some thoughts on motherhood, marriage, learning to love my own face in the mirror, wondering about the lady in the tangerine coat in the bean aisle at the market, writing - the usual suspects.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Day 31
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
A Little Bit of Mother Love
Monday, March 29, 2010
Call It What You Will
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Two By Four-ness
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
Nobody Bats An Eye
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Gone By Morning
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Last Supper?
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
First Amendment Blues
Monday, March 22, 2010
Like Breathing
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Walking With Neeny
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Just As It Is
Practice letting go. The next time you find yourself mentally holding on to a past, current, or future event, release it, and let it fall away. Letting go does not have to be developed, it only has to be done. Instead of trying to understand everything or figure things out, simply let go. Let go of your desires, expectations, and fears. Let go of your worries and your remorse. Let go and release everything to be just as it is. Nothing special to be, no wounds to heal, no past or future to bind you.
~ from Lessons from the Dying by Rodney Smith
Blessings to you and yours on this first day of Spring.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Like A Mama Porcupine
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Making Toast
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Let Us Be Ourselves
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Missing Che
Monday, March 15, 2010
What More Could I Ask For?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
An Untroubled Spirit
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Run Like Hell!
Friday, March 12, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Call Me Bubbles
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Make A Garden
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Changing Channels
Monday, March 8, 2010
As The World Turns...
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Look Under Foot
Saturday, March 6, 2010
A Claire Story
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Two Purple Things
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Elizabeth and Bean
After a second cup of tea and some world-class sighing, I went to get my three year old grandaughter, Elizabeth. We spend Wednesday mornings together. This has proven to be way cheaper than a therapist, trust me.
Elizabeth didn't give him the time of day.
After the puzzles, we climbed the big staircase to look for some books for me because we always do that. Elizabeth loves climbing the big staircase. Just for the record, I steered clear of the self-help section even though I was still feeling oddly desperate. Every now and then she'd lift her arm up to show me the rubber band hanging loosely around her wrist.
That's what she calls me. Bean.
So I marveled at her rubber band and her grin, and the way her pink boots clunked along the ground when she walked. And then I wondered why I was such a banging around in the paper bag kinda girl when obviously all I needed was a good rubber band to kick my moody middle-aged blues to the curb.
The bad news is her rubber band snapped when I was buckling her into the car seat. The good news is that I keep a small stash of rubber bands in my silverware drawer.
The minute we walked in the door Elizabeth said," Rubber band in drawer, Bean. Please."
Sure enough, nestled in near the teaspoons we found a pretty purple one, thicker and sturdier than her first one. I know this is way overused to say her face lit up, but it did. It lit right up when I slipped that rubber band on her wrist.
Simple, right?
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
My Chihuahua Lady
"I don't know what the big deal is about dying," she said.
"You're really just going to another dimension. I mean, I know you miss seeing people but it doesn't have to be that scary."
Come to think of it, neither does living.
I'm thinking my ten year old is on to something.
It's amazing how fearful I can be.
Should I make the phone call? Yes.
What if I can't figure this out, then I'll have to ask somebody for help. So?
What if the school secretary thinks I'm some kind of woo-woo yoga teacher trying to find work? And my point is?
But if I use my life is a river metaphor, well, standing on the riverbank can be beautiful, but if you never get in the water...?
Like the woman who literally swept by my car today while I was loading groceries into the back. She was upon me in a moment, talking about her chihuahuas (they were in a crate in her backseat). Her bleached hair was a long mane down her back, her face heavily made up, two slashes for eyebrows. She was beaming and going on about the dogs.
"They're my babies. I take them everywhere. On the plane to Miami. You see, my mother died and left me a couple of properties. One of the dogs was hers but she got sick, died. So now I have the two. They're just so cute! You won't believe this but I put one in the hot tub the other night. Oh my God, I think he actually liked it but he kept barking and barking. I thought I was going to have to call 911!"
And then she was gone.
I don't recall saying hello to start our conversation. Maybe I smiled. It doesn't matter. I am so grateful for My Chihuahau Lady. Grateful for her blast of alive-ness today, there in the parking lot of MR. Z's.
I drove home happy, past the piles of dirty snow. I'm pretty sure I heard my angels singing a ditty, a little something to the tune of Happy Birthday...It's not scary at all, Life's not scary at all, It's not scary at ALL! It's really not scary at all.