A Room With A View

Feb 22, 2007 | This Life

Admire the red box. This actually arrived yesterday. After the day I had (an entirely different post that I should probably write, but who knows. If you see me in person, remind me to vent about it!) the closest this machine came to being used was being taken from its box and placed on the dining room table. Where it sat, lonely—or so I was told.

This annoyed the Boy and IZ to no end. Being the techno people they are, a new machine is a thing to be explored and discovered. What does this button do? How do you make it do that? A person should not rest until they have exhausted every pushable button and have read the manual through thrice. Spend an afternoon with them and you become an expert.

I wasn’t born with this gene. I like to ease into these things gradually. You know, take my time. Get used to just looking at the machine first. Then approach it. I tend to not bother with manuals until I need them. Oh? My bobbin is empty–guess it’s time to learn how to fill that. The machine came preloaded with thread and that screams, “Jump right in, the water’s nice” to me. And I would have, if my head hadn’t been threatening to explode.

I’m not sure who is more excited about this, to be honest. My kid kept jumping up and down exclaiming, “This is great, it’s like a gift for ME!” However, the arrival of new machine put a bit of crimp in our sewing arrangement. The big question: where to put the boy? As I promised him my old machine, which he affectionately calls, “Ol’ Rusty”, it wasn’t fair to not set him up to sew someplace. Before I could even begin to think about exploring today, I set to work making space for the kiddo in my office/playspace/craft room. (An aside: I honestly have no idea what to call that space. But, we need to settle on a name soon, because it’s annoying me greatly to fumble around for a name. Now that the boy is sharing the space, I don’t think we can call it my retreat!)

I thought my arrangement was clever. This way we can both sew at my table, but not bump into each other. Leave it IZ to find the humor in it. When he brought up my machine for me (I’m still too chicken to carry it anywhere–um, hello, I’m not exactly graceful!) he observed, “Welcome to Wende’s little sweatshop” as the boy was already busy sewing at his machine.

I have to admit, I admire the contents of the red box: especially for its motivational influence. The boy got through his math and science in record time and was all over me to begin by 2. We spent 2 hours today hanging out in our new sewing space. I have to tell you, it was non-stop negotiation. “So, you think next year when the new models are coming out, dad can buy you a better machine and I can have your new one??” And, “How about we make a deal, you let me use your machine at least twice a week? OK??” And, “I’m thinking that by next year, I should be good enough that you can trust me to use your new machine on my own, right?” On and on he went. I finally said, “You know, how about you sew up Monica’s Bag Bags on my machine.” How nice am I that I let him sew first? I’m such a first-born!

And that’s what he is doing in the picture above. After every seam he would stop and sigh. There was so much worth telling me about. “I just love the name Husquvarna. They sure make great machines!” And, “You know, Mom, I just love the chug chug sound it makes! It’s so sweet!” And, “You know, Mom, this thing even sews straighter seams!” And, “Wow, I can’t believe I finished this so fast… I would still be working on the first one if I was using Ol’ Rusty!” You all know where this is going, right?? I mean, he’s kinda transparent in his salesmanship. He relies on constant dripping over subtlety. Wonder where he learned that?

I would be remiss if I didn’t include a picture of the view from my sewing machine: dirty screens, window reflection, and fading sunlight included. It’s such an amazing view, I don’t know how much sewing I’ll get done. I think new screens will be in order for the spring and some sweet curtains to frame the view. Who knows, maybe the red box will motivate me and I’ll get around to actually painting my room with a view.

Did I Mention. . .

Feb 20, 2007 | This Life

I love my birthday week! In part, because the presents tend to get parceled out over the week instead of accumulating for one big day. Admit it… you love presents too, right? Who doesn’t? And I don’t know about you, but I enjoy it more that way. I get to savor the event and really pay attention to the moment.

IZ is such a good guy that he tends to buy early and then his presents burn holes in his pockets—no forgetting my birthday! (He did once when I turned 17 and he’s never lived it down!) He gets all twitchy. The year I turned 29, he splurged so early that I got my gift on New Year’s Eve because he just couldn’t wait any longer to give it to me! We have a rule though: no giving gifts early and then feeling guilty when my day comes so you end up doing MORE. (Which is better than buying early and completely forgetting you did, which is what I do!) I don’t need MORE! He’s learned over the years to wait longer and pace the week. These days, I end up with my gifts throughout my birthday week instead of months in advance. Yes, I’m still 12!

I’m so excited for this book. I almost got it for myself this weekend when I was in Portland, but something told me it would be poor form to be buying myself books the week before my birthday. I hate to be scooped like that, so better to wait. And sure enough, IZ asked me today, “Do you want a your present now or do you want to wait?” What kind of question is that? Now, of course!

This book is so very, very perfect! So much, that even the Boy was impressed.

Boy Wonder: Mom, when you trust me enough to use the sewing machine by myself, I’m so going to look in this book and find a project!

The Boy knows how to warm his crafty mother’s heart. Obviously, I’ve got some reading to do. You think if I crease the spine to open just right, the kid will take the hint?

Did I mention I love my birthday week? Don’t mind me, I’m a little giddy.

And So It Begins

Feb 19, 2007 | This Life

As you well know by now, I have a birthday coming up. Which is fine. I’m OK with my age. However, if you ask me just how old I am I will lie through my teeth and tell you I’m 42. Just sayin’.

And because my darling husband has been deep in the trenches of researching, I’ve known what my birthday gift is going to be for some time. It doesn’t really take the polish off the event, because I’m no fan of surprises. He actually looked at me and mocked me about throwing a big birthday bash… to which I threatened to change the locks on him!

But, there is a difference between being humiliated in public and the more gentle experience of, “What?? For me? You shouldn’t have!” Which was my experience on Friday. Kathleen and I had traveled into Portland to spend the day thrifting and she brought along a birthday gift. She makes these lovely pendants (as well other stuff… check out her shop!!) and I’ve been craving one for ages now.

However, the real gift of the day was discovering how terribly cool Kathleen is. I kinda suspected, but it’s nice to have your hunches confirmed! It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to spend that much time with someone and still LIKE them when we part. I’m sorry—I’m just such an introvert, the prospect of spending all day with someone I don’t know well is scary. I was needlessly worried—Kathleen is so witty. She shares my bad habit of mocking the insanity of life and my utter disappointment that Astoria doesn’t have an Anthropologie store. I adore her aesthetic; although it is not mine, so there is no worry about fighting over finds! In all, I think we make a pretty good thrifting team. I mean, we found all our destinations and I didn’t run anyone over or break anything all day!

By the time we got to dinner we were a little punch drunk from our long day and our poor dinner companions had to keep up more than their fair share of the conversation. But we had so much fun. Hanging out with Kathleen turned out to be the best part of my day. Needless to say, future trips have already been planned.

And really, Kathleen, you shouldn’t have! But thank you!!! I’m so glad you did!!

Because It Ends Well

Feb 19, 2007 | This Life

The last 18 months have been. . . interesting? Moving to Astoria when we did was not our original plan. We’d intended to fix our little house up while I worked at an internship on campus. However, those plans were decimated without any warning or care and we found ourselves living in a “fixer”—something I swore I’d never do. When will I learn not to make pronouncements to the Universe like that??

But living in this house has been a joy despite the half-started projects that surround me. I photograph very carefully and you don’t see the chaos that we live in or the questionable decorating choices of the former owners. That stuff remains just out of frame.

What has been more difficult is the community aspect of being in a new town. I couldn’t bring myself to talk about the betrayals and heartbreak inflicted by my Seminary I was carrying around. I mean, how do you walk up to a new person and say, “Hi! I’m wounded. And bitter. Let’s be friends!” You don’t!

Connecting was made almost impossible by the time my internship demanded—I often found myself too scheduled and too tired to really consider doing much of anything new. I’ve always drawn the line about talking about parishioners except in the most general of terms—their privacy is far more important than my need vent— but by not communicating the difficulties I left the impression with the few people that I met that my life was “easy” or “charmed” in ways that didn’t account for the grueling aspects of my work. Nor did it account for the loneliness that accompanies a life in ministry. Like the photographs of my lovely tea spot—I neglected to note the eyesore of a woodstove out of frame. Sadly, I had made friends with people who could not tolerate my absence or need to mend.

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Be Mine

Feb 14, 2007 | This Life

I grew up in a deeply religious household that didn’t allow candy at Easter. In fact, we didn’t call it Easter, we called it Resurrection Sunday. To make up for it, my Daddy was good about making sure we got candy on Valentine’s Day. It was always Jelly Belly Jelly Beans. Except the one year it wasn’t and I was so crushed he went out and bought me Jelly Beans the next day. I would climb up into the top most part of my closet and pretend to be far far away–wishing for Spring I suppose–eating my Jelly Beans in the silence that was so hard to find in my house. I would save all the Watermelon flavored ones for last. It was my tradition: and I like tradition, what can I say?

And that tradition of candy on Valentines has continued in our little family of three. We call Easter just Easter, but it’s still a religious holiday not associated with candy for us. And while we didn’t go overboard with the sugar this year (can we say diet??) we’re all trying to be sweet in our own ways. IZ brought home champagne which will be put to good use later. No more needs to be said about that! Boy Wonder made me a handmade card that reads:

Dear Wende,

You’re probably the best mom a kid could have, that’s why I love you so much! Happy Valentine’s Day!

Love,

Boy Wonder

That made me smile until my cheeks ached. He thought “Wende” sounded more formal, and as it was a formal declaration of his love, I wasn’t addressed as mom. Somehow, that makes it even more special. And, no, I don’t need a holiday to be told I’m loved. But, it’s nice, none the less. Don’t you think?

And me? Well, I passed out small chocolates and sugar hearts and lots of gushy words enveloped in pink and red paper. They know I love them. But it’s nice to tell them on this cold day in February. It makes Winter seem shorter and Spring so much less a dream.

I hope that however you celebrate this day, you are with a loved one. I hope that you are finding ways to say “I love you” that are special and uniquely yours. I’ve had the privilege of calling IZ my Valentine for almost 20 years. We started young! And you know, it never gets old. And so, I offer this love story. After the jump is my first memory of meeting IZ and a Valentine of sorts for him. . . and you.
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Pausing

Feb 13, 2007 | This Life

It’s been a weird day. Half starts. Poor finishes. I really shouldn’t be allowed near a stove. I burned the pine nuts for the salad because my salad was so beautiful it just begged to be photographed. It cooed at me, I swear and in the moment I forgot the pine nuts on the burner. Just a moment is all it takes. Yeah, I know. There are reasons I’m not the main cook in this family. The potential to burn down the house is one of them. Adding insult to burning, I haphazardly started into a pizza dough recipe that calls for 3 cups of flour with only 2 cups of flour on hand. It was messy and gooey and decidedly not pizza! Fortunately, IZ rescued the evening with Fultanos—not homemade, but still pizza to accompany my beautiful, if distracting salad.

Speaking of poor finishes: I don’t know how it got to be the night before Valentine’s! Sadly, all the dreamy plans I had in January have dissipated in the whirlwind of February. And they were such beautiful plans. Plans of flowers and chocolates and all things lovely and yummy and downright sinful for all my beloved friends. I did think of you. But then, my 10 year old stirred a whirlwind of his own and I got preoccupied with facilitating his new venture and… And! And now it’s the night before Valentine’s Day. No hearts or flowers for you. But I adore you all. You know that, right?

When the days get this disconnected, I like to sit down to cup of tea with Snickers. She makes things better in her, “I’m the center of the Universe” way. She’s not supposed to be on my tea table but I’m feeling indulgent. I’m not really the boss of her anyways. It’s nice to sit in the company of someone this self-contained, especially when feeling so at a loss for ends. Sometimes, you need to pause the day and just BE.