September 30: The Little Things

Aria crawled into bed with me around 2 a.m. last night. 

She managed to take every last scrap of blanket and twine it around her body as though she were a fork and the blankets were spaghetti.

I woke up an hour or so later shivering and slightly annoyed. Then I rolled over and saw my little girl sprawled out in her mess of blankets, mouth wide open, sonorous snores soaring. 

And my heart melted, 

We think of falling in love as something that happens once. Like you fall. Boom. You are there. In love.

I find myself falling time and again, over and over, in love with this child.

You can read blogs, books, palms, tea leaves that tell you about unconditional love.That try to explain it. Make it tangible.

Or you can lay in bed at 4 a.m. shivering with a huge smile plastered on your face looking at your spaghetti noodle child. Choosing to feel the love rather than delve back into the sleep.

It's the little things.

Billy Bragg - Way Over Yonder in a Minor Key

September 27: Is You Is

The highway is full big cars going nowhere fast
And folks is smoking anything that'll burn
Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass...
And you sit wondering
where you're going to turn.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.

Some prophets say world is gonna end tomorrow
But others say we've got a week or two
The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror
And you sit wondering
what you're gonna do.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.

- Maya Angelou

Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby - Louis Jordan

September 22: Soccer Sunday

Autumn brings soccer. Every Sunday afternoon I have occasion to sit in a chair, sip a warm beverage and cheer on my heart's song.

As the weather changes and the leaves follow suit, I can think of no place I'd rather spend my afternoon.

Today's treats were Helen's delicious cookies, by the by. They come from a cookbook put together by McGregor's Historical Society. All recipes were submitted by McGregor residents. My aunt Alice submitted this one which is a shortening cookie with rice krispies, coconut and oatmeal (we throw in chocolate chips). They were a hit.

I hope your Sunday brought bliss also.

Patty Griffin - Ohio

September 20: The Dishwasher Saga

My dishwasher became clogged some months ago. The water wouldn't drain properly. It took me two failed cycles to finally acquiesce to washing the dishes by hand and draining out the bottom of the washer. It was a nasty task.

Because I'm a family of two and have a bevy of other places to spend my money, it felt indulgent beyond measure to have the dishwasher fixed.

It certainly is amazing how many dishes two gals can dirty in a given day. Boy howdy.

So after a few months of procrastination, I finally broke down and called a plumber to come and clear the drain.

It wasn't the drain that was clogged, the plumber informed me. It was the dishwasher itself that was broken. I might add that the plumber lacked in sparkling wit, and was accompanied by a mentee who lacked all social skills entirely. It was a dicey visit for me - one where I wish there were a rental service for fake husbands. I could have used back-up.

Fair enough. The drain is clear. The washer's broken. Boo and hiss to lose out on $100 to be told this but ok. Fine. 

Thanks for stopping. Please leave the premises without visiting my underwear drawer.

So I call an appliance fixer upper company. The appliance guy comes. He's downright congenial in comparison to my plumber. He confirms indeed the pump on the washer is broken, but it would take $300 to fix it and honestly I should just go buy a new washer. That will be, you guessed it, $100 please.

That visit hurt a bit. I won't lie. I'm $200 into nothing now.

But I'm not stopping. Now I deserve a new appliance. I can't spend $200 on nothing. It's a fact finding mission that must end in victory. 

A new dishwasher will be more efficient than this old one anyway. And it'll be brand spanking new. Gosh, I love plugging my money into the economy. Investing in shoes. And lovely wine. And fine dining on occasion.

Not on dishwashers.

But now I'm $200 into this and it's like a vendetta. So I go dishwasher shopping. Online. Because I'm like that.

I got a dishwasher. A Whirlpool, which sounds dishwasher-esque.  And was ranked well online. And boy did the customers who comment online like this guy. 

The day comes. I'm giddy. I sit at home with baited breath in my 4 hour delivery time slot. The dishwasher is delivered. The delivery man is friendly. All signs look good for installation.

Guess what?

The connection point requires a 3/8" connection. 

Mine is 1/2". No dice, lady. 

Buh-bye new dishwasher. Buh-bye nice delivery guy.

Hello again, plumber. $150 gets me a 3/8" connection point. And a female plumber this time, which I loved. We talked kids and work and life and how neither of us ended up where we thought we would. She was such a treat. 

Friday my new dishwasher came back for another installation attempt.

Victory!

1916 Craftsman: 27
Andrea: 1

Stevie Wonder - Isn't She Lovely

September 19: Balance

I had three random thoughts on the drive into work today:

1) NPR is my typical station as I drive in to catch up on current events. It's become hard to listen to the news as the focus is on ISIS. It makes me question the beauty of our world and of people's hearts.

2) HOW can a world that offers up this beauty on a mere drive into work be filled with so much hatred?

3) I went to a prairie awakening event recently hosted by Iowa's First Peoples. One of the tribal elders spoke of the imbalance in our world. That if men were Sky and women were Earth, that we've spent lifetimes keeping our feet off the ground and that we need to call back into balance our world. That so many of the troubles we witness are spawned by this imbalance.

All three thoughts came to me in an instant. All seemed random and yet I think they all connect.

Balance. I pray for balance.

Cat Stevens - Wild World

September 15: Sick Girl

Aria was home today with a fever and cough. 

They tell you that you'll love your child more than you could ever imagine.

They were right.

Sarah McLachlan - Angel

September 14: Autumn Approaches

Our weekend was spent on the soccer field. We've all heard how critical team sports are to our children's growth. It's really quite special to witness it in action. 

And bust out my soccer mom recipes again. Oh how I adore cooking for a crowd.

There was this stunning Monarch flitting on and off the field yesterday. I chased him into some tall grass and he lost me. But I caught a great shot (not of a butterfly) anyway.

Crisp blue autumn skies. I hope your weekend boasted spectacular views and memories also.

Ryan Adams - Let Go

September 11: Remember

Scottish Bagpipes - Amazing Grace

September 7: Gnocchi Love

Let's talk food, can we? I stuffed an entire chicken in my crock pot today so that I could make chicken broth and shred the chicken for various uses throughout the busy work week. I do this often.

My first use of the chicken was a fabulous soup. I made a roux, mixed in celery, carrots and onion and let them sweat. Then added my chicken broth and some fresh herbs from the garden, letting them meld together for a bit over a low simmer.

I added milk and let everything thicken up, and then tossed in some of the chicken.

Here's my twist. I was going to make dumplings. I enjoy a good dumpling. But I found some mini gnocchi at World Market a few weeks ago. 

I love gnocchi. One of my very favorite dishes is a gnocchi and cheese recipe (kind of like mac n cheese but way, way better with fontina and gruyere and a spoonful of honey Dijon). I adore sweet potato gnocchi with olive oil, fresh rosemary and a smattering of Parmesan. Gnocchi with a fresh tomato sauce. Gnocchi.

I. Love. Gnocchi.

This soup was not earth shattering. But it was close.

Sometimes comfort comes in a bowl.

Ray LaMontagne - Three More Days

September 5: Evolution of Language

Aria asked me what twerking was. I replied that I had no idea, and I truly don’t. And not only that, but I have no interest to learn what it is. Zero. Zip. Zilch.

It got me thinking about all the new words being added to the dictionary. Here are a smattering of newly recognized words from 2013:

• apols, pl. n. (informal): apologies.

• BYOD, n.: abbreviation of ‘bring your own device’: the practice of allowing the employees of an organization to use their own computers, smartphones, or other devices for work purposes.

• derp, exclam. & n. (informal): (used as a substitute for) speech regarded as meaningless or stupid, or to comment on a foolish or stupid action.’

• food baby, n.: a protruding stomach caused by eating a large quantity of food and supposedly resembling that of a woman in the early stages of pregnancy.

• grats, pl. n. (informal): congratulations. • guac, n.: guacamole

• jorts, pl. n.: denim shorts.

• twerk, v.: dance to popular music in a sexually provocative manner involving thrusting hip movements and a low, squatting stance.

• vom, v. & n. (informal): (be) sick; vomit.

Sadly, I now know what twerking is, and I still don’t care. Do you sense a theme in the above list? We are evolving into a lazy, abbreviating, sex-obsessed populace.

I was reflecting on how beautiful language used to be. Speeches were awe-inspiring when given by leaders. The Gettysburg Address was incredibly short, delivered in just over two minutes in 1863 and yet we all know, “Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.” which was Lincoln’s reference to the Declaration of Independence. He didn’t just say “So in 1773…”.

Movies had vernacular that required contemplation. Watch A Philadelphia Story. Fall in love with Katherine Hepburn. It’s ok – she’s worth the fall. Please note the men aren’t self-effacing fools either. Cary and Jimmy both hold their own against her.

Songs had long, slow, musical introductions that lasted minutes before a word was sung. Louis Armstrong playing the trumpet. Me not caring a wink if singing would happen or if the jazz would just continue to drip from my finger tips. When the words came, they embodied romance. Heart thumping - wow you see into the deep dark chocolate corners of my soul and know just what I need - romance.

We used our words. We used them well. Words had value. Words were prized.

If I could add words to the dictionary, they would be words of love. “Love” is such an overused term, and it has so many meanings, the value is lost in the frequent flyer miles it receives.

The ancient Greeks had four to six words for love, depending whom you ask.

Eros: Sexual passion.

Philia: Friendship.

Ludus: Playful love.

Agape: Love for everyone.

Pragma: Longstanding love.

Philautia: Love of self.

For me, love has been spiritual, practical, physical, sexual, maternal, intellectual, emotional, primal, unrequited, enduring, unconditional, brief, adoring, my everything.

And yet we have this one little four-lettered word to express that which I believe is at the center of it all. Our reason for being.

What feelings, experiences, beliefs can you not fully express because your language inhibits you? What word would please you as it rolled from your tongue across your lips? 

Surely we aren’t complete as a society now that “twerking” is here to stay?  

OMG.

Louis Armstrong - La Vie En Rose

September 4: TBT

There was a little girl,

            Who had a little curl,

Right in the middle of her forehead.

            When she was good,

            She was very good indeed,

But when she was bad she was horrid.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Better Than Ezra - Desperately Wanting

September 3: Volleyball Season

Everyone at work is in a tizzy about it being football season. When autumn begins to dip her toe into our lives, I don't think of football. 

I welcome the crisp air that breeds impossibly blue skies with the kind of white puffy clouds that certainly inspired cotton candy.

I dream of visiting the apple orchards and the plethora of fun activities they include (corn pool, bouncy pillow, kittens in the barn to be nestled, and oodles of caramel apples and ice cream). 

My eyes seek the harmony of the changing leaves as the trees begin harboring their strength inward to withstand the winter. The squirrels become plush and feisty. The chrysanthemums until now taking up useless green space in my garden bloom their promise. The earth smells...dark and mysterious.

My greatest childhood thrill from autumn was volleyball season. I dreaded the start of the school year, but it was almost ok. Almost. Because we got to play volleyball. 

There has been no other activity in life where I would work my body so hard that a flight of stairs felt insurmountable and yet I begged for more. Every season my forearms would be black and blue (I'm an easy bruiser) as I conditioned them for play  My right inner knee had a massive bruise (I never figured out that turning my knee pad inward might have saved me that pain). My ankles had to be wrapped from all the twists I sustained.

It was glorious. Simply glorious. This photo was in our local paper. It was on the eve of my last volleyball game in high school (taken with the other seniors). That's me on the left. One of these girls died from cancer. One just had a baby. Life is a flipped coin. I'd hug them all again, if I could.

I didn't play in college. I cannot express to you how much I wish that I would have given it a try. I have few regrets. This is something I deeply regret. I didn't know then that events that caused bone deep joy weren't to be taken for granted. In youth, bliss seems to be on tap. The concept of dwindling doesn't come into play until later in life, and it sneaks in like a thief when we aren't looking. 

I haven't played a real volleyball game since the 90's. If it's possible for ears to miss the sound of sneakers squeaking on a gym floor, mine certainly do. Standing on the serving line, holding the ball and targeting the other team's weakest receiver. Feeling anticipation, anxiety, and team with every breath. Tossing the ball into the air and letting muscle memory guide your hand to thwack it with enthusiasm. Being a part of something that brought pride, work ethic, dedication, and enthusiasm. 

A new era has begun in my home. Aria has the opportunity to take a 5th and 6th grade volleyball clinic in town. It's led by the volleyball coach where she'll attend high school. He's an excellent coach and brings in players from freshman through senior to help the girls teach their own muscles the moves necessary to play the game.

I sat in the bleachers watching the first practice with a smile on my face for an hour and a half. 

This song was a part of our warm-up every day. It brings my heart joy.

U2 - Desire

September 2: Wordsworth

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,

To me the meanest flower that blows can give

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

- William Wordsworth

Eddie Vedder - You've Got To Hide Your Love Away