Today is the day after the last day we met with Alfred. Today is the day we bring the last details to life. Vases and mirrors are washed and ready. Candle holders and manzanita, sparkles and candies are today's chore and another round of tidying up the house before our first guests arrive tomorrow morning. Table drapes and room layout and meetings and pedicures, between now and Thursday.
Checklist: check! There are all sorts of bags with stuff to take along on Saturday. This will be our day, our way. Last night we ran through the ceremony and practiced the words and timing with the music, and imagined what it will be like to be surrounded by love and good wishes. Louie and Dean and The Fab 4 will usher us in. I was kind of surprised I wasn't feeling self-conscious at all as I looked up into his eyes and felt the warmth of his hands. I saw only him.
I have a feeling a lot of our life together will be like that. I hope so, anyway.
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 22, 2010
Along the Way
In the swirl of getting the place ready for wedding company we had a Saturday birthday celebration for Rman - 56 years as the crow flies, but he can still play the game just as well and jump high enough to find the jewels as he advances levels. In some ways he seems timeless.
Maybe it's because he still finds the world an interesting place. He digests news, watches Jeopardy, works hard, and oozes out that ex-hippie intellect and bawdy humor he is known for. The grandkids gobble up discussions on music and history, and I watch them build an unbreakable bond through thoughtful discussions and warm laughter. I wish he knew he is at his absolute best with children.
Naturally we've talked a lot about marriage recently and noticed the super successful marriages around us. Is there a secret? Maybe so. It looks like a great marriage has people in it who work in each other's bests interests every day, companionably exercising the muscles of generosity and thoughtfulness. That doesn't seem so mysterious.
They also seem to treat the marriage as something that stands on its own, a living breathing thing that is more than just the two of them. It makes sense that two makes it stronger than one but what I was surprised to learn is how the living part of marriage is defended. The best protection for a great marriage seems to be through the gentle nourishing tools of compromise, friendship, faith, steadfastness, patience and selflessness.
The simple lessons are often the toughest to learn. Through this, I am able to see that we already live some of the qualities of an exceptional marriage, in our deep love and devotion to each other and in the way we nurture it through compromise and commitment. Let's travel the rest of the way together, the three of us, as man and wife.
Maybe it's because he still finds the world an interesting place. He digests news, watches Jeopardy, works hard, and oozes out that ex-hippie intellect and bawdy humor he is known for. The grandkids gobble up discussions on music and history, and I watch them build an unbreakable bond through thoughtful discussions and warm laughter. I wish he knew he is at his absolute best with children.
Naturally we've talked a lot about marriage recently and noticed the super successful marriages around us. Is there a secret? Maybe so. It looks like a great marriage has people in it who work in each other's bests interests every day, companionably exercising the muscles of generosity and thoughtfulness. That doesn't seem so mysterious.
They also seem to treat the marriage as something that stands on its own, a living breathing thing that is more than just the two of them. It makes sense that two makes it stronger than one but what I was surprised to learn is how the living part of marriage is defended. The best protection for a great marriage seems to be through the gentle nourishing tools of compromise, friendship, faith, steadfastness, patience and selflessness.
The simple lessons are often the toughest to learn. Through this, I am able to see that we already live some of the qualities of an exceptional marriage, in our deep love and devotion to each other and in the way we nurture it through compromise and commitment. Let's travel the rest of the way together, the three of us, as man and wife.
Feb 18, 2010
Two Minutes a Day
I've been having a devil of a time sleeping. There doesn't seem to be any more on my mind than usual, so maybe it's a lack of a routine to tucker me out. Reading doesn't help, milk and cookies, and some nights, not even Melatonin.
About a year ago, I began practicing (exercising?) active gratefulness before I got up in the morning. If the first step to changing a world is changing your thinking, it was worth 2 minutes a day. I began counting my blessings, out loud and purposefully.
I'm not saying some mornings I didn't struggle to find just one thing that was good, like when Bursitis and Sciatica made it hard to get out of bed. But I enjoyed the time and so did God. As I practiced gratefulness, blessings began to spring up throughout the day and I looked forward to sharing them during our little chats. I found them everywhere.
And then an interesting thing happened. Somehow, my life started to intersect with other people who live the same way. In demonstrating generosity a conversation would inevitably draw us together and would end in how they practice gratefulness. After that, I became much better at recognizing it in the motivations of others and what those unexpected kind words and deeds really mean. And then miraculous big events started to happen, like our tenant friends who found a wonderful replacement to rent the house so we wouldn't lose rent or an Innkeeper that made our wedding dreams come true on a measley budget.
I know blessings are hard to see. Real hardships are out there, scary and real. But believe in them and look for them and you will see God's hopeful promise in them that life will rebound. Even when the unimaginable happened last year and we lost our granddaughter, the pro side of the Blessings Ledger stepped up to help bolster us as we withstood losing what was most precious.
A great investment in just two minutes a day.
About a year ago, I began practicing (exercising?) active gratefulness before I got up in the morning. If the first step to changing a world is changing your thinking, it was worth 2 minutes a day. I began counting my blessings, out loud and purposefully.
I'm not saying some mornings I didn't struggle to find just one thing that was good, like when Bursitis and Sciatica made it hard to get out of bed. But I enjoyed the time and so did God. As I practiced gratefulness, blessings began to spring up throughout the day and I looked forward to sharing them during our little chats. I found them everywhere.
And then an interesting thing happened. Somehow, my life started to intersect with other people who live the same way. In demonstrating generosity a conversation would inevitably draw us together and would end in how they practice gratefulness. After that, I became much better at recognizing it in the motivations of others and what those unexpected kind words and deeds really mean. And then miraculous big events started to happen, like our tenant friends who found a wonderful replacement to rent the house so we wouldn't lose rent or an Innkeeper that made our wedding dreams come true on a measley budget.
I know blessings are hard to see. Real hardships are out there, scary and real. But believe in them and look for them and you will see God's hopeful promise in them that life will rebound. Even when the unimaginable happened last year and we lost our granddaughter, the pro side of the Blessings Ledger stepped up to help bolster us as we withstood losing what was most precious.
A great investment in just two minutes a day.
Feb 17, 2010
Well Spoken
A friend said to me the other day that blogging is journaling in the modern world and I suppose she's right. For me it's like practicing piano, over and over, 45 minutes a day, to see what tumbles out. It's an exercise in putting voice to what it means to be me.
Blogging lets me do something I haven't been able to master in the world at large and that is share what's in my heart. I envy people who have the confidence to be out in the world, to know that what they have to say is interesting enough to capture anyone's attention.
I have felt woefully small most of my life. Maybe it's because I settled for less than I could have been and wasted time trying to be what others wanted me to be rather than discovering what I really wanted for myself. I forgot to set the bar and reach for what would develop into a real purpose and passion. I let myself be underestimated. I came to disbelieve my value.
I Googled my dad's name the other day and there were 4 pages of links. And so in addition to leaving a lasting legacy in the lives of those he loved, teaching the unconditional elements of love and family, he left tangible ones as well through books and speeches. Even for those who didn't know him personally, his works will live on.
Maybe I blog for that reason, too, somewhere a bit of me remains, where I can look back and celebrate God's grace in my life and how wonderful it has been. And who knows, maybe someday this little journal will be a place of value for people to go to when they want to remember and reminisce. I hope it speaks well of how I spent my time.
Blogging lets me do something I haven't been able to master in the world at large and that is share what's in my heart. I envy people who have the confidence to be out in the world, to know that what they have to say is interesting enough to capture anyone's attention.
I have felt woefully small most of my life. Maybe it's because I settled for less than I could have been and wasted time trying to be what others wanted me to be rather than discovering what I really wanted for myself. I forgot to set the bar and reach for what would develop into a real purpose and passion. I let myself be underestimated. I came to disbelieve my value.
I Googled my dad's name the other day and there were 4 pages of links. And so in addition to leaving a lasting legacy in the lives of those he loved, teaching the unconditional elements of love and family, he left tangible ones as well through books and speeches. Even for those who didn't know him personally, his works will live on.
Maybe I blog for that reason, too, somewhere a bit of me remains, where I can look back and celebrate God's grace in my life and how wonderful it has been. And who knows, maybe someday this little journal will be a place of value for people to go to when they want to remember and reminisce. I hope it speaks well of how I spent my time.
Gravy
I forget sometimes that life is an intensely personal experience as we wade through the journey of thoughts and feelings. The lessons we learn spill out and into the lives we touch but they are ours first to own and process.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the initial stages of relationship building. It's so easy to step over the invisible boundaries of what you're ready for. It may look like a vase but that doesn't mean it is ready for water. Delicate greenware still needs to be fired by the experiences and nurturings that will transform it into something solid and enduring.
Easy does it, I remind myself. We've made the decision to marry and there are ripples through everyone's lives. Feelings are bound to spring up when change happens, even with happy events. Patience is needed more now than ever as we move forward into our life together. One day at a time we will build, love, and cherish our families and friends. Anything beyond that is gravy.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the initial stages of relationship building. It's so easy to step over the invisible boundaries of what you're ready for. It may look like a vase but that doesn't mean it is ready for water. Delicate greenware still needs to be fired by the experiences and nurturings that will transform it into something solid and enduring.
Easy does it, I remind myself. We've made the decision to marry and there are ripples through everyone's lives. Feelings are bound to spring up when change happens, even with happy events. Patience is needed more now than ever as we move forward into our life together. One day at a time we will build, love, and cherish our families and friends. Anything beyond that is gravy.
Spoke of the Wheel
I have this pillow I love, a photo tapestry with two cats sitting on a windowsill looking out side by side. I am the orange one, with tail wagging below the sill, perfectly happy and comfortable on that perch. It was given to me by the other cat, a long haired beauty enjoying the same companionable moment.
'I can't imagine...', the inscription begins. We began our friendship simply enough: a mutual friend introduced us and almost instantly it exploded into Godparenting and emergency responses and VHS players and 12 hour drives to show up unannounced at pool parties. It was glorious.
'...in all the world...'. And so it went, laughter and fun as we dealt with life's ups and downs and knowing there was probably a soft pillow of friendship waiting if we were knocked off our feet.
'...a better friend than you.' She has droves of friends from all walks of life, better ones than me, loyal and amazing people who travel the world, lend a hand, help the underprivileged, create beauty, and protect our planet. Just like her.
'I can't imagine...', the inscription begins. We began our friendship simply enough: a mutual friend introduced us and almost instantly it exploded into Godparenting and emergency responses and VHS players and 12 hour drives to show up unannounced at pool parties. It was glorious.
'...in all the world...'. And so it went, laughter and fun as we dealt with life's ups and downs and knowing there was probably a soft pillow of friendship waiting if we were knocked off our feet.
'...a better friend than you.' She has droves of friends from all walks of life, better ones than me, loyal and amazing people who travel the world, lend a hand, help the underprivileged, create beauty, and protect our planet. Just like her.
Feb 16, 2010
Knock on Wood
There's moments that let us know we are in a groove, the good kind of groove I mean, when life is flowing along. Days when the street lights turn green one after another so you make it to your appointment on time, or when you need a meat thermometer that you use only at Thanksgiving except on days in February when you're in the mood for a turkey and it's in the first drawer you open...
We've been integrating our STUFF which by all admissions is altogether too much and certainly more of an assemblage of heirloom treasures than two people typically collect. We understand it's time to pare down and organize, and we did some half-hearted giveaways of things like Aunt Myrt's old letter opener and 6 year old VHS tapes, but obviously we also need a big display cabinet of some sort.
He and I and our brains have been thinking about what to do. He thinks vertically, meaning it's fine with him to stack and layer everything together, but that doesn't work as well for my horizontal style of uncommitted walls and floorspace and simple lines. He wants lived-in and comfortable, so we've got a bit of a challenge.
In a matter of days the house will be crammed with family and friends who will be draped on the sofa, in both guest rooms and on airbeds in the livingroom and oval office. Seriously, what the heck are we going to do with all this stuff? And so this Democratic cat and Republican dog came to shop together for a solution to the historic assemblage of treasures.
It started out innocently when we noticed a diamond was a bit loose in the ring and it needed to be looked at by the jeweler in Roseville. So we headed there, and as luck would have it, in that same shopping center we noticed a newly opened little consignment furniture store. We stopped in to explore and inside was the most wonderful piece, a vintage bookcase with glass doors we couldn't have ever imagined would be patiently waiting for us to take it home.
It is old, and enormous, with the sweet rounded edges of wood worn soft from years of use. It kind of looks like the bookshelves from a turn of the century mansion with a drawing room with paneled walls and leather wing chairs. Open- close-open-close in somebody's library or den, filled with knick knacks or law books. Or in the sitting room filled with china patterns handed down by someone's grandmother, that were meticulously wiped and dusted and loved. The fact it has a story to tell makes it a little bit irresistible, if you must know.
I'll spare you the embarrassing details of how we danced around happily as we paid for it on the spot, or the logistics of arranging muscle to help get it home because someone is a Princess. We were so excited that we tore into the terrifying task of emptying the Oval Office of its current stash of 4,000 books, DVDs, CDs, cassettes and vinyl LPs and removed all the shelves and bookcases to patch and paint on Valentine's Day. We cheerfully worked the room to make way for this glorious piece, and watched it become even more perfect than we imagined it would be.
It was one of the best Valentine's days ever. See? It was one of those days.
We've been integrating our STUFF which by all admissions is altogether too much and certainly more of an assemblage of heirloom treasures than two people typically collect. We understand it's time to pare down and organize, and we did some half-hearted giveaways of things like Aunt Myrt's old letter opener and 6 year old VHS tapes, but obviously we also need a big display cabinet of some sort.
He and I and our brains have been thinking about what to do. He thinks vertically, meaning it's fine with him to stack and layer everything together, but that doesn't work as well for my horizontal style of uncommitted walls and floorspace and simple lines. He wants lived-in and comfortable, so we've got a bit of a challenge.
In a matter of days the house will be crammed with family and friends who will be draped on the sofa, in both guest rooms and on airbeds in the livingroom and oval office. Seriously, what the heck are we going to do with all this stuff? And so this Democratic cat and Republican dog came to shop together for a solution to the historic assemblage of treasures.
It started out innocently when we noticed a diamond was a bit loose in the ring and it needed to be looked at by the jeweler in Roseville. So we headed there, and as luck would have it, in that same shopping center we noticed a newly opened little consignment furniture store. We stopped in to explore and inside was the most wonderful piece, a vintage bookcase with glass doors we couldn't have ever imagined would be patiently waiting for us to take it home.
It is old, and enormous, with the sweet rounded edges of wood worn soft from years of use. It kind of looks like the bookshelves from a turn of the century mansion with a drawing room with paneled walls and leather wing chairs. Open- close-open-close in somebody's library or den, filled with knick knacks or law books. Or in the sitting room filled with china patterns handed down by someone's grandmother, that were meticulously wiped and dusted and loved. The fact it has a story to tell makes it a little bit irresistible, if you must know.
I'll spare you the embarrassing details of how we danced around happily as we paid for it on the spot, or the logistics of arranging muscle to help get it home because someone is a Princess. We were so excited that we tore into the terrifying task of emptying the Oval Office of its current stash of 4,000 books, DVDs, CDs, cassettes and vinyl LPs and removed all the shelves and bookcases to patch and paint on Valentine's Day. We cheerfully worked the room to make way for this glorious piece, and watched it become even more perfect than we imagined it would be.
It was one of the best Valentine's days ever. See? It was one of those days.
Feb 11, 2010
Interludes
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.
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.
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.
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