144/365 - Nourishment

The view outside my kitchen window is glorious... 

The smell of dinner cooking inside, divine.

143/365 - Dancing

A man and a woman meet on the dance floor.  They exchange pleasantries and assume the partnership of a familiar embrace.  Provoked by the rhythm of their connection, they respond to the vibrations and begin the dance.  Trust and mutual understanding inspire his steps, the rise of melody fuels her expression. Together, they are abandoned souls dancing to the sweet song of desire long after there is silence.

142/365 - Cast on 4...

...K2, yfwd knit to end on every row until you have 100 stitches, then k1, k2tog, yfwd, k2tog, knit to end till 4 stitches then cast off.

It's not exactly the path to freedom, but it should give me an opportunity to sit in one place long enough to find it again.

141/365 - Freedom

I've been in a funk lately, evidenced by the serious decline in yoga, meditation, writing, dancing, music, and patience toward my children.  I know I'll get back on my square eventually.  This rare quiet morning alone is offering me the perfect opportunity to sit on my patio, admire things that grow and bloom, chirp and chatter, shine, warm, and sustain life, meditate, pray.  While quiet contemplation usually offers a measure of peace to chase away the anxiety and frustration over things I can't control, I still feel old demons lying in wait to rob me of that peace and the freedom to enjoy my life as it is.

Today, we are supposed to remember those who risk and give their lives to bring us peace, to keep us free.  Though their sacrifice is great and honor deserved, I realize how often I squander that freedom and peace with my own personal oppression.  This reminded me of something I wrote about freedom several years ago...

After searching through my files and Emails, I came across all sorts of things I've written about freedom, who I am, what I believe.  I never did find the piece I was looking for, but I found exactly what I needed to be free.

140/365 - Itchy scratchy

Every so often, my kids' school sends home a slip of paper notifying parents of any contagious diseases that have befallen their classmates....strep throat, pink eye, there was even a report of scabies this year...but nothing makes my skin crawl more than a report of head lice.

Sophie got lice when she was in preschool, and those little buggers were kind enough to set up shop on my head too.  Between her thick locks and my long tresses, I went darn near crazy trying to rid our heads and house of that nasty infestation.  I still frantically check scalps at the slightest scratching and get a little panic-stricken at the possibility that head lice might strike our household again.

When we got the dreaded head lice report in Lucy's backpack earlier this week, I did the obligatory scalp check on each of the kids and watched closely to see if they were scratching behind their ears or the nape of their necks.  Of course, that made me hypersensitive to any itchy scratchy sensations on my scalp too.  I've already decided, if we do have to face this again, that Quinn is just going to get his shaved to reduce the sheer number of heads that need nit picking.

Last night, I dreamed that a strand of hair the size of a willow branch fell off my head, and there about about fifty giant nits clinging to it.  God grant me strength - and a mighty nit comb - if that's an omen.

139/365 - The Kindergarten Biome

Do you remember studying biomes in kindergarten?  Me neither.  It makes me wonder what we even did before high school biology.  And Google.

Lucy chose the owl for her biome project.  The great and all-powerful Google informed us that the owl is of the "Birds of Prey" biome.  Additional research offered further details about the prey - furry little animals like mice, rats, squirrels, rabbits, even skunks.  There was only the slightest protest at the thought that the little bunnies playing leapfrog in our backyard might be an owl's dinner later tonight.  In fact, my prissy little girly girl was fascinated at the pictures we found of owls chomping on various furry critters, namely this old curmudgeon who seems to have forgotten was he was doing mid-bite.

Quinn, during all this time, grew continually frustrated trying to draw a deer and insisting that it was prey for cougars in the forest.  In Ann Arbor?  Perhaps that's not such a stretch...

http://www.annarbor.com/news/u-m-police-possible-cougar-spotted-on-north-campus/

138/365 - How many days are in a year?

Not 376.  It must've been the scallops talking.

137/376 - Even better at home

Folks, now THIS is Real Seafood.  And Co.

136/365 - Dancing girls

Do you see how happy these girls are?  They were just about to go on-stage for their dance recital.  It's entirely possible they were just geeked about getting to wear makeup and sparkly clothes, but I would have to say their enthusiasm was also apparent in the smiles they sported during their performance, which was outstanding!

What you don't see is the smile still on my face, which I wear mostly because I'm proud of my dancing girls.  But it's also because I get to share the love of dancing with my girls.

135/365 - Looking up

I had grand plans for this evening.  I accomplished a couple things I intended, but then I simply sat back with a glass of wine and gazed up at the big old walnut tree in my back yard.  It's good just be still every now and then.

My only entertainment was the birdsong, with an undertone of chirping crickets and occasionally and airplane buzzing overhead.  Eventually, a feisty squirrel bravely ventured within a few feet of me and scampered up the tree.

Do you see him?  Do you see how peaceful it is?

Me too.

134/365 - Writing in thought Thursday

Creative Expression = Visioning meetings at work, the theatre, and in the garden

133/365 - Writing in motion Wednesday

Creative expression = Dancing

133/365 - No Hanky Panky!

My son has been getting into trouble recently for "inappropriate touching" at school.  After chatting with him about his behavior, we settled on some positive reinforcement for exhibiting a little more self control: he earns a sticker for every day that he keeps his hands to himself and his pants up with his classmates, i.e. no hanky panky.  (Geesh, you'd think I've got a pubescent 15 year old on my hands!)  Anyway, five successful days in a row of no hanky panky earns him a date wherever he wants to go with just Mom.  A little Oedipal, I realize, but he picked the reward.

Today, as I walked up to the playground after school, my little man came running to announce that "except for kissing Evelyn, it was a "Good No Hanky Panky Day!!!" {pause for consideration}  OK, I see the loop-hole: we never actually addressed kissing in the original agreement.  It does seem the other rules were followed in this case, so I would say another sticker was earned for his chart.

Tonight, as I snuggled up next to my boy in his bed for prayers, I remembered our earlier conversation, so I fished for some more details: "So, tell me a little more about you kissing Evelyn..."  Without skipping a beat, he replied, "It was an accident!  I just leaned over, and she was there, and I accidentally kissed her."  I couldn't help but giggle at the thought of him bumbling into an unintentional kiss, which got us both laughing.  Oh dear, is this really happening already???

The giggles eventually subsided, and I said, "Look, Dude, if you're going to kiss a girl, then own up to it.  None of this accidental kissing business, OK?"  He agreed with an "I love you, Mom," so I began our ritual bedtime prayers: "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to kiss..."

After that, I couldn't even remember the words to the Our Father, we were both laughing so hard.

132/365 - Happy Birthday Lucy & Quinn!

To my Lucy-Lu, full of ladylike charm and an equal measure of sass, you are indeed my cherished bringer of light.  I should have named you Joy.

To my Quinn, my boy, barreling through life with "I love you" and "I forgot," your spectrum of Love has become my reality of Happiness and Grace.

And Peace is never more palpable than when you dream.

131/365 - Glory and grit

This beautiful iris is one of the perennials from my grandmother's garden that now have a home in my own.  They first traveled to my mom's garden and then to my old house, where I felt Grandma Jo's presence so clearly when I first began digging in the dirt.  They followed me to my new home several years ago, and I think of Grandma Jo every time these unique flowers bloom in my garden each spring.

This is the pile of thistles I cleared from the back garden near the fence today.  I have visions of growing a children's garden around the little playhouse that's on the left.  In the distance, the thistles left standing mock my progress.  On the other side of the playhouse next to the garage, you can't see there's a thousand more thistles laughing at my futile attempts to eradicate their presence from my children's future garden.

From this point forward, I may need to arm myself with a weed wacker, lifetime supply of Round-Up, and Grandma Jo's no-nonsense when it comes to growing Glory.

130/365 - Pioneer woman

I've been reading through the Little House on the Prairie series with my kids.  It's interesting to consider the many luxuries we so often take for granted in everyday 21st century living.  Obvious things come to mind, like running water, flush toilets, cars, electricity, more than one pair of shoes.

Then there's birthday gifts purchased last-minute from Amazon Prime because they offer free 2-day shipping, or a box of organic fruits and vegetables delivered to your door every two weeks, with online substitution for the grapefruit you despise and the pears you'd rather have that week instead (choice of Anjous, Bartlett, or Bosc).

And then I think about makeup.  These pioneer women never wore makeup or contact lenses, or used a hair dryer, or wore a Victoria's Secret push-up bra.  God only knows if they owned a pair of tweezers!  It makes me wonder when women started feeling the need to put on a different persona for others to see.  Probably about the time a full-length mirror became a household object.  Surely by the time lighted magnifying mirrors came around.

I'm not going all crunchy granola, wearing bras made out of men's underwear or anything, but I have begun to find some freedom in a freshly washed face and extra comfy clothes.  I even go sans bra every now and then, sometimes even in public.  If you know me, you know that really isn't a huge feat.  Or huge in any sense of the word.  But I am more comfortable in the skin I own, knowing I don't have to put anything on to be loved.  In the case of my beau, that's true figuratively or literally.

129/365 - Garden glory

I was barefoot and had dirt under my fingers for a good long while tonight.  It was glorious!

128/365 - A moral responsibility to freedom

Though the politician and the priest

Live in the belly of the beast because we fed it

Freedom is seldom found

By beating someone to the ground

~Amos Lee, from Freedom

Listening to this song today, though it was obviously written under different pretexts, made me think more deeply about the war now being fought in the political arena and media about same-sex marriage.  I couldn't help but shake my head at how vehemently opposed some people are to the notion, but then I had to remind myself that I was once someone who had a different mindset about homosexuality when I was younger.  If I look back on that time, I can remember trying to reconcile what I had been taught to believe with my interactions with real people engaging in real relationships.

It's so easy to point a finger when it makes you feel you have a right to be righteous, when it confirms the morals and rules you have adopted within your belief system.  It's much more difficult to evaluate the moral responsibility you have to be in right relationship with your fellow human beings, regardless of what you each believe.  Where do you think freedom is found?

127/365 - Never settle

Never settle.  When you take a chance on love, you might just find someone who will get up and dance with you.

126/365 - My old porch

Porch sitting is one of my favorite warm weather pastimes.  It's been a bit cool early in the mornings and later in the evenings lately, but it's still pleasant enough to sit and enjoy the fresh air and birds and other creatures chattering outside.  After four years in this house, I never thought I would like living "out in the country" nearly as much as I do.  

My beau recently asked me what made me choose this place when I was looking for a home.  The truth is, I almost didn't follow-up when I first saw the ad, because it was "so far out of town" and right next to a railroad track.  Despite the threat of rednecks and midnight train whistles, I ultimately figured the rental price at least deserved a drive-by.  

I knew as soon as I pulled in the driveway that this old farmhouse was where I needed to call home.  The house, with its 100-year old imperfections and equally aged charm, seemed in that moment to be as warm and inviting as a grandmother's warm, cozy lap....a safe place to be comforted, a place to return to time and again for peace and healing.  For whatever reason, sitting on this old porch is where I still find it the most.

125/365 - out of sorts

Could be crème brûlée withdrawal
Or glitter between my toes,
Weatherman bloopers on YouTube
And texts from last night...
What is it really that's keeping me
From going to bed
Tonight?

124/365 - Favorite dessert now available in the comfort of home

 crème de la crème brûlée

More eggs or more cream?

Avoid mixing with Apples nearby.

Which ingredient is MOST important here?

Bathed in glory from above and water below.

Chill for the length of one movie and two episodes of Achmed the Dead Terrorist.

The Torch that will change our lives forever.

La Dolce Vita, Schmadolce Vita

123/365 - Mindful mindlessness

Yesterday was a gloriously restorative day.  I think more time was spent in bed than not.  For the first time in months, I didn't feel any obligation to do anything other than rest.  My beau said it was an opportunity to engage in mindful mindlessness.  That must be why I forgot to write.

122/365 - Going downhill fast

I first visited northern Michigan with a few colleagues shortly after finishing my graduate studies.  One sunny afternoon, three of us decided to go for a hike.  The trail wound up and around a wooded hillside and eventually opened up along the top of a large sand dune.  Down below and as far as the eye could see was beautiful Lake Michigan, sparkling blue in the sunshine, with a lovely beach trailing along the bottom of the sandy dune.

After gazing for a long while at the glory before us, we decided to trek down the dune to the beach instead of continuing along the wooded trail - oblivious to the posted warning signs about the steepness of the dune.  About halfway down, with equal oblivion and an obvious disrespect for the force of gravity, we all began running.  Yes, running.  Downhill.

About two steps into this run, I knew it was a bad idea.  About a step after that, I realized I couldn't stop.  Laughing hysterically (hysterically in the truest sense of the word) I had no choice but to be propelled down the side of the dune, completely out of control.  To this day, what happened after that is still a blur of sand and frantic screams.  My two friends, god only knows how, managed to stay on their feet all the way down.  Both of them, with a fair amount of glee, later recounted seeing me cartwheel less than gracefully down the side of the dune.  All I remember is sand flying everywhere and the world spinning for a good long while after my sorry ass landed on the beach.

This story is the perfect analogy for the month of April just past, with the exception of my colleagues laughing at me.  Frankly, I think we're all going to be reeling and digging sand out of our ears for a good long while.

121/365 - Love is.... (I stopped counting)

...hauling away an old desk in the rain.

...xo all day long.

...an unexpected care package.

...spinach with a side of eggs.

...gentle reframing.

...not what I used to know before.

120/365 - Homage to 4' 33"

             









(not nearly as effective in literary form)