Tonight we were eight for dinner. Originally we were going to be 4, then we got a call from mom and dad and we were 6 (yea, they're back-- although we are happy when they get to travel and we know they enjoy spending time with Jeff, Julia and the trout at roaring river, we always miss them when they are gone for more than a few days), then we got a call from Taylor and Ann-Lisette and just like that, we were 8. For just such an occasion, we keep a stash of spaghetti in our pantry, an easily scalable ingredient. One more can of sauce, 16 more ounces of noodles and we're set. And tonight, we didn't even need to adjust our menu, spaghetti was already on it. Cook some sausage and chicken, canned mushrooms, salad, bread, add garlic, olive oil, basalmic vinegar, parmesan cheese and we have a 3 course, 5 star meal, better than almost any restaurant. No drive, no gas for the drive, no waiting for a table, no tab. I figured it out and for $15, eight people ate what would have cost (with tax and tip) $120 at The Olive Garden. So, our 2.5 hours of labor (mostly me and Amber) saved us over $100. That's $40/hour which is absolutely nothing to sneeze at, if such a thing can make you sneeze. All in all it was a good time, and even though we're not prone to plan dinner for 8 on a Tuesday night, when it just happens, it's a blessing. So, if your in the area and you're hungy, give us a call on the way over, there will be plenty.
P.S. 6 weeks and 2 days to Greenleaf.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
New Green Couch
Nine things I love about the green couch: especially for my friend Carol, my son Roger and Carol's boyfriend Paul
The fact that you thought of me Carol
The fact that you gave it to me before you had completely recovered it
The fact that it is so beautifully recovered
The fact that you delivered it
The fact it was green
The fact it was a beautiful green
The fact it was microfiber
The fact that microfiber is just about my favorite fabric; for couches and jackets
The fact it matched my living room so nicely
The fact Roger came over to help unload it
The fact you got to meet Roger
The fact you got to meet Connor
The fact that Roger hosted a thank you dinner because there was no way I could have
The fact that Roger hauled off my old couch
The fact that Connor is so adorable, oh wait, that is a different story
Thank you Carol and Roger and Paul for my lovely new nest.
May you always have a lovely nest to call your own.
Hey Julia I moved from my old couch to my new...
The fact that you thought of me Carol
The fact that you gave it to me before you had completely recovered it
The fact that it is so beautifully recovered
The fact that you delivered it
The fact it was green
The fact it was a beautiful green
The fact it was microfiber
The fact that microfiber is just about my favorite fabric; for couches and jackets
The fact it matched my living room so nicely
The fact Roger came over to help unload it
The fact you got to meet Roger
The fact you got to meet Connor
The fact that Roger hosted a thank you dinner because there was no way I could have
The fact that Roger hauled off my old couch
The fact that Connor is so adorable, oh wait, that is a different story
Thank you Carol and Roger and Paul for my lovely new nest.
May you always have a lovely nest to call your own.
Hey Julia I moved from my old couch to my new...
Summer of Movement
What a wonderful summer. The summer of movement...
Tal, Andrew, Nora, and myself MOVED all the way to Seattle and Alaska for 10 days. What a memory!
Brittany MOVED to the University of Arkansas.
Jean & Catherine MOVED in with me (temporarily). Thank you Britt for giving Granny and Aunt Cathie incentive to visit Bella Vista.
Catherine MOVED my newest household member (Jasper the Jaguar) out from under my bed and enticed him upstairs for all to admire.
Nora & Zoe the cat MOVED to her wonderful loft in Downtown Fort Smith.
Andrew and Millie the cat MOVED into a perfect one bedroom apartment close to the Springdale Holiday Inn.
Jerry & Jane MOVED to Roaring River State Park in an attempt to find some relief from the OKC heat.
But, what a wonderful summer and it's not over yet. Nora came up for the weekend for the final push to get Andrew moved and vacated from the old apartment. Tal is due home today around 3:00 pm and is not expected to MOVE again until Tuesday. Jerry and Jane are (as far as I know) still at Roaring River. Jeff and I may run up there today for a chit chat.
I must admit to becoming a little complacent with my "tiny little life" to use Jan's phrase. I like getting up early, exercising, going to work, walking after work, eating, sleeping, and doing it all over again. Sometimes it is good to be really and truly shaken up. New places to visit, new things to do, new restaurants to try, new people to meet, and new paths to take.
I am wonderfully, gloriously, happily... Pooped.
Julia
Friday, August 26, 2011
Milk Poem
When I was in College I worked at the buy 'n bye convenience store across the street from campus. One very very slow snowy Sunday morning I saw a note from the manager that said, to receive credit, we were supposed to tape a note to an item that needed to be picked up by a vendor. That morning I had a customer return some sour milk, and the poem below was my note that I attached to the milk carton.
Her lips wer set for utter nectar
On that you can rely
But when she sipped, it almost decked her
she gave it another try
This time her buds cried out in fury
I thought she would pass out
But then I told her not to worry
It didn't smell that stout
With that she dared I take a swig
And with no hesitation,
I drank it down just like a pig
Then needed medication
If you don't believe this milk is sour
And that we deserve a credit
Than why'd I write for half an hour
And why have you just read it.
Markspere
Her lips wer set for utter nectar
On that you can rely
But when she sipped, it almost decked her
she gave it another try
This time her buds cried out in fury
I thought she would pass out
But then I told her not to worry
It didn't smell that stout
With that she dared I take a swig
And with no hesitation,
I drank it down just like a pig
Then needed medication
If you don't believe this milk is sour
And that we deserve a credit
Than why'd I write for half an hour
And why have you just read it.
Markspere
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Soft Life
What a soft life; always food, always shelter, always clothing, always water education books family jobs.
If I wanted to bake a cake, I baked a cake. I've never grown, harvested, winnowed or ground wheat. I've never raised chickens for eggs or cows for milk. Sugar came in pink bags from the grocer. Making a cake was always, well, a piece of cake, and easier still if I just ripped open a box. Ovens for baking were a switch not a wood box, nor did I have to find, chop, or carry the wood. The big ole oven just sat there waiting for me.
Yeah, I walked over a mile to school winter and summer. Sometimes my shoes were a little thin. I pay taxes -- not much of a hardship. I ran vinegar through my coffee pot to make it drip a little faster -- ooh that's tough. I've had to do laundry in my bathtub, scrub floors on my hands and knees, stayed up all night with a sick baby, and wash other folks underwear.
I've had a soft soft life.
I've been broke, skinny, lost, upset, cranky, fat, sick, and in pain, but no hardship or sacrifice can I recall. I've never been burnt out, bombed out, or disastered out. When Lonnie and Little Lonnie died in that car crash I read about a family in Missouri where nine family members died when a water tower they were all working on collapsed. Gave me perspective. Unfathomable pain is shared universally.
My tiny soft life is my life as lived on this earth. Not particularly transcendent or illuminated, but gentle, quiet and filled with warm memories of picnics. Small silly activities that filled me with pleasure. Making a film called the Missing Link. Mom parading in a swimsuit. I watched my sons grow to manhood, my dad grow old, I've seen a few changes in the world.
Would I do things differently? Should I have done more? Been more creative, wrote more poetry, saved the whales, walked across America in protest or for some cause, taken fewer naps? Is appreciating every spectacular sunset out my west window enough? Are warm memories of picnics enough? Is my life, surrounded and supported by family and friends, enough?
I've had a soft life and am grateful.
May all your todays be on the soft side.
I think I'll go write a poem. "Electric flu on a memory stick" is still rattling around up there. If that's not a poem nothing is.
If I wanted to bake a cake, I baked a cake. I've never grown, harvested, winnowed or ground wheat. I've never raised chickens for eggs or cows for milk. Sugar came in pink bags from the grocer. Making a cake was always, well, a piece of cake, and easier still if I just ripped open a box. Ovens for baking were a switch not a wood box, nor did I have to find, chop, or carry the wood. The big ole oven just sat there waiting for me.
Yeah, I walked over a mile to school winter and summer. Sometimes my shoes were a little thin. I pay taxes -- not much of a hardship. I ran vinegar through my coffee pot to make it drip a little faster -- ooh that's tough. I've had to do laundry in my bathtub, scrub floors on my hands and knees, stayed up all night with a sick baby, and wash other folks underwear.
I've had a soft soft life.
I've been broke, skinny, lost, upset, cranky, fat, sick, and in pain, but no hardship or sacrifice can I recall. I've never been burnt out, bombed out, or disastered out. When Lonnie and Little Lonnie died in that car crash I read about a family in Missouri where nine family members died when a water tower they were all working on collapsed. Gave me perspective. Unfathomable pain is shared universally.
My tiny soft life is my life as lived on this earth. Not particularly transcendent or illuminated, but gentle, quiet and filled with warm memories of picnics. Small silly activities that filled me with pleasure. Making a film called the Missing Link. Mom parading in a swimsuit. I watched my sons grow to manhood, my dad grow old, I've seen a few changes in the world.
Would I do things differently? Should I have done more? Been more creative, wrote more poetry, saved the whales, walked across America in protest or for some cause, taken fewer naps? Is appreciating every spectacular sunset out my west window enough? Are warm memories of picnics enough? Is my life, surrounded and supported by family and friends, enough?
I've had a soft life and am grateful.
May all your todays be on the soft side.
I think I'll go write a poem. "Electric flu on a memory stick" is still rattling around up there. If that's not a poem nothing is.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Clean Blue Water
This morning I woke up and went to the bathroom and as I watched the clean blue water turn green, a signal was sent to my brain telling me I should make the bed before I went to the kitchen. It’s Sunday and I was not the first to rise, so (as I was reminded earlier this week) since I was last out of the bed, I should make it. “Did you make the bed?” she said as she was checking one of the checkboxes on a page of her laminated to-do list in her neatly bound folder, And I said, “yes” and she checked it off with dry erase marker. I made the bed earlier this week before I was reminded of the newly implemented rule and she said, “did Hannah make our bed?” And I said, “No, I did”, and she said “thanks honey”. (I’m not sure, but looking back at it now; she may have made an annotation next to the “bed being made” check-box as she was thanking me)
You see, our home is undergoing a “Flylady transformation” as my wife has embarked upon a new approach to daily household chores. And I, being one who wants to do his fair share of the housework, for the first time in 10 years am having a hard time keeping up (not that anyone keeps score on such things in our family, because we absolutely do not!). This is not because Amber is killing herself doing all of this new Flylady stuff. Quite the contrary, it’s her fantastic Flylady routine that she gleaned from the Flylady’s book, Sink Reflections.
Briefly the Flylady premise is that if you establish daily routines that enable you to break down tasks into no more than 15 minute jobs and rotate them through different parts of your house on a weekly basis, you can reduce the chaos associated with piles of laundry, piles of dishes, and piles of dust-bunnies (ours are so prodigious that he call them pet hair tumbleweeds) and actually give yourself more free time. And Amber reminds me, this is not about perfection, but about starting at where you are and taking baby steps. And so far, judging from the clean blue water in the toilets, the continuously empty laundry hampers, and the shiny sinks, it’s definitely working. And of course it makes sense, in fact I teach this stuff – smaller batch sizes; point-of-use kitting; de-clutter using the 5-S’s (Sort, Straighten, Shine, Standardize, and Sustain); Standard work sheets; etc. How could it not work?
For anyone reading this who doubts the benefits of this approach consider this: We have reduce our paid housekeeper from weekly to bi-weekly (saving us $150/month), we have virtually eliminated the conflict that used to arise because someone did not do a chore, and we have blue water in our toilets and very shiny sinks. Amber has more time to bead, read and lay on her float in the pool and I have more time to Blog. And as Martha would say “that’s a good thing”.
You see, our home is undergoing a “Flylady transformation” as my wife has embarked upon a new approach to daily household chores. And I, being one who wants to do his fair share of the housework, for the first time in 10 years am having a hard time keeping up (not that anyone keeps score on such things in our family, because we absolutely do not!). This is not because Amber is killing herself doing all of this new Flylady stuff. Quite the contrary, it’s her fantastic Flylady routine that she gleaned from the Flylady’s book, Sink Reflections.
Briefly the Flylady premise is that if you establish daily routines that enable you to break down tasks into no more than 15 minute jobs and rotate them through different parts of your house on a weekly basis, you can reduce the chaos associated with piles of laundry, piles of dishes, and piles of dust-bunnies (ours are so prodigious that he call them pet hair tumbleweeds) and actually give yourself more free time. And Amber reminds me, this is not about perfection, but about starting at where you are and taking baby steps. And so far, judging from the clean blue water in the toilets, the continuously empty laundry hampers, and the shiny sinks, it’s definitely working. And of course it makes sense, in fact I teach this stuff – smaller batch sizes; point-of-use kitting; de-clutter using the 5-S’s (Sort, Straighten, Shine, Standardize, and Sustain); Standard work sheets; etc. How could it not work?
For anyone reading this who doubts the benefits of this approach consider this: We have reduce our paid housekeeper from weekly to bi-weekly (saving us $150/month), we have virtually eliminated the conflict that used to arise because someone did not do a chore, and we have blue water in our toilets and very shiny sinks. Amber has more time to bead, read and lay on her float in the pool and I have more time to Blog. And as Martha would say “that’s a good thing”.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Happy Anniversary to Us!
A day of bliss. Spending time with my true love, and my best friend in the whole wide world (BFITWWW). Our goal today is to recreate our honeymoon right here in the OKC metro, as close as possible anyway. Breakfast of fresh fruit from a fruit stand, coffee and rolls in our bedroom to mimic the breakfast in our hotel room we had 10 years ago (after a trip to a Napa Valley farmers' market), some shopping for furniture, because that has become our ritual, and then to the bead store.
Sitting in the bead store in Midwest City watching Amber shop with delight. There are so many sparkly things, and just as many do-dads to connect them together. It was 10 years ago yesterday that we became connected for life and I am so blessed that she said yes that I sometimes have to pinch myself to test whether or not it's real, or maybe just a dream?
Just the other day, Amber said to one of our 4 children (includes Ann-Lizette) I can't remember which one, that marriage is a daily choice. You have to choose everyday to be married and that some days are easier than others. In that spirit I would add that every day you stay married, one of you is making the proposal and one of you is saying "yes". But most days don't feel that way with the mundane chores of work, family, and just stuff, we take that fact for granted... But not today.
Lunch at Panera Bread for some clam chowder in a sour dough bread bowl, like the lunch we had on the wharf, and then to a movie-- the film "The Help", which was thought provoking and touching and makes you wonder how some people can be so blind to oppression and a total disregard for human dignity, but it is a testament to how change can begin with just a whisper.
After the movie, it's home to dress for a 7:30 dinner at a restaurant on lake Hefner facing a gorgeous Oklahoma sunset-- a re-creation of our dinner with a view of the pacific ocean (sans the big red bridge) -- and then a dessert of the best ever key lime pie (from the restaurant) and coffee at Starbucks, a card and some Ghirardelli chocolates (made in San Francisco).
This re-creation of San Francisco was really just an attempt to simulate the keeping of a vow we made to return for our 10th anniversary, but this year we chose a swimming pool instead. The two every year traditions we did keep are 1: calling Marc just after dinner and thanking him for being our Cupid, and 2: doing our annual assessment of last year's accomplishments and challenges, and next year's goals.
All in all I'd say we had a great year, some ups, some downs, but we're better off now than a year ago, especially after a day of bliss, so thanks again Marc.
Sitting in the bead store in Midwest City watching Amber shop with delight. There are so many sparkly things, and just as many do-dads to connect them together. It was 10 years ago yesterday that we became connected for life and I am so blessed that she said yes that I sometimes have to pinch myself to test whether or not it's real, or maybe just a dream?
Just the other day, Amber said to one of our 4 children (includes Ann-Lizette) I can't remember which one, that marriage is a daily choice. You have to choose everyday to be married and that some days are easier than others. In that spirit I would add that every day you stay married, one of you is making the proposal and one of you is saying "yes". But most days don't feel that way with the mundane chores of work, family, and just stuff, we take that fact for granted... But not today.
Lunch at Panera Bread for some clam chowder in a sour dough bread bowl, like the lunch we had on the wharf, and then to a movie-- the film "The Help", which was thought provoking and touching and makes you wonder how some people can be so blind to oppression and a total disregard for human dignity, but it is a testament to how change can begin with just a whisper.
After the movie, it's home to dress for a 7:30 dinner at a restaurant on lake Hefner facing a gorgeous Oklahoma sunset-- a re-creation of our dinner with a view of the pacific ocean (sans the big red bridge) -- and then a dessert of the best ever key lime pie (from the restaurant) and coffee at Starbucks, a card and some Ghirardelli chocolates (made in San Francisco).
This re-creation of San Francisco was really just an attempt to simulate the keeping of a vow we made to return for our 10th anniversary, but this year we chose a swimming pool instead. The two every year traditions we did keep are 1: calling Marc just after dinner and thanking him for being our Cupid, and 2: doing our annual assessment of last year's accomplishments and challenges, and next year's goals.
All in all I'd say we had a great year, some ups, some downs, but we're better off now than a year ago, especially after a day of bliss, so thanks again Marc.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Mental Entertainment
Mental Entertainment: or who knows what lurks in the mind of Jan.
Things I have thought about this week:
Snippet of conversation overheard on the elevator: "electric flu on a memory stick" I'm still pondering that.
And how do elevator doors work? How do they know when to open and when to close?
Which is more important.
Morals: define personal character.
Ethics: define the standards of behavior expected by a group.
Vacation? Mark mentioned "vacation" in his post: So, question: where does the word vacation come from. Answer: William the Conqueror, yes that William the Conqueror. It was first used as an idea for when WTC closed law courts and universities for the summer. First used as a word sometime in the 17th century, I forget when. It was used for when the upper-class moved to their summer homes and left their homes vacant. From the Latin root word freedom. Now that was an idea worth preserving for several centuries.
Oh, the magic of Wikipedia. The magic of the Internet.
Things I do:
I will sign any petition, even ones I don't agree with, because I do believe that people have the right to vote on it.
Things I saw:
Written in the dust on a dingy car, "Please, I am not a dirty girl." And "This car also comes in blue." The car was very dirty.
Things I want:
I am lusting after Roger's new computer. Some big wazoo Apple thing that is a work of art. Big bold and beautiful. Commanding as it sat on his home office desk. I wouldn't know how to turn it on but it sure turned me on. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to lust.
Things to look at on Onlineshoes.com:
Kila in Gold, item #263295 by Report
Arabesque, item #284582 by Matisse
Pasadena, item #262200 by Carlos Santana
Gypsy Owl, item #263874 by Chooka, that one is for you Nora
Pamela, item #261604 by J Renee
Things I don't know:
Who is Dewey of the Dewey Decimal System? Which is based on Subsumptive Containment Hierachy theories. Huh? The pecking order calms a flock of chickens, so what will it do for man?
Magic again.
Things I know:
Ian turned 27 and I remember 27 as being a magical year. One of the best ages to be.
The best age for childhood is 9.
Age 50 was a pretty grand year also.
I'm still studying what will be the best age of being a senior citizen. I think I will vote for next year -- just to keep them coming.
I know what a third cousin once removed is; that's Avery's relationship to Connor.
I know subduction is a great word. Look out worlds you are about to collide, maybe, if the theory holds true.
Things that changed:
I remember when women used to give each other home permanents.
Things I learned:
I now know now what a bialy is.
Things I am going to think about:
What puts my teeth on edge?
What do you do with Swiss chard?
I'll be pissed off IF ___?
Things people hate:
Change, republicans, Democrats, illegal immigrants, welfare, bad drivers, too much sun, too little sun; actually everything in the world is hated by someone somewhere in the world, from artichokes to presidents to whales and zebras -- even to me -- to someone -- occasionally.
Things I promise:
If you want to be my guest in Seattle I will be happy to drive down the wrong side of the road for you too.
I know, I know I'm so low-class, but these are some of the things that entertained, intrigued or informed me this last week.
No wonder I don't sleep.
Things I have thought about this week:
Snippet of conversation overheard on the elevator: "electric flu on a memory stick" I'm still pondering that.
And how do elevator doors work? How do they know when to open and when to close?
Which is more important.
Morals: define personal character.
Ethics: define the standards of behavior expected by a group.
Vacation? Mark mentioned "vacation" in his post: So, question: where does the word vacation come from. Answer: William the Conqueror, yes that William the Conqueror. It was first used as an idea for when WTC closed law courts and universities for the summer. First used as a word sometime in the 17th century, I forget when. It was used for when the upper-class moved to their summer homes and left their homes vacant. From the Latin root word freedom. Now that was an idea worth preserving for several centuries.
Oh, the magic of Wikipedia. The magic of the Internet.
Things I do:
I will sign any petition, even ones I don't agree with, because I do believe that people have the right to vote on it.
Things I saw:
Written in the dust on a dingy car, "Please, I am not a dirty girl." And "This car also comes in blue." The car was very dirty.
Things I want:
I am lusting after Roger's new computer. Some big wazoo Apple thing that is a work of art. Big bold and beautiful. Commanding as it sat on his home office desk. I wouldn't know how to turn it on but it sure turned me on. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to lust.
Things to look at on Onlineshoes.com:
Kila in Gold, item #263295 by Report
Arabesque, item #284582 by Matisse
Pasadena, item #262200 by Carlos Santana
Gypsy Owl, item #263874 by Chooka, that one is for you Nora
Pamela, item #261604 by J Renee
Things I don't know:
Who is Dewey of the Dewey Decimal System? Which is based on Subsumptive Containment Hierachy theories. Huh? The pecking order calms a flock of chickens, so what will it do for man?
Magic again.
Things I know:
Ian turned 27 and I remember 27 as being a magical year. One of the best ages to be.
The best age for childhood is 9.
Age 50 was a pretty grand year also.
I'm still studying what will be the best age of being a senior citizen. I think I will vote for next year -- just to keep them coming.
I know what a third cousin once removed is; that's Avery's relationship to Connor.
I know subduction is a great word. Look out worlds you are about to collide, maybe, if the theory holds true.
Things that changed:
I remember when women used to give each other home permanents.
Things I learned:
I now know now what a bialy is.
Things I am going to think about:
What puts my teeth on edge?
What do you do with Swiss chard?
I'll be pissed off IF ___?
Things people hate:
Change, republicans, Democrats, illegal immigrants, welfare, bad drivers, too much sun, too little sun; actually everything in the world is hated by someone somewhere in the world, from artichokes to presidents to whales and zebras -- even to me -- to someone -- occasionally.
Things I promise:
If you want to be my guest in Seattle I will be happy to drive down the wrong side of the road for you too.
I know, I know I'm so low-class, but these are some of the things that entertained, intrigued or informed me this last week.
No wonder I don't sleep.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
More on kindness
I find myself inspired this evening sitting at the kitchen table of the J. Marc Taylor family in Andover, Ks. My family is on the frontside of a last week of summer "stay cation" and although we are over 150 miles from home, we are visiting family, the kids are sleeping on the floor, and we're pretty much just hunkered down enjoying each other's company... so this still qualifies as a stay cation. The reason for my inspiration is that I just finished catching up on reading the spirit of Maxine blog -- Jan's most recent 3 postings. I wanted to say that I am honored to be mentioned 3 times in Jan's posts.
Just a bit of background, my kindness offer to a friend was to a lady I work with who's dad was suddenly ill and hospitalized. I actually know her dad as I used to work in an office at Tinker adjacent to his -- and he was always a very kind person and a true servant for the people.
In reading Jan's posting about kindness I am reminded about a trip to Fort Supply Oklahoma in our '63 Ford Fairlane (white with a green roof - another very interesting story involving my dad, a shotgun, and the most probable cause for my poor hearing). I remember how excited we were to be on the road with dad as he had hurried home from work that day, packed us and our things into the car and headed down the road west. It was the Friday before Christmas of 1966 and we (my dad, me, and my two brothers) were on our way to see my mom, at Western State (mental) Hospital. A set of circumstances that makes this story just that much more poignant. Anyway, we had car trouble -- I think it was a water pump or maybe just a belt, but whatever it was pegged the engine temperature gage and stopped us in our tracks. Luckily, or maybe by design, my dad stopped at a spot on the side of the road a hundred feet from the only farmhouse within 20 miles in either direction along our route. I remember it was early in the evening and starting to get very cold when my dad went up and knocked on the door to ask to borrow their phone. I'm sure he was relieved to find the home's inhabitants to be kind people. Indeed, they were so very kind that they insisted on corralling my two brothers and me into their living room where we laid on the floor in front of their TV eating cookies, drinking hot cocoa, and watching, for the first time, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. Eventually, my grandpa arrived with the necessary replacement parts and he and my dad repaired the car and got us on the road again. To this day, I cannot watch that Christmas season program without thinking about the kindness of those people and how they freely opened their home to us.
OK, I promise to post at least two more times here this week while I'm off. And thank you to my wonderful aunt Jan, for the inspiration!
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Life and Death
I was blindsided lately by the news of an old Eddie Bauer colleague's death. Sandy was warm hearted, kind, beautiful, talented, generous. She was full of integrity and joy. She had three sons and a husband. How could she possibly be dead. Why does death always take us by such surprise? People always die. It's what happens. To everyone. All the time. Every day. And yet like innocent babes we cover our mouth in a horrified "no."
Death happens right in the middle of life.
Another colleague, also from my Eddie Bauer days, found me via Facebook. She and her husband are semi-retired, living in Florida part time and a forty foot boat at Everett Marina part of the time. Her son has lived in Japan, Prague, New York. Her daughter has a ski rental shop in Steamboat Springs. Cully's life is continuing joyfully. It was thrilling to make this connection with such a kind, beautiful, talented, generous person again after all these years.
Death happens right in the middle of life, our life. In the middle of babies being born, heat waves, or triple hitters. In the middle of Claire being told your cancer is gone. Life goes on gently, passionately, confusedly, delightfully.
Ian's ninety pound friend, Nila, had an 8 lb 11 oz baby Olivia.
A tenth of her body weight.
Lisa is down to counting hours until her peanut is born.
Sandy is off to Dragon Boat races in Victoria this weekend.
She's a rower not a watcher. You passionate girl you.
Ian is preparing for the gift show in beautiful downtown Seattle.
Connor rode a horse.
We added a book Andrew mentioned to the book club reading list.
Brittany is off to college.
Art heals.
I found two delightful place names while doing my job:
Fruit Hill Red Bridge Road in Crofton KY
Right Fork Maces Creek Road in Viper KY
Makes me want to go to KY.
Our local weather site mentioned OK. TheMidwest is still sizzling, which means the Northwest...isn't. There was an interesting note today that the state of Oklahoma just set a U.S. Oklahoma Washington Seattle
Chicken gets cooked. Movies get watched. Facebook get read.
I go to work, come home, write on this blog, go to book club.
So far for sixty-five years I have woke up and lived.
I laugh, sigh, cringe, bake, clean, and do a minimum of dusting.
Maybe that is where the horrified "no" comes from. Death appearing in our midst like a dead fly on our whipped cream life living concoction. Or the antiseptic quality of death in America. The distance Americans have to holding dead bodies. We have delegated the washing and preparing bodies for burial. We have delegated the closing of the eyes, the final folding of the hands.
How I love life. I love anticipating Greenleaf and The Taylor Family Reunion. I love anticipating what new tee-shirt design Mark will come up with or playdates with Connor. I love life and I remember fondly all the persons I have loved. All of my sons who died, husband, brother, wife, mother, father, niece, nephew, friends, in-laws, aunts, uncles.
On reflection I believe being horrified by death is right and proper. The death of someone we love, admire, or will miss should be a terrible experience. Yes we will all die. Yes we will remember fondly someone who has died. Yes dying is part of the cycle of being a human, but may we never never never never become used to it.
For now I chose life.
May your day be filled with living and maybe a fond remembrance of some one gone.
Death happens right in the middle of life.
Another colleague, also from my Eddie Bauer days, found me via Facebook. She and her husband are semi-retired, living in Florida part time and a forty foot boat at Everett Marina part of the time. Her son has lived in Japan, Prague, New York. Her daughter has a ski rental shop in Steamboat Springs. Cully's life is continuing joyfully. It was thrilling to make this connection with such a kind, beautiful, talented, generous person again after all these years.
Death happens right in the middle of life, our life. In the middle of babies being born, heat waves, or triple hitters. In the middle of Claire being told your cancer is gone. Life goes on gently, passionately, confusedly, delightfully.
Ian's ninety pound friend, Nila, had an 8 lb 11 oz baby Olivia.
A tenth of her body weight.
Lisa is down to counting hours until her peanut is born.
Sandy is off to Dragon Boat races in Victoria this weekend.
She's a rower not a watcher. You passionate girl you.
Ian is preparing for the gift show in beautiful downtown Seattle.
Connor rode a horse.
We added a book Andrew mentioned to the book club reading list.
Brittany is off to college.
Art heals.
I found two delightful place names while doing my job:
Fruit Hill Red Bridge Road in Crofton KY
Right Fork Maces Creek Road in Viper KY
Makes me want to go to KY.
Our local weather site mentioned OK. The
Chicken gets cooked. Movies get watched. Facebook get read.
I go to work, come home, write on this blog, go to book club.
So far for sixty-five years I have woke up and lived.
I laugh, sigh, cringe, bake, clean, and do a minimum of dusting.
Maybe that is where the horrified "no" comes from. Death appearing in our midst like a dead fly on our whipped cream life living concoction. Or the antiseptic quality of death in America. The distance Americans have to holding dead bodies. We have delegated the washing and preparing bodies for burial. We have delegated the closing of the eyes, the final folding of the hands.
How I love life. I love anticipating Greenleaf and The Taylor Family Reunion. I love anticipating what new tee-shirt design Mark will come up with or playdates with Connor. I love life and I remember fondly all the persons I have loved. All of my sons who died, husband, brother, wife, mother, father, niece, nephew, friends, in-laws, aunts, uncles.
On reflection I believe being horrified by death is right and proper. The death of someone we love, admire, or will miss should be a terrible experience. Yes we will all die. Yes we will remember fondly someone who has died. Yes dying is part of the cycle of being a human, but may we never never never never become used to it.
For now I chose life.
May your day be filled with living and maybe a fond remembrance of some one gone.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Kindness Creatures
I was reading FaceBook one day and noticed Mark Harris' post offering his home, his help, or his services to someone he knew who was asking for prayers for a family member at Mercy Hospital. This stuck me then as a generous act of kindness.
Kindness has been lurking just below the surface of my brain ever since. I kept wanting to blog about kindness but what do you say? It's kind to be kind? Not inspiring, informative or profound.
I reflected back on all the times I was a recipient of kindness; from Jane buying me lunch in high school to the stranger who drove me and my dying baby to the hospital. Or the stranger in Pendlelton Oregon who let me collapse in her living room while I was trying to overcome heat stroke. She had had a similar experience with heat once and recognized the signs. She brought me ice and orange juice and took care of Roger while I panted helplessly on the floor of her home for several hours. Or the time when something broke on my car and it was billowing thick black smoke and my friend Lynn followed me to the car repair shop so she could come between me and any other innocent driver who happened to find themselves in my noxious smoke.
Humans give; helping hands, a ride, coffee, loans, lunches; gifts of times, effort, sharing of, or reaching out. Kindness seems to bubble to the surface without thought. Some innate automatic response, part of the parasympathetic nervous system. Humans are kind. And the mathematics of kindness is dramatic. It is astounding that it doesn't matter if we are giving or receiving, the affects are the same.
Some things we can not do alone. At Maxine's wake the elderly Native gentlemen took the burden from the family so Josephine and Adam could bear their grief. Jane needing help in Kansas. My divorce. Claire's cancer.
Kindness might burble to the surface without any guidance from our conscious mind but then it needs action. Participation. As we groan under the weight of the human condition kindness needs love.
And another human being.
Kindness has been lurking just below the surface of my brain ever since. I kept wanting to blog about kindness but what do you say? It's kind to be kind? Not inspiring, informative or profound.
I reflected back on all the times I was a recipient of kindness; from Jane buying me lunch in high school to the stranger who drove me and my dying baby to the hospital. Or the stranger in Pendlelton Oregon who let me collapse in her living room while I was trying to overcome heat stroke. She had had a similar experience with heat once and recognized the signs. She brought me ice and orange juice and took care of Roger while I panted helplessly on the floor of her home for several hours. Or the time when something broke on my car and it was billowing thick black smoke and my friend Lynn followed me to the car repair shop so she could come between me and any other innocent driver who happened to find themselves in my noxious smoke.
Humans give; helping hands, a ride, coffee, loans, lunches; gifts of times, effort, sharing of, or reaching out. Kindness seems to bubble to the surface without thought. Some innate automatic response, part of the parasympathetic nervous system. Humans are kind. And the mathematics of kindness is dramatic. It is astounding that it doesn't matter if we are giving or receiving, the affects are the same.
Some things we can not do alone. At Maxine's wake the elderly Native gentlemen took the burden from the family so Josephine and Adam could bear their grief. Jane needing help in Kansas. My divorce. Claire's cancer.
Kindness might burble to the surface without any guidance from our conscious mind but then it needs action. Participation. As we groan under the weight of the human condition kindness needs love.
And another human being.
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