willow

I kept an ear tuned to the backseat as we drove.. happy to listen to the smart, witty, insightful musings of my eldest:

"Mom, how much longer till I"m a teenager?"

??!!

"How do you know which pedals to push and when? Do they teach you that in driving school?"
"When I'm in driving school I want a woman teacher."

"Mom, I think from now on you should start buying things instead of renting them."

?

"Like cd's, dvd's, movies, books, you know; that stuff. So you don't have to give them back. Cuz, you forget most of the time. So it would be smarter to buy the stuff."

I think about Charlotte's Web 2, and the letter I received from the video store..after several months..and I have the nagging suspicion that it would be cheaper to buy the DVD than to return it at this point..

I thank her for the unsolicited(heartily deserved) input, and agree to consider her suggested course of action.

"Mom, Abby has the Robert Frost poem-book. Stopping By
Snowy Woods? And I read the whole thing to her. By myself."

I smile for a long time. She's about to turn seven, and I know in a year she'll be astounding me even more, though it's hard to imagine. I wish everyone had a Willow.

ginger

On the way home after a long weekend apart, she delighted me with her expressions, exclamations, and finally, her tired ramblings:

"Mom, I'm so sleepy..but I don't want to sleep and the music will make me so turn it off please...and I'm SO hungry((for her second supper))..I'm so hungry I may eat your car."

I asked her to leave me the steering wheel and pedals(we were only halfway home).

"Don't worry, Mom..I'll only eat the middle of the car. If I eat more than that I'll get you a new one."

I missed her voice so much this time.

stones

This blog used to be much more personal. I started it as a way to keep in touch with far away family and friends, but also(and even mainly) to help me work through a difficult period in my life during which anxiety and fear pretty much paralyzed me.
I remember when I first started writing here, I felt surprised by the freedom of words..how quickly the thoughts from my head ended up travelling through my fingers, and (sometimes thoughtlessly) told stories without much self-censorship.
Over time you realize that people actually read these things. And careless or incomplete thoughts can cause hurt feelings. Soon you start second-guessing whether everything you write is going to be 'OK' for the people you care about.
And "poof". The fun, healing, cathartic(and often selfish) freedom of blogging is replaced by a sense of Responsibility.
Around that same time a lot of things in my life blew up at once..and it became damn near impossible to blog at all. Or have normal "how-are-you-doing" conversations in person. Not because there was less to say; but because there was *so* much to say. And the stakes(hurting the feelings of people who had been hurt enough already by the fallout from my life, over burdening people with the heaviness surrounding me) seemed dauntingly high.
Just when I started feeling excited about telling stories..and hoping to become a more skilled storyteller..I became an impotent one. Posts months apart. Bland suburban updates(attempts at reassuring everyone that we were going to be alright) and occasional pictures. Holding the world at arm's length through a medium which by nature serves the opposite purpose(or does it?).
There's another reason I kept writing, specifically through this blog. I have always struggled to remember details of the past. Much of my childhood and teen years, and now, even the first years of Willow's life, are washed in gradient layers of hazy uncertainty.
It has become increasingly important for me to find ways of laying a trail. I need stones on the path to remind me that I was Here once. And that *this* is how things were...for me, for the girls, this is the way the world looked and smelled and sounded..
There have been some really painful aspects of my past, the details of which I am willing to lose. But the good stuff; the things that give life meaning, I want desperately to retain.

I think some people who read this post may think something like,"What is she talking about? If this is an *impersonal* year of blogging, what would a *personal* one look like? Sounds scary."

But I think that the people who know me best are well aware that there's much left unsaid.

In some ways, I think that has been good. Over-sharing unnecessarily has long been a prominent flaw of mine. And I feel good about the path which continues leading me to a place where I need the approval of others(or to be fully understood) less.
Still, blogging was more fun before inhibition set in. More useful for pulling creative stuff out of me(and I must always find ways to get the stuff going on inside me to the outside..all Creatives must. If we leave things dormant, untouched, our insides start to destroy us)..
So while there are some aspects of my daily experience and the ways I see the world which will not be discussed here, I am going to make a much stronger effort to record them *somewhere*.

And the things I do feel like discussing here, I will - hopefully without nearly as much caution and deliberation(which really is kind of just an attempt to manage the way others see me.. a hamster's wheel I am trying to jump down from after 27 yrs of excercise).

Part of what has gotten me all stirred up about this has been the fact that lately, my life has been impossibly wonderful. For complex reasons this wonderful-ness has been one of those things censored to a large extent. Mostly, I think the omissions have been my best attempt at expressing kindness to some of the people who read here(people that I care about deeply) and respect their experience of the past several months,which has been so different from my own.

I'm in love with Daniel. He evokes something in me that, until now, I've only experienced in the forest through nature. I swear when I'm near him it's a little like being surrounded by tall evergreens and ferns and moss. Like he's a bit..sylvan. I've never met anyone at once so familiar and surprising.

I'm going to be talking about some things more openly from now on, especially things that matter most to me. The girls have always brought the purest kind of happiness..and now so do Daniel, Isaac & Will. Life is happening in a really beautiful way at present.. and this blog will serve as one stone along the path to someday help my hazy brain remember What It Was Like Here/Now..

I am here to tell you that there is nothing in this world more disgusting than the experience of flushing two quarts of rotten Cashew Carrot Ginger soup down the toilet.
Sweet lord forgive me, but I didn't know where else to put it.
And now, where I'd most like to put it is: out of my memory.
eeegggh.

"What a Grunchy thing we have"

Willow found the long, stick-like box which had earlier delivered some gifts for the girls. Now the box held only packing peanuts. And potential.

First she folded each end and paraded around the living room with her "didgeridoo"(which sounded believable but lacked the instruments 'eeriness')

Next she theorised about poking holes in the tower-like box and fashioning evergreen branches out of construction paper that could be secured through the holes(because her mother didn't own tape)

Then she was quiet for a while until I heard this casual(and very 'grown-up' sounding) voice behind me: "Well, look what we have here. What a Grunchy Thing we have. That old Grinch has a Christmas tree after all."
I turned to find the plain brown box standing tall like a tree with no branches, and for the star, a dirty sock drooped over the top.

I saw a gleam in Willow's eye and knew that SHE knew how funny I would think this was. She was right - I was helpless with laughter.

And finally, tonight she spent at least an hour meticulously wrapping(and taping, thank you) sheets of white copy paper over every inch of this box. Now from the other room I hear lengthy deliberation between two farmers(with constantly changing names) concerning the display location for the finished package.

No money for your thoughts?(because that's how much the writers are making for many of theirs..)

A friend of mine is a part of the writer's strike as a longtime member of the Writer's Guild. He has been dividing his time between walking the line with fellow strikers and helping the WGA strike newspaper through writing and photography. The paper gets distributed three days per week to help those involved with the strike to stay informed about the issues they face..and also to boost their spirits as the weeks wear on.

I'll be helping him with a piece about Midwestern perceptions of the strike. So tomorrow I'll be asking anyone who will listen questions like: What have you heard about the writer's strike? Why are the writers striking? How does greed affect this situation? What do you think should happen?
What's at stake?

If any readers of this blog have thoughts and would be willing to be quoted(if you're not comfortable having your name printed, just initials and city will suffice), I'm interested in hearing from you.

More information about what's happening can be found at www.unitedhollywood.com

In the past 24 hours

Not once, but twice, I have become stuck in my winter coat.
Helpless. Last night I thought I would have to sleep in it. But a kind Gloria rescued me from that fate.
Foolishly this morning I zipped it to my chin on the way out the door with the girls.
And have just gotten it off after ten minutes of wrestling.

Ginger and Willow colored pictures before bed.

After admiring them and hearing their accompanying stories...

Me: Ginger , would you like to put those on the fridge for me?

G: YES!!
{she zooms to the kitchen}

W: (unintelligable comment)

G: Check or debit?

W: What?

G: Check or debit?

W: Check on what? What's a 'debitte'?

G: CHECK OR DEBIT?

Me: (time to translate, though I have no idea what's going on.)
Willow, she's asking if you want to pay with a check or your debit card!

W:(epiphany)
..
oh.
..
check.


Moments later they walk through the living room nonchalantly. I am left, as is so often the case, to wonder what just happened.

Speechless(support the writers)

Lion, you are not alone.

In a recent post, I told you about Lion's part in our adventure at the zoo.
How essential he was to Ginger's happiness, and then.where he ended up.

Tonight after tucking my daughters in, I'm not saying this post is about anyone in particular.
But if it were, I'd say that if you are loved by a certain young fiery woman, you should count yourself very lucky. She will take you everywhere like the Lion, shower you lavishly with affection, steal your heart irrevocably with her rare charms.
And then, after she gets tired of lugging you around for a while, she'll stuff you unceromoniously into her two hoods and you'll be forced to spend the rest of the adventure there. Blind and air-deprived. This will happen in the middle of stores, in the backseat of moving vehicles, and anyplace where older people can give you 1)sympathetic looks, or 2)you're-completely-inept-as-a-Lion looks.

But don't worry, because without warning she will forget her anger and once again place you, by her pure affection, among the luckiest to ever have lived. And you'll forget the hood, because in the presence of such unreserved and generous love, you can't help but be completely 'present'.

But don't get to used to it, because as soon as you suggest bedtime she's going to stuff you back in the hood.

So this isn't about anyone in particular, and certainly noone who bears a strong genetic and tempermental resemblance to me.

But if it were, and you were the Lion, I'd probably say you're impossibly lucky.
That you'd never trade your position in her heart for anything.
Being her Lion is always going to be worth getting stuffed in the hood.

Oh - and also, you might want to learn to 'play dead'.

Spending the morning at home with Ginger..

and we have been looking at animal pictures.

found this one of a kitten named Willow.

seriously. the eyes look so much like her inimitable green....it's freaky.

here's the link - blogger is acting wierd about adding images.

Put Me in The Zoo

We went to the zoo with Tara & Tony, Daniel, Isaac & Will..

Ginger couldn't take a trip to the zoo without Lion, her ever-present favorite friend. After growing tired of lugging him around, she opted for stuffing him into her two hoods, where he rode securely(albeit blindly) for the rest of the morning.

We pretty much had the place to ourselves. I think November is my new favorite time to go to the zoo. Will spent much of the day in the arms of whoever would let him hitch a ride. He's irresistible, so finding a willing adult wasn't hard. More on our friends the Rudd boys later in the post..


Don't think of it as running from the lion...think of it as running toward the brown bear..

This guy pretty much did ..this. For a long time. I really wanted to put my arms around his neck and bury my face in his squishiness. I realize, of course, that this would occur moments before my face was ripped off and handed back to me. Still.
Lion and Ginger climbing to get a better view. Turned out ok for Ginger, still sucked for Lion who continued seething in his own carbon dioxide.
In this picture, Tony caught something very distinctly 'Willow'. Utterly earnest.
This is Daniel, lucky Dad of Isaac and Will, and someone who is becoming increasingly important to me. The more I get to know him, the more surprised I am that he can exist. He's shockingly kind, intelligent, imaginative, resilient and free-thinking. It's the best kind of surprise.
Willow and Isaac checking out the river otters......

This young spider monkey was fascinated with the kids...in this shot it's trying to look disinterested, dramatically so. Moments later it leaned over and kissed the glass where Ginger's hand was. At one point Isaac and the monkey were face to face through the glass, both giving each other a kiss.
Ginger took this picture..other than this shot, though, Tony deserves all the credit for capturing our day in these images. :)
The girls had crazy fun making beautiful patterns of layered sand with the art project Tara & Tony had waiting for them back at their place after the zoo. It was really thoughtful and was a big hit with Willow and Ginger.
And, thanks to Tara for a dinner that the girls and I talked about for days. We all want seconds.

hm.

"I think if you know what you believe, it makes it a lot easier to answer
questions. I can't answer your question."

George W. Bush
October 4, 2000
Speaking in Reynoldsburg, Ohio.

Sometimes you go for a while thinking that being a parent is normal, but then, while making your daughter's lunch for the next day, you have to go her room and take a sandwich bag off her stuffed polar bear's head.
And you think, nope. It's not normal.
It's more like being a crazy person, living in a house with other crazy people.

Pay the writers. This is (not) a complex issue.

This is kind of a tribute post..


My blog-friend Amy lives in LA(see links list 'faraway friend amy')..for years her posts have been making me laugh and cry. I remember the first time I read a story she was telling about her kiddos, Zane and Audrey, and thinking, "these kids are as funny and smart and crazy as mine..they would be such good friends if they didn't live on opposite ends of the country!". And as they have all gotten older, I still think that's true.

If you've never read her blog before you're really missing out on some great storytelling.

Speaking of great storytelling, Amy's husband Scott is a writer whose contributions have improved some notable television shows.

Currently Scott is spending his days on the picket lines with the rest of Hollywood's lifeblood.

See, the writers have been getting shafted for a very long time.
We hear s bit about the WGA strike here in the midwest, but I think living here it's easy to miss the importance of it..and easy to forget that real families are in jeopardy while parents can't work because of this situation..

If you read Amy's recent posts, you'll see a family who is directly affected by the strike, adapting beautifully(determinedly), and as always, telling their story with a good deal of hilarity.

Also, you can go to www.unitedhollywood.com

I usually find it hard to follow the complexities of disputes that result in strike. But this time, I don't know if it's because these people are in a related industry, or if the issues are just really really clear. The writers aren't getting paid squat for two technologies: DVD and the internet.(there's more to it, but that's the jist)

And that translates to a terribly unfair, inequitable distribution of profits in Hollywood. These people are creatives, they work hard, and they spend the fist part of their careers(sometimes their whole careers) as starving artists. They have kids like Audrey and Zane, Willow and Ginger.
I'm glad they're standing for what they deserve.

I met my friend David for breakfast Sunday before he headed back to LA. We talked about developing the film industry in Michigan, a couple of upcoming projects, and caught up on life. We also talked about the strike and his being keen to get back to LA to walk the line. He seemed to think that this time, the strike will be shorter and effect more change because "we've got more behind us". The show runners(an extremely valuable part of the hollywood machine) who have joined the writers in the strike make me think he could be right.

For David, and Amy & Scott's family, and all the other folks affected, I hope so.

Cookie Dough(a tale of woe)

After a week of fending off the girls' colds while bolstering our immune systems with a witch's brew of echinacea, vitamin c, ginger root, zinc, and throat coat tea...several nights spent counting the seconds between coughs and debating whether to medicate..
the addition of a humidifier and aromatherapy oil nightlight provided by a very thoughtful Daniel..which made their bedroom a much more breathable space..
they are feeling considerably better.
A couple of days later I came down with what they had, complete with a cough that makes me see pretty shapes behind my eyelids and sounds like there's a barfight in my chest featuring a giant bullfrog and a jaded(not to mention drunk) old pirate. If you're interested, the frog is winning. I love experiencing light as art, and admit to a vague fascination with barfights, but currently could do without these displays...

Right now I'm about to drink something which is sure to taste alarming but equally sure to help me get better faster.

ugh.

yep. tastes like roadkill. that must mean it's working.

p.s. do not buy the tea tree oil/zinc lozenges at the health food store just because they're in the clearance bin and you're tired/sick/impressionable..and the guy with the guaged ear discs agrees with the beautiful earth mamma salesgirl that "these things are great for your throat"..my taste buds have asked me to tell the world: the fact is, no matter how well they work, it's just. not. worth. it.

oh, wait - this post is about cookies.
So, I bought cookie dough from my daughter's preschool class fundraiser because Doggonit I'm a Good Mom, and am currently whispered about as the One Mom in class(you know how there's always one mom who just doesn't quite have it together? Late, disorganized, generally clueless but obviously trying?). That's me. But I think I've definitely earned some points after buying not one but TWO tubs of nutritionally void cookie dough.
I went a step further and decided to actually bake it.
The girls were very excited about this rare prospect(refined sugar is not a major player in our household), and waited eagerly.
I swear to you I followed the directions.
Didn't take a rocket scientist. Just put the dough on the sheet. Put the sheet in the oven.
I was greeted within minutes by a funky smell emanating from the kitchen. The kitchen which was full of smoke.
Opening the oven revealed melted globs of cookie and some kind of fumes and charred stuff crackling in the bottom of the oven. The cookies were clearly in distress.
I shut the oven door, opened the kitchen window, and remembered why I don't bake cookies.
The end result was a lumpy mess, which the girls assured me was fanTABulous, and a really weird smelling kitchen.
I'm ok with the fact that my culinary skills are, at best, wildly unpredictable.
And have learned that there are some foods I'm just better off leaving alone.
For instance, I can intuitively create complex spaghetti sauces and pasta salads..
but have never made an edible pancake.
Or hamburger.
Things that i have been assured are NOT challenging fare.
Although it should be noted that my pancakes sometimes resemble a sort of gray Alfred Hitchcock, and I think that ought to count for something.

what the?

I haven't the slightest why popup ads are appearing on this site. Just started today, and I can't find anything on blogger to explain why...
help..
sorry if you can see them too - annoying..

enchanted

~thanks to daniel for catching these moments before trick or treating Wednesday, and this last one at the park. ~

October Night Walk

The Machine

So, I know the picture quality isn't great..
but my mom caught this image last night while the girls stayed over at Grandma's House(a point of increasing anticipation and excitement all week long as Friday approached).
Mom got this old typewriter recently..totally functional..an old beast of a thing.
Remember that wonderful sliding 'kuh-CHING' noise?
It only took Willow moments to zero in on it..a few more seconds to fall in love with it..and several minutes to figure out how to use it independantly.
Grandma says that all morning she's heard things like, "I'll just be in with the Machine.", and, "I need more paper."
Willow seems to have an uncanny ability to look at things and very quickly understand how they could be taken apart and put back together. Her mind, like the typewriter, works like a beautiful and timeless machine.

How many days?

"What I am against is quotas. I am against hard quotas. Quotas, theybasically delineate based upon whatever. However they delineate; quotas, Ithink, vulcanize society. So, I don't know how that fits into what everybody else is saying---their relative positions---but that's my position."

George W. Bush
January 21, 2000
Quoted in the San Francisco Chronicle.

Shakespearean Insults

(One of my favorite homepage gadgets. Here's why:)

You starvelling, you eel-skin, you dried neat's-tongue, you bull's-pizzle, you stock-fish--O for breath to utter what is like thee!-you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck!
-Taken from: Henry IV, part I

My first go-at-it with a teleprompter..

I'll get better at it - I promise. But I think it's not too bad for a first try..

I miss this woman.

In the center of this picture is my cousin Kelly on her June wedding day..

Angela and I felt lucky to be at her side, as you can see in our faces.

Now the people of Connecticut are so lucky, because she lives there..and Michigan definitely feels the absense.

And she's not just beautiful - but strong, kind, wickedly funny, intelligent, resiliant...

Thanks to Ang for the picture...

Believe it(or not)

Our goldfish friends Tolstoy and Nemo regularly lose patience with me if I let their bowl go an extra day(or three) between cleanings. They're metro sexual goldfish.
Lately I think they've even been swearing at me.
Possibly issuing tiny pursed-lipped threats.

The other day after cleaning their bowl, I asked them to forgive me. Sorry guys, I said. I've been kind of insensitive about the whole algae-poop water thing..I'll try to do better. Thanks for not dying.

Looking at them swimming in the crystal clear habitat I had provided, it seemed clear that for the time being all was well in the area of fish-human relations....

So imagine my surprise the following morning when I was greeted by a murky, mucky mess. So cloudy that I could hardly see the(no doubt cursing) fish. How on earth?!, I thought...I just cleaned the damn thing yesterday! Didn't I? ...

Then another element of the odd scene before me crept into my awareness: the water was teal. Murky, mucky, cloudy...teal.

Kind of like the color....I turned slowly to look at the remnants of last night's play dough session on the kitchen table.

Yup. a match. I peered into the water and was able to just make out the lethargic fish and a dissolving ball of teal..

Immediately I had that sinking feeling - you know - when your child is possibly, for the first time, responsible for the death of a pet(two pets)..

After talking with the daughter who was responsible(and who just wanted the bowl to be prettier for the fish), I turned my attention to the plan: what would I do in the very likely event that these fish died?

I cleaned the bowl and changed their water before placing them back in their home. I swear they were sort of green-tinged, but otherwise, none the worse for the wear(so far).

The daughters are relieved(as am I. Not just relieved that the fish are ok, but that for the near future, it seems their profane rants will be deflected away from me and all insults hurled in the general direction of their almost-killers..)

As for our toilet, it's the place that I dump the algae-poop water when cleaning the bowl. Just seems like the obvious thing to do..
this time I accidentally poured without caution, sending a stone(a beautiful stone from my friend Jen) straight into the jaws of the porcelain god.
So the next time you come over and need a little inspiration..you could spend some time talking with the Fish of Miraculous Fortitude, or standing over my toilet looking at a stone marked with one word: Believe.

A perfect fall, made better if only..

This fall is about the most perfect one I've ever known. Not much could make it better..except maybe..

...................................
The smell of cabin woods.
The bump-tilt-bump of the two track leading there.
Old metal and vinyl chairs on the patio, odoul's on the rusty table.
Trying to avoid getting roped into yet another singing circle, secretly happy every time you're caught up in it.
................or..............
Waking up to the sound of guitar strings and a steady tapping foot in the other room.
Incense and chai tea with soy and honey, wind through the orchard.
Late night talks, reclined on couches, music on the record player.
Starlit walks down dirt roads, voices loud against the night air.
Bonfires.
Strong unhurried hugs, breathed deeply.
.................................


Either place, either way, it's been too long. Hope to get there soon.
:)

Willow and Ginger (please stay just the way you are tonight)

They got dancing dresses from Grandma. It has been a sepia toned evening, with Pandora radio as our backdrop, and our floor transformed into a ballroom.

I want to hold this moment, be present here, never forget the way light plays around the curves of their faces(cheeks still so round)..the way energy seems to blur and hover around the edges of their spinning skirts. Whirling, spinning, so graceful, so silly..

It has been a beautiful life lately..I find myself breathing deeply in the richness of it. So grateful to be present. Here.

My next car?...

Drive Vegetarian.





I saw a woman driving an economy car with this website in Muskegon today.
Immediately, I was intrigued.
A few hours later..I'm pretty sure I have to do this in a few years(months?).
:)

May I have your attention..

I have an announcement to make.
If you live in the tri-cities area, this could change your life. A little change, but still....

In Spring Lake there's a new coffee shop called Lucky's.
They have the. best. Greek salad.
In the world.
wish you could experience what is right in front of me.
(please don't take this to mean that if you were here, I'd share. )

Missing Film Camp...

These memories really stay with me..making this film with the amazing people in this photo is something I'll never forget. We were laying groundwork for voiceovers here..in between crazy bouts of hysterical laughter. Thanks to TIm for the image..

:)

Willow and I went for a walk in the forest..

It was her first day of school..a half-day..followed by some rare time for just the two of us. We decided to go to one of the Lake Michigan trails that we like best and have travelled most. I expected we'd stay on the winding beaten path all the way to the beach for a swim, but Willow's eye caught a steep hill ascending to our right. It looked like her kind of challenge, and when she asked if we could climb, I didn't need much convincing. We made our way to the top in our swimsuits, dresses and flip-flops..pretty out of breath after catching each other slipping, laughing, reaching for branches..
Once we reached the top, we saw that we were not looking over the water as we had thought would be the case, but instead had found an abandoned dune party spot..bonfire pit and logs..and more trails leading into the woods. We decided that looked like more fun than retreating down the hill we'd just conquered.
We were in luck, seems we had found the magical path - everything was impossibly green. More so than normal..the light and shadows moving across the path were almost beautiful enough to make us oblivious to the mosquitoes ravaging our exposed skin.
Almost.
But one can only cohabit with biting insects for so long before all zen ideals fail to comfort. And soon we were happy to discover a bend in the trail which led us into a quiet meadow of dune grass. And this is where the walk became Memory. To be kept for always.
About fifteen feet (maybe twenty at most) ahead of us under a small tree stood a large doe eating calmly.
When we saw each other, I froze in surprise. The doe just looked at me, relaxed, curious, and still eating. I turned to draw Willow's attention to the deer, but it was obvious by the wonder in her eyes that she had already seen it. The three of us stood perfectly still for what seemed like a long time. The doe softly flicked her ears around and her nostrils flared at our scent just a little..but she was definitely not scared. And still chewing deliberately.
It felt like we were in a different kind of world, and like this kind of world was one which Willow and I could understand much more easily.
Then the doe took two steps toward us(please remember that she was only fifteen feet away to begin with)..and I snapped out of the reverie long enough to decide I didn't want her coming *any* closer to Willow with that guileless look on her face and no trees in the meadow except the one she was grazing under..
I said very loudly, in an unnatural voice,"OK WILLOW, I THINK THE DEER IS VERY NICE BUT LET'S KEEP WALKING NOW..OK DEER, WE NEED TO WALK RIGHT PAST YOU SO IF YOU COULD MOVE WE'D APPRECIATE IT!"
The doe blinked at me, and looked more interested in walking up to us than running away.
"Mom, why are you talking so loud?"
"Mom, why are we walking so fast?"
.........
We passed her and climbed the dune path out of the meadow while I kept an incredulous eye on our new friend(who never moved from the spot she had been watching us so closely from..and once we were far enough away, she casually turned her back and seemed to keep eating)...........
Then down to the beach, dresses flying, flip-flops discarded, straight into the water with shrieks and leaps.
Worked on our sandcastle technique with wonderful drippy towers and tunnels..
When it was finally time to go back, we stuck to the beaten path and talked peacefully about the beautiful strangeness of what had happened, and about how happy we were to have climbed the unplanned hill in the first place.

I'm a very lucky girl

Reunited.

This is Willow after I picked her up this morning from her *first* day as a First-grader. Next to her is Sophia, her first dear friend. They have longed and ached all summer, trading voicemails and talking about each other incessantly. The craziness of our schedule and that of Sophia's family combined with other competing forces brought on by summer prevented any playdates(which we all regretted)..but all the waiting and deferred hope was worth it today when they were finally able to see each other again. Giant smiles and hugs, both talking so fast it was hard to understand either of them..I'm so glad that they ended up in the same class. Sophia was such a strong pull for Willow that she wished summer (a season she loves) would speed up and make way for fall. Now fall has come, and they are going to be together every day. Who knows if they'll still be so wild about each other in a few months - first grade will be an interesting year - she suddenly seems so much more complex. Glad she has a buddy to face the challenges of first grade with.

:)

Alot of the decisions I've made in my life have been motivated/propelled by fear. From a really young age, I have danced around those scary things, trying to avoid that cold, tight, prickly feeling.
I have spent an inordinate amount of time and effort to ensure that I will never have bodily contact with a spider, for instance.
I can appreciate their role in our ecosystem..thankful to them for the beauty of their webs..easily empathize with them when they are translated into eerily human characters like Charlotte..
And I even leave them alone outside, granting them the same gentle respect I try to offer all living things. After all, it's a spider's world, really. There are so many of them(have you ever noticed *how* many there are? It's crazy!), and when I'm outside, I'm in their house. So respecting their home by avoiding them instead of expecting them to avoid me seems fair.
But find one in *my* house, and all compassion is overruled by that immediate, chilling sensation of fear. And I usually find some way to slow them down(don't want them charging up my leg) and then kill them. squish them dead. Flush them down the toilent just to be sure.
Fear leads me into behavior that is completely polarized from my natural way of being.
I think this has been true in my life in countless situations.
And I think that's interesting to know - I'm looking forward to understanding that more..
And I do feel the need to apologize to spiders everywhere. I really am a gentle soul. But until I have a better handle on this fear thing, it would be wise for you to stay OUT of my house.
Just saying.

My morning walk..

Up past bedtime

Last night the girls and I sat out on our porch long past the time they are normally in bed. We were watching the wind bending the trees that line our street during the strong rainstorms that rolled through.
It was the highlight of their day - maybe their summer. Staying up LATE just to be outside watching the rain.
But then, tonight, we topped it. Donning the cozy hooded sweatshirts Grandma gave them over lunch today, we waited till dark and set out on a walk in the rain. Around the corner, past quiet houses, up the hill to the park. I didn't tell them, but I was secretly hoping the fountain would still be on, thinking how great it would look in the dark, with rain falling.
We were in luck. When we got to the park, the night turned into magoc as we ran wild all around the curving flower-lined paths, finally resting at the edge of the fountain. After a moment of watching the graceful curve of the water cascading down and undulating in the wind, lights suddenly appeared, turning the whole thing an eerie shade of green.
We screamed with delight and clapped our hands at the show, and it seemed crazy that we arrived just in time to see the lights come on. After a moment, they burst into shades of orange, then blue and gold. We decided that each time they changed we'd run around the fountain to celebrate. And for the next who-knows-how-long we *played*, really played the way adults forget how..in the rain, running, watching, laughing, making wishes..
I held Ginger in the air as high as I could so she could fling her arms out wide and yell at the sky,"Hello World! Here I am!!! Gimme watcha got!"(she's seen me do this, though with noone to lift me in the air, which I think would make it feel much more exhiliarating)
We all felt that the night was a special party just for us, and saw lots of other beautiful things that won't be described here.

Earlier tonight after they were sleeping, I sat quietly on my living room floor looking through some papers. The room was peaceful, the fan's whirring the only sound, lights dim, the orange cat walking by...
The CAT WALKING BY??
He turned casually to look at me as he brushed past, sauntered into the kitchen, and sat on his haunches as if to say, "Well. What have we here?"
I was dumbfounded. He seemed completely at ease.
I do not have a cat.
It took me a long time to convince him to go back outside - in the end he was gently carried out and deposited on the front porch, which left him visibly annoyed.

Thanks for the Help

Several of you came through for me in a BIG way on Friday by helping with the girls. I can't tell you how thankful I am. I guess I'm trying anyway.
Thanks.
:)

'H' is for Henry(or 'hope')

It was the middle of production on the One Story Pictures project. After a long day I went back to my Mom's, tiptoed in and kissed the girls, then fell into bed. I was barely asleep around 1am when the phone rang.
It was my aunt saying that Dolly had just died. She was on her way to the store to buy puppy formula..
Dolly was my Grandma's bishon frise and gentle companion. I'm not a fan of small dogs generally, but she was sweet by anyone's standards. And my Grandma *loved* her.
She had given birth to three puppies two days earlier, one of which was stillborn. She hadn't been acting normally, but her death was sudden and unexpected. Though she was weak and dying, her last act was to pull herself into the enclosure with her puppies. She died nursing them.
I threw stuff in a bag when I got off the phone with my aunt and drove the winding, fog-thick back roads to Grandma's. She was so sad and exhausted. We got to work trying to keep the puppies warm and alive. I held them against my chest for a long time until Jen arrived with the formula that *might* mean their survival. They seemed impossibly small and vulnerable and alone.
On the day that they were born, Ginger and Willow(who were there to see it) were given the task of names..'Henry' and 'Leash-ey' finally started eating from the tiny dropper we offered them.

I slept for a few hours in the early morning before going to the movie set.

After a few days it became obvious that Leash-ey wasn't going to make it, and before long Henry was the only one left.

The whole thing reminded me piercingly of that horrible sinking feeling When Things Fall Apart.

But today, when I was invited back to the same house where we cried and desperately tried to stop the breaking of life not long ago...I saw a healthy, even *fat* Henry.
Alone.
But not really.
And thriving.

Holding him today reminded me of something I really believe, and has been true in my life:

In the middle of the shit, When Things Fall Apart...

when you feel impossibly small, and vulnerable, and alone...

a sliver of hope usually survives

and grows

alone

but not really...

and eventually, you thrive again.

happy days go spinning by

I've waited a long time to feel at home again..these small things help in ways I can't explain. Just wanted to show you..

Those of you who live close should stop by and visit us...and those of you in Nashville, California, Ohio, Ann Arbor, Chicago, Hungary, Peru, Iowa City, and Connecticut should make us a stop on your travel path.. I'll make you tea or pour some red wine, and you can meet Chester the neighborhood cat..

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Favorite moments are never planned. Here are three that I was lucky enough to catch on a recent girls' day: