Mama Love

When all is said and done, I really love my mom.  For instance, earlier this week she suggested we sit down together and have a stiff drink.  Today we got to talk again when I went over there (for yet another Skype adventure).  But we got to talk for a while, just the two of us, no kids, no other family members.  It was so nice-- like when we used to talk and walk in the park almost every day.  When it felt like she was one of my best friends on the planet.  It's crazy that just having bad knees could change so much in areas that seem unrelated.  But that one on one time was critical to our relationship.  Anyway, just having a taste of that again today was comforting to both of us.  She pointed her cane at me, tears in her eyes, and said, "I've really missed this, you know."  And I love that today I could tell she really understood me and where I was and how I felt.  Gosh it feels good to be understood by someone you love.  It's the only way, really, to feel fully loved by them I think.  Or anyway, it's a huge part of it.  Can you be loved and love someone who you don't think understands you?  I don't know.  But my gut says not fully.  Not that river-deep and stable love.

And as I was leaving, she said "Don't fall and kill yourself on that ice out there.... or else we won't be able to have breakfast tomorrow."

     "Nonsense," says I, "Of course you can have breakfast tomorrow.  You shouldn't cancel that just because I'm dead.  You guys need to eat."

     "But we wouldn't want to have breakfast."

     "No no no, mom, that's silly.  You eat breakfast anyway.... Unless you leave my body out there in the driveway.  Then I could understand cancelling breakfast."

And we have these kinds of conversations after the heartfelt and carry on like they're perfectly legit and reasonable.  Gosh I love it.  And I love how we in my family can't have a single serious moment without some kind of comic relief shortly thereafter.  We follow the build and release of a Shakespeare play.  Which makes perfect sense.  Love it.

What to Make of it

I don't know what to make of a lot that's swimming through me these days.  Not a fan of that feeling.  So instead of writing about that personal stuff, let's talk about Hozier.  Yeah, I know.  He's hyped and image conscious and moody and strikes me as a bit of a d-bag (but maybe I'm wrong).  But some of that music... wow.  Here's the thing that bugs me-- the ideas in his songs are generally not consistent and unified.  It's too bad, because he's got some really good lines.  For instance, this song begins by talking about not liking crowds or the rape culture.  Okay, got it.  Then we get some love poetry mixed in.  So either this is metaphorical social commentary that has gone over my head OR it's just kind of a jumble.  Based on how this happens in other songs of his too, I tend to go with the latter.

But look at some of these bits and pieces.  You have to admit they're kinda nice:

When you're near me

Honey, when you kill the lights

And kiss my eyes

I feel like a person for a moment of my life

It feels good, girl, it feels good 

Oh to be alone with you

There are questions I can't ask

Now at last

The worst is over

See the way you hold yourself

Reel against

Your body's borders

I know that you hate this place

Not a trace

Of me would argue

Honey, we should run away

Oh someday

Ah, and then there's that bit about "It's the god that heroin prays to" which is kind of catchy, I guess.  But again, in the context of the song, it just fits in a sort of cattywumpus way.  

I do like "reel against your body's borders" because that's a feeling I can relate to and I think he put it well.  

But the sound of this one is much more to my liking.  More soul, I guess.  "So full of love I could barely eat."  Then later in the same verse, "'Cause my baby's sweet as can be/ She give me toothaches just from kissin' me."  The contrast between being unable to eat, but then being in pain from indulging in the sweetness of his baby is pretty cool.  I like the clever play on sustenance it suggests.  Though, if you want to be hyper-critical about it, I guess you could argue that her sweetness isn't fully nourishing or satisfying since it's giving him toothaches.  Eh, but let's not go there.  Just enjoy the music.  And I like this verse, despite the borderline heretical part: 

My baby never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the lowland plot I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

In a selfish way, I like that the song is comfortable for me to sing along (ahem, loudly) with.  Speaking of which, every year when Showboat rolls around, I think maybe it'll be the year I actually do it.  When I was just relistening to this song, my brain was all like "heyyyyyy girl, you could sing this!"  But the vibe of that show doesn't go with me and my music.  I dunno.  I do want to do it, but I don't think I have the chops for it.  Maybe I'll stick to singing along with the music in bars and belting out cowboy songs at home or playing with harmonies when I drive around.  Sigh... Someday. 

And I know that the fact that I said that makes me a hypocrite.

November 14, 2017 is a Tuesday.  Fun fact.   

Brain-ish

I just said, "My tired hurts."

Stay tuned for a riveting (mediocre) story (more of a vignette) about explaining life (lying) to children (Jones).

Balance

As usual, life is a flurry of upheavals, confusions, joys, frustrations, sadness, bliss, struggles and settlings-in, but this past week has been one of the flurriest.  A blizzard, even.  So it's important to find some balance among it all.  And of course, breathe and have faith that the confusions will be answered, the achings will be relieved, and all else resolved into a happily ever after.  It's been an exercise in cultivating calm and having faith.  So there is always that for which to be grateful.  We must exercise everything good in us so it remains strong and good.

Barrel of confusion (Formerly used to age bourbon.  Connection?)

Today I went to my first Balance and Brews event at The Butcher and the Brewer.  It was the meatiest-smelling place I've ever done down-dog.  I liked the architecture and layout of the place.  And the staircase, but I'm usually a fan of staircases (except scary ones in churches in Germany).

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It was an all-levels class, which often err on the side of overly simple, but this was a pretty good balance of ease and challenge for what I needed today.  I could have pushed myself a little harder with modifications... but it's a Saturday and this has been a crazy week.  One of the highlights was that Melissa played "Sure Shot" by the Beastie Boys.  I was just talking about my thing with the jazz flute yesterday and specifically referenced this song!  Remember that?!  Awesome.  So I was dancin' in my down dog.  After a nice hour-long practice surrounded by busily working yeast, we blissed out in savasana.

Fancy pants and fermentation.

Then we got a brewery tour and got to taste some berrrrrrs.  Going with Cassie made it even cooler because she and Joe know the brewing process so well-- and they're good at it!  I enjoyed getting her take on what we tasted and hearing what she thought about how much more time each one needed before it was done.  And I wanted to raise my hand and ask more questions about what, exactly, they do to the yeast to get it to survive for ten to fifteen generations because that's pretty fascinating.  To me.  So out of mercy for everyone else there who just wanted to get their drink on, I kept my trap shut.  But if I'm there again and it's not busy, I fully intend to chat up the brewer.

Irish Red.  Very malty.

The Porter.  Very portly.

The other yogis were cool and seemed nice and down to earth.  Not too Ganeshy if you know what I mean.  And I saw that guy with the (I think) avacado-seed-sprouting tattoo and the kind eyes.  That tattoo was so familiar and I couldn't figure out where I saw him before.  It also bothered me that I wasn't 100% sure if it was an avacado, but I didn't get a chance to ask.  He was asking the owner questions.  Oh dangit... what if he was asking about yeast.  If I had just walked over I could have answered two burning questions at once!

Afterwards, Cassie, Megan and I enjoyed our "free" beers upstairs.  I ran into one of my other cousins and her husband-- always a nice surprise.  And apparently I was standing right next to the coach of the Cavs.  That's a sport-ball team, in case you didn't know.  It was a good, therapeutic adventure.  And weaving through crowded city sidewalks in the snow together with Cassie as we walked a few blocks to our cars... that was precious too.

So there's pain and there's worry.  My body still doesn't feel right-- these sudden racings of the heart and clammy chills, the aches that are worse today and make it hard to walk on one side... and to not know what is causing it... I mean, it's okay though.  It's okay because in humble warrior, I raised my hands high and bowed my head low and felt like I was worshiping at the feet of creation.  And in a bound side-angle, I felt like my legs were strong and my heart was open.  I'm grateful for the way my years in various forms of dance influence the way I practice yoga.  I observe my steadiness as I try for smooth and deliberate transitions and I let it reassure me.  If I can do it on the mat, I can do it in life.

There are so many moments to savor that are uncapturable.  The very vintage men's coat draped on the rail at the bottom of the stairs, the guy with the large birthday gift and a place to go in a hurry, the girl playing with her bare shoulder and getting frustrated that her date wasn't noticing its bareness, the snow on my cheeks, the people in love, the girl in flannel, all of it.  I just can't believe how full of beauty and life every moment is.  I can't fathom not being alive.  Just thinking about that makes me want to live differently.  Eyes more tuned to beauty.  Shake free of this conflict and hurt.  Gosh.   And then to think that God can see it all at once and that He is big enough to take it all in.  And that He created it, and us, and then gave us the ability to see even a fraction of the beauty of this life.  And thank goodness that's all we can see or, holy smokes, we'd be so overwhelmed we'd be stupified with goodness.  I really think so.  Because when I take time to just pay attention to the one little slice of life that's in front of me, I feel stupified with goodness.  Yeah.  Okay I'm getting listy with my writing and misty with my eyeballs, so here's one last picture and one bit o' brilliance.

I've got more rhymes than I've got grey hairs

And that's a lot because I've got my share

I've got a hole in my head and there's no one

To fix it

Got to straighten my thoughts, I'm thinking too

Much sick shit

Everyone just takes and takes, takes, takes,

Takes

I've got to step back, I've got to contemplate

I'm like Lee Perry, I'm very

On rock the microphone and then I'm gone

I'm like Vaughn Bode, I'm a cheech wizard

Never quitting, so won't you listen

Oh yes indeed, it's fun time

Cause you can't, you won't and you don't stop

Mca come and rock the sure shot

Intuition,

Something is wrong inside of me and I'm not sure what it is.  This could be the beginning of a long journey, but I have a lot of shoes so I think I'm ready. Stay tuned.

In other news, I'm looking for a file on my computer and can't find it, but I did find a bunch of scanned scrap book pages, which were very fun to look through.

I also found clear evidence that I was bound to be an amazing teacher.  Check out this out.  My very detailed and insightful notes from a faculty meeting my first year:

I can tell exactly how I was holding the felt tip pen when wrote these, too.  Haha.  

Post Party

I started this post last night but didn't finish it.  

You know it was a good party when

There is cake left and it is cake so good lookin' that it could drive one to make wild declarations or take hostages.

Your post-party tea says things like this to you.

You find graffiti from your dad around the house.

And today, Emilia impressed us with her reading skills by sounding out the graffiti and asking us what that word means.  Another proud moment.

Mother of the year?

My baby is chasing my older two children around the house with a pair of crafting scissors. They are not sharp, but the other two children are shrieking and running away from her as If they may be murdered.  I am doing nothing to stop them.

And here we are playing "turtles."  These are my babies just hatching.  

Also in parenting fun over the last week, we've had knock knock jokes galore.  Here are some of Nora's:

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Fish

Fish who?

Banana socks!

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Tag!

Tag who?

You're it!

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Tinkerbell poop.

(uproarious laughter)

I'm.... so proud.

Flashbacks

I was deleting a ton of old pictures today, and came across some pleasant memories in the out-of-order scramble from my two flip phones.  I'm so grateful for the ability to snap pictures almost any time so I can preserve so many moments.  And there is so much, still, that I can never capture.  Life is so beautiful!

Beautifying the rubbish cans.

The summer of Free Inspiration tins that I left all over the place, inspired by Dale.  I have a box full of empty tins that are ready to be filled and decorated and deposited when the weather comes 'round again!  Who's in for some inspiration making parties?

Cali

Lovely puddles on a day I took my AP class to the park to do a walking meditation.

Self explanatory.

From when I had long hairs-- I like how the natural highlights look.  

Jonah meets his first rambutan, because I felt obligated to introduce my kids to real Thai food when I could find it. 

Mints!  Long hair!

One of the most unreasonable requests I have ever EVER seen.

This picture we found of really excited kids with potatoes... which we gifted to my parents for their anniversary.  

A really disturbing statue.

My sport cards, Care Bears, and pager?!?

My epic grace resulted in tea on my dress on the way to Lucy's wedding.

I like this string's view kite shot.

Dad.  I love my dad. 

Me and Joe in the park.

Maternity leave glory days.

Emilia downtown for Ralph's graduation.

Our Easter pumpkin.

More victories of maternity leave-- mud jumping park adventures!

My little boy.

Emilia

And again a few weeks old.

Me and Em in Bangkok-- first night with a legit shower in two weeks!

Compassion incarnate, brought to you by Parma.

Home is where the stranglers live.

Nursing.

My only NFL game so far.  I was transfixed with this spider on this guy's hat.

And the sport game.  That was also very exciting.  And the yelling.  And the cold. 

Three giant metal letter that, according to Dar, were FREE, but that I did not steal.  Alas.

Concert makeup!

A proud day for my car.

One of a great many four leaf clover pictures

A fantastic place to hear an orchestra play, if you have to sneak around security at an Ivy League school, break into the backstage, leave notes in a bunch of instrument cases, and hide out behind the orchestra.   Very cool experience.

Jones gets a serenade. 

And his excellent newborn hair shortly after it started falling out.

Lots of pictures of picnics.  This one, with fresh flowers, on the hood of my car in the school parking lot.

I left some for someone else to find.

=)

Most human looking sheep ever.

Preggo belly, wine, cookin'.  Lots of these kinds of pictures, too.

Jellies!!!!

And lots of magic front porch pictures.

A cool graffito.

More picnics.

Walking with my girl.