With only 16 days to go before the wedding, I'm extremely cheerful, so cheerful in fact it must be driving everyone crazy. Thanks to those who have the good taste not to mention it. You know who you are.
It's been a mere 31 years since I've done this and frankly the first go round preparations involved unsuccessfully trying to talk my future mother-in-law out of the Italian accordian band she hired as a wedding gift and spending what seemed to be days!-weeks!-months! tying netting around little almonds with slippery satiny bows that probably were tossed in the car ashtray on the way home. Almonds don't even have an expiration date, did you know that, meaning the almonds lasted longer than the marriage.
Excitement is oozing out in the most obscure ways. At first it was finding an off-the-rack dress and then I found on clearance at Macys the most amazing Cinderella sandals 50% off plus (on this day) an additional 20%!
With a sale like that, you'd imagine every available woman in all of Sacramento was in this shoe department which they were, seven deep at the register, and droves of them reaching and leaning into each other's personal space to get to the shimmery shoes with too-high heels that were tried on and tossed back on the racks. It was mayhem! Hasn't anyone ever heard of the recession?
Anyway, I spied these little satin jobs in the size 5 rack. I stretched over a little Oriental lady in 7" wedges to snag the box. Wow, an 8, my size! Heel not so high that I will go sprawling into the cake table with these. And that satin shade looks kind of like The Color and had these beautiful little sparkles across the toes.
I dashed off to find a couple of those half cut off peds you get at nicer stores rather than trying it on with bare feet. There were waiting lines even for the chairs, so I leaned against a wall by the tennis shoes and kind of angled off my shoe, on with the ped and then slipped on the sandal. And lo and behold, even with sweats, not only did it fit and look beautiful and feel comfortable, but my lumpy bunion completely disappeared beneath all those sparkles. That's Disney luck, if you ask me.
I have been wearing Olive Oyl shoes for the last several years due to plantar fasciatis, so this was like rediscovering Atlantis. Girl feet again! So on the big day I'll have a pretty pedicure and relax with my friends nibbling on a veggie tray and hanging out in our super secret location. (Room 2, top of the stairs.) Me and my sparkles are ready.
Feb 11, 2010
Tarnished Silver
Nothing like having some headliner news come home to roost.
I was heading to Marin from Sacramento yesterday on a road that winds through low-lying marshes, past a naval weapons station and what used to be known as Marine World back in the day. It's a two lane road some of the way, one lane in each direction separated by a concrete berm for the more treacherous parts.
Anyway, it was on that road that a passenger van came up alongside as the road narrowed from two lanes to one. I was in no hurry so I gently applied the brake and generously gestured for him to go ahead.
He hesitated.
I applied the brake a little harder this time, with a bit more of a grand gesture, and caught his eye out of his side view mirror with - what was it, a sense of concern? - as he reluctantly merged in ahead of me.
Weird, I thought. Usually drivers love winning the toss and even charge in ahead without asking. I looked at the tanker truck ahead of him, and back at the van with a Toyota logo, thinking I wouldn't want him behind me if he had a stuck accelerator pedal and if I was directly behind a tanker truck.
And then it hit me why he was hesitating back there: I was driving a Toyota, too.
I was heading to Marin from Sacramento yesterday on a road that winds through low-lying marshes, past a naval weapons station and what used to be known as Marine World back in the day. It's a two lane road some of the way, one lane in each direction separated by a concrete berm for the more treacherous parts.
Anyway, it was on that road that a passenger van came up alongside as the road narrowed from two lanes to one. I was in no hurry so I gently applied the brake and generously gestured for him to go ahead.
He hesitated.
I applied the brake a little harder this time, with a bit more of a grand gesture, and caught his eye out of his side view mirror with - what was it, a sense of concern? - as he reluctantly merged in ahead of me.
Weird, I thought. Usually drivers love winning the toss and even charge in ahead without asking. I looked at the tanker truck ahead of him, and back at the van with a Toyota logo, thinking I wouldn't want him behind me if he had a stuck accelerator pedal and if I was directly behind a tanker truck.
And then it hit me why he was hesitating back there: I was driving a Toyota, too.
Feb 9, 2010
The Remodel
Take today for instance. It's raining a little, but otherwise blanketed with grayness and light. I love rainy days, never get tired of them and their little drops falling into the pool and making puddle circles. I like, no love, to walk in the rain even with a fierce wind. Today there is a pair of doves hanging around under the eaves, and I recognize the female as our little baby from last year, she looks familiar around the eyes. No, I really mean it! All grown up and trying to find a nest for herself and she's thinking about the old homestead...awww.
There's a whole lot of nothing on the horizon for work. Again. The back bedroom closet is cleared out and nearly everything is sorted, boxed and ready for reassignment. A few items have already made it to the storage locker. Laundry's done. Vacuuming and dusting, too. It was bound to happen, I suppose, the moment when there's nothing standing in the way of cleaning the garage.
Our garage is the What If part of the house. On a distant wall is a really cool dart board with chalk scoreboard that's never used on account of having to climb over old chairs and camping gear to retrieve the darts. What if it were accessible and handy for the guys to play a nice game of darts? There's already a ceiling fan and small refrigerator for brewskies in the summer.
There are some ancient and faded but really cool posters from the 60s. The shelves and floor are packed and stuffed and piled high with inherhited things for past and future yard sales from the office, Mom's house and mine, the shed, his memorabilia and the neverending Christmas stuff. And that will have to go somewhere, to volunteer donations or parted out to the family. Cabinets are full of canned goods, kitchen appliances and sodas and paint supplies and tools obscure what I think might be an expansive workbench.
It's a big chore from the doorway. But then that darned What If kicks in and forces me down the tracks of wondering what it would look like to be neat and orderly and the extra stuff gone. I'll bet that workbench is just begging us to spend our evenings horsing around with little projects. And it would be fun to see it become a gathering spot for more than just clean clothes dripping from hangers near the washer. Wow, 250 more square feet of added living space without spending a dime. Now that's my kind of remodel.
There's a whole lot of nothing on the horizon for work. Again. The back bedroom closet is cleared out and nearly everything is sorted, boxed and ready for reassignment. A few items have already made it to the storage locker. Laundry's done. Vacuuming and dusting, too. It was bound to happen, I suppose, the moment when there's nothing standing in the way of cleaning the garage.
Our garage is the What If part of the house. On a distant wall is a really cool dart board with chalk scoreboard that's never used on account of having to climb over old chairs and camping gear to retrieve the darts. What if it were accessible and handy for the guys to play a nice game of darts? There's already a ceiling fan and small refrigerator for brewskies in the summer.
There are some ancient and faded but really cool posters from the 60s. The shelves and floor are packed and stuffed and piled high with inherhited things for past and future yard sales from the office, Mom's house and mine, the shed, his memorabilia and the neverending Christmas stuff. And that will have to go somewhere, to volunteer donations or parted out to the family. Cabinets are full of canned goods, kitchen appliances and sodas and paint supplies and tools obscure what I think might be an expansive workbench.
It's a big chore from the doorway. But then that darned What If kicks in and forces me down the tracks of wondering what it would look like to be neat and orderly and the extra stuff gone. I'll bet that workbench is just begging us to spend our evenings horsing around with little projects. And it would be fun to see it become a gathering spot for more than just clean clothes dripping from hangers near the washer. Wow, 250 more square feet of added living space without spending a dime. Now that's my kind of remodel.
Feb 8, 2010
Close In
I have been getting to know my dad better in the last few years, after his death. Maybe the chatter of life got in the way and now there's quiet, but I think moreso it's me, different now and more reflective in the older days of my life.
My father is a cornerstone upon which my house is built. Recent life altering situations have renewed an interest in looking at my relationship with Jesus and better defining the Holy Spirit and the role of grace. Personally, it has been startling to see my father's much more intimate relationship with Jesus and the Trinity than mine. Seven long years after his death, the family still struggles with his loss. Slowly, I am coming to believe what we are longing for is not so much my dad's physical presence but what it felt like to be nearer to Jesus through him and the joy that spilled over into our lives.
He was a good man and loved his family but he also exemplified a life of fostered relationships through trust and openness and acceptance. He crafted conversations to teach without criticism and loved us despite our failures and faults. He was interesting to talk to because he was genuinely interested in us. The one thing everyone remembers is how present he was in his relationship with us, even over the din of 10 active grandsons. Every one of us felt treasured and wholley loved in his warm, unhurried way.
I see now what I think might be the Holy Spirit present and loving us with grace and abundance. Family first. Love always. In my dawning relationship of reverence and thanksgiving, I will keep it in mind.
My father is a cornerstone upon which my house is built. Recent life altering situations have renewed an interest in looking at my relationship with Jesus and better defining the Holy Spirit and the role of grace. Personally, it has been startling to see my father's much more intimate relationship with Jesus and the Trinity than mine. Seven long years after his death, the family still struggles with his loss. Slowly, I am coming to believe what we are longing for is not so much my dad's physical presence but what it felt like to be nearer to Jesus through him and the joy that spilled over into our lives.
He was a good man and loved his family but he also exemplified a life of fostered relationships through trust and openness and acceptance. He crafted conversations to teach without criticism and loved us despite our failures and faults. He was interesting to talk to because he was genuinely interested in us. The one thing everyone remembers is how present he was in his relationship with us, even over the din of 10 active grandsons. Every one of us felt treasured and wholley loved in his warm, unhurried way.
I see now what I think might be the Holy Spirit present and loving us with grace and abundance. Family first. Love always. In my dawning relationship of reverence and thanksgiving, I will keep it in mind.
Feb 6, 2010
The Shameless Book Owner
I have a confession: I am a shameless book owner. You won't find any first edition pristine condition books in my collection, not unless I haven't read them. Each book finds its own fit in the crook of my hand, and gives my thumb the chance to stay out of the way as the pages sweep by. Everything about the book - the color, the feel, the texture, titles and icons - all of it is part of climbing inside and taking it for a good run.
My favorite kind are the books that force me - at gunpoint! - to bend the pages, write in the margins, endlessly re-read paragraphs and underline the passages. When I am mezmerized by a book, I actually feel a twinge of regret knowing it will someday end. I play a little game where I try to remember this page number or that one, and in the end aimlessly wander around the entire story to find it, lost as it is just where it was. Seems kind of reminiscent of my driving, too.
I love the creased bindings and frayed edges from being stashed in the car too long. I enjoy loaning books out knowing I won't get them back for a year because they will be read and tossed in a nightstand. I like getting them back with a friend's apology that tea was spilled on the pages or they were caught in the rain. I celebrate urgently scouting bookstores in a heroic quest to find copies for friends when the story is so good I can't wait to talk about it with someone.
Books freeze in place long-ago moments of college and sweet smelling babies and tears of transition, the stories and lessons of life made real by living it. They are as much a part of my biography as anything else I leave behind.
My favorite kind are the books that force me - at gunpoint! - to bend the pages, write in the margins, endlessly re-read paragraphs and underline the passages. When I am mezmerized by a book, I actually feel a twinge of regret knowing it will someday end. I play a little game where I try to remember this page number or that one, and in the end aimlessly wander around the entire story to find it, lost as it is just where it was. Seems kind of reminiscent of my driving, too.
I love the creased bindings and frayed edges from being stashed in the car too long. I enjoy loaning books out knowing I won't get them back for a year because they will be read and tossed in a nightstand. I like getting them back with a friend's apology that tea was spilled on the pages or they were caught in the rain. I celebrate urgently scouting bookstores in a heroic quest to find copies for friends when the story is so good I can't wait to talk about it with someone.
Books freeze in place long-ago moments of college and sweet smelling babies and tears of transition, the stories and lessons of life made real by living it. They are as much a part of my biography as anything else I leave behind.
Feb 5, 2010
Feb 3, 2010
Something Old, Something New
I'm looking at a pin of my father's, when the world included him and not me yet, a gold anchor with USN emblazoned across it. Something borrowed. Something of him to carry along over the petals and into a new adventure. The love of a father for his daughter.
I hold a beautiful necklace that spells my mother's name in Hawaiian. It was her favorite place, 'The Big Island', where she spent weeks and months with family and friends showing them the pounding surf and warm rain. Something old. Something of her to catch the candlelight as we say our vows.
Nestled in the bouquet will be a charm of Randy's brother Max and an angel earring of his mother's to stand with us under the chandelier. Something borrowed. The love of a mother for her son, a best friend and brother, forever and ever.
And our precious Aiyana, the butterfly, will alight on the bouquet and the cake and on the manzanita branches throughout the room. Something blue. She will always be everywhere beautiful and happy. On this day, drawing love from those who are away and those who are here, we will notice how full our cups are with gratefulness and joy.
I hold a beautiful necklace that spells my mother's name in Hawaiian. It was her favorite place, 'The Big Island', where she spent weeks and months with family and friends showing them the pounding surf and warm rain. Something old. Something of her to catch the candlelight as we say our vows.
Nestled in the bouquet will be a charm of Randy's brother Max and an angel earring of his mother's to stand with us under the chandelier. Something borrowed. The love of a mother for her son, a best friend and brother, forever and ever.
And our precious Aiyana, the butterfly, will alight on the bouquet and the cake and on the manzanita branches throughout the room. Something blue. She will always be everywhere beautiful and happy. On this day, drawing love from those who are away and those who are here, we will notice how full our cups are with gratefulness and joy.
Feb 1, 2010
Its Now or Never
Wow, 26 days. The countdown doesn't seem too different than the committed relationship we have been in for nearly 3 years. In our previous lives, our time together represents 1/4th the length of Rman's last marriage and 1/6th of mine, although if you factor in actual together time it's probably more like 75%.
We set a short engagement purposefully because I didn't want it to become 'all that' but inevitably it did, in a good and exciting way. The only downside involves this notion of trimming down a bit beforehand.
I was kind of thinking 35 lbs at first, to get to an ideal weight. And then wouldn't you know it, Christmas dropped in, and then New Years, full of dinner parties with nummy appetizers and desserts. So in the end the goal morphed into 10 pounds a month, enough to make a decent dent in my waist.
I was all over it at first and filled the fridge with veggies and protein. Ten pounds came off in January and the last weekend I throughly enjoyed resting on my laurels. February completely snuck up on me this morning and this is crunch time and wedding month. So what do you say, body and spirit, can we do it again? Ten in 2/10?
Mr. V-8 and those giant salad bags from Costco say yea. Ms. Tennies is onboard, the squeaky ones I wear in the rain, and even the sparkle shoes and shimmer dress hidden in the guest room closet.
And so into 26 days I will pack in walks and smaller portions of healthy foods toward a healthier lifestyle. I will dodge Valentine's Day temptations and sidestep Rman's birthday and the fabulous rack of lamb from Morrison's. And on our wedding day, with bright smiles we'll be sipping on champagne and munching on appetizers knowing we'll be back to Jack at Hisui again. Can't wait.
We set a short engagement purposefully because I didn't want it to become 'all that' but inevitably it did, in a good and exciting way. The only downside involves this notion of trimming down a bit beforehand.
I was kind of thinking 35 lbs at first, to get to an ideal weight. And then wouldn't you know it, Christmas dropped in, and then New Years, full of dinner parties with nummy appetizers and desserts. So in the end the goal morphed into 10 pounds a month, enough to make a decent dent in my waist.
I was all over it at first and filled the fridge with veggies and protein. Ten pounds came off in January and the last weekend I throughly enjoyed resting on my laurels. February completely snuck up on me this morning and this is crunch time and wedding month. So what do you say, body and spirit, can we do it again? Ten in 2/10?
Mr. V-8 and those giant salad bags from Costco say yea. Ms. Tennies is onboard, the squeaky ones I wear in the rain, and even the sparkle shoes and shimmer dress hidden in the guest room closet.
And so into 26 days I will pack in walks and smaller portions of healthy foods toward a healthier lifestyle. I will dodge Valentine's Day temptations and sidestep Rman's birthday and the fabulous rack of lamb from Morrison's. And on our wedding day, with bright smiles we'll be sipping on champagne and munching on appetizers knowing we'll be back to Jack at Hisui again. Can't wait.
Jan 27, 2010
The Bookshelf
Boy, you know you're blending your life with someone when you reorganize the books.
I've always kind of thought that books we've dragged through moves and changes are those we especially like and use. I mean, why would we go to the effort otherwise? Books are friends we reach for when we want comfort and information, or just want to again feel the leather of the fraying spine as we find a favorite passage or long forgotten bookmark.
Books of my dad's - those written by him and read by him - sit next to treasured compilations of Shakespeare and Homer and Dickens. Bibles, bibles, everywhere: big ones, small ones, pocket ones, ones missing spines from generations of use. Little bound books of poetry from girlhood and first editions of children's books - Robert Louis Stevenson and Aesop's fables - and the generations of telling and re-telling the magic inside, father to daughter, mother to son.
Look at the spines! The Rolling Stones and Beatles, space flight and war, atlases, American coins and Baseball (cards, collectibles, folklore, and fame) right next to Chaucer and Keats, Astronomy and antique watches, gardening, the Tolkien trilogies and Hoyle. It all fits.
We will come here again and again to pull from the shelves, visit and take comfort from the books we know and learn those we have not met. We will see the things that shaped each other's lives. Which book will I start with, I wonder, to pull from the shelves and discover more about his history and interests and passions? Coins, I am thinking: definitely coins.
I've always kind of thought that books we've dragged through moves and changes are those we especially like and use. I mean, why would we go to the effort otherwise? Books are friends we reach for when we want comfort and information, or just want to again feel the leather of the fraying spine as we find a favorite passage or long forgotten bookmark.
Books of my dad's - those written by him and read by him - sit next to treasured compilations of Shakespeare and Homer and Dickens. Bibles, bibles, everywhere: big ones, small ones, pocket ones, ones missing spines from generations of use. Little bound books of poetry from girlhood and first editions of children's books - Robert Louis Stevenson and Aesop's fables - and the generations of telling and re-telling the magic inside, father to daughter, mother to son.
Look at the spines! The Rolling Stones and Beatles, space flight and war, atlases, American coins and Baseball (cards, collectibles, folklore, and fame) right next to Chaucer and Keats, Astronomy and antique watches, gardening, the Tolkien trilogies and Hoyle. It all fits.
We will come here again and again to pull from the shelves, visit and take comfort from the books we know and learn those we have not met. We will see the things that shaped each other's lives. Which book will I start with, I wonder, to pull from the shelves and discover more about his history and interests and passions? Coins, I am thinking: definitely coins.
Jan 26, 2010
Begin As You Mean To Go On
This whole engagement and wedding thing has been amazing. I mean, to be asked to marry someone while decorating the Christmas tree, how could it get any better?
And then came the permission phase with my sons, who were gracious and happy for us, and his daughters who responded with such love and welcoming it still makes me tear up.
And oh the ring! I looked down into the first glittering jewel case I came to and this ring practically chose me instead of the other way around. Once it was on and weighing down my finger, well, I had no choice but to fall for it, and I mean hard. It took less than a minute for us to find each other.
Setting the date and finding the venue seemed daunting and it's a good thing about the internet, because without it there would be no need for a venue or date. We checked out a dozen spots, none of them right, and kind of reluctantly headed up to Auburn, you know, so we could dismiss it in person. It is too expensive, too far, too fussy, and we budgeted a half an hour before we'd be on our way.
Oh, but really, Alfred was their secret weapon with his welcoming charm as he showed us the Irish Pub with bright marigold colored walls and deep leather sofas that serve the most wonderful hamburgers on the West Coast. We could almost hear the happy sounds of family conversations going on all at once as we walked through the Victorian Inn that was big enough to practically fit all of us together. And the dancefloor with those muted lights and candles called out to us, try me! and we did and it fit us just right. Dancefloors almost never do that. And then The Closer, Alfred the Diabolical, came in with a smoking deal.
It's sometimes like that, don't you think, that life storms your world because some things are just meant to become part of you? Take for instance yesterday's offer by a friend-of-a-friend who is a new entrepreneur wedding photographer and offered to take pictures in exchange for advertising. I mean, just like that?
And on that very same day, not to be outdone by a great deal by the Innkeeper and photographer, RMan's boss made a generous, we're talking Generous, contribution to the wedding fund. Can you imagine any boss anywhere doing that? Which is why we're voting for him next time the Boss of the Year competition comes around. And we'll each vote twice if needed.
On August 19, 1979, my mother's best friend passed on some marriage advice on her 30th wedding anniversary: 'Begin as you mean to go on.' If the last two and a half years are any indication of the thirty to come, sprinkled with the generosity of giving and receiving, it will be a life of blessings beyond measure.
And then came the permission phase with my sons, who were gracious and happy for us, and his daughters who responded with such love and welcoming it still makes me tear up.
And oh the ring! I looked down into the first glittering jewel case I came to and this ring practically chose me instead of the other way around. Once it was on and weighing down my finger, well, I had no choice but to fall for it, and I mean hard. It took less than a minute for us to find each other.
Setting the date and finding the venue seemed daunting and it's a good thing about the internet, because without it there would be no need for a venue or date. We checked out a dozen spots, none of them right, and kind of reluctantly headed up to Auburn, you know, so we could dismiss it in person. It is too expensive, too far, too fussy, and we budgeted a half an hour before we'd be on our way.
Oh, but really, Alfred was their secret weapon with his welcoming charm as he showed us the Irish Pub with bright marigold colored walls and deep leather sofas that serve the most wonderful hamburgers on the West Coast. We could almost hear the happy sounds of family conversations going on all at once as we walked through the Victorian Inn that was big enough to practically fit all of us together. And the dancefloor with those muted lights and candles called out to us, try me! and we did and it fit us just right. Dancefloors almost never do that. And then The Closer, Alfred the Diabolical, came in with a smoking deal.
It's sometimes like that, don't you think, that life storms your world because some things are just meant to become part of you? Take for instance yesterday's offer by a friend-of-a-friend who is a new entrepreneur wedding photographer and offered to take pictures in exchange for advertising. I mean, just like that?
And on that very same day, not to be outdone by a great deal by the Innkeeper and photographer, RMan's boss made a generous, we're talking Generous, contribution to the wedding fund. Can you imagine any boss anywhere doing that? Which is why we're voting for him next time the Boss of the Year competition comes around. And we'll each vote twice if needed.
On August 19, 1979, my mother's best friend passed on some marriage advice on her 30th wedding anniversary: 'Begin as you mean to go on.' If the last two and a half years are any indication of the thirty to come, sprinkled with the generosity of giving and receiving, it will be a life of blessings beyond measure.
Jan 20, 2010
Huzzah! Huzzah!
Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about!From the Associated Press, 1.20.09:
Scott Brown, once a little-known Republican state senator, has pulled off one of the biggest political upsets in recent memory, beating Democratic Massachusetts Attorney General Martha Coakley 52 percent to 47 percent in the special election to replace the late Sen. Ted Kennedy.
Brown ran an energetic, outsider's campaign in a year that Gallup has called the most anti-incumbent since the Watergate era. His populist message tapped into a deep well of voter anger and frustration and gave him a massive, 75 percent advantage among independent voters, who make up more than half of the electorate.
"Tonight, the independent majority has delivered a great victory," Brown said in his victory speech Tuesday night. "I will remember that while the honor is mine, this Senate seat belongs to no one person, no one political party, and as I said before and you heard it today, this is the people's seat."
The raucous audience at the event interrupted Brown frequently, with chants of 'Go, Scott, go!' and 'Gas up the truck,' a reference to the pickup he used to crisscross the state.
Brown also spoke of Ted Kennedy, calling him "a tireless worker and a big-hearted public servant who, for most of his lifetime, was a force like no other in this state. There's no replacing a man like that, but tonight I honor the memory and I pledge to be the very best, worthy successor to the late Sen. Kennedy."
Jan 19, 2010
It's On Us
Today I am thinking about an excerpt I read from a book written by Lee Iacocca about the perilous times we're in and, generally, how we need to stand up and shout ourselves hoarse in order to effect change.
It's easy to get the old juices flowing when he points out thing after thing that we know is true and, damn it, why haven't we done something about that before now! I have listened for 50 years to the refrain of 'throw the bums out of Washington'. We absolutely should monitor our borders better and not squeeze our middle class to maintain a National lifestyle. I enthusiastically embrace moving toward eliminating our dependence on foreign oil - (Did I miss Chrysler leading the charge to embrace the development of solar or electric hybrids?) No matter.
At first glance, it does seem right to believe we should solve our domestic crises before giving it away to the world. But then comes a whopper of a natural disaster like in Haiti, with unimaginable loss and suffering, and I wonder who among us would prefer the US not to throw its resources behind a relief effort to help in whatever way possible? A simple show of hands will do.
We are complacent citizens. It's unfortunate but true that in our country we have great faith and a belief that good will prevail, even when faced with proof to the contrary. It is one of our greatest assets, our strong sense of American honor, and why we find ourselves at this uncomfortable juncture.
Remember settling for the lesser of two evils - even for President? Me, too. I can't say I have ever picketed the state capitol or attended a Town Hall meeting when I felt our country had veered off course.
We the People are out of shape! We rely on the entertainment media to ask what we hope will be hard enough questions so we can decide where to mark our x, and they do the job half-heartedly hoping a good scandal breaks that is infinitely more alluring. Ratings, you know.
We don't try very hard to pin our candidates down on compelling social and political issues. Our voices are becoming no more than an angry whisper over dinner when we feel our government is not representing the principles we believe it should. Voices are even dimmer in the voting booth, where our choices are only those who had the perseverence, the money, and the political connections to make it that far.
I'd like to say I've opened my wallet and my home for a candidate whose experience and sense of right aligned with mine, or that I've kicked and screamed when all the qualified Presidential candidates were not given airtime because they weren't as attractive or dynamic, but that's not true. I along with everyone else allows the staggering costs of TV ads to cull from the herd those candidates who cannot afford political office regardless of their vision and how well they honor the principles of our democracy. A John F. Kennedy type of man from humble origins might very well be sitting at home wondering how America has prevented him from reaching us because he cannot buy his way in.
We have forgotten how to participate in our own democracy. It's on us.
It's easy to get the old juices flowing when he points out thing after thing that we know is true and, damn it, why haven't we done something about that before now! I have listened for 50 years to the refrain of 'throw the bums out of Washington'. We absolutely should monitor our borders better and not squeeze our middle class to maintain a National lifestyle. I enthusiastically embrace moving toward eliminating our dependence on foreign oil - (Did I miss Chrysler leading the charge to embrace the development of solar or electric hybrids?) No matter.
At first glance, it does seem right to believe we should solve our domestic crises before giving it away to the world. But then comes a whopper of a natural disaster like in Haiti, with unimaginable loss and suffering, and I wonder who among us would prefer the US not to throw its resources behind a relief effort to help in whatever way possible? A simple show of hands will do.
We are complacent citizens. It's unfortunate but true that in our country we have great faith and a belief that good will prevail, even when faced with proof to the contrary. It is one of our greatest assets, our strong sense of American honor, and why we find ourselves at this uncomfortable juncture.
Remember settling for the lesser of two evils - even for President? Me, too. I can't say I have ever picketed the state capitol or attended a Town Hall meeting when I felt our country had veered off course.
We the People are out of shape! We rely on the entertainment media to ask what we hope will be hard enough questions so we can decide where to mark our x, and they do the job half-heartedly hoping a good scandal breaks that is infinitely more alluring. Ratings, you know.
We don't try very hard to pin our candidates down on compelling social and political issues. Our voices are becoming no more than an angry whisper over dinner when we feel our government is not representing the principles we believe it should. Voices are even dimmer in the voting booth, where our choices are only those who had the perseverence, the money, and the political connections to make it that far.
I'd like to say I've opened my wallet and my home for a candidate whose experience and sense of right aligned with mine, or that I've kicked and screamed when all the qualified Presidential candidates were not given airtime because they weren't as attractive or dynamic, but that's not true. I along with everyone else allows the staggering costs of TV ads to cull from the herd those candidates who cannot afford political office regardless of their vision and how well they honor the principles of our democracy. A John F. Kennedy type of man from humble origins might very well be sitting at home wondering how America has prevented him from reaching us because he cannot buy his way in.
We have forgotten how to participate in our own democracy. It's on us.
Jan 18, 2010
Just As It Is
Life is hopeful in these days before the wedding, when holding hands feels just right with just the right kind of warmth. We notice everything. Take for instance our negotiations and how we communicate with a natural sense of compromise already built in. That is one of my favorite things.
Getting married in our 50s is much more fun than it was when we were young. No doubt our seasoning, weathering, experiences, and age - whatEVER! - has given us time to explore our mature selves in a way that makes marriage more of a fit than a risk. There's a comfortable companionability as we settle in to an intimate cluster of 40 on account of all the children, grandchildren, great-grandkids, brothers and whatnot. The nest is well feathered, that's for sure.
We were talking last night about what it would have been like had we met in our 20s. I think about that now, and about the sons I treasure and celebrate, and all of life that has washed over and softened my edges. I do so love RMan's gentle lived-in heart and the patina that makes him so exceptionally right for me. And so to thoughts of what could have been I say, the beauty of us is deepened by what we valued in our lives and carried along, all the magnificent moments of love and joy and the hard lessons, too. I think life is exactly right, just as it is.
Getting married in our 50s is much more fun than it was when we were young. No doubt our seasoning, weathering, experiences, and age - whatEVER! - has given us time to explore our mature selves in a way that makes marriage more of a fit than a risk. There's a comfortable companionability as we settle in to an intimate cluster of 40 on account of all the children, grandchildren, great-grandkids, brothers and whatnot. The nest is well feathered, that's for sure.
We were talking last night about what it would have been like had we met in our 20s. I think about that now, and about the sons I treasure and celebrate, and all of life that has washed over and softened my edges. I do so love RMan's gentle lived-in heart and the patina that makes him so exceptionally right for me. And so to thoughts of what could have been I say, the beauty of us is deepened by what we valued in our lives and carried along, all the magnificent moments of love and joy and the hard lessons, too. I think life is exactly right, just as it is.
Jan 14, 2010
Guilty Pleasures
There's this little thing I enjoy every morning. After my morning constitutional and cup of coffee, it's first up. And I think you might like it, too.
I read Nat the Fat Rat's blog. I know, you're busy and skeptical of the postings by someone who would call themselves a rat. But it's a gem of a read and Natalie writes like a dream, mixing together in a big pot sweetness, tartness, and a full helping of joy about this crazy world we live in. And serves it up with a yummy sense of humor that comes straight from the heart.
Here's a couple of her laugh-aloud posts. Bon appetit!
----- POST A ------
I have a few questions about this Old Testatment stuff.
So, Adam lives to be nine hundred and thirty, Enos finally dies at nine hundred and five. Then somehow Mahaleel only makes it to sixty-five? Sixty-five! And I wonder, what happened there? They don't go into much detail. Was he eaten by something? Something large? ...
I am awfully glad we're not living to be nine hundred years old anymore. In my family we have a knack for outliving our mental capacities. My dear Aunt Beulah and I once carried on the same conversation for five years solid.
"Is that your son?"
"No Aunt Beulah, that's my brother."
"Oh ... is that your son?"
I like the story of Noah particularly. I like the idea of God surveying all that man had become and deciding, Nope, This Won't Do At All, and then just starting over from scratch. That happens to me a lot in the kitchen. ... I like how after the waters had dried God looked around and said, Well, I Won't Do That Again. That also happens to me a lot in the kitchen. ...
----- POST B ------
The fact of the matter is, it is cold outside. It is the kind of cold where errands leave you frozen and chapped, where any flakes that fall are just remnants of dead clouds, clouds mercilessly attacked by icy winds. Cloud dandruff. Because it is cold.
I wasn't going to go running today because, have you heard? It is freezing. It is so cold that even the dogs don't want to be outside. Serious business cold.
I had grand plans for myself and the treadmill. We had a date, the two of us. In a heated bedroom. With Hulu on the laptop. And the The Holbs (husband) made this sort of off-handed comment you know. Something or other about being a wimp? Or that maybe I wasn't man enough to handle the elements? References to poultry?
Suddenly my afternoon contained one three-mile tour of the frozen tundra, but I had conditions. You know, terms. The terms were that he had to go running with me and also wasn't allowed to complain about how slow I am. Then I put on every article of clothing I owned. Cause it's cold, guys!
I will skip the part of the story where I started off faster than The Holbs expected and he had to sprint to catch up with me; I will skip the part where he complimented my form so as not to brag; I'll also skip the part where I blasted it up the hill and didn't even stop once even though I really wanted to; I will also skip the part where The Holbs had to pee in the porta potty on the trail. What I will NOT skip is the part where The Holbs had a cramp in his side and I did not, because this merits some elaboration.
So The Holbs, he gets this cramp, see.
Ow he says. He slows down.
What's the matter? I say, not nicely, but in more of a tauntingly nature you understand.
I have a side ache! he wheezes.
You have a side ache?! I am incredulous. This is the captain of the high school soccer team, the 'I-run-for-fun' guy. I checked for my side cramp. My side cramp wasn't there!
Oh Ho! I shout. It is dawning on me. I have just kicked my husband's trash.
You gonna be okay? Are you having a heart attack? I am not really concerned, let's not forget.
No, no just not used to running is all ...
I am tuning him out here and also maybe doing some jumping jacks, you know. Oh well, see you at home, I say.
I start to trot off. Then I ran hard. The Holbs nearly caught up with me about a block away from the house but I ran even faster. I didn't know my stumpy fatty legs could go that fast! And you know what? Through a little side-ache luck, I totally beat that danged redheaded ding dong home. Little old me! Well lah-dee-dah.
-----
http://www.natthefatrat.com/
I read Nat the Fat Rat's blog. I know, you're busy and skeptical of the postings by someone who would call themselves a rat. But it's a gem of a read and Natalie writes like a dream, mixing together in a big pot sweetness, tartness, and a full helping of joy about this crazy world we live in. And serves it up with a yummy sense of humor that comes straight from the heart.
Here's a couple of her laugh-aloud posts. Bon appetit!
----- POST A ------
I have a few questions about this Old Testatment stuff.
So, Adam lives to be nine hundred and thirty, Enos finally dies at nine hundred and five. Then somehow Mahaleel only makes it to sixty-five? Sixty-five! And I wonder, what happened there? They don't go into much detail. Was he eaten by something? Something large? ...
I am awfully glad we're not living to be nine hundred years old anymore. In my family we have a knack for outliving our mental capacities. My dear Aunt Beulah and I once carried on the same conversation for five years solid.
"Is that your son?"
"No Aunt Beulah, that's my brother."
"Oh ... is that your son?"
I like the story of Noah particularly. I like the idea of God surveying all that man had become and deciding, Nope, This Won't Do At All, and then just starting over from scratch. That happens to me a lot in the kitchen. ... I like how after the waters had dried God looked around and said, Well, I Won't Do That Again. That also happens to me a lot in the kitchen. ...
----- POST B ------
The fact of the matter is, it is cold outside. It is the kind of cold where errands leave you frozen and chapped, where any flakes that fall are just remnants of dead clouds, clouds mercilessly attacked by icy winds. Cloud dandruff. Because it is cold.
I wasn't going to go running today because, have you heard? It is freezing. It is so cold that even the dogs don't want to be outside. Serious business cold.
I had grand plans for myself and the treadmill. We had a date, the two of us. In a heated bedroom. With Hulu on the laptop. And the The Holbs (husband) made this sort of off-handed comment you know. Something or other about being a wimp? Or that maybe I wasn't man enough to handle the elements? References to poultry?
Suddenly my afternoon contained one three-mile tour of the frozen tundra, but I had conditions. You know, terms. The terms were that he had to go running with me and also wasn't allowed to complain about how slow I am. Then I put on every article of clothing I owned. Cause it's cold, guys!
I will skip the part of the story where I started off faster than The Holbs expected and he had to sprint to catch up with me; I will skip the part where he complimented my form so as not to brag; I'll also skip the part where I blasted it up the hill and didn't even stop once even though I really wanted to; I will also skip the part where The Holbs had to pee in the porta potty on the trail. What I will NOT skip is the part where The Holbs had a cramp in his side and I did not, because this merits some elaboration.
So The Holbs, he gets this cramp, see.
Ow he says. He slows down.
What's the matter? I say, not nicely, but in more of a tauntingly nature you understand.
I have a side ache! he wheezes.
You have a side ache?! I am incredulous. This is the captain of the high school soccer team, the 'I-run-for-fun' guy. I checked for my side cramp. My side cramp wasn't there!
Oh Ho! I shout. It is dawning on me. I have just kicked my husband's trash.
You gonna be okay? Are you having a heart attack? I am not really concerned, let's not forget.
No, no just not used to running is all ...
I am tuning him out here and also maybe doing some jumping jacks, you know. Oh well, see you at home, I say.
I start to trot off. Then I ran hard. The Holbs nearly caught up with me about a block away from the house but I ran even faster. I didn't know my stumpy fatty legs could go that fast! And you know what? Through a little side-ache luck, I totally beat that danged redheaded ding dong home. Little old me! Well lah-dee-dah.
-----
http://www.natthefatrat.com/
Jan 8, 2010
To Each His Own
I know online dating gets a bad rap. People say it opens the door for potential creeps to have access to unsuspecting women, women that were fairly sheltered and innocent about the world. I'll give you I didn't have much experience when I started online dating and a few of my friends were the same way.
But what online dating DID did do is open the door to a world we wanted to step into in a way that felt safe to explore. It gave us a chance to learn the rules of dating in this modern world and to feel the exhiliration of being found interesting and pretty and sexy. It gave us practice at small talk and readied us for face to face meetings and eventually to open our hearts to someone new. We stepped into mud a time or two on that steep learning curve but we didn't stay there.
Dating sites also connect people who are looking just for friendship. I made two lifelong friends online with people of integrity and heart that literally changed my life.
Without venues like POF and eH, Randy and I don't think our paths would have organically crossed. I have several girlfriends whose lives are now rich and fulfilling, in real time and in real life. And so to the online detrators I say, to each his own journey towards fulfillment. I can't imagine not having found my way here.
But what online dating DID did do is open the door to a world we wanted to step into in a way that felt safe to explore. It gave us a chance to learn the rules of dating in this modern world and to feel the exhiliration of being found interesting and pretty and sexy. It gave us practice at small talk and readied us for face to face meetings and eventually to open our hearts to someone new. We stepped into mud a time or two on that steep learning curve but we didn't stay there.
Dating sites also connect people who are looking just for friendship. I made two lifelong friends online with people of integrity and heart that literally changed my life.
Without venues like POF and eH, Randy and I don't think our paths would have organically crossed. I have several girlfriends whose lives are now rich and fulfilling, in real time and in real life. And so to the online detrators I say, to each his own journey towards fulfillment. I can't imagine not having found my way here.
Jan 6, 2010
It's Nothing Personal
An out of work friend and I saw Up in the Air yesterday. Have you seen it? It's the story of a man who has made a life of cutting people loose. Any movie that prompts a heartfelt discussion about intrinsic value earns a gold seal of approval. It was a great flick.
It's a weird moment to realize someone thinks they can do without us. It feels bad. But here we sit, with an exceptional work ethic and oodles of skills, watching a movie on a Tuesday afternoon that we could have starred in. How ironic.
Do you remember the part in You've Got Mail when Tom Hanks tried to use the lame excuse of 'It's nothing personal' to explain why he had put Meg Ryan's bookstore out of business and was skewered with the reply 'That just means it's not personal to you. But it's personal to me.' I think about that after the umpteenth call from a friend telling me they have joined the ranks of the unemployed. Does anyone even see us anymore?
In addition to the money thing, which is huge, people seem to be discovering they have inadvertently upended the value of jobs in their lives. Jobs are no longer just places they spend their time. People's lives have become subtexts to their jobs rather than the other way around. As long as things are in balance, life feels pretty good. There are buddies to lunch with and get togethers after work to commisserate over bosses. But when a layoff comes, and the shock wears off, what is left is a void where a life should be. No longer having the shared commonality thrusts them into exile as their job/career network dissolves.
I believe in the tried and true value systems that will see us through, namely that the measure of a good life is one that overflows with things that softens life's blows: People. Love. Faith. Memories. Family. Trust. Friends. Unrealized dreams. All the rest will work itself out.
It's a weird moment to realize someone thinks they can do without us. It feels bad. But here we sit, with an exceptional work ethic and oodles of skills, watching a movie on a Tuesday afternoon that we could have starred in. How ironic.
Do you remember the part in You've Got Mail when Tom Hanks tried to use the lame excuse of 'It's nothing personal' to explain why he had put Meg Ryan's bookstore out of business and was skewered with the reply 'That just means it's not personal to you. But it's personal to me.' I think about that after the umpteenth call from a friend telling me they have joined the ranks of the unemployed. Does anyone even see us anymore?
In addition to the money thing, which is huge, people seem to be discovering they have inadvertently upended the value of jobs in their lives. Jobs are no longer just places they spend their time. People's lives have become subtexts to their jobs rather than the other way around. As long as things are in balance, life feels pretty good. There are buddies to lunch with and get togethers after work to commisserate over bosses. But when a layoff comes, and the shock wears off, what is left is a void where a life should be. No longer having the shared commonality thrusts them into exile as their job/career network dissolves.
I believe in the tried and true value systems that will see us through, namely that the measure of a good life is one that overflows with things that softens life's blows: People. Love. Faith. Memories. Family. Trust. Friends. Unrealized dreams. All the rest will work itself out.
Jan 5, 2010
BEGIN
I had really hoped that 2010 was the beginning of a new decade because I am sick and tired of this one. I had been gearing up to jumpstart the year and even talked myself into ceremoniously picking a word that would symbolize the decade ahead: BEGIN. (Thanks, Nat.)
It was cold on the walk the evening RMan keyed me in on the bad news that 2010 was actually still part of the decade we're in. You have no idea how seriously disappointed I was! All these thoughts are stuck here a whole year too early? There's nothing else to do but execute Plan A immediately and that involves my jazzy new word.
I'll grant you, 2009 was just about the hardest year ever. It changed the course of life. Terrible things went on everywhere and even my little part of the world was rocked off its axis by a job loss and the unstoppable fallout of insomnia and worry for my friends and family in the same boat. I was saddened by an indestructible friendship that took a direct hit and broken-hearted when the most beautiful light in the world was snuffed out at the tender age of eight. Lord, that was hard.
The 'aught' decade auspiciously also currently includes America's catastrophic fiscal erosion and a dwindling sense of confidence that we will be able to pull ourselves through. And there is this little matter of America's isolationary social erosion thanks to ipods and twitter and facebook and iphones - I mean, when was the last time you got a hand written thank you card or a forwarded joke with an actual personal message? And lastly, our sense of safety dissolved with terrorism grandstanding on September 11th.
We all sense America is losing its focus and its citizens are different because of it. Worker bees try to survive in a corporate America that has nothing to do anymore with the notions of loyalty, longevity and fair play. Sometime in the decade, the one without end, the world-changing 50-something boomers became old.
I wish I had listened better to those stories my mother and dad told of hard times and what it was like in the 1930s, what they endured and how. There will be clues there, ones we need. Our parents saw their parents ride out the Great Depression and survive it, and because of that they taught us and absolutely believed that anything is possible if you got an education, worked hard, were nice, took nothing for granted and wasted nothing. And I believe them. I do. I also know this is our moment to lead by example, when our families are looking to us to see what we do. Will we find the humility to do whatever it takes and persevere?
Life is definitely not going according to plan, but so what? Our grandparents kept the faith under infinitely worse circumstances. So in the last sucky year of a really bad decade, it's time to roll up our sleeves and get to it. Believe in ourselves and Begin again. Worrying whether we succeed or not will only get in the way.
It was cold on the walk the evening RMan keyed me in on the bad news that 2010 was actually still part of the decade we're in. You have no idea how seriously disappointed I was! All these thoughts are stuck here a whole year too early? There's nothing else to do but execute Plan A immediately and that involves my jazzy new word.
I'll grant you, 2009 was just about the hardest year ever. It changed the course of life. Terrible things went on everywhere and even my little part of the world was rocked off its axis by a job loss and the unstoppable fallout of insomnia and worry for my friends and family in the same boat. I was saddened by an indestructible friendship that took a direct hit and broken-hearted when the most beautiful light in the world was snuffed out at the tender age of eight. Lord, that was hard.
The 'aught' decade auspiciously also currently includes America's catastrophic fiscal erosion and a dwindling sense of confidence that we will be able to pull ourselves through. And there is this little matter of America's isolationary social erosion thanks to ipods and twitter and facebook and iphones - I mean, when was the last time you got a hand written thank you card or a forwarded joke with an actual personal message? And lastly, our sense of safety dissolved with terrorism grandstanding on September 11th.
We all sense America is losing its focus and its citizens are different because of it. Worker bees try to survive in a corporate America that has nothing to do anymore with the notions of loyalty, longevity and fair play. Sometime in the decade, the one without end, the world-changing 50-something boomers became old.
I wish I had listened better to those stories my mother and dad told of hard times and what it was like in the 1930s, what they endured and how. There will be clues there, ones we need. Our parents saw their parents ride out the Great Depression and survive it, and because of that they taught us and absolutely believed that anything is possible if you got an education, worked hard, were nice, took nothing for granted and wasted nothing. And I believe them. I do. I also know this is our moment to lead by example, when our families are looking to us to see what we do. Will we find the humility to do whatever it takes and persevere?
Life is definitely not going according to plan, but so what? Our grandparents kept the faith under infinitely worse circumstances. So in the last sucky year of a really bad decade, it's time to roll up our sleeves and get to it. Believe in ourselves and Begin again. Worrying whether we succeed or not will only get in the way.
Jan 3, 2010
Getting it Right
I've missed it here in thoughts I can re-read and obsess about. There has been so much going on, earth-shattering things, really good things that have pulled me away from the keyboard I love and into life.
There's the engagement for one, something I really didn't expect because those scary words kept backing up on me, words like 'who gives this woman' and 'obey', that made me never ever want to feel that way again, subservient and owned.
THIS TIME around those words/demands/rules are banished - kaput! - and so I can stay me for as long as we both shall live. That's a comfortable idea and I think this ring must catch the light even in the dark, it shines with such happiness. His face shines, too, as he talks in real time. We have a plan and a good one at that, already in motion, one piece and then another, a smile in agreement, and then another. A wedding. A life. We can hardly wait.
I seem to be lucky with finding choice parking spots and it happens over and over, even at Christmas or when its dinner hour, so I think it may actually be true: I am a parking fairie. That doesn't mean I'm not totally parking lot challenged when it comes to finding my blasted car in the lot, but give me the passenger seat and a ten minute window for errands and I will find you a choice spot even at Costco on the 3rd of July.
We've been wondering if this luck extends to love because things feel magical and wonderful and right, even after all this time together. Here we are among throngs of matchless people who are searching just as hard as we were, and we are stepping into a life we thought we'd never find. How lucky we are, really and truly, to finally get it right.
There's the engagement for one, something I really didn't expect because those scary words kept backing up on me, words like 'who gives this woman' and 'obey', that made me never ever want to feel that way again, subservient and owned.
THIS TIME around those words/demands/rules are banished - kaput! - and so I can stay me for as long as we both shall live. That's a comfortable idea and I think this ring must catch the light even in the dark, it shines with such happiness. His face shines, too, as he talks in real time. We have a plan and a good one at that, already in motion, one piece and then another, a smile in agreement, and then another. A wedding. A life. We can hardly wait.
I seem to be lucky with finding choice parking spots and it happens over and over, even at Christmas or when its dinner hour, so I think it may actually be true: I am a parking fairie. That doesn't mean I'm not totally parking lot challenged when it comes to finding my blasted car in the lot, but give me the passenger seat and a ten minute window for errands and I will find you a choice spot even at Costco on the 3rd of July.
We've been wondering if this luck extends to love because things feel magical and wonderful and right, even after all this time together. Here we are among throngs of matchless people who are searching just as hard as we were, and we are stepping into a life we thought we'd never find. How lucky we are, really and truly, to finally get it right.
Dec 18, 2009
Shine On
I had lunch with a girlfriend yesterday, one of my Besties, as PaKou would say, and I love that term so much it's in my vocabularly now and soon to be in Websters, I'm sure. There's nothing like sitting across from someone whose face you memorized, every little strand of hair and worry wrinkle, being able to see every one of her teeth, even the molars, because we are laughing so hard I can see her tonsils.
When we are together, we talk about dieting while ordering dessert. There is this really effective communication shorthand we use as we carry forward with news, not gossip per se because it's just us. We wouldn't dream of trying to get away with showing life all scrubbed and shiny on a little pedestal for the inside of a Christmas card: I mean, what would be the point?
And so this Bestie who gets teary because even after a 3 hour lunch she isn't talked out -not by a long shot- and doesn't want it to end, she listens to my grandiose plans and in her magical way believes every one of them, believes so hard that even I come to think everything is possible, and she says you should do it all but don't forget to write.
I am caught in mid-air by how well she knows what I love to do more than anything in the world. She doesn't care a whit that there are people whose writing takes my breath away and makes me feel small. She sees my light and knows it will shine just as brightly as the next guy's by being who I am and doing what I love. Besties are like that. Thank God.
When we are together, we talk about dieting while ordering dessert. There is this really effective communication shorthand we use as we carry forward with news, not gossip per se because it's just us. We wouldn't dream of trying to get away with showing life all scrubbed and shiny on a little pedestal for the inside of a Christmas card: I mean, what would be the point?
And so this Bestie who gets teary because even after a 3 hour lunch she isn't talked out -not by a long shot- and doesn't want it to end, she listens to my grandiose plans and in her magical way believes every one of them, believes so hard that even I come to think everything is possible, and she says you should do it all but don't forget to write.
I am caught in mid-air by how well she knows what I love to do more than anything in the world. She doesn't care a whit that there are people whose writing takes my breath away and makes me feel small. She sees my light and knows it will shine just as brightly as the next guy's by being who I am and doing what I love. Besties are like that. Thank God.
MidLife Love
I sit here mezmerized by its sparkle, this beautiful ring perched on my hand. Something old and something new, he and me, collectors of lost loves so that we may find us.
We have known life without each other to cushion the blows and understand the gains we have made. It has been a leisurely journey together and now with our families alongside, we draw it up with a beautiful big red bow.
I awaken in the night and he is holding my hand in his, a warm and sleepy comfortable love. I have found him out!!, I think, as I nestle closer and drift back to sleep. I love that he reaches for me tenderly even when I am not looking.
We have known life without each other to cushion the blows and understand the gains we have made. It has been a leisurely journey together and now with our families alongside, we draw it up with a beautiful big red bow.I awaken in the night and he is holding my hand in his, a warm and sleepy comfortable love. I have found him out!!, I think, as I nestle closer and drift back to sleep. I love that he reaches for me tenderly even when I am not looking.
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