Jun 27, 2007 | Boy Wonder, This Life
Yellow Stripes are all the rage at Chez Wonder. He tested 2 months ago and I think had given up hope of ever hearing back. But, we got the call yesterday. . . good news. . . He passed!
The ceremony last night was really sweet. However, most of photos have other local children in them and no way to really crop them out—kids I don’t know, so no way to seek permission either. Anyhow, it was lovely, you’ll just have to trust me on that. Three kids got their next belt and they’re at that age where they’re fiercely proud but have NO intention of letting on; a mixture of “Aw Shucks” and “Look at me!” played out on every face as they bowed to their instructor and received their certificates. Straight faces all around, except for the sly grin attempting to escape at the corners of their mouths.
I tend to cry at these things, but managed to keep myself together for the boy’s sake. You know, it would never do. But I don’t think you could wipe the grin off my face last night.
Jun 25, 2007 | This Life
This is not me. Not today.
Today, I am in several places at once but none of which are my porch, none of which are taking in the view and a cuddle with Sophie. Instead, I’m frantically attempting to restock Thrifty Goodness, organize my work space to make room for an impending arrival, and keep my sanity all in one desperate gasp for oxygen. Deadlines loom and the sunlight fades and panic is my new best friend forever. Or, at least until I’m finished with this madness that, yes, I’ve brought on myself.
Recently I was asked what it means to be “productive, but not busy.” While I’ve been thinking about that theme for some time I don’t have an answer, at least not today. My hunch is that it has something to do with going about your day in a way where you still see the beauty around you. Something to do with flowing seamlessly from one task to the next with the intention of being present, not rushed; being focused on the other, not your “to-do” list. Something to do with walking, not running. Something that does not look like what I’ve been doing today.
Rush, rush, rush. The list of things I’ve done keeps growing. I’m not certain this is an accomplishment, for each task is quickly replaced by two more. Nor do I aspire to large lists of tasks completed. I suppose there are times in our lives where we cannot manage the deliberate pace of contemplation. There are moments when life hands you a list and expects you to accomplish—this strikes me as a way to survive, not necessarily as a way to really LIVE! I don’t think it’s healthy nor wise to exist at this pace; completing one task only to rush on to the next. Hording my accomplishments as if they were of value. Fortunately, it will be short lived in my case.
Yet, there is something to be said for still being aware, even in the rush to do. The rush to accomplish. Surely, there is more beauty in the world waiting just past this humongous list of things I’ve accomplished today? Perhaps if I stop, for just this moment, I will see it and it will see me?
Beauty:
Beauty is startling. She wars a gold shawl in the summer and sells seven kins of honey at the flea market. She is young and old at once, my daughter and my grandmother. In school she excelled in mathematics and poetry. Beauty doesn’t anger easily, but she was annoyed with the journalist who kept asking her about her favorites—as if she could have one favorite color or one favorite flower. She does not mind questions though, and she is fond of riddles. Beauty will dance with anyone who is brave enough to ask her. ~ J. Ruth Gendler
I don’t know about you, but I’m hoping to be brave enough to ask for a dance very, very soon.
(A special thank you to Kathleen for the photograph.)
Jun 24, 2007 | Sunday Sermon
Listen.
Listen to the mustn’ts, child. Listen to the don’ts.
Listen to the shouldn’ts, the impossibles, the won’ts.
Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me…
Anything can happen, child. Anything can be. ~Shel Silverstein.
Jun 21, 2007 | This Life
Happy Summer! Happy Summer! Now, go out and do something fun.
UPDATE:
I went for a walk downtown, Astoria. What did you do on this first day of Summer?
Jun 20, 2007 | This Life
A brown paper box probably shouldn’t make me this giddy. Seriously. I have issues, I know. But I can’t help it.
I adore this store. And its catalog. And its website. Everything about it makes me happy. The merchandising, the photography, the layouts, the window displays. I mean it, everything! However, that being said, I’ve never actually bought anything from them. Their clothing runs a wee bit small for a girl as curvy as I find myself these days and their housewares make my sweetie pass out.
It’s not for a lack of trying. I think Anthropologie has singlehandedly made my man rue the day he ever purchased a laptop for me. You see, he sits on the couch watching one of his soaps sci-fi teledramas programs and I sit beside him window shopping on the internet. (That would be a funnier pun if I actually used Windows) I’m a bad wife, I don’t wait for commercials.
“Ooh, sweetie,” pointing at my computer screen “Wouldn’t this be great in our living room?” He looks over and promptly loses consciousness. “My eyes, my eyes,” he mumbles as he goes under.
Oh, now, don’t be feeling too sorry for him. First off, the Sci-Fi channel— yeah, they repeat EVERYTHING all the time. If you miss an episode don’t worry, another one will be around shortly. Sorta like the metro bus system, only more reliable. Besides, most of these programs he’s seen before. Numerous times. So much so, without really paying attention, I even know what’s going to happen next! If that were not enough, all these programs are taped and he knows how to use the pause button. And just to add insult to injury, he also has a Sci-Fi queue set up with Netflix. He says it’s completely justifiable to have a Star Trek queue because both he and the boy enjoy it. I say that just means more time I can spend annoying him with my Anthropologie obsession. “Sweetie, sweetie, LOOK!”
He eventually gains consciousness and then gives me a look that says, “You’re really cute, but you’re on my last nerve, and I’m trying to watch a program here.” However, I’m a determined girl and can’t be so easily dissuaded. “Um, look, see this really would be a good idea. We need a new chair and this one would add such punch to our room. You know a little bit of, uh, ‘hipness’.”
Now, my pointing out that our interiors might lack a little “edge” always gets him. He won’t admit it, but he falls into that “solid, but not edgy—stable, but not hip” category. It’s what makes him such a great guy. He’s dependable. His taste in furniture tends to follow suit. He won’t let me paint the refrigerator with chalkboard paint and in my book, that makes him UNHIP. This is completely unfair, which is why it works. Inevitably, he pushes pause long enough to look at the computer screen I’ve shoved his direction. Viewing the price tag he rolls his eyes, and then suggests employment should be in my future.
I could get a job. But that would seriously cut in to my “annoying IZ” time, and we wouldn’t want that! S i g h. So, no fabu chair for me.
However, my guy is dependable. And when I couldn’t stop gushing about the yellow latte bowls from our trip—You know, the ones I loved so much I photographed and then blogged about! Yeah, those bowls—he went and ordered me a set. Six yellow bowls in a brown paper box. Seems like every reason to be giddy.
Jun 19, 2007 | You Can't Make This Stuff Up
It’s nearly summer and that means: time to read trashy novels on the beach. One of the down sides (was there an up???) to Grad school was that the amount of reading I had to do left me with little time or energy for reading anything else. By the time summer would roll around, the only things I felt like looking at were magazines. I mean this literally, looking. Because I don’t think I read a bit of print beyond pictures all the summers I was in school. I was just too tired to think! When each class was demanding hundreds of pages of text to be read each week, the very thought of reading for pleasure was unimaginable.
Of course, there was that one semester where I read nothing but advanced reader copies of novels in order to avoid reading the required subject matter for a certain class I was taking. I found the reading for that class as tedious as I found the professor—my theory was, the less time I spent actually doing the work the saner I’d become. It worked. Of course, it was my first B in Grad school.
Funny story that B—I was destined for it. The summer before, I was working in the campus bookstore when this professor paid us a call. Business was slow and my boss totally encouraged her staff to read when there was nothing else to do. So, there I was, propped behind the counter with an advanced reader copy of The Good Men by Charmaine Craig. Now, you should know this professor had a reputation. While I’d never met him in person, he was kinda hard to miss on campus. Students either loved him or, uh, didn’t. (Most other professors polled were less enthusiastic. They either found him insufferable or they proffered a “no comment”.) He was famous for having “favorites” and reducing his non-preferred students to tears.
So, in he walks, and without even saying hello he looks at the book I’m holding and says, “Huh, must be a chick-book about hating men.” Or some such nonsense suggesting that the book wasn’t “pro-man”. Uh… it’s a book about heresy. A work of historical fiction. Now, to his credit, he couldn’t have known what the book was about, because it was an advance reader copy—the book hadn’t been published yet! But, seriously, wouldn’t you take offense to such a presumption?
No, probably not. You, dear readers, are wise and patient and not prone to sticking your foot in your mouth. Me? Well, that was when, without missing a beat, I made the biggest mistake I could and said, “Uh, clearly you’re not a church historian.” Oops. My bad. How was I to know that he had a running feud with the Church History Department?
My boss, who had heard the whole exchange, had a good laugh at my expense and clued me into the departmental politicking. Oh, joy. At the time, I was a wee bit obsessive about “pointy” grades and she knew it. “There goes my ‘A’,” I thought. And I was right.
Much more went into my getting a B; he and I came from different theological camps. Needless to say, being different wasn’t rewarded at the particular seminary I attended. By the time the course came to an end, we’d pretty much squared off as enemies. He blatantly came after me in class and in my papers—so much so, I was often asked why I didn’t report him. Truth is, as appalling as it was, I expected it! Remember, I’d had advance warning the summer before when I discovered the true meaning of “Good Men”. When grades were issued he made a point of telling me how overjoyed he was to be giving me a B. Of course, it wasn’t the first B in my education, and it wouldn’t be my last! I can’t recall if I actually said this or just thought it, but I do remember the sentiment I had when he gloated about my grade, “I’ve been given B’s by better men!”
Jun 18, 2007 | Boy Wonder, Overheard
. . . I’m going to blog about you.
Boy Wonder gave his father a card yesterday that read: Happy Father’s Day to the dad who wrote the book on fatherhood. . . from the kid who inspired the chapter, “Just When You Think You Have It All Figured Out. . .” Inside he inscribed the card:
Dear Dad,
Thank you for being such a good father this year. It amazes me that you can clean, cook, play, and take on the evil wrath of mom all at the same time.
Love, Boy Wonder
PS. The wrath thing was a joke.
Sure it was kid, sure it was!
Jun 17, 2007 | Sunday Sermon
Pause.
Jun 16, 2007 | This Life
I did not know then what I know now. How could I? What I knew then was that I was smitten beyond words. You were the first person in my life who had ever truly listened to me. The first to face me, in all my limitations, and see beauty. Even then, in this photo, I did not completely trust that vision. I suspected you were myopic.
I still suspect your vision is blurry. But what I know now is that beauty has many faces. I know that it takes the form of you standing in the storms, facing down the torrents of my insecurities that often threaten to drown me. I know that beauty lives in the peaceful way you bring me coffee and your willingness to suffer my high expectations. It rests between us when words are no longer necessary. In the way you hold me and have never thought of violence. The way you speak to me and about me. The way you walk. Oh, the way you walk, do you know how lovely you are walking hand-in-hand with our son? Or when I catch the sight of our shadow on the pavement, hands interlaced. It takes my breath away. And I could not imagine it then. I can barely grasp it now.
I did not know then that I was blessed. Blessed not for the loveliness of the day, but for the companionship in the trials on the horizon that we could not see then. Every fairytale has a villain, how else does good triumph? And we have met our fair share. We have slayed our dragons, run from wolves, and tricked the little men who would keep us from happiness. You and I know the truth: that all this beauty has been hard won. We have persevered, my love—we have endured.
I could not see then what I see now. But that is the beauty of fairytales. We don’t see the big bad wolf or the wicked witch coming our direction when we begin. Instead, we believe in happy endings. In a world where hope is elusive we take a step of faith into the unknown. Together.
Jun 15, 2007 | This Life
So, my internet service went down yesterday afternoon and has just now been restored. 30 hours without the net makes me a little gloomy. However, I woke up to a clean kitchen and IZ busting out the carpet cleaner. Since he couldn’t work, and he can’t sit still, he opted to help me clean for this evening’s little get together. Which, incidentally, we spent out on our tangy porch and never really wandered in to see my clean house. However, I knew it was clean and that’s all that matters.
Our service might not have been up and running, but we sure were. Boy did we clean! I’m pooped. I’m far too exhausted to really write or respond to comments. I’ll be back tomorrow to do all that. Until then, I’ll leave you with a photo of the Anniversary roses IZ gave me. Which, as beautiful as they are, are not nearly as amazing as having a husband who steam cleans your floors! Seriously, I’m spoiled.
Now I’m off to sink into yummy clean sheets in an equally clean house. Life is good.
