June 24: Treasures

I was sitting in a meeting today with a woman who had tiny, kinetic hands that she used emphatically while talking. Without rhyme or reason, those hands brought me remembrances of a friend. Jill is one of those people that I have seen a handful of times in a decade but whom I’ll always consider one of my dearest friends. I have so many things about her that I could praise. She has a brilliant mind and a sparkling wit that make her a delight to talk with for hours. She has a heart bigger than Texas and a giggle that takes years off my body and soul the moment it reaches my ears. She has a hug that is a seven course meal in comfort.

I would never have named Jill’s hands in the top 20 things I note and adore about her. But my heavens, this woman today in the meeting had Jill hands. Delicate little appendages that could rule the world with a mere pointed finger.

It got me thinking about how the smallest nuance in a person’s posture, or a turn of phrase, or even their mere features can trigger a memory at random. Can make me viscerally miss someone. Can bring to my present an emotion from my past.

For over a year after a break-up with a past love, I would seek his profile in every face that I gazed upon. My eyes would thirst for him. It was almost desperate how I'd scan the masses seeking just one face. I have no other way to explain it. My soul was starved for his presence. Withdrawal and mourning. 

We spend years cradling love for each other in our hearts - holding that image of him as the vision of what was. When it ended, we were supposed to go cold turkey. Cut off the emotions that had been created, nurtured and venerated for years. My heart didn't agree with this approach. I had to wean myself from it all. I lost the desire to find glimpses of him in others as time went on. Even today though, every now and again, in a certain line of the shoulders, or the flash of a brilliant toothy smile, I’ll see him. And my eyes drink in that curve. I drink deeply from it.

A dear friend had a saying, “Shut the light.” I have heard several Italians use this vernacular. It always brings me to a period in my life that was filled with warmth like I’ve never known. So does “freakin’” incidentally. New Jersey Italians…

I don’t know what it is within a person that can reserve the nooks and crannies of my heart. I only know that today, a pair of hands made me aware that there are absolutely places in my heart that seek a gesture, a line of the body, a turn of phrase. My heart is full of such treasures. My heart is full.

The Cranberries - Dream

June 23: Hummus

I was eating sugar snap peas with hummus for lunch today, and had this visceral flashback to my college days. 

My college love, Jalal, introduced me to an abundance of experiences. One of those was making hummus in his dorm room. We'd stop by an Arabic grocer in Cedar Rapids to buy our ingredients, and then using an old camping can opener, a fork and a small plate, we'd blend it all together sitting on the floor of his room.

Crushed chick peas, tahini, fresh lemon juice, garlic, a dash of paprika. We'd dip fresh pita in it and nosh until it was gone. It was so, so good. 

His roommate (half Swedish / half Japanese) would be eating kimchi (which holy cow did that stink) and Jalal would throw in a can of sardines just to round out the sensory overload.

I stuck with the hummus. I would have bathed in it. I still would.

We sat in a small circle and talked about religion, love, adventures with friends, travels, how to swear in every conceivable language. I learned new worlds in those discussions. I learned that differences never feel as large when shared while breaking pita. I learned love.

Simple foodie pleasures. Simple memories. The very best.

Everything But The Girl - Missing

June 21: Summer Solstice

Summer solstice! 

"If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance." -- Bern Williams

With the fireflies lilting about, no schedule to drive us to bed, and a sparkler or two to brighten the dark, I could not agree more. '

My, My Love - Joshua Radin

June 20: Those Eyes

He looks at me with those eyes.

Those eyes say, "You want to fail. Don't deny me."

Foster. Failure. 

It's inevitable.

Bill Withers - Use Me

June 19: Bonfire tonight

Buzz? Meet kill. I was getting water in the break area, and a co-worker I’ve known for ages came over to congratulate me. Thinking she was talking about my recent move to a new position, I thanked her. 

She then asked me when the baby was due.

(I am wearing a super poufed dress today – think empire waist dress - a la Gwenyth Paltrow in Emma but shorter length. I am burning this dress when I get home. Stop by to roast a marshmallow on the bonfire if you wish.)

Queen - Fat Bottomed Girls

June 18: Warmth

When is the last time you gave yourself the gift of dwelling in possibility?

I plan on serving myself a magnificent seven course meal of possibility tonight. 

Louis Armstrong - A Kiss To Build A Dream On

June 16: Gandhi versus Ghana

Aria plays youth soccer, so we were watching the World Cup this evening to see how "the pros" do it.

She kept chanting, "Go, Gandhi!". I asked her if she understood the United States was playing. She said, "Yes, but I feel like Gandhi is an underdog and also I have heard people quote them before and they seem really nice."

I asked her if she knew any Gandhi quotes off the top of her head. She spouts off, "You must be the change you want to see in the world" like it's rote. 

I'm impressed. I ask her where she learned that (thinking that teachers are vastly undervalued and underpaid as I did so).

"Either Dog With a Blog or from a Scooby episode, I guess."

I ask her if she knows that Gandhi was a man, and not a country. Nope. No clue.

Needless to say, we had geography, spiritual and soccer lessons tonight, folks.

The cliff notes:

• I think of Mahatma Gandhi as the Indian version of Martin Luther King, Jr. Born into a Hindu merchant caste family, he led Indian nationalism, inspiring civil rights and freedom around the world. In other words, he was the man. Not a country. The man.
• Ghana is a country on the West Coast of Africa. It is democratic and situated right in the midst of other striving nations. Thus it's often termed, "the island of peace" though it is no island. Ghana holds a special place in my heart because they are farmers. Sexy farmers at that. They harvest cocoa. Loads of it.
• The World Cup: Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) was founded in Paris in 1904. The idea was simply that for the love of the game, a federation should be formed so that it could formally be played. Football (that's soccer, American friends) hit the Olympics. It was wildly popular. FIFA wanted to capitalize on that popularity and create their own tournament. The first FIFA World Cup was held in Montevideo, Uruguay in July 1930. 

Oh, and the US beat Gandhi...I mean Ghana tonight. Woot!

U2 - Desire

June 15: Father's Day

Thank you, good daddies, for the crucial role you play, and the role models you are for those without good daddies. You affirm my faith. 

Happy Father’s Day to my own dad. My parents divorced not so very long after this photo was taken. 

I didn’t live with my dad again. It’s incredibly bittersweet to look upon the little girl I was. I didn't smile that way again (from the heart) until I was much older. 

I had bone deep love for this man. He lit up my heart when he’d come home from work, singing Elvis and dancing us girls around the house. He made me feel special just because he loved me.

If you ever question your impact on a child, I can only say that tangible remembrance of the love that little girl is feeling has stayed with me in my heart all these years. 

You make a difference. Trust me.

He’s Grandpa Mustache now, and Aria tells me she thinks she gets her sense of humor from him. I think she might be right. He’s a good one.

Tony Bennett - The Way You Look Tonight

June 13: Trombones

I saw this photo tonight on my Facebook feed. 

It made me giggle!

My sister, Laura, played the trombone growing up. I was a flutist. 

I have to tell you that playing the flute is awful at times like pep band, marching band, etc. You feel very superfluous. What I wouldn't have given to play brass...

Toting a flute back and forth to school, however, was much easier than toting the trombone. 

My sister used to talk me into hauling her trombone home from our K-12 school. We lived about 3 blocks away. It stretched for miles to my young eyes.

One lovely winter day, I discovered that her trombone made the perfect sled.

I rode that thing like Shaun White on a snowboard. OK, minus the backside rodeo.

I remember my mom scolding my sister for how beat up the case had become. I remember my sister being someone mystified about its condition. I also remember no guilt.... Ah youth.

Stay With Me Baby - Terry Reid

June 12: Michael

The playlist needed a little Michael, I thought.

This is the only man who could repeatedly grab his crotch while dancing and still win parent approval. His moonwalk was the most (would be) imitated move of my youth. An absolute innovator.

Michael Jackson - The Way You Make Me Feel

June 10: Poem Love

At Quarter to Five

by Angela Janda

I was feeling lonely so
I went outside to the wind
swept yard and beyond
that to the wind-tousled outer
yard and found where last
night in the moonlight we left
two sets of boot prints, when
you stopped on your way
through the darkness to bring a
lemon bar and a movie, and
beside ours the tracks of the
smallest thing with claws, which
must have followed sometime
later. And I chased its tiny prints
and our mud-wash indents to
the far back gate and through
the gate out to where the
land is still dirt and brush
and bushes and cow
pies, my hair pinned
to my head but still blowing,
blowing, and finally a hard
breath, and I could see
through lonely to the wide
open, long blue lines of sunset,
moonlit night, the airplanes
trailing one another
down to tarmac, all those
people landing home.

Indigo Girls - Language or the Kiss

June 9: Cole

Happy birthday, Cole Porter! 

Voted "Most Entertaining Man" at Yale, he went on to law school at Harvard before leaving it all behind to pursue his true passion: music. 

He lost use of his legs in a horseback riding accident in '37, but managed to produce his very best in the 40's and 50's. 

I have a soft spot for this guy. And yes, I'm proudly a musical geek.

Some of Cole's songs include Let's Do It (Let's Fall in Love), Anything Goes, I Get a Kick Out of You, Every Time We Say Goodbye, You're The Top, and this little ditty which I adore:

Ella Fitzgerald - I've Got You Under My Skin

June 8: Foster Parent

A year ago, we brought Naomi into our lives as a foster cat. We promptly failed at fostering her, and adopted her. She makes me proclaim daily that life with a tuxedo cat is simply better.

I get periodic updates from ARL about cats needing foster homes. We always take a moment to look at them all. We always sigh and reflect on if we have room for a kitty and the time to invest in ensuring it's well loved and ready for a forever family.

This summer, we decided to once again open our home to a foster kitty. After all, everyone deserves a safe, loving home. Cats are no exception. I have a home office with room for a cat bed and litter box. Inevitable we'd host a kitty once we figured out the logistics. We are big on the underdog around here.

The bulletin came out. We perused. There he was. Our foster kitty. Like America's Most Wanted on a sheet of cast-off cats who hated shelter living and needed a home to make them believe people were a good idea again.

ARL called him Tony, but Aria has dubbed him Toby.

Toby had his neutering surgery the day we picked him up. He spent the first day and night hiding behind the desk, feeling groggy and probably just a little upset with life. I only had glimpses of this tail. How cute is this tail? (Ignore the litter all over – Toby had a hey day in the box upon entering the room - we've worked out those kinks mostly).

 Then came peek-a-boo. 

Aria made a blanket fort and slept with him so he'd get used to her voice and smell. She whispered to him that he didn't know it yet, but he'd love her. He took exploratory trips from behind the desk, but still held back. He'd hide, purring gloriously from the corner. The tease.

Day 2: Aria decided what he needed was a good dose of cat nip. Gosh, was she right.

He's like that quiet guy you work with who hasn't uttered a word other than a mumbled, "Good morning" if he cannot avoid you in the halls. You take that guy, place a beer in his hand and suddenly, he's a one man song and dance act ready for the road. From 0-60 with nary a sip necessary. The placebo effect. That's Toby on catnip.

One taste of cosmic catnip (I kind of wonder what they put in that stuff and if I should try it - in brownies perhaps?), and he's everybody's cat. He loves you, and you, and you, and you and you. (I so just pictured the Von Trapp children singing - did you hear it also it? So long, farewell...). 

He purrs like he's a fine sports car. He wants to snuggle. All. The. Time. Rubs against your legs begging to be petted. With both hands.

We’re totally going to fail at fostering again…. And I'm not even a tiny little bit concerned I might becoming the crazy cat lady who is single and covered in cat hair. Not even a teeny tiny bit. 

As Aria so lovingly pointed out, "We are bringing a boy into the house, mama. That's huge." Yes, yes it is.

Edie Carey - Chemistry

June 6: The Power of Reading

I stumbled upon this story from NPR today. It makes my heart smile!

The Muscle-Flexing, Mind-Blowing Book Girls Will Inherit the Earth

My very favorite part of the day is story time. Every night Aria and I snuggle in my bed to read stories. She rests her head on my shoulder and I wrap my arm around her to hold the book, and we immerse ourselves in the words. We have done this since she was a baby when she had no idea what the words I was reading meant – only that my voice was soothing.

It is a sacred time to me. No electronics. No phones. No outside interference. We create a bliss-filled bubble in my bed where we focus on an unfolding saga. On being transported from our humble surroundings in Iowa to far away times and places. Favorites have been everything from Beatrix Potter’s tales to the Harry Potter series (which we read twice in a row – seriously – all 7 books and then repeated all 7 books).

There was a solid year when she was around 3 that we rarely read a book, but rather made them up. I’d start off with “Once upon a time” and we’d tag team the stories. How I wish I had thought to record them. Her imagination was boundless.

Aria loves reading. She can pick up a book and lose herself in it for hours at a time. She comes by this naturally. Her Gigi (great grandma) is a voracious reader, and it carries down through the generations.

With the school year ending, we got back a plethora of notebooks, papers and various pencil cases and used erasers. Her Iowa Tests of Basic Skills assessment came back also. It tells me that Aria’s reading skills (comprehension, vocab, linguistic skills, etc) are equivalent to a 12.6 grade level. I had to look it up to be sure I understood. She reads like a senior who just graduated high school. This just wowed me.

Her Math and Science scores were also off the charts, but the reading scores were the highest area. We do math work and lots of earth/science in our daily bread. We study rocks, do constant experiments, and even make baking into science class. I teach her to learn that art is something in our daily bread and not just in museums. I also want her to know science is everywhere. Math matters. I have her help count change at the grocer, or give her $10 and tell her to buy all the cat toys she can to donate to the local ARL. It's amazing how savvy she becomes quickly. I want learning to be a fun thing for her. I pray she has a life of it and never stops learning.

But mostly? Consistently? Every single day? The learning we commit to most? We read. We read and read. And then we reflect upon what we’ve read. We talk about what someone was thinking. What motivated them. What happened after the story ended. Who should play the heroine in the screen play. If we should write the screen play. We revel in the magic of the written word.

I am delighted to see that our passion for books is translating to success in school. I wish every child the joy of bedtime stories.

 Alicia Keys - Girl On Fire

June 5: Dwell in Possibility

Possibilities

by Linda Pastan

Today I drove past a house
we almost bought and heard
through the open window music

made by some other family.
We don't make music ourselves, in fact
we define our differences

by what we listen to.
And what we mean by family
has changed since then

as we grew larger then smaller again
in ways we knew would happen
and yet didn't expect.

Each choice is a winnowing,
and sometimes at night I hear
all the possibilities creak open

and shut like screendoors
in the wind,
making an almost musical

accompaniment
to what I know
of love and history.

Ryan Adams - When the Stars Go Blue

June 4: Gotta Get Up

School ended for Aria Monday at noon. 

My stars I want a summer like my daughter experiences. No need to work. No bills to pay. No concern over where food will come from - it appears magically at least 3 times per day. Carefree living. 

A girl can dream.

This song fit today. 

Jill Scott - Gotta Get Up (Another Day)

June 2: A Celebration of Charlie Watts

Charlie Watts, for those of you who perhaps aren't music geeks, is the drummer for The Rolling Stones. Today is his 73rd birthday!

Charlie is by far the least flamboyant of the Stones. He is a reluctant rocker. He prefers jazz to rock. He's been married for nearly 50 years. He battled throat cancer and survived. He's not your typical rock and roll star.

He's also a drumming legend. Meat and potatoes for drummers. A true rock god.

Once upon a time, I dated a drummer. I shared this story with him before a gig. I think it suits Charlie also. 

there came a moment in the middle of the song when he suddenly felt every heartbeat in the room & after that he never forgot he was part of something much bigger - Brian Andreas

The Rolling Stones - Emotional Rescue

June 1: Poetry Love

The Last Things I'll Remember

by Joyce Sutphen

The partly open hay barn door, white frame around the darkness,
the broken board, small enough for a child
to slip through.

Walking in the cornfields in late July, green tassels overhead,
the slap of flat leaves as we pass, silent
and invisible from any road.

Hollyhocks leaning against the stucco house, peonies heavy
as fruit, drooping their deep heads
on the dog house roof.

Lilac bushes between the lawn and the woods,
a tractor shifting from one gear into
the next, the throttle opened,

the smell of cut hay, rain coming across the river,
the drone of the hammer mill,
milk machines at dawn.

The Black Crowes - She Talks to Angels

May 31: Funeral Reflection

I rarely have the opportunity to see extended family. Today found me at the funeral of my uncle Rich in McGregor. He was a large man with a big personality and an infectious smile. He had these hands that I would have trusted to cradle our world – they were the definition of capable. I was sitting behind his wife, two sons, one daughter and all of their children today witnessing a legacy build upon love. It was humbling. Aria and I ended our night with wonderful friends back in Des Moines.

As I unwind from my day, the pervasive thought in my head is that I have been blessed with such magnificent souls in my world. There’s a lot of noise, duty and general busyness involved in living this life – sometimes it can be hard to witness the true glory of it all. Today brought it forth it Technicolor.

Jack Johnson had it right, "Love is the answer, at least for most of the questions in my heart."

The Avett Brothers - Part From Me