My Village of Phoebus

Crickets and frogs fill the humid, summer night air with music, and the scents of magnolia and night-blooming jasmine welcome me as I begin my walk.

As I pass each house, I notice that some of them are completely dark, some have lights on in the windows, and some even have people out on their front porches.  The front porch sitters wave and say hello as I pass, and I wave back.  It's not necessary, but it's one of the things that makes this such a lovely little village in which to live.    The houses are well tended and welcoming.  Some are tiny cottages with just a door and one window tucked under a small front porch.  Some are sprawling Victorian mansions with wrap-around porches, balconies, towers and windows on every side.  But they all blend together in a companionable, seamless whole that is quite charming.

As I reach the main street, brick paving stones and street lamps made to resemble gaslights add to the village charm.  Along the main street are the things you would expect to see.  A gas station, a bank, a couple of fast food restaurants.  But these things actually look just a little out of place in this lovely place full of wisteria and tiger lilies, cobblestone streets and history.

I have come to another main street of the village, and although this is a main thoroughfare, at this time of night there is barely a car to be heard.  Instead, there are people walking along the sidewalk in the darkness who are, like me, out enjoying the summer evening.  The two local pubs have their doors open, and music from the live bands pours into the street, beckoning entrance.  The local VFW hall is still decorated in red, white, and blue streamers for Labor Day, and it's flag clangs against the flagpole, sending out a mellow chime into the darkness.  At the used bookstore, the owner has gone for the night, but with the trusting graciousness of a small village business owner, has left a box of free books for passersby to enjoy.  Another block down is the Post Office...a 100 year old brick structure with 20 foot high plaster ceilings and walls, that still retains it's wood framed, barred service windows from the early 20th century.  It is a beautiful, gentle, silent giant in the night.   The Moose Lodge makes me smile with the irony of everything that is similar about every small town across America, as I read the posted sign for a Saturday morning Pancake Breakfast.  The flag here, too, clangs in the night, answering the call of it's neighbor.  The American Legion building is dark tonight, but it makes me laugh, as I often do, at the bit of a cliche it seems having the VFW, American Legion, and Moose Lodge all within a few blocks of each other.  I've passed all my favorite antique shops, and the live theatre, which is quiet tonight, but looks like it's just waiting in anticipation for the next show.  At the corner is a school, and inside I can see a couple of the nuns rearranging desks and putting up bulletin boards, gearing up for all the children who will be happily learning there tomorrow.  Across the street from the school is a church.  A beautiful, old white stucco church that might look more suited to a southwestern town than my Colonial/Victorian village, but it is a village landmark, nonetheless, and looks cheerful and welcoming with it's neatly kept lawn and flower beds.

As I walk down my street, the last few blocks toward home, I am once again surrounded by beautiful Colonial homes, Civil War era mansions and freedmen's homes, Victorian Painted Ladies, and Craftsman jewels.  By all accounts my home, being a Craftsman American Foursquare as she is, is the brand new build in the neighborhood, even at 90 years old.  But my village, tucked quietly and gracefully into the middle of a bustling city holds a charm and a beauty I never expected to find when I bought the house.  I bought my Craftsman jewel because I fell in love with it.  I am just as much in love with the village it is in. It is an everyday joy to live here.

My Piano

At the age of three or four, I began begging my mom for piano lessons.  My grandmother played.  My aunts played.  My mother played.  My sister played.  My cousins played.  Nearly every time I was with my extended family, a summer evening would end with an aunt or cousin at the piano, with the rest of us picking out hymns or show tunes for her to play, while the rest of us sang along in multi-part harmony.  These are some of my happiest memories as a child.  And so I wanted to have my part in this wonderful legacy, to be able to make music, to be the one to play the piano.

Finally, when I was at the ripe old age of five, my mother relented, and started my piano lessons.  Mrs Turner was my first teacher.  She lived a few doors down from us, and I remember skipping happily down the street to her house on my lesson days.  In her living room stood the most beautiful baby grand piano I had ever seen.  Her living room was one of those 'museum' rooms that is meant to remain clean, beautiful, and orderly, and only entered on a special occasion.  This made sitting at her piano seem monumental, almost worshipful, and however excited and eager I was as I skipped to her house, I tried to remember to be respectful and solemn as I entered the living room, which I thought of as a sort of shrine to her beautiful piano.  

She always made me wash my hands when I got there, so I would not get the keys dirty, which added to the solemnity of my piano lessons.  But once I had my hands cleaned and was ready to begin, I would hop up onto the piano bench, and sit in awe of the beautiful black and white keys and the massive brown lid rising above the sound board.  I, little me, who was nearly the youngest cousin, the baby sister who was often told I wasn't 'big enough' to do this, or wasn't 'old enough' to do that...got to touch this beautiful piano and make music!  

I often got scolded for swinging my feet as I played, since I was so little my feet didn't touch the floor.  And I usually got corrected for my fingering being incorrect, or for playing too fast through a piece I knew well.  But gradually, the pieces got slightly more complex, and a bit longer.  Slightly more difficult, or a bit more challenging.  I only took lessons from Mrs Turner for a few years before we moved away, but as soon as we moved to a new home, my mom found me a new teacher.  

I remember somewhere around eight or nine, I had grown tired of piano lessons.  I felt trapped inside, practicing while my friends played outside, riding bikes or playing on swing-sets.  It wasn't as if I never did those things, but in my mind, that extra 1/2 hour of practice was torture, and I hated it.  There was one song on a record album my mother owned that I adored, and I told my mom I refused to take piano lessons one day past learning to play that song.  I begged her to let me quit.  She bought me a book that had the song in it, and promised I could quit when I reached Junior High school, if I still wanted to.  

I thought those years were torture, and yet, slowly I progressed.  Some of my songs were recognizable classics or pieces that I would hear my aunts play at Grandma's house.  Sometimes, the classical pieces were several pages long, and I would sit in my mother's basement, playing her old upright piano, imagining myself on a stage in some concert hall, once again playing a beautiful grand piano...but only to ward off the drudgery, of course.  Sometimes, I would try to sing along with a hymn, or make my way through a book full of show tunes, dreaming of when it would be my turn to play for my cousins.....but only because I hated practicing so much.  

And then the summer came when I was getting ready to begin Junior High school.  My mom and I were on a back-to-school shopping trip when she said, 'Well, you're starting Junior High.  I guess we're going to end your piano lessons now.  I promised you we would.'  And that's when it suddenly hit me.  I didn't hate the piano!  I didn't want to quit playing!  I almost had a meltdown, right there in the store!  No!!  You can't quit my lessons! I LOVE the piano!  I LOVE playing!  I LOVE my lessons!!  Mom relented pretty easily, and I only realized years later she'd probably never really intended to make me give up my lessons.  Well played, mom.  

I continued lessons all the way through high school.  My last few years of school, I even took lessons at a studio in a piano store.  There, I was welcome to arrive before my lessons, or stay after for as long as I wished and play any of the gorgeous, gleaming black grand pianos that sat around the showroom.  It was a privilege allowed to very few students, and I was honored.  Once again, playing the piano rose to become something worshipful and special, something I looked forward to at every occasion.  And that song I wanted to be able to play before I quit my lessons?  I played it from memory for my Senior recital, and for a church-sponsored music competition.  I went all the way to international competition with it. 

I may not play every day now, and when I do, it is primarily for my own enjoyment, or for the enjoyment of family or friends.  I'm not a professional pianist, or even a church pianist.  I don't own a grand piano, although it was the very first item I added when I decided to create a bucket list.  But I still adore the piano, and I still love playing.  Mom gave me more than skill at playing an instrument.  All those years of lessons taught me to keep working toward a goal.  To stick with a project, even when it's hard.  That following through with your plan has rewards, even if you don't like the process.  There were so many things I learned besides just how to read music and how to play the piano.  

Playing the piano will always be a joy to me.  And I'm grateful for all the things it has taught me.  

Friends

Friends are one of the first joys we have in our lives.  It is a rare person who hasn't watched as two little strangers meet up on a playground in a park, only to be the best of friends within minutes.  Children are rarely bothered by looks or gender, economic status or ethnicity,  beliefs or nationality.  If someone is smiling, they smile back.  If someone is sad, they want to help fix it.  To a child, friends are simply 'all the other people in the world'.  That is so wonderful in some ways, but incredibly shallow...child-like.

As we grow up, we learn to filter and screen and eliminate some of those people, and our friends become something altogether more valuable and precious.  Maybe there aren't as many of them.  Maybe there are precious few.  But those people are cherished and treasured in our lives. In the last few days, I have had the joy of spending time with some of the most precious people in my life.  

One of them is someone with whom I share a lifelong dream of writing a book.  She is quite a bit ahead of me on her book, but she is always a source of inspiration and encouragement.  She is always there to keep me focused, to answer questions, even to prod me forward when I need it.  I don't get to see her nearly as often as I would like. It's likely my book would get done faster if I did.  But Sherah is irreplaceable.  

Another is one of my business partners.  She always has some encouragement for me.  She and I review our goals together and plan for the future and growth of our business together.  She is there in the trenches with me when I get bogged down, always reminding why we do what we do, and always helping me keep my next goal in front of me.  She doesn't accept average from me, because she knows I'm better than average.  But she's always there to remind me I'm better, when I need it.  She's like my own personal cheerleader, although I'm SURE Leah would bop me over the head with them if I got her a set of pom-poms....

One of my most precious treasures of a friend has been a mentor to me for years, now.  She is where I turn for guidance with the 'big things' life throws at me.  And she has been so steadfast and loyal.  She is the voice of calm stability when the sky is falling.  She is the one who rushes in to the situation when my life is on fire and helps me figure things out when everyone else might be running the other direction.  She has been an irreplaceable source of growth to me, and I am so blessed to have Renee in my life.  

Very dear to my heart is my friend who is running along side me as Jamie and I build our business.  She and her husband have a business as well, and while each business has it's own goals and plans, it's become a kind of friendly competition between us.  She is a utter professional, and she is such an inspiration and motivation as a friend.  She is a determined goal-setter, and it's always a challenge keeping up with her, but I love that about her, because it keeps me on my toes, and keeps me moving ahead on those days when I really would rather hibernate.  It's so awesome to have a pace-setter like Kendra in my life!

One of the dearest friends I've ever had is someone who was originally a Navy buddy of Jamie's.  He came over to hang out with Jamie, and we've been the dearest of friends ever since.  I can always count on him to share a new piece of music, or a new composer.  To express a point of view I hadn't thought of or delve into a philosophical controversy with me.  We share a love of piano and art, of country and family.  I don't get to talk to him often, either, but it's like an oasis in my day when I get a few minutes to chat with Tom.  

God has blessed me with many friends.  But these few give such special things to my life, and have been such a blessing, that they are my everyday joy today.  

Summer Nights

Summer has always been one of my favorite seasons.  From as far back as I can remember, the word summer has conjured images of beaches and sunshine, bare feet and homemade icecream.  Bicycles and swimming pools, honeysuckle and bumblebees.  And I love all these things.  It just wouldn't really feel like summer without them.

But I think one of my favorite parts of summer is the nighttime.  All the playing is over.  All the tourists have left the beach, and the only ones left are the locals, hardcore stragglers going for a moonlit walk on the sand.  The littlest are in bed, dreaming of new adventures for the day to come.

Like so many God-given nightlights, the lightning bugs twinkle on and off, enticing children to play, to catch one, just to watch it light up, captive in their hands before it flies away again.  Marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate bars appear around the campfire, ready to tempt even the strongest willpower with the toasty, melty goodness of a s'more...

And the nighttime breeze begins, replacing the sweltering humidity with a cool refreshment. Honeysuckle, night-blooming jasmine, and magnolia drift to scent the night with nature's perfume, while the cool air relaxes and refreshes, and slowly lulls the world to sleep.  

This is my favorite time of the day, when the world has settled quietly under it's blanket of night, gently dreaming of the day ahead.  This time of day seems to settle peace over my soul, no matter what the challenges of the day have been, no matter what looms over tomorrow.  It's such a gift to experience.  Such a joy to watch the calm settle on the harried world, and have all the trials of the day melt away in jasmine-scented peace.

Office Hours

Darling Husband has his own office.

This sentence, in any rational sense of grammar, should not be a source of...well, of any emotion, joy or frustration, anger or happiness.  It is just a normal, random sentence that might be said in any of millions of homes across the country.

But Darling Husband and I have spent the last seven years living in apartments that were too small to even have a division between a living room and a dining room.  They were usually too small to have a kitchen that had more counter space than is required to set a toaster on, to say nothing of actually working in.  So, for the last seven years, IF we had an extra bedroom, it usually was bedroom/craft room/guest room/office/den combination.  It would be used for whatever length of time it was needed, in whatever capacity was currently the  most urgent.

Darling Husband rarely complained.  He just kept all of his personal mementos packed away, and patiently set up the printer on the dining room table, or spread school books all over the living room, or made whatever arrangements had to be made to accommodate our cramped quarters.  I encouraged him, often, to take over the extra room and make it his own, but just as he was nearly ready to set up a desk, it seemed something always caused him to put it off.  A guest would come for a few days. One of our kids would need to move home for a couple months.  I would be in the middle of a craft project which ate up the floor space in the extra room.  Something.

Well, in our new house, we have a room that is, has always been, will always be designated as the office.  We've been in the house for almost two months now, and 'the office' has looked like a storage unit, stacked high with boxes.  But this afternoon, finally, Jamie started unpacking.  His life has been quite an adventure.  He grew up as the child of missionaries in Papua New Guinea.  His parents later went to Africa.  And he served 20 years in the U.S. Navy, so he went to many other places on deployment.  Opening the boxes was something nearing Christmas for him.  Every single box held a treasure.  There were New Guinean masks in one box.  There was a bottle of water from a stream near the Blarney Stone in another, tucked in with gravel from an Italian ruin.  There was a bit of sand from the shores of Puerto Rico packed next to a marble goblet from Germany.  Another box held an African pygmy bow and arrows.  We found his antique book collection, with funny rare books like a book of etiquette from the 1800s nestled along side his first edition of Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls.

So many of his treasures, bits of his life, memories, that have gone unseen, unspoken of, and uncelebrated for so long.  Too long.  I am thrilled that Jamie finally has his own office.  Yes, of course I am.  But the bigger joy is that he has a place to show off all those little things that mean so much to him, where they can be valued and appreciated, where his life, and all it's memories can be valued and appreciated every single day.  Because they are.  He is.  Today, Jamie is my everyday joy.

Adventures in Babysitting

This morning I got to watch two of my favorite littles.  Kade and Jessa are my best friends kids, and they are five and two.  It is always so much fun to play with them and talk to them.  The world is so bright and new and amazing when you're a preschooler.

Today, they decided they would like to watch movies.  I agreed.  After all, it is the middle of the summer here on the East Coast, and sweltering outside.  So they rummaged through my stack of DVDs for 'the perfect movie'.

We decided to watch Prince of Egypt.  It was always one of my favorites when my kids were growing up, so I enjoyed it as much as they did.  One of my favorite parts, tho, was watching Kade's face as he watched the movie.

When the Israelites crossed the Red Sea on dry ground, his eyes got huge.  When Moses raised his staff and lightning struck it, and began swirling the water, he leaned over the arm of the couch in rapt attention.  But when the Egyptian army drowned in the collapsing Red Sea as the Israelites looked on in awe, his reaction was the best.

With an equally awed tone in his little voice, he whispered, "Woah...."

Woah, indeed, Kade.

Thank you, Kade for renewing the wonder of a well-known story, and for sharing my morning with me.

First House Party

Yesterday was our open house.  We finally have the house put together enough to have friends and family come see our new home.  We were surprised how many people came.  

Princess and her husband came from 3 1/2 hours away, and she took tons of pictures of the event for us.  That gave me lots of time to cuddly my sweet little grandson, too!

My parents came from 80 miles away.  That was an extra blessing, since I had no idea they would be able to come.  It was such a joy to be able to share my new house with them.

Many of our local friends came.  Business partners, our realtor, work friends, church friends...It was just a busy, fun, lovely day.  And I realized this is the best reason to love our house.  Because it gives us plenty of room to welcome all those we love.

I hope our home will always be filled with love, and that all our friends and family will always feel welcomed here.

Hubby in the Kitchen

A few days ago, I had the opportunity to go to the school where my husband is studying culinary arts.  He has had a dream for a long time to own a restaurant, and so he decided to go to culinary school as the first step.  When he is at home, he is studying in his books, or working on projects.  He is duplicating things he has learned to cook, or practicing things he is working on learning.  Getting to eat the projects and experiments is a definite benefit of being the wife of a culinary school student.

But now and then, the school has events that the families are invited to attend.  Once, it was a dining experience for lunch, because Dearest Husband was learning the art of serving, and how wait-staff is expected to serve in a five-star restaurant.  Once it was a dessert buffet, as part of his final exam in a baking class.  He got an A+ on that exam, in my opinion.  Trust me, you want to try my husband's creme brulee!

This time, it was a kitchen class, and we were invited to lunch, cooked for us by my husband's class.  The lunch was superb, but the highlight of my afternoon was the fact that the kitchen has a glass wall which allowed us to watch them cooking our lunch.  I was watching my husband carefully preparing his dish, and I could just see how much concentration and attention he was putting into it.  It was fascinating to me to see the focus and determination on his face, and know that he was totally in his element, learning, creating, cooking.

I sometimes see the frustration, the frenzy, the aggravation, when a project is almost due, and he feels there are details still not in place.  Or when he is studying for a test he does not feel completely ready for.  Or when he he is cooking a dish at home that is not quite cooperating.  But I don't often see the excitement for his craft or the joy of the finished product the way I did at the school that day.

Lunch, of course, was amazing.  But the most amazing part was seeing my husband enjoying himself cooking it.

Making Progress

I was weeding again today.  I honestly haven't really weeded since the last blog entry I wrote about weeding, but as I went out into the humidity and heat again today, it seemed like it's all I ever do.  And I wasn't really very happy about that thought.  But as I weeded, my thoughts changed.  I'd like to share them with you.

Weeding.  AGAIN.  Always weeding.  Well, I guess that's what I get for buying a 90 year old house.  I wonder if there are any ways to kill all English Ivy and kudzu in my yard, without actually killing everything else.  Geez.  This stuff would probably survive a nuclear holocaust. Death to IVY!!  

But I continued weeding, and gradually....

You know what tho?  It makes the house seem very settled in it's environment to have this beautiful ivy here and there.  And these weeds really are coming up pretty easily.  The nandina looks pretty here.  Nandina.  Wow.  I'm even beginning to know the names of some of these plants.  Gotta get the weeds away from the dusty miller.  He's not growing too well, all choked with ivy.  Hold on, Dusty.  I'm working on it.  

I hardly even realized it was happening, but by the time I got the side bed weeded....

You know, this really isn't going to be too bad to keep up.  I just need to get out here a couple times a week and make sure nothing is taking over.  The hardest part is getting them looking better.  Keeping up shouldn't be a big deal.  I could even learn to like this.  Getting to see how my flowers are coming, tending them, seeing them grow.  I never did get to play in the dirt when I was a kid.  I guess this is my chance.  Hmmm...I'm done with the side bed.  I suppose I ought to check the front bed for weeds.  Probably won't be too many, since I weeded it the other day....

And then, what really surprised me...

You know, I have the front bed caught back up again...I could just take these pansies and verbena and put them here.  They'd be happier in the ground than in those pots....Here you go, little flowers.  Now you can keep your little feet wet and grow...grow!  Grow!  GROW!  Ha.  I am talking to my flowers.  Before you know it, I'll be planning what I want to plant, instead of just tending what's here.  And then...on to Yard of the Month!!  Well!  THAT'S not what I was thinking when we bought this house!   Hmmm....done already??


And I realized something...Most ANY project seems completely daunting, overwhelming, when you first begin.  Training a puppy.  Raising kids.  Painting a room.  Learning to drive a stick shift.  Most anything.  But if you start, you make progress.  Even if it's a tiny bit of progress.  The NEXT day, you have only to maintain that tiny bit of progress...which is SO much easier than gaining it...and make a tiny bit MORE progress.  And you know what??  I'm not just making progress for progress's sake.  I'm not just making progress because it's a duty.  I'm making progress because I enjoy seeing progress.  Because progress helps me dream further ahead. 

I had forgotten that.  Dear Husband and I have our own business, and sometimes all the tasks that need to be done for that seem SO overwhelming, just too big a mountain.  But there was so much joy today in realizing that if I just....make some progress....no matter how small, I will be further along than I was today, and closer to whatever I dream.

So here is a wish for you today, my friend.  My wish for you today is that you find something...some small way to make some progress toward a goal.  Tomorrow, all you will have to do is maintain that...and you'll be closer to whatever you dream.

Pride and Joy

Today, I got to talk to all three of my kids.  This is a rarity on ANY day, since, as a general rule, I don't usually talk to more than one of them on any given day.  It just worked out that way today, and I'm so glad it did.

One of them was telling me about some goals and dreams that are in the works, and called me, excited to share about the future.  I was so thrilled I was the one that got to share that.

Another one chatted with me online about some sorrows and challenges happening right now.  I helped as much as a parent can in a chat, giving advice, commiserating a bit, sharing the moral outrage for perceived injustices that are part of the situation.  I'm so blessed that I have a relationship with my kids that allows them to know that I am a safe place to vent, and will always be here to listen, and help where I can.

The other one texted to share with me some plans that are in the works.  They've been a long time coming, and very much anticipated, so sharing that bit of good news was very exciting.  

My kids are all adults now.  Grown, out of the nest, gone their own ways.  None of them even live in the same state as Dear Husband and me.  And at first, after talking to the last of my three children, I was overwhelmed with sadness.  I miss them so very much.  I longed for just a few more days of peanut butter and jelly lunches, skinned knees that are so easily healed with a bandage and a kiss, backyard pirates or neighborhood adventures, picking mulberries by the creek.  Those days are just a distant, pleasant memory now, and for a little while I cried, missing them, heart-broken over the fact that my babies are gone.

But then I realized something.  My babies are NOT gone.  My little birds all came back to the nest today, to roost for just a few minutes with momma bird, by all our modern electronic devices.  And they are beautiful, strong, healthy, determined adults.  They are all making their own way in the world.  They are all pursuing something they love.  And they all love their Momma.  They showed me that today, by visiting.

I am so, so, so proud of each of them.  It fills my heart with so much amazing joy to sit back and watch them take off.  So even though there were more than a few tears today, in getting to talk to my kids, there was so, SO much joy.

Thank you for the gift, my beautiful birds.  Fly high.  Fly far.  And know that Momma is still here whenever you need her.

Annoyance and Joy

First, let me apologize for an entire MONTH passing between posts.  I'll try diligently not to let it happen again.  My only reason is that my Dear Husband and I have bought a house!  It has taken quite alot of energy and thought getting closed on the house, moved, and getting the house looking liveable.  So I haven't posted.  But so much has brought me joy recently, and I'm excited to share it with you.

Today, bright and early this morning, I went out to weed my flower beds.  For those who know me well, you will already be laughing.  "Bright and early this morning" is not a phrase that happens in my life very often.  I am an avowed night owl.  Added to that, 'weed my flower beds' should have many people scratching their heads in confusion.  Mother Nature and I have a tentative and untrusting relationship at BEST.  I have agreed not to try to keep ANY of her creations, other than my fairly low-maintenance cats, and she has agreed not to attack me with a bee sting or poison ivy or....itchy grass...as long as I stay out of her territory.  And we've pretty much lived with this treaty for decades.

But as I said, Dear Husband and I bought a house, and she's a 103 year old Craftsman.  Along with a beautiful old house comes alot of well-established yard.  There are (if I counted correctly) eight trees in addition to three main flower beds and a fourth that we may dismantle, ultimately.  The three main flowerbeds go along the street view of the house, so at the very least, these have to be maintained for curb appeal and to be a responsible neighbor in our very pretty neighborhood.

So....'bright and early this morning', I was indeed out 'weeding my flower beds'.  At first it was an annoyance.  Because it's summer on the East Coast, and even at 9am the humidity is fierce.  Because Mother Nature and I are not yet allies.  Because I still have boxes that need to be unpacked inside.  But as I continued weeding, I could look back on the part of the bed I had finished, and see the fresh, moist black dirt around the happy little pansies and verbena, and see the verbena tucked up under the boxwoods for shade, and the petunias pouring down over the front porch railing.  Looking ahead of where I was working was an overgrown disaster, and there was a sense of challenge to put it right again and have it be a beautiful, orderly display of flowers.

So I started enjoying seeing the progress, and remembering summer evenings spent with my mom, sitting on the walk in front of our house, deadheading petunias and weeding flower beds that she had planted on either side of the walk.  Sometimes we talked.  Sometimes we just worked companionably together, tending the flowerbeds, and loving the beautiful riot of petunias she grew each year.  At the time, I very often resented having to sit out in the summer heat, weeding.

But now I'm grown up, and here I am, sitting out in the summer heat, weeding.  Still.  Again.  There is such a peace and joy seeing life continue on, doing something that has been familiar for so long.  And being rewarded by the beautiful flowers at the end of the process.  I can't say I will always look forward to weeding.  Maybe I will NEVER look forward to weeding.  But even in the annoyance of the chore, there is joy in the result, and in the memories.

A Walk to Remember

We recently had the final walk-through on the house we are buying.  It won't be long now, until we close and can move in.  After the walk-through, Darling Husband and I went wandering around our soon-to-be-new neighborhood.

There is alot to explore there.  We found some restaurants that will be walking distance from our new house.  There are antique shops, art galleries, a theatre...the kind with a stage and live actors, which I'm very excited about...and lots of history, dating back as far as the Civil War, or possibly even further back. But while we were exploring, maybe my favorite thing we found was the beach!

I am a beach girl.  Give me a sunny day and a few free hours, and my first choice is going to be 'go to the beach'! I love the sound of the water.  I love the sunlight glistening on the ripples and waves.  I love sand between my toes.  There is something therapeutic about waves lapping at your ankles as you walk along the beach.  'Beach' is probably my favorite place in the world.  It is not an attitude I share with Darling Husband.  Walking along the beach seems like a waste of time for him, I think.  He doesn't 'sit' well, either.  Give him an afternoon laying on the beach on a towel, and he'd likely think he's being tortured.  He might be ok for a few hours if you include a volleyball net.....hmmm....I'll have to keep that in mind for later!

But when we found the beach, he parked the car, and we got out.  That was a nice treat, and we walked along the boardwalk for a block or so.  Then we found an opening in the boardwalk railing, with steps down to the beach, and he stooped to take off his shoes as he walked down onto the beach!!  That was a bit of a surprise, but I wasn't going to mention it, and lose the opportunity to go for a walk on the beach.

We walked along, barefoot, sand between our toes, water lapping our ankles, hand in hand, talking about, well, nothing really.  We mentioned how many shells there were for grandbabies to collect.  We talked about trying the restaurant that has a deck there on the beach, and the boats that were pulled up to the shore at the restaurant.  Nothing very important.  But it was a special treat and a rare gift to find a new beach, and share that wonderful discovery with my beloved husband.

This everyday joy was an easy one...because what's not to love about having a beach and a sweetheart together on one lovely afternoon!

Road Trip!!

Coming home from Darling's brother's house was a long drive.  They live three states away, and Darling Husband had to be in class in the evening, so that meant getting up incredibly early to have time to drive the whole way in time for Darling to get to school.

But road trips with my husband are always an adventure. Immediately, upon getting into the car, he told me to 'go back to sleep'.  I'm grateful that he knows me well enough to know I'm no morning person.  He even once bought me a fuzzy, fleece blanket the same color as my car which lives in my car, just for road trips.  It came with a matching pillow.  It sure does make napping in the car much nicer.

Once I woke up, he was stopping for gas....and found a gas station near a Starbucks so I could get my caffeine shot for the morning!  As much as he dislikes coffee, it always stands out as a meaningful 'I love you' when he stops at a Starbucks for me.

On the way home, we drove in rain and sunshine.  We drove in traffic and on empty roads.  We both drove.  We both slept.  We talked about the business conference, and our goals for our business.  We talked about our family, and our dreams for our future.  We talked about moving and work and books and music, a little of everything and a little of nothing.

And I realized once again why I love road trips with my Darling Husband so much.  Simply because I love spending time with him, and on a road trip, we have essentially no one else in the world but the two of us.  And THAT is a great joy.

A Bond of Brothers

On the way home from the business conference, we made another detour.  Darling Husband has a brother, and he lives only a few hours from where our conference was held, and arguably on the way home.  So we detoured.  We hadn't seen his brother or sister-in-law in almost 3 years, so it was past time.

And we had a wonderful time.  They took us out for dinner to one of the most unique places I've ever eaten...and quite delicious!  It was wonderful to catch up on what the kids are all doing, new jobs, new houses and moves, all the things that happen in life.

After dinner, we went home, and the guys disappeared into Brother's office.  Soon we heard laughing.  Loud, joyful laughing that always seems to be at the ready when Darling and his brother are together.  I was so glad we went.  Sister-in-law and I have alot in common, and I just know if they lived closer we would be good friends.  And clearly, Darling and his brother would be the best of friends, as well as family, if we lived close enough.

Sometimes that physical distance makes me a little sad, when it's so clear the family ties are so strong.  But we had a wonderful visit, and we very much appreciated the invitation.  I hope they will come visit us sometime soon, once we are moved into our new house!

So Much More Than a Business Meeting

The trip we took this weekend was to a business conference.  I know, 'business conference' sounds so boring.  But the business conferences Darling Husband and I get to go to with our business partners are nowhere near boring.

Actually, they are my joy to tell you about for Saturday.  We have business partners from all over the country, so the conferences turn into a sort of family reunion every few months.  And there are so many wonderful speakers, helping us grow ourselves and our businesses that my brain is just overflowing by the time we leave!

It's kind of the equivalent of listening to a CD or...being on the very front row, LIVE, at a concert for your very favorite band!

Or watching a travel documentary about some island, or.....being on the beach in the warm sunshine, hearing the water lap the shore as you lay in a hammock with a fruity drink in your hand!

Get it?

The business conferences are my 4-times-a-year booster shot of joy and enthusiasm. And I appreciate all my wonderful friends and business partners who make it so awesome.

Music City

We were away for the weekend, and as per my usual style, I forgot something I had meant to take.  This time, it was my laptop.  So  I'll try to catch up all the wonderful things that happened over the weekend, because I wouldn't want you to have missed it!

One of the friends we were traveling with has always wanted to go to Nashville, so on our way to our destination, we made a detour.  It wasn't a very LONG detour, just a few hours.  We mostly drove past the places she plans to come back and visit at a later date.  But there were a few highlights.

One highlight was our waiter.  We stopped for lunch, and our waiter at the restaurant was...well, he was worth the price of admission!  He had long, mutton chop sideburns, an over-the-top showman, friendly kind of attitude, and an loud, boisterous, ADHD kind of demeanor.  Think friendly, talkative, rockabilly redneck Elvis...with too much caffeine.  I hope you're laughing.  If I've described him correctly, you got the picture, and you're laughing.  He definitely made eating at a chain restaurant we've been to several times an unforgettable experience.

Once we had eaten lunch, we began wandering Nashville a bit.  It is far more fast-paced than I had expected, but so very friendly.  We saw some absolutely amazing homes, a famous restaurant (which wasn't open, or we would have missed Elvis and eaten there.), a gorgeous park which had a scale replica of the Parthenon in Greece, and more cowboy boots in one afternoon than I have probably seen in the entire previous year.

All in all, Nashville was great.  Kind of 'New York City, gone country'...and it was a joy to finally visit.  I would definitely go back for a longer visit, if I ever get the chance.

Discoveries 4/23

Yesterday, as I was cleaning my house, someone knocked on the door.  Usually, this means we have some sort of delivery, and yesterday was no exception.  I went to the door, and there laid a box.  This is nothing unusual, because Darling Husband and I have our own business, and we often have products delivered to our home.  But these deliveries usually come in large boxes, 4 or 5 at a time.  The box that arrived yesterday was small, only a little bigger than a shoebox, and was alone.

So I picked up the box to read where it had come from, even slightly expecting it had been misdelivered.  But sure enough, it had Darling Husband's name on it.  The printing on the outside of the box, tho, referred to something about tea.  Now, I LOVE tea.  I like regular Lipton's tea.  I love herbal tea. I love fruit teas.  I love hot tea.  I love iced tea.  My favorite is Twining's English Breakfast tea, hot, with just a splash of milk or cream.

So seeing 'tea' printed on the box led me to suspect the package was not actually for Darling Husband, but something he had ordered for my birthday!  I was so excited!  One of the things that means the most to me is a gift.  It doesn't have to be big, or even cost any money at all, but there is nothing like the feeling that someone was thinking about me, and wanted me to have something I would like, when I wasn't even around!  I still have a tiny little blue bottle I found once at an antique shop that Darling Husband used to call my weed vase, because I would put gifts from my children in it....dandelions, buttercups, clovers....I LOVE presents!

And I loved the excitement and anticipation of wondering what my gift was, yesterday.  The joy of knowing he loved me enough to buy me a birthday gift was as sweet as the gift itself.

New Adventures - 4/22

My Peaches and her intended have decided to make a new start and move to another city.  Princess and her Beloved invited them to share their home.  I remember telling you that Princess and Peaches are the best of friends, and they have missed one another terribly.  So we packed up their belongings, and off they went on a new adventure.

As I was helping them pack, I kept thinking to myself that this might be the last time I help one of my kids move.  They're all grown up.  Even though they weren't living at home, it felt a little like the last baby bird leaving the nest.  For a while, the thought made me just a little sad.  It's the end of an era, so to speak.

But now a new adventure begins.  We will soon have another son-in-law who we are already growing to love.  We will soon have another grandbaby, who we know we will love.  And we will soon be moving to a new house, as well.  This new house will be the one where all our kids come for holidays, and come to visit with their own families.  It will be the house our grandkids remember as 'Masa and Babu's' house.

So we are all on our way to new adventures, and there is so much anticipation and joy in where those adventures will take us!

Thanks for the Memories

We're moving.  Did I already tell you that?  We have a contract on a beautifully restored Craftsman foursquare in a historic part of our town.  I am so excited to move in, welcome the grand old house to our family, and become her caretaker as she begins her next hundred year journey.

But I HATE packing!  There are flattened, empty boxes stacked against one wall, intentionally tucked behind a chair so they won't be in the way, but somehow in such a way that they continually fall out where they can be tripped over.  There is an ever-increasing amount of boxes stacked along other walls in increasingly inconvenient places, as things get packed.  And maybe most frustrating of all, an ever-larger group of items that I pack, only to find that I need AFTER I seal the box with tape.  Packing and moving has to be one of the banes of my existence.

Nevertheless, it has to be done, if I ever want to get to move IN to my beautiful new home.  So I was packing today.  And while I was packing all the fragile, precious things that live in my china cabinet, it was something of a trip down memory lane.  There is the porcelain angel which plays Brahm's lullaby which sat on my dresser for as long as I can remember growing up.  I think she was a gift from my maternal grandmother.

There is a set of three snow angel candle-holders.  The odd one was a Christmas decoration my mother had before she ever had any children, but the matching angel broke.  Several years ago, Peaches went on ebay and found the match, as a surprise Christmas gift.  She bid on several, hoping to win at least ONE to make my pair complete.  She accidentally won two of them.  So the lonely angel now has two sisters that sit with her as a reminder of how much my daughter loves me.

There are the two green, depression-glass candlesticks that my mother had on her dining room table for as long as I can remember.  I admired them so much that a few years ago, she gave them to me.  They are a precious treasure, since art glass is a shared love between my mother and me.

There are several music boxes.  One of them came from Germany, from a history tour I took with some of my fellow high-school students and our history teacher when I was in 9th grade.  I remembered how excited I was to find such a beautiful, handmade, inlaid wood music box, and how frustrating it was to settle on a price with the shopkeeper who spoke only German, when I spoke only English.  He was trying to barter on the price, as is the custom in Europe, I was only trying to explain that I wanted to buy it, being unaware of the bartering custom.  It was quite frustrating at the time, but I DID end up getting it for a VERY good price!  That still makes me laugh! And that one, beautiful, precious music box started a love and a collection that has continued to this day.

There are so many other things I'm finding as I pack...the china I picked when I got married, which I love just as much today as I did when I found it.  Books that I remember as old friends, hiding on tightly loaded bookshelves.  A favorite coffee mug that was a souvenir from a sightseeing day with a friend.  an old t-shirt that has seen better days, but also seen me through all the best and worst of life.

I AM looking forward to moving into our new-old house.  And I AM looking forward to not having to move again for many years to come.  But I also can't deny all the joy it has given me preparing for this move and anticipating it.  And I know our new house will be full of as much joy and as many memories as the things that will be protected in it.

Spiritual Bone Marrow

Today is Easter Sunday.  Easter has always had a special place in my heart because it comes in spring, which is my favorite season.  But somehow this year was even more special than usual.

For my friends who are not Christian, Easter represents a time of welcoming the new life that is coming up this time of year, after a long, hard winter.  We certainly had more than our share of 'long hard winter' this year, and seeing all the flowers on the trees and the leaves bursting out of branches everywhere, the whole world turning slowly from dead and grey back to life and green really does make me want to celebrate.  SO much life!! So much color!  Warm sunshine!  It's just glorious.

But the meaning of Easter goes so much beyond that, to me.  It is when we mark the death of Jesus on the cross, and His subsequent resurrection from the grave!  After the 'cold and death' of trying to live on our own and find meaning, suddenly LIFE bursts forth from death, and we are saved, ushered into the warmth of His love and forgiveness, into a life of glorious meaning and 'color'!

The example given by our pastor this morning explained it just perfectly, yet in a way I'd never heard before.  He told the story of a man who had been diagnosed with leukemia, and was told it was inoperable, and that he would absolutely die unless a marrow donor could be found in time.  The man proceeded through chemotherapy to kill off all of his own, diseased blood, and all of his body's ability to make it's own blood.  Then, with only a few days left before he would be likely to die, a donor was found.  The donor was a 19 year old girl, and within days, he was receiving the precious gift of her bone marrow.

As his body began to accept the new bone marrow, and make new, healthy blood, the man was told that if he ever needed blood work done, that when his DNA was drawn from his blood, doctors would see her DNA.  That his body would forever be changed, because his blood was now the same as her healthy blood.
He read these verses shortly after:
Galatians 2:20
I am crucified with Christ.  Nevertheless, I live.  Yet not I, but Christ lives in me.  And the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me.

Just as his bone marrow was totally replaced, and that 19 year old girl now lived inside him, because she gave of herself to save him, in the same way, Jesus poured out his own blood so that He could give life to us, and live inside us, a sort of spiritual bone marrow transplant.

All that to say, that as a member of the National Marrow Donor Program, and someone who very MUCH hopes I can someday give that gift to someone, this was an entirely new way to see Easter Sunday, and brought SO MUCH extra joy to the day!  Hallelujah, He is risen....and He LIVES....IN ME!

And THAT'S Kickin' Your Butt

Early this morning, I got up to go to an appointment I made with a trainer at a gym.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm no gym rat.  I'm not even a gym mouse.  For the last few months, I have taken couch potato to an art form.  I'm not proud of that, but at least I'm admitting it.

Last week I had the joy and privilege to take my little grandson to the playground.  He's only one year old, and not even at the age where he can play with the other kids.  He wandered around the playground looking at leaves and studying the older kids playing.  He did struggle to climb all the way up to the top of the playset, and I followed.  We came down together to meet his mommy, Peaches, at the bottom of a slide.  But I realized that day that the older he gets, the harder he will be to keep up with!  And I recently found out I have a second grandbaby on the way.  So this couch potato thing must come to an end.

I was fairly terrified when I walked into the gym this morning.  I am that person who bought the gym membership last summer with all good intentions to improve my life, and did I?  Well, if I had, I wouldn't have needed the appointment with the trainer.  Now, I know a few people who make their living as personal trainers, but for some reason, I still had an image in my mind of 'huge, buff, mean, drill instructor with a whistle'.  So it took me a few tries to get out of bed and get dressed this morning.  Then, when I got to the gym, it took me a good ten minutes to go inside.

I feel ridiculously silly admitting that to you now.  Because the trainer was very nice.  He was not judgemental of the place I'm currently in.  He didn't promise I'd make my goals in 6 weeks 'if I did everything he said'.  He even said that we would work together to come up with a plan that was manageable in my own mind, knowing that if he expected someone at 'Ground Zero' to jump into going to the gym 6 days a week, it was setting me up for failure.

I was really encouraged by the whole process.  I was excited enough by my meeting with him that I stayed to do the 'Day 1' workout he helped me plan!  He said I can expect him to kick my butt.  He said he will expect me to hate him some days.  And I suppose I probably will.

But it was such a joy to do something today that I know is heading me back in the direction I want to go.  I kicked butt today!

Still His Girl

Darling Husband and I met in college.  I had been a new freshman for all of 2 or 3 weeks.  I had never lived away from home before, and never been on my own.  Suddenly, the best friend who had been a penpal for 4 years and I were reunited, roommates in a city we were both unfamiliar with, learning to be independent.  During Rush Week for the societies at our college, one of the societies hosted a mixer at the local skating rink, and there he was.  The young man whom I would soon be building my world around, and not being able to imagine life without.

Our dates in college were spent doing what most couples in our era did.  Wandering around the local mall or hanging out at a video arcade playing Missile Command, Centipede, Tempest, pinball, and air hockey.  Occasionally, we'd go see a movie, when we could afford it.  We bonded over Joust and Gauntlet, but I think he won my heart playing skeeball.  Yes, I'm aware it sounds silly.  But all those tickets he won night after night got saved up to win me stuffed animals, toy rings, and icecream cones.  How could I resist?

Tonight, we went to see a movie with some friends, and we arrived to the theatre a bit before they did.  We bought our tickets, and then, rather than stand in the lobby waiting, he wandered into the arcade.  We perused all the new games....He investigated the driving games.  I tried to convince him to try the dancing simulator game, to no avail.  And then he saw the skeeball game.  He went and found a bill changer and got a few dollars worth of quarters before I realized what he was doing.  When he came back, put the quarter in, and those 9 balls rolled into place, it was like going back in time to a simple, wonderful time in my life.  It was so fun watching him bowl the balls up into the target.  And I must say, he's still pretty good, after all these years!

After only a few games, our friends arrived, so he tore off the tickets he'd won.  We rarely ever get to an arcade now, so he gave them to a dad who's little girl had quite a collection going, and we went in to see our movie.  The whole night had the feel of being in college again, just hanging out with someone I love so dearly, carefree and having fun.  I loved 'just being his girl' all those years ago.  It was a joy to be that girl again for the night.

Goodnight, Moon

I am a night owl.  You don't have to know me very long for this to become very apparent.  I always have been.  When I was in Junior High and High School, I would practice my piano lesson, watch tv, do chores, whatever I could find until the rest of the family went to bed, and then do my homework late at night, after the house was quiet.

When my kids were little, after their bedtime was 'mommy time', and I would play the piano or read a book after everyone else had gone to bed.  My kids still love to listen to me play the piano as they fall asleep, when they're visiting.  When My Son went to college, one of the things he asked me to include in his first care package was a CD of my piano playing that he could fall asleep to.

Now that it's just Darling Husband and myself at home, you'd think I'd have plenty of quiet hours during the day.  And some days I do.  But there are always traffic and neighbors and delivery people and phones and even birds on the balcony outside that all add to the chaos of the daytime, to me.  It's all just so much noise.  Not to say it's always unwelcome noise, but it is noise, nonetheless.

Somehow, when the moon rises, and the stars have come out, a gentle peace settles over everything, and whole house is quiet.  Then I can feel myself calm, and peace settles over me as well.  The stress of the day goes away, and with nothing else demanding my time or attention, I can.....well...sometimes I read, sometimes I crochet.  Sometimes I write a letter to a friend.  Sometimes I even just sit and watch the city lights.  They are especially pretty tonight, reflected on the wet streets, since it's been a quite rainy day.

Whatever I take this beautiful peaceful time to do, it is a joy to take in the quiet of the night for a while before I head off to bed.

Tax Relief

Tomorrow is 'tax day'.  The day by which our taxes, here in the United States, must be filed for the previous year.  Did I mean to forget that they were not yet done?  No.  Did I intend to wait until the very last day to do them?  Not really.  But here I am, surrounded by a pile of tax forms and receipts, slowly clicking my way through the IRS website.

But of course, I'm a multi-tasker, so I can't just do taxes.  When I watch TV, I crochet.  When I fold laundry, I listen to an audio sermon or book.  When I talk on the phone, I check email.  There aren't too many times during the day that I'm not doing at least two things at once.  So, only minutes after I started working on taxes, I realized I needed to be doing something else, too.

So, I put in a movie.  Pride and Prejudice, actually. Mind you, we're talking about the Colin Firth / Jennifer Ehle version done by A&E.  I consider all other versions 'knockoffs'.  It's one of my favorites. My family actually considers me ever-so-slightly obsessed with Pride & Prejudice, actually....I think.  I watch it, the entire 6 hours....several times a year.  I used to watch them with my daughters on the VCR.  Those well-worn and beloved video tapes were passed down to Peaches when she moved out, recently, in favor of a less space-consuming DVD.  But the movie is no less wonderful for the modern technology.

 I really am such a huge fan of language like, "I cannot bear that he is somewhere in the world and thinking ill of me."  and "For it is a truth universally accepted that a single man in possession of a good fortune MUST be in want of a wife."  Jane Austen was a literary genius, in my opinion.  She pokes fun of her own society in ways that are at once pointed and humorous, without being snide.   Maybe I'll say more about my dear friend Jane some other time. For now, I'll just thank her for a wonderful afternoon spent together with a cup of tea, and for helping me get my taxes done as painlessly as possible.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Yesterday was Sunday.  Generally, this means getting up for church, and I love our church.  It is encouraging, warm, uplifting place to be.  And don't we all need more of those?

But yesterday, we both accidentally slept in and missed the service.  So when I woke up, Darling husband was already hard at work with weekend homework and projects for school.  I spent the day puttering.  I read.  I made a pot of chili.  I read some more.  I did a load of laundry.  I read some more.  I took a nap.  I read some more....It was an entire day of 'nothing pressing to do, and nowhere to go'.  Those don't really happen often in most cases, so it was a real treat.

And much like putting a cel phone or a laptop on the charger overnight, a day of 'unplugged' was just what I needed to recharge and be ready for my week when I woke up today.  It was such a joy to just take a recharging day.

Now, on with the week!!

Purrfectly Content

I am a cat lady.  Have I ever told you that?  Darling Husband and I share our home with two adorable feline fluffballs.  Sometimes, they are an annoyance I contemplate doing without.  After all, with a cat comes food, litterbox, and the occasional furrball, which unfortunately, I never see, but always step on. Trust me, in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom, in the dark, finding a furrball with my bare toes does not endear my furry friends to my heart.

Cats can be demanding...annoying every last bit of patience out of you when they're hungry.  Or if you happen to be reading.  Or working on a computer. Or folding clothes.  Or playing the piano.  Or doing any of the other number of things they tend to find irresistibly interesting.  Honestly. It sometimes makes me wonder why anyone would keep a cat at all.

But then there are nights like tonight.  When there is a warm, purring furrball curled up in my lap, gazing up at me with her innocent, sweet green eyes, as if all the world is perfect because I am rubbing just that right spot behind her ear or on her belly.  Her eyes slowly close, the purring gets louder, and a kind of peace just seems to settle over us for a few minutes while I read my book, or enjoy my cup of tea.

And in these quiet, precious moments, I realize why I keep my kitties.  Because they give me unconditional love, they accept me for who I am, they bring both humor and calm to the household, and most of all, because they are an everyday joy to love.

Girls Day Out

So much of our lives are tied up with routine.  Housework, jobs, appointments, errands, all vying to eat up every spare and not so spare moment.  So every now and then, it is important to do something that's not routine, but special.  A special event that serves as an oasis from the desert of the routine.

One of those things, in my life, is a girl's day out.  It might not seem very exciting, I know.  Peaches has a very good friend she made in junior high school.  They are still the best of friends to this day.  As a matter of fact, her friend calls me mom, and Peaches, in turn, calls her friend's mom, mom.  Because of the girls friendship, I have gotten to be good friends with 'Mama #2' as Peaches calls her.  We have been in each other's corner through the trials of high school, the girls getting along, and not getting along, college, weddings, new houses, new jobs.  We don't even talk all that often, but she is one of those people that I mesh so easily with that we just seem to pick up right where we left off, even if it's weeks or months between visits.

Our girl's day out is usually lunch, then shopping, and sometimes a movie.  Nothing truly very exciting. Sometimes we're Christmas shopping.  It used to sometimes be back-to-school shopping.  Once it was wedding dress shopping, when she finally received the proposal from the man who has been part of her and Daughter #3's life since before we met.  But almost always, it's wandering around the stores as an excuse and backdrop for catching up on each other's lives.  The four of us laughing, eating, sharing, and caring...until we have 'shopped till we dropped'.

I know it might be weeks or months until we do this again, but I also know that the bonds will be there, the same as they always are, strong as ever.  And that it will be a joy for all four of us to share for years to come.

New Favorite

For the last few days, I have been away from home.  I got to go visit Princess and her husband for a couple days, and spend some quality time with Button.

He has to be just about the happiest baby ever.  He doesn't have a personality that ensures he laughs alot, but he is rarely EVER unhappy.  He is a curious and inquisitive, tough and determined little explorer.

While I was visiting, we took him to a playground. I have dreamed for years of getting to play with my grandchildren on a playground, and it was a spectacular beginning to the fulfillment of that dream.  In contrast to the long, vicious, and bitterly cold winter we were experiencing a couple weeks ago, that day was such a beautiful one.  Gloriously warm and sunny, and the only hint of snow were the pink cherry blossom petals tumbling in the breeze turning the playground into a wonderland for my little grandson.

He ran along, at almost the same pace as the gently tumbling petals on the ground, chasing them as Mother Nature teased them away from his little fingers.  He bravely climbed to the top of the playset, stopping at each step to look behind and make sure I was still with him.  He chased a soccer ball some bigger children were kicking back and forth, and looked up at me, so startled, when it rolled by just a little closer than he was expecting.  He wandered through the playground, exploring this toy, studying that leaf, touching the dirt here, or the fallen petals there.  But one of my favorite moments was when, after getting knocked down, he looked just about to cry, then looked up at me and raised his arms, somehow knowing that if I would pick him up, he would be just fine.

While we walked around the playground together, doing more exploring than playing, he and I bonded in a way we have not been able to before.  I am no longer a recurring visitor in his life, who comes to visit, plays with him or feeds him, and then leaves.  I became someone he can share adventures with, who he can trust to help him up when he gets knocked down, who he may forget for moments here and there, but then will always look back, just to be sure I'm still behind him, still urging him on to follow his heart, to make life an adventure.  I always will be, little Button.  For you, and for all your siblings and cousins to come.  It will be my everyday joy.

Takin' Care of Business

Yesterday was Tuesday.  One of my favorite days of the week.  It always has been.

Years ago, as a child, Tuesday night represented the night my family would all be united on the couch for Little House on the Prairie and The Waltons.  Afterward, we would all go to bed, usually echoing the show's closing, 'Good night, Johnboy!' 'Good night Maryellen.' ' 'night, Elizabeth.'.  This would continue with increased amounts of snickering, until my dad would say, in a voice that was attempting unsuccessfully to sound stern, 'GOOD NIGHT.'   The snickering would continue for a few more minutes, although we all knew, laying there in our separate rooms, that the calling out had better NOT.

Fast forward a decade or two, and Tuesday night meant sitting on the couch with my OWN family, watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  My kids grew up knowing that even a teenager could save the world, or change it, if they stood up to what they were afraid of.  And we had plenty of discussions as to how best to survive the always imminent 'Zombie Apocolypse'.  By the way, you want My Son on your zombie survival team.  Just a tip.

But several years ago Darling Husband and I started our own business, and now Tuesday nights have become the night we get together with some of our fellow business owners to learn new techniques and success principles.  And to have fun.  They are some of the most fun people I have ever met.  And it occurred to me that Tuesday night has always been about family.  My parent's family, as a child, my own family when they were small, and now my extended family-of-choice, the people who have the same dreams and goals in life that I do.  Those people who want the best for me, and who I can share the journey with.

What better people to bring joy to a simple Tuesday night?

Time with the Littles.

I have several friends who are little people.  I don't mean they are adults afflicted with dwarfism, although I know that dwarfs sometimes refer to themselves as 'little people'.  However, in my case, the little people who are my friends are the children of my adult friends.  These five little girls and two little boys call me Auntie, and their little hugs are one of the treats of going to one of my friends' homes.  

They often help ease the sadness that my adorable little grandson is three hours away.  When I need a 'kid fix', I'll go visit a friend and be introduced to one little sweetheart's entire Tinkerbell collection.  Or see how fast one little buddy can 'drive' a Hotwheels car.  Or watch my two other little friends quote whole scenes from their latest favorite Disney movie, each taking the part of a different princess.  

Today, I got to watch three of my little friends for the day.  Their daddy had to go to work, and mommy is out of town, so I got some Auntie time with them.  Today was rainy, so unfortunately, going to the playground, as I had planned wasn't an option.  It ended up being a day full of at-home fun.  Curled up on the couch with a little friend on each side, and one on my lap, watching movies, reading books, popcorn for a snack, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk for lunch.  

Their energy and chatter and affection has effectively worn me out, and it was a long day.  But it was such a joy to spend the day so simply, and with such sweet little friends.  

Now I'm going to go take a nap.  

You've Got Mail

When I was 14, I went to summer camp.  This was no 'across town, go home every evening' summer camp.  This was '4 states away, island in the middle of a lake, stuck there away from home no matter what' summer camp.  And I was terrified.  My personality is one that is very uncomfortable in unfamiliar situations, and although that's something I'm trying to work on, I was very aware of it as I stepped off the boat onto that island!  I found my cabin, staked claim on a bunk, and wondered what to do next.  There were no counselors in my cabin, and I didn't see any other campers.  However, one saw me.  She introduced herself and suggested a plan for 'what to do next'.  It sounded reasonable, so I went with her.  And from that moment, for the rest of the week at camp we were inseparable.

By the end of the week, we were the best of friends, and exchanged addresses.  She lived 5 or 6 states away from me, so our friendship was limited to the occasional phone call, and letters.  Oh, how we mastered the art of letter-writing.  Two, three, four...sometimes five or six letters a week flew up and down the coast from her house to mine and back.  We even started being creative, to keep each other entertained.  Long, long lengths of letters on toilet paper, written with magic marker.  Huge poster-sized letters written on poster paper, rolled into a tube.  Letters written on blown-up balloons which were then deflated to put into an envelope.  If you could fit it into a letter-sized envelope, we sent it through the US Postal Service.

We ended up the very best of friends, and we are still friends to this day....still 5 or 6 states away, still keeping in touch by letter or phone, but still the best of friends.

I realized, today, that aside from the occasional 'thank you' for a gift, or for a special thoughtfulness, I don't write letters anymore....and I don't receive them, either.  Paper, envelopes and stamps have given way to email, messaging, and texts.  And I suppose some people would say that's kind of sad.

But my everyday joy today is letters.  Because three times today, I have gotten a message from someone far away...a friend 45 minutes across town, wanting to get together for lunch and shopping.  My sister, who is 2 hours away saying hello, and making my day with a very nice compliment.  A dear friend who lives half way around the world, but who makes me smile and feel loved everytime I hear from her, just by her sweet way.
They may not be the paper letters I exchanged for so many years, but they certainly mean no less to me. In fact, maybe the fact that they can be sent instantly makes them better?  I know right now, whenever I get a message or text that somebody, somewhere is thinking about me and wishing me a good day.  That is truly something to be joyful about.

Date Night

Sometimes life gets hectic, and days or weeks will go by in which I have barely had a chance to wave hello to Darling Husband in passing, much less spend any time together.  I am not ok with this.  I married him because he is my best friend, and we enjoy spending time together.  So, with him in school full time, and working full time, and me running our business and dealing with all the paperwork and appointments involved in buying a house, it seems like it's been a couple weeks since I've actually done something just for fun.  

Sometimes, our fun thing is cooking together.  We like to make a menu, make the shopping list, go grocery shopping together, cook together, and then have a nice quiet dinner, with just the two of us.  It is companionable, therapeutic, and....well, we have to eat, right?

Sometimes, we will go out, like any other couple on a Saturday night.  Dinner and a movie.  Or fast food and minature golf.  Or more rarely, ice cream cones and a walk on the beach.  But with this being exams week, Darling's been wandering around like a brain-fried zombie trying to keep up with projects due at school, tests to study for, and his full time work schedule besides.  'Going out' wasn't really fair to suggest tonight.

So tonight was a stay-at-home date night.  Curled up on the couch watching movies.  Usually, we take turns picking movies.  His favorite genre is 'fast cars and things blowing up'.  My favorite genre is 'natural disaster/end of the world' movies.  Clearly, the standard movie genres just don't cut it in my family.  Tonight, he picked an action/adventure movie.  No fast cars, but lots of things blowing up, and the good guys won.  Then scrolling through the online movie choices, I saw a movie which I recognized by name, but not description, so we watched it.  It turned out to be an older-elementary or junior high fairy tale, but it was still pretty good.  He made me watch an episode of Black Adder with him to regain his masculinity, tho.

And I realized, while I was curled up on the couch with Darling Husband's arm around me, listening to him make plot guesses and comments about my fairy tale, that as simple as it is, as ordinary as it seems, I wouldn't trade the joy it gives me to spend time with him for anything in the world.

As Long As I'm Living......

I love technology.  In a perfect world, I suppose I could be Amish and live completely without it just fine.  Ok, maybe I'd still want electricity.  But the computer, the social networks, the constant barrage of information, wanted and unwanted, the inability to ever really have any solitude....it sometimes wears a person down.  So, in a perfect world, my kids would live down the street from me.  My brother, sister, nieces, nephews, aunts and uncles, all so beloved would live in the same tiny town somewhere, where I could see them and love them every single day.

But this is not a perfect world, and so the child that lives closest to me is 45 minutes away.  Another is three hours away.  The last is half way across the continent.  So I love the technology that keeps us connected, and allows me to still be a part of their lives, no matter where they are.

I got to talk to My Son via a chat on our favorite social media site.  And he asked me to do him a favor that dealt with some of his business still here in our local area.  It was a simple enough favor, took very little time, and I was happy to do it, so he wouldn't have to think about it.

And that was my joy for the day...getting to talk to one of my kids for a nice long chat, and do something for him that any mother would do.  Because, just like the story book said, when they were little...

I'll love you forever.
I'll like you for always.
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be.

They may not be babies anymore, but being their mom is an everyday joy to me.

Possibilities

One of my best friends gave me a subscription to a magazine for Christmas.  I've enjoyed getting them, and flipping idly through them, daydreaming about having rooms as beautiful as those pictured in the magazine, or a home in any of the exotic locations pictured.  But these were little more than nebulous, idle musings, since I was surrounded by the dull reality of a tiny rented apartment.

Last week, Darling and I put a contract on a house.  She is a graceful, beautiful Craftsman foursquare, located across the street from a gorgeous view of the bay, in a quiet, quaint neighborhood full of Victorians and brownstone boutiques.  She has been lovingly restored to maintain all the charm she was built with 100+ years ago, and I can't wait to move in.  To spend early mornings on the porch swing with my tea and the bay.  To gently introduce myself to her, and get to know her quirks.  But also to make her mine, to put my personality and stamp on the house so that, even with more than 100 years of charm, it also looks like MY place in the world.

There are many ways to do that, I suppose.  Furniture.  Carpet. Decorations.  Remodeling.  But while meandering through pictures of beautiful coastal homes, I discovered a treasure.  A simple, 3 x 5 piece of paper that represented the simplest and easiest of all 'statements'.  A coupon for a free sample of paint.  Off I went to the home improvement store, to find my perfect shade.  After all, I will soon have an entire HOUSE full of rooms that, unlike my apartment, are mine to paint, if I choose.

As I looked through the paint chips, I found this shade of blue that might be nice in a craft room.  That shade of green that would be lovely in an office.  This shade of tan that would be amazing in a bathroom.  Some other shade of rose that was perfect for a bedroom....SO many colors!  I did come home with my free sample...a lovely sage-y green I'm hoping will be a subtle, welcoming statement for the foyer...and also a color that Darling Husband has claimed for his office, as well.  But I came home with so much more than just a paint sample.  I came home with endless possibilities of what could be.   A full imagination of how my dream home can slowly, steadily become my 'reality' home.

And that is a joyous thing.

Here Comes the Sun

If you are reading this from anywhere in the United States except California, or possibly other parts of the Southwest, you, along with everyone else in the US, had an incredibly cold and snowy winter.  Here in my East Coast town, we usually get a dusting of snow, or maybe even a few inches accumulation once in the year.  If the ground has been more white than green or brown even once, we declare that yes, it was a rough winter.  After all, we even 'got snow'.

I live in one of those places in the US where a half inch of snow effectively shuts down most every business.  As a matter of fact when my kids were in high school, they once got a snow day that was called the day before a storm was scheduled to hit...and then the storm passed us by, and they got their snow day...on a day there was not even a flake.  Such is life in a beach town that prides itself in 7 months per year of beach weather.

So 4 snow storms in one winter?  More than 2 feet of total accumulation in the SAME winter?  Clearly, the East Coat was heading for some 'Day After Tomorrow' type nuclear winter.  On February 2, when the Groundhog saw his shadow, that very sad rumble you heard was the entire population of my state collectively groaning for mercy.

But today, finally, it really began to feel like warm spring.  Two or three weeks later than usual, the sun was shining, the sky was clear blue, and there was a balmy breeze replacing the bone-chilling wind.  It was so gloriously warm and sunny today.  Nearly 80 degrees.  Everywhere I went today, people were smiling, cheerful, liberated from the indoors, happy to finally be able to come out like the hibernating groundhog, and glance at the sky, unobstructed by storm-clouds.  Spring arrived today.  And with it, something else to be so very joyful about.

Welcome, Sunshine!  We've missed you.

Lost and Found

I am working on writing a book.  No, it's not a collection of blog posts. (hee hee) It's a topic that is a personal interest, and so I decided to collect all my thoughts on the subject in a coherent manner, in a single location.  Voila.  BOOK!   Who knows if it will ever be published, and right now, that is very much not the point.  

But a few weeks ago, I misplaced my notes.  Two whole notebooks full of ideas, brainstorming, half chapters, and random paragraphs....gone.  Seemingly disappeared into thin air.  If you knew how small my apartment was, you'd wonder how I could ever lose anything, but I seem to do it on an annoyingly frequent basis.
I searched wherever I thought might have been a good place to put them.
I searched wherever I thought wasn't really a good place, but that I might have, at some point, thought was a good place.
Then I resorted to searching places I was fairly certain they couldn't possibly be, but....who knows?
I even ultimately started moving furniture, wondering if somehow, maybe the notebooks had slid under the couch, or under a chair.  All without success.
Ultimately, I decided that I would have to wait to find them as we move into the new home on which we recently placed a contract. 

Then, this morning, I headed into my closet to get a pair of shoes and a purse that matches my outfit.  I adore purses and shoes, however, because of the limited space in my apartment, my walk-in-closet usually looks like a tornado has hit a very cute boutique.  Finding a purse and shoes usually results in me sitting on the floor, rummaging through the pile for matches.  Which is what I was doing this morning, when I happened to pick up a purse that sometimes doubles as a tote bag.  It seemed rather heavy, for not being in current use, so I looked inside....and there were my notebooks!! 

I was thrilled, relieved, and excited all at once.  Not just because the notebooks have been found, although I'm certainly glad all the work they represent is not wasted.  I was also glad because finding them has been something of a personal quest for a few weeks, and it felt like a personal triumph.  And because I don't have to spend so much mental energy trying to figure out where I still haven't looked.  There is so much joy in finally finding whatever it was you were looking for.  Whether it's car keys, or a specific DVD you wanted to watch, or that out-of-print book you finally find on Amazon, nothing feels quite as great as 'finally' finding it.

I hope that whatever you have lost today, becomes found.  It's a wonderful, everyday joy. 

The Sound of Joy

I realized, again, something very obvious today.  I love music.  My music education started in pre-school, when a pre-school teacher asked my mom if I was being given voice lessons, because I was singing harmony to 'Old MacDonald', at 3.  Before I could even reach the floor with  my toes, sitting on the piano bench, I had been started with piano lessons.

When I get in the car, I turn the key, and before I even adjust the temperature to see to my own comfort, I turn on the radio.  It depends on my mood, but generally, by the time I get to a main road, I am singing at the top of my lungs.

When I am cleaning the house, as I'm getting started, I turn on the cable TV to a music channel and turn it up as loud as I think will not bother my apartment neighbors.  Housework goes faster and easier when you dance and sing through it.

And so it goes.  I have playlists on my phone.  I have CDs in my car.  There are certain parts of the nearby resort town that bring to memory a specific song, just by driving past.  There are certain people in my life who will be forever linked to a certain group, or genre, or song.  Late at night, after a long and stressful day, my personal reward is to play the piano.  My kids grew up falling asleep to the sound of me playing the piano, since this was the only quiet time I could play when they were little.  Sometimes, they even still mention it.

But sometimes people forget the most obvious things, and it took this video, posted by a Facebook friend, to remind me.  The song they play is even CALLED 'Ode to Joy'.  And what a joy it is....the fabulous, energizing, calming, life-affirming, soul-enriching, everyday JOY of music....

Here is the video.  Enjoy.

http://www.thisblewmymind.com/street-musician-tipped-girl-happened-next-blew-whole-city-away/#zlf1IQsMfvpRdtPH.01

You Are My Sunshine

When My Son was little, the first song he ever learned to sing was You Are My Sunshine.  He was blonde, with blue eyes, and smiled constantly, with a dimple that winked in one cheek in a way that made my heart light up, every time I saw him smile.  You have never heard such an adorable rendition of You Are My Sunshine in your life, I promise you.  And he WAS my sunshine.  Nothing ever made me happier than having him wake up and say, 'Good MORNING, Mommy!'

Then he was joined by Princess.  Princess was not even 6 pounds at birth, and was, quite simply, the prettiest baby that was ever born.  She honestly and truly looked like a real, live, living, breathing baby doll.  One of those perfect porcelain baby dolls with the rosy-perfect skin and tiny, tiny hands.  I don't even remember her ever crying much, or spitting up, or doing any of the things that 'normal' babies do.  She was FAR too ladylike, even as a baby.

Soon, My Son and Princess were joined by Peaches.  Peaches smiled ALL THE TIME.  She was cheerful and bubbly, and made us laugh almost every minute.  In those minutes she wasn't making us laugh, she was charming us into submission.  She just seemed to come into the world to charm and enchant the rest of us.  And she does.

Well, My Son, Princess, and Peaches are all grown now.  Princess is married, with a family of her own, Peaches probably will be, soon.  My Son has moved from the East Coast town where he grew up to the Rockies with some friends, to explore and adventure.  We don't get to see ANY of them as often as we would like.

Today, I was treated to a visit from Peaches and her intended.  They didn't stay too long, but it was so wonderful to see them.  They were just catching us up with their lives and what's been going on...but I realized how much they all three still light up my life in their own ways, just as much as they did when they were little.  They may not be my babies anymore, and they may not sing You Are My Sunshine to their momma anymore, but they are STILL my sunshine.  Each one of them.  My everyday joy today is getting to see the young adults my sunshines are growing to be.

I hope they will always know, no matter what they face in life, how much joy they bring to mine.

Belonging

My Darling Husband is in culinary school.  I haven't mentioned that before, but food has been a hobby for him for a long time, and when he got out of the military, he decided to use one of his veteran's benefits and go back to school.  Cooking was a natural choice.  I may not be the student, but I've been almost as excited by his choice as he has, because cooking together is something we've always enjoyed.  Added to that is the personal benefit that I get to eat his homework and projects!

Today, there was a special event at the school for his class.  Each class member was permitted to invite a select few people to enjoy a 5-star French meal, cooked and served by the class.  I remember being so interested in going, when he told me when it was, and thinking how nice it was that he could just tell me, and assume I would want to go, without even having to really ask.  I didn't think much of it, at the time.  

So this morning, I went with Darling's best friend and his wife, who is one of MY best friends, to the school for lunch.  Everyone I met...his chef, his classmates, and even some of his classmate's family members...said something like, 'Oh, you're his wife?  I've heard SO much ABOUT you!'  

So the thing that has brought me so much joy today is just the sense of truly being part of him.  Truly belonging to my Darling Husband, and knowing that he thinks about me, loves me, and speaks well of me, even when I'm not there.  Culinary school is 'his' thing, and it would have been fine, even expected, if his classmates had said, 'Oh, how very nice to meet you.' and knew nothing about me.  But they didn't.  Because my husband carries me in his heart and treasures me wherever he goes, and whatever he is doing.  

And that is TRULY something that brings me joy.  

Lunch was amazing, by the way....but more on that another day.  

Welcoming the Light

It is one of my morning rituals. Sit up in bed, put my feet on the floor, and wonder, once again, why morning has come SO early.  Head groggily into the kitchen where I try to navigate the intricacies of my one-cup Keurig, half-awake without a minor kitchen catastrophe.  Those of you who own a Keurig with a reservoir will never quite understand this challenge, but some of my previous house guests will.  I'll let them remain nameless.

Oh, I am SO not a morning person.  But, once I know that liquid caffeine in the form of Twinings English Breakfast Tea will soon be mine, I shuffle....even a little more awake....over to the patio door to open the blinds.  I have thought, often, that the vertical blinds installed by our apartment complex are even more difficult to operate awake than the Keurig is asleep.  But I can usually manage it by this point.

As I pull that plastic beaded cord, I wake up fully, suddenly full of joy and simple enthusiasm for what will happen.  With a gentle tug, the blinds rotate 45 degrees, and that simple change floods my living room with light.  Sometimes, it's the brilliant sunshine of a cloudless day.  Other days, it's only the grey overcast haze of a storm.  But either way, my living room is brighter, more welcoming, more cheerful.

It is such a joy each morning to welcome the light into my home.  I wonder sometimes if life isn't just a little bit like that.  A challenge may confound us, and befuddle us like my Keurig when I first wake up, leaving us in a gloomy, dark place.  But sometimes the simplest of things, advice from a friend, a walk, a good night's sleep...can make the change, and suddenly the problem is flooded with light, and so much more hopeful than it seemed in the dark.

I love sunshine and light, and it is my everyday joy today to welcome the light.  I hope I will remember to welcome it into EVERY part of my life, not just my living room.

Beginnings

Today.  March 27.  Not a birthday. Not an anniversary.  A THURSDAY.  An ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill day of a week like every other week.  So it seems like a pretty inauspicious day to begin a blog.  Aren't these things generally begun out of a sense of milestone, or to begin a new adventure of some sort?

But here I am, starting the blog my Princess has been telling me I should write for a couple years now.  Princess is my middle child, a dear, precious daughter who is married to a kind and loving man.  Together, they are the parents of Button, my beautiful little grandson, and an as-yet-unnamed expected arrival of a new grandbaby.  Make no mistake.  They HAVE a name picked out.  It's only that they don't know whether the girl's name or the boy's name will apply, right at the moment.  I'll keep you posted.

Anyway, Princess is, as I said, my middle child.  She grew up with a big brother, My Son.  My Son has moved half way across the country for the time being.  It may be permanent, it may not.  And while part of this mother's heart is going to miss him terribly, the bigger part knows that he was always the kid who sought adventure wherever he could find it, and whose feet were never still for long.  So I know this is part of his story, and something he needs to do.  I look forward to hearing about his adventures, and I'll try to share some of them with you.

Princess also grew up with a little sister, Peaches.  Peaches has generally been considered by all to be my mini-me.  And so I guess she is.  She has a warmth and charm and beauty that is all her own, tho.  Peaches and Princess are generally the very best of friends, and it has been a joy watching the three of my children grow up together.

They grew up in a military home, my Darling Husband served for 20 years in the military, and was consequently gone quite often.  But he's retired now, and we are enjoying being civilians in a military community.

That is quite a long background on all of us, and I appreciate that you are still here reading.  As I said Princess suggested I should write a blog a couple years ago, and today, I realized what I should write about.  It is these everyday things that happen that bring so much joy to my life.  Darling and I are just getting over a bout of a stomach virus, and as I was opening windows to let in fresh air, and doing laundry this morning, the thought crossed my mind 'It's such a joy to be feeling better today!...Yes, I guess it's an everyday joy, but it's a joy, nonetheless.'  And there it was.  The title to the long-awaited blog.  The thing I can write about every day, over and over, and never run out of material. Or inspiration. Or excitement.  Everyday joys.  The things that all of us sometimes overlook that bring so much joy and hope to our lives, if only we will take a moment to notice them.

I hope you will join me on this journey to see all the things that show up in my life to be joyful about.  And I hope at least some of them will help you find things in your own life that bring joy to you, as well.