the tracking website, should be delivered any minute now.  In the meantime, I snapped a quick shot of my make-shift desk.  Complete with my constant companion tea cup and a new print by Michele Maule sent to me by the lovely Suzy Lorenzen. It’s such a beautiful print, you should really go check out Michele’s work.

Sadly, the photo doesn’t do Michele’s work justice any more than this post can adequately express my gratitude to Suzy. Suzy and I became friends through Etsy and she really is an amazing person (and photographer!!). She easily tops my “The Best of Etsy People” list!  

I will not lie, I ADORE getting yummy mail. Who doesn’t? If too many days pass without something lovely in the mail, I tend to muse, “Self, you should order something from Etsy to accessorize all those bills!”

Let’s face it,  too often our mailboxes are stuffed with junk mail and bills. Form letters at Christmas. A quickly scrawled signature on birthday cards. Real letters, or notes, or tokens of affection are hard to come by. It’s a reality of being an adult— a reality I remind my child every time he makes an appeal to “email” instead of breaking out the pen and paper. “Trust me kiddo, when you start getting bills in the mail, you’ll appreciate receiving LOVE mail, too!”

Emails do suffice. For lots of things. This is not a diatribe on the superiority of paper. It’s just my rambling on about the beauty of getting something sweet in mail. Something I didn’t expect or pay for–something that simply says, “Hey, I’m thinking about you! And here’s proof!” 

With that in mind, I made it my goal this year to send small notes and gifts to friends—for no reason other than that they are loved. It’s a weekly discipline that requires some organization on my part. I’m famous for having good intentions with terrible follow through, so I keep a little reminder list in my calendar.  And I can’t tell you how many cards I have from past holidays that never made it to their intended destinations simply because I didn’t have a stamp on me. So, I keep those handy as well. I’ve started stockpiling cards I like and keeping notes of birthdays and favorite candies and real mailing addresses.  If the road to hell is paved with good intentions; then my friends, the road to heaven is paved with foresight and preparation. 

You can imagine how doubly blessed I was to get just such a “Hey, I’m thinking of you! Here’s proof!” in my mailbox today. From a person I call a friend, even if we’ve only met on Etsy. A print I would have chosen for myself from an artist that I adore. Clearly, Suzy is paving the road to heaven too!

It’s these connections that make life so special. The bills will get paid and the junk mail recycled. It’s the “Hey, I’m thinking of you! And here’s proof!” that we remember. And I hope that you find just such proof– something sweet, something wonderful in your mail this week. 

Me and Ashton Kutcher Got It Goin’ On

Feb 24, 2009 | This Life

So today is my birthday. For years, I’ve lied about my age and told people that I’m 42. I’ve always believed that if people were rude enough to inquire, it was license to stretch the truth. Lying up gives the added benefit of making you appear younger—since there are certain perceptions about what 40 or 50 or 60 looks like–and unless you’ve been smoking 2 packs a day you’re not likely to meet those expectations. Jaws drop and eyes widened with envy. They WISH they looked as good as you do at 42. It’s your little secret that you’re actually 36. 

But I’ve decided to come clean. In truth, it’s because I actually feel good about being 39. It’s the last year before 40–a decade I’m looking forward to entering–and I have plans to make the most of it! In fact, I even have  “theme” for this year of being “lighter–emotionally, spiritually, and physically” by 40.  

IZ, bless his heart, took me quite literally and got me a sweet, yet TINY Coolpix camera for my birthday. I promptly shot this self-portrait.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my Nikon D50 and all my assorted lenses. I’m actually looking to upgrade next year. But it’s heavy. Really heavy. And I’m starting to feel that weight in my joints after lugging it around in my bag. Two years ago leaving the house without a camera would have been sacrilege. But today I’m valuing my connective tissue more and more as it gets thinner and thinner. It’s the choice between the potential of a photo opportunity and the certainty that my neck will regret taking my camera. There’s only so much Naproxin a girl should take, you know?

IZ knows I’m brand loyal when it comes to cameras; and really, how can you argue with Ashton Kutcher–a man who clearly knows the value of a woman over 30. 

So, today I’m 39 and I’m shooting pictures with my tiny “lighter” camera and all is well with the world. Me and Ashton Kutcher, we got it goin’ on.

 

Hello Kitty

Feb 19, 2009 | This Life

I know I mentioned it on Twitter and Facebook, but I don’t think I got around to the demise of my laptop on Evidently. I was fortunate in that I saw it coming and had recently backed up all my photos and written work. However, I didn’t think to import my contact list (or my bookmarked favorites. OY!) before the final gasp–but it wasn’t until this week that I’ve realized what a mistake I’ve made!

I think like most people, I kept not just my email addresses on my computer but many of your actual home addresses were stored there as well. It’s made sending condolence cards and small tokens of my affection very difficult. It’s made sending snarky notes to my friends in PDX about the 70-degree weather they’re enjoying impossible! I want to send love notes. I want to send hate snark mail. Please!!

So I’m begging a small favor of you, Dear Readers. If ever we have chatted or conversed or traded a witty barb via email, please leave me a comment on this post. WordPress will send me an alert to your comment, which will include your email address. It’s a rather elegant solution, I think; until, of course, this computer also dies. But we have time.

And if you’ve never swapped virtual spit with me, but for some bizarre reason you think it would be fun—you know what to do: say Hello Kitty!  

 

From This Day Forward

Feb 13, 2009 | This Life

To have and to hold, from this day forward.
For better, for worse. 
For richer, for poorer.
In sickness and in health.
To love and to cherish, from this day forward.
Until death do us part. 

 

I wonder how many of us truly consider these words when we speak them.  This iconic snippit of poetry seals the marriages of countless couples daily.  And yet. Over-done and over-played, many of us write our own vows when presented the chance–not because the traditional vows are pointless, but because we think we can do better. We leave behind the patter of traditional promises without giving them much thought. In our own words, in our own ways we promise futures we cannot deliver. And I can’t help but wonder, what bits do we leave out and what does that say about us?

It will probably surprise you, but 19 years ago I did not choose to write my own vows. IZ and I had a very traditional wedding–exactly what I would expect of my 20 year old self. Nothing like what I’d do today. And I’ll admit,  I paid no more attention to those words than the next teenage bride. I meant every word, then and now. But I didn’t understand the complexity  and honestly, the down right horror involved in these simple promises.  

I’m not alone. Weddings are by nature moments of optimism. We stand, before families and communities or in some cases in front of strangers and  Elvis impersonators, and we look forward to futures filled with promises very different than the vows we take. We see hope, we seek joy. We know love and passion. We claim fidelity and companionship. And we forsake all others for this one beside us. For the moment, at least. And while the poetry  belies the future, we gloss over those reminders–our hearts screaming with our whole selves: I DO. I DO!

Very few marriages begin in sickness. Most of us take the health part for granted. We know better and worse and we encounter richer and poorer in stride. But the health. We don’t notice that until it sits in direct contrast with its poetic mate, sickness. It’s only then, we realize just what we’ve promised. Just  what we’ve lost.

In a moment’s notice, in a few simple words, “I think maybe, I need to go see my doctor. Today,” health slips from our fingers. We did not notice its presence, but we feel its absence intensely. Gone is our sense of security. Absent is our sense of wholeness. A deep hole has been gouged in our psyche and sickness settles in with a dull ache. And sickness does not travel alone, but brings with her a set of companions: fear, regret, panic, desperation, and despair. 

Time in countless waiting rooms provides what is missing in our wedding ceremonies: perspective. Time, ever the enemy, gives us a small gift–a momentary glimpse into a future we cannot deliver. Swirling in the mist of our fear and uncertainty are all the moments of the past, all the potential for the future. All the promises we made in hope. All the vows we keep in love. This far in the journey, we can see with clarity today what we could only promise in hope before. We discover, it is in sickness that we truly appreciate what love brings to our lives. 

And we vow, again, to love forever. We hold, we cherish. We bring countless cups of tea. We reach out in the darkness to hold a sleeping hand, whispering prayers of healing. Willing the universe to deliver a future we cannot. We enter into the limbo of waiting, accompanied not only by fear, but by the knowledge that love triumphs. 

And somehow, we summon the courage to move on–from this day forward.