I am reading a book called The Encyclopedia of Ordinary Life, a unique memoir by Amy Krouse Rosenthal. As one of her "B" entries she writes her thoughts on "Busy". She points out that when we are asked what we are doing as a child we always say "nothing" and then (I would say when we discover the false emotion of guilt) when asked, we suddenly switch to saying how busy we are. We are all so busy. yep. we truly are. But always? So. And why is it not ok to say that we are not?
It made me realize that I had done that here, on my blog, where I am usually so transparent. I implied in my last post that I was so busy that I didn't have the time to write in depth about all that happened on our two week road trip. Not so true. I was busy getting over a sore throat. I did a bunch of laundry (not exactly time-consuming now that we have machines). I was busy watching a movie, a really sad one - Incendiary- in the middle of the day, by myself (not something I ever do) one day this week when I was feeling blue.
I have also been busy making lists of things I want to be busy doing - buying a canner and canning, freezing, painting more walls, building a studio in our back yard and then dancing in it, adding more light to my kitchen, revisiting the book I wrote. I will do all of these things(probably not the studio). But not right now.
I am doing those things that are asked and needed of me by my children - taking them to baseball games and practice, playing all kinds of games with them, researching the Geo-Bee and Hindi (Jesse's newest interests). But, really, I'm not so busy.
SO, when I read about this confessional tag on Julie's blog - I was primed for it.
I am afraid that those long paragraphs you just read were not my ten confessions, just the intro. I haven't blogged in a while and am not feeling brief.
1. I think my children hung the moon and stars. This doesn't mean I don't think yours did too.
2. I bought myself a very cool shirt in NY, silky and off the shoulders and with skulls on it. A few days later, I left it in the hotel room in Virginia Beach. My confession is that I have rationalized this bozo move on my part by imagining that the cleaning lady who found my perfect shirt will wear it to a party and, because of its allure, will then meet the man of her dreams - a good man. That's the only way I can live with having done this. sigh.
3. When the hair dresser asked the kids yesterday if they may want short hair, I wished upon all that is holy to me that they would say yes. (They did. They love it.)
4. In my mind's eye, when I dance in my kitchen (or bathroom or hallway) I still have it. I have the legs and brilliance of Natalia Makarova (my favorite Russian dancer back in the day).
5. Some days, I ache that I can't find the perfect words to express a feeling. Other days, I'm happy if I can remember the name of everyone and everything I see.
6. I am not a great home maker. I cook. I clean. But I am not overly impressive in these areas. I admire those that are.
7. There is a certain mildewy smell that makes me happy. It brings me back to Camp Merrie-Wood overnight camp. I smelled it last night while leaning against a fence and I look forward to being there again.
8. I have a mail thing. I buy the gift and wrap the gift and make the card (and sometimes even make the gift) but I have a block about getting it into a mailer or box and then a bigger block about getting it the post office. It's ridiculous. I'm giving this up, right now! My niece Zoe turn two today and her gift is sitting on my dining room table. She lives in Australia. She'll be 2 1/2 by the time it gets there.
9. I have a phone thing. I won't pick up the phone to call you unless your house is burning down and I know that no one else sees this. But that won't be you as those neighbors whom I can see would not be reading my blog. They may be sitting on their porches staring our way (shudder) but not reading here - I hope. I do love talking to you when you call me. But I am better with e-mail.
10. I hate when I am long-winded. If you choose to do this tag, and I hope you do and tell me so, I hope that you are long-winded as well.
Showing posts with label confession. Show all posts
Showing posts with label confession. Show all posts
Friday, September 11, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Honest Scrap tag
Sarah passed along this Honest scap award - which does appeal to my need to confess all.
I am glad to have discovered Sarah's wonderful blog.
1. I cry during many movies (comedies too), during So You Think You Can Dance and even over commercials; even those on the radio. This is only since having children and especially when there is David Grey music or some other poignant soundtrack involved. I don't cry in my real life; sometimes with joy but not often.
2. I have been known to dance to the Leona Lewis song, Bleeding Love and even, a few years ago, to Roses are Red by Aqua when the kids were playing it. Dionne Warwick/Burt Bacharach-collaboration seventies pop songs get me singing passionately. I also like Regina Spektor, the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, the Weepies, Milton Nascimento... I have versatility.
3. I have a corn-syrup issue. Not that I won't drink an occasional Coke. But I do seriously resent those who created corn-syrup. I'm not so thrilled with the Wal Mart phenomenon either.
4. I can be a bad correspondent. I am getting way better since the advent of e-mail, blogging and facebook. Luckily, I have friends and family who invite us there or themselves here, or my children and I would be lacking in social interaction. Though, Gillen and Jesse would pick up the phone and call someone. Thankfully, they don't have my phone phobia.
5. A few Wednesdays ago, in the middle of a So You Think You Can Dance episode that had a disco number, while home alone, I ran into the bathroom (the only room with a mirror bigger than a tea tray) and danced full out for about ten minutes. My hips were doing figure eights, my arms were moving as fast as limbs in a hurricane, my neck and head were snaking...I was back in NYC at studio 54. I was feeling it.
This could explain why I was so intensely exhausted for the next two days.
If only my body could have stayed young while the rest of me joyfully aged.
6. I'm terrible with a ball - any kind of sport including a ball - though I did once claim to at least be good at soccer. I'm sure I exaggerated about my soccer skills.
7. Sometimes I exaggerate.
8. I have good ideas and enthusiasm, but not much staying power. Otherwise, I'd have finished several brilliant novels and my hallway would be the perfect color orange. I have a theory that once I buy idea paint and start listing my ideas, boldly, in purple and blue and orange on my wall, more of these ideas will reach fruition. Plus, the resident guys can share their visions there as well.
I love listing things I want when the tomatoes come in (our profitable season) but then change my mind and hit the thrift stores.
8. I did just follow through on a burning six-month long desire for a Blendtec blender and am making smoothies and juices and popsicles like crazy. I am a Persephone wannabe in the kitchen.
9. I am gullible and an optimist.
10. I only change sheets every three weeks, unless there has not been enough bathing going on. The guests get our best sheets - 800 thread count, a beautiful soft green and washed in lavender water... (I exaggerated about the lavender).
I would like to pass this along to the following:
1. Mindy
2. Jesse
3. Kelli
4. Laura
5. Gail
6. Claudia (who appreciates a scrap as much as I do).
7. Frank
Monday, June 08, 2009
Food freedom - no longer as scary
(It seems to be my time for confessing/analyzing/rambling. I'll get back behind the lens soon. Go have a snack and visit a concise blogger while you can ;)
This morning, Jesse went to his first day of theater camp. He goes every year and loves it. A few hours later, I dropped Gillen off down the street at Charlie Elliott Nature Center, for five days and four nights of camp. He has been excitedly waiting for four years to be old enough to go to the overnight version of his nature camp. I'm sure he'll be fine. My only concern had been that he and Jesse would get sick before these camp weeks - they also have a week of cool day camps while staying at their aunt and uncle's home next week. This "concern" of mine brings me to a past fear it's time I confessed here -the my food issue; the big source of my uncalled for, soon to be dropped for real, worrying. Worrying was the step up from more active protecting. I used to spend too much energy protecting my children from what I saw as the dangers of "bad" food. I felt that bad food had contributed to my mother's death and to my having chronic fatigue and to every bad day I still had. I had learned from my mistakes and hoped I could spare them their own "mistakes". Pretty crazy. I think on some deep level I even hoped that I was protecting them from death.
Eventually, painstakingly, finally, I saw my belief system for what it was. I got real about the fact that this is their journey. Plus, they might just have inherited the better immune systems of others in their families. It sure seems that way. I had an uncle that lived for a crazy number of decades on pretty much nothing but alcohol and cigarettes. And, I started to trust that they might even find their own way to choices that were best for them. As with their educational freedom, these are their choices to make. I can only strew lots of options.
Gillen went to an overnight birthday party this past Saturday night. The hosting mother is infamous for the large stores of Little Debbies, chips, candy, soda and other packaged food she keeps on hand - mass quantities of it that she uses to show visitors her love. She is very generous with this love. For breakfast on Sunday, they had bacon, sausage, biscuits, sweet tea (my favorite), eggs and hot dogs. Gillen came home raving about the sausage, but nauseous.
That same day, Jesse and I spent the entire day at Six Flags with his friend Logan and Logan's mom as both boys' early birthday celebration. You aren't allowed to bring food or water into Six Flags so we bought the expensive food there, all day. We rode the Mind Bender, and had loads of other looping, swirling, bumping fun. Jesse announced that this was his favorite birthday celebration ever. Over the course of the day, Jesse ate a Johnny Rocket milk shake, a cheeseburger, onion rings, a coke and ice cream. Maybe it was the sheer quantity, but I believe it was more to do with the quality, that made him throw up later that night at home.
He and Gillen were both dragging yesterday, due to their exciting Saturdays. Without my bringing it up, they both requested lots of salad and vegetables. They didn't want dessert. Today, they are going to camp fully restored.
This all goes to confirm, yet again (I seem to need lots of confirmation on this topic) that it was the right choice to start letting them make their own food choices, completely, and let them learn to listen to their own bodies. Their organic farming father, their food knowledgeable mom and, of course, their nutritionist grandmother have contributed acres of unsolicited food facts to the playing field. Gillen watched King Corn with us, they've gone to organic farming conferences, to Slow Food events, and many meals have been seasoned with our feelings about industrial farming and our country's food policies.
I no longer make frightening faces when they choose food and drink that I wouldn't choose. I have also noticed that they are less drawn to the foods that we used to ban when they were little. I think they're losing their fear that it will be the last bit of blue dye or high fructose corn syrup that they'll ever see. They choose to eat so many vegetables and fruits and love all kinds of food.
I'm sure that it's not the end of the battle, this fight with my inner demons. But for now, my more trusting side seems to be taking over the helm.
This morning, Jesse went to his first day of theater camp. He goes every year and loves it. A few hours later, I dropped Gillen off down the street at Charlie Elliott Nature Center, for five days and four nights of camp. He has been excitedly waiting for four years to be old enough to go to the overnight version of his nature camp. I'm sure he'll be fine. My only concern had been that he and Jesse would get sick before these camp weeks - they also have a week of cool day camps while staying at their aunt and uncle's home next week. This "concern" of mine brings me to a past fear it's time I confessed here -
Eventually, painstakingly, finally, I saw my belief system for what it was. I got real about the fact that this is their journey. Plus, they might just have inherited the better immune systems of others in their families. It sure seems that way. I had an uncle that lived for a crazy number of decades on pretty much nothing but alcohol and cigarettes. And, I started to trust that they might even find their own way to choices that were best for them. As with their educational freedom, these are their choices to make. I can only strew lots of options.
Gillen went to an overnight birthday party this past Saturday night. The hosting mother is infamous for the large stores of Little Debbies, chips, candy, soda and other packaged food she keeps on hand - mass quantities of it that she uses to show visitors her love. She is very generous with this love. For breakfast on Sunday, they had bacon, sausage, biscuits, sweet tea (my favorite), eggs and hot dogs. Gillen came home raving about the sausage, but nauseous.
That same day, Jesse and I spent the entire day at Six Flags with his friend Logan and Logan's mom as both boys' early birthday celebration. You aren't allowed to bring food or water into Six Flags so we bought the expensive food there, all day. We rode the Mind Bender, and had loads of other looping, swirling, bumping fun. Jesse announced that this was his favorite birthday celebration ever. Over the course of the day, Jesse ate a Johnny Rocket milk shake, a cheeseburger, onion rings, a coke and ice cream. Maybe it was the sheer quantity, but I believe it was more to do with the quality, that made him throw up later that night at home.
He and Gillen were both dragging yesterday, due to their exciting Saturdays. Without my bringing it up, they both requested lots of salad and vegetables. They didn't want dessert. Today, they are going to camp fully restored.
This all goes to confirm, yet again (I seem to need lots of confirmation on this topic) that it was the right choice to start letting them make their own food choices, completely, and let them learn to listen to their own bodies. Their organic farming father, their food knowledgeable mom and, of course, their nutritionist grandmother have contributed acres of unsolicited food facts to the playing field. Gillen watched King Corn with us, they've gone to organic farming conferences, to Slow Food events, and many meals have been seasoned with our feelings about industrial farming and our country's food policies.
I no longer make frightening faces when they choose food and drink that I wouldn't choose. I have also noticed that they are less drawn to the foods that we used to ban when they were little. I think they're losing their fear that it will be the last bit of blue dye or high fructose corn syrup that they'll ever see. They choose to eat so many vegetables and fruits and love all kinds of food.
I'm sure that it's not the end of the battle, this fight with my inner demons. But for now, my more trusting side seems to be taking over the helm.
Friday, June 05, 2009
TV or not TV
That is so often the question.
It was my question, when my kids were younger and I'd watched a few too many "Barney" episodes. I also read a book with lots of articulate information about what TV does to our brains. But very shortly after that, due to an article by Sandra Dodd in a homeschooling magazine, I found myself researching unschooling, reading constantly on the old Unschooling Discussion email list, and I was introduced to a radically different way to view television. It was talked about as being just one more resource in the unschooled child's diverse world of resources. Parents talked about what had been sparked in their children as a result of seeing some TV show - not brain dead zombie behavior but rather a journey of connections that started with the excitement they'd felt while seeing an animal or hearing a song or experiencing humor in a new way.
I decided to trust my kids. They weren't the kids from that anti-TV book's studies who used TV after hours of schooling as a means to check out. I watched shows with them and we often talked about what we saw, whether it be commercials (some of which we loved) or kids being rude to one another.
Over the past decade, I've watched my kids be inspired by what they've seen on TV. Jesse loves to recap a show in its entirety and then give commentary about why it was great, or ridiculous.
Plus, they watch about as much TV as I did growing up. Not so much. I was allowed very limited TV, so watched as much as possible, fighting with my brother (while my mother was at work) over whether we got to watch "The Brady Bunch" or "Hogan's Heroes". Because my kids can watch when they want, they don't have a sense of scarcity about it. There are days when it isn't even turned on (until Nicolas or I turn it on at night :).
I'm writing about this because of my recent relapse into the consideration of no TV. This was provoked by being in a peaceful, always filled with good music, TV-free environment in Montana and by the violent (inner) reaction I was starting to have to the Sponge Bob theme music; my kids' primary choice for what seemed like the past six months.
I included them in the discussion of whether we should take a TV-break (or Cartoon Network break). I proposed different scenarios, most of which they were surprisingly open to trying. We were discussing the possibility of going several months without, with lots of netflix and TV from the computer as an alternative, when suddenly, almost mid-discussion, my show entered the dialogue. Jesse mentioned that while I'd been in Montana, So You Think You Can Dance had restarted.
I'd forgotten.
So You Think You Can Dance?
Hmmm.
"Well, how about we just watch one episode of it and see how important it is to us?" I asked.
I watched the shows I'd missed (we love TiVo). They watched with me. Jesse started choreographing dances again in his room. Gillen asked about my old life as a dancer. We got passionately involved with the dancers' auditions. Jesse said that he wanted to try a hip-hop class. The biggest factor - we get break-dancing-in-the-living-room and dancing-on-the-couch intense joy from watching this show!
The decision is definitely to TV. Here's to hoping that our lives continue to be full and interesting as a result of all types of input and exploration, including TV.
It was my question, when my kids were younger and I'd watched a few too many "Barney" episodes. I also read a book with lots of articulate information about what TV does to our brains. But very shortly after that, due to an article by Sandra Dodd in a homeschooling magazine, I found myself researching unschooling, reading constantly on the old Unschooling Discussion email list, and I was introduced to a radically different way to view television. It was talked about as being just one more resource in the unschooled child's diverse world of resources. Parents talked about what had been sparked in their children as a result of seeing some TV show - not brain dead zombie behavior but rather a journey of connections that started with the excitement they'd felt while seeing an animal or hearing a song or experiencing humor in a new way.
I decided to trust my kids. They weren't the kids from that anti-TV book's studies who used TV after hours of schooling as a means to check out. I watched shows with them and we often talked about what we saw, whether it be commercials (some of which we loved) or kids being rude to one another.
Over the past decade, I've watched my kids be inspired by what they've seen on TV. Jesse loves to recap a show in its entirety and then give commentary about why it was great, or ridiculous.
Plus, they watch about as much TV as I did growing up. Not so much. I was allowed very limited TV, so watched as much as possible, fighting with my brother (while my mother was at work) over whether we got to watch "The Brady Bunch" or "Hogan's Heroes". Because my kids can watch when they want, they don't have a sense of scarcity about it. There are days when it isn't even turned on (until Nicolas or I turn it on at night :).
I'm writing about this because of my recent relapse into the consideration of no TV. This was provoked by being in a peaceful, always filled with good music, TV-free environment in Montana and by the violent (inner) reaction I was starting to have to the Sponge Bob theme music; my kids' primary choice for what seemed like the past six months.
I included them in the discussion of whether we should take a TV-break (or Cartoon Network break). I proposed different scenarios, most of which they were surprisingly open to trying. We were discussing the possibility of going several months without, with lots of netflix and TV from the computer as an alternative, when suddenly, almost mid-discussion, my show entered the dialogue. Jesse mentioned that while I'd been in Montana, So You Think You Can Dance had restarted.
I'd forgotten.
So You Think You Can Dance?
Hmmm.
"Well, how about we just watch one episode of it and see how important it is to us?" I asked.
I watched the shows I'd missed (we love TiVo). They watched with me. Jesse started choreographing dances again in his room. Gillen asked about my old life as a dancer. We got passionately involved with the dancers' auditions. Jesse said that he wanted to try a hip-hop class. The biggest factor - we get break-dancing-in-the-living-room and dancing-on-the-couch intense joy from watching this show!
The decision is definitely to TV. Here's to hoping that our lives continue to be full and interesting as a result of all types of input and exploration, including TV.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
I wore his sunglasses at night...
Last night, Nicolas and I went out again! Amazing,eh? Two nights in a row. We ate Thai, I drank sake - sake is my excuse for what happened (but it is a very bad excuse as I wasn't feeling it a bit by the time we left).
What I did was to wear Nicolas' Ray Ban sunglasses into the restaurant. I brought his sunglasses in when I didn't even bring in my purse. It was twilight. There wasn't a ray to be seen anywhere. I hardly ever even wear sunglasses during the daytime. These below are Gillen's.
They are small and my eyelashes hit them when I blink, so I grabbed Nicolas' last night, as we left for our date. I did used to love that song, by Cory Hart. Maybe it was a moment of nostalgia? I used to wear glasses walking around NYC, listening to him on my walk-man and, at nineteen, I felt very hip.
I don't even really need sunglasses as I have hazel eyes. Nicolas has blue eyes and very much needs his sunglasses, which is why I bought him a pair, for his 40th birthday. We were in Sydney. As it was a big birthday, my brother took me to a store far away to buy good ones - Ray Bans. They would replace these Ray Bans that his sister had given him:
I had criticized them and had then lost them, on our first day in Sydney, by wearing them to Balmorel Beach. So Nicolas was really happy to get these:
They now remind him of Sydney, and of this girl,
And this guy,
And of Naomi of course - I just don't happen to have him in sunglasses with her...
You know how this ends, right? I woke up this morning and sat bolt upright in bed, finally aware of the horrendous crime that I had once again committed against my husband. I had worn his glasses and then lost them. I have only worn them twice. I have lost them both times.
What is making this time even worse is the fact that I know that the waitress took them! We were the last ones at that table last night. This morning when I called the restaurant, I talked to her and she was flustered. Nicolas went there on his way home from a delivery and she was nervous. : /
But this is about me and my stupidity, not her bad karma...
I will never wear his sunglasses again as long as we both shall live. Obviously, you should never lend me a pair of yours. I will revise the book I wrote or write a better one so as to generate lots of cash for the purchase of a new, even better pair. Or I'll sell something really cool - when I can figure out what that would be.
I found one more picture of Nicolas with his beautiful shades - this time in the USA, with our friend Joe whom we bumped into after fifteen years! He was one of the cooks at Eat Your Vegetables, the restaurant where we met. sigh.
Little did the Belgian know, back in our innocent days of slinging hash (actually, we were serving vegetables) that he was getting involved with a sunglass-losing hag.
What I did was to wear Nicolas' Ray Ban sunglasses into the restaurant. I brought his sunglasses in when I didn't even bring in my purse. It was twilight. There wasn't a ray to be seen anywhere. I hardly ever even wear sunglasses during the daytime. These below are Gillen's.
They are small and my eyelashes hit them when I blink, so I grabbed Nicolas' last night, as we left for our date. I did used to love that song, by Cory Hart. Maybe it was a moment of nostalgia? I used to wear glasses walking around NYC, listening to him on my walk-man and, at nineteen, I felt very hip.I don't even really need sunglasses as I have hazel eyes. Nicolas has blue eyes and very much needs his sunglasses, which is why I bought him a pair, for his 40th birthday. We were in Sydney. As it was a big birthday, my brother took me to a store far away to buy good ones - Ray Bans. They would replace these Ray Bans that his sister had given him:
I had criticized them and had then lost them, on our first day in Sydney, by wearing them to Balmorel Beach. So Nicolas was really happy to get these:
They now remind him of Sydney, and of this girl,
And this guy,
And of Naomi of course - I just don't happen to have him in sunglasses with her...You know how this ends, right? I woke up this morning and sat bolt upright in bed, finally aware of the horrendous crime that I had once again committed against my husband. I had worn his glasses and then lost them. I have only worn them twice. I have lost them both times.
What is making this time even worse is the fact that I know that the waitress took them! We were the last ones at that table last night. This morning when I called the restaurant, I talked to her and she was flustered. Nicolas went there on his way home from a delivery and she was nervous. : /
But this is about me and my stupidity, not her bad karma...
I will never wear his sunglasses again as long as we both shall live. Obviously, you should never lend me a pair of yours. I will revise the book I wrote or write a better one so as to generate lots of cash for the purchase of a new, even better pair. Or I'll sell something really cool - when I can figure out what that would be.
I found one more picture of Nicolas with his beautiful shades - this time in the USA, with our friend Joe whom we bumped into after fifteen years! He was one of the cooks at Eat Your Vegetables, the restaurant where we met. sigh.
Little did the Belgian know, back in our innocent days of slinging hash (actually, we were serving vegetables) that he was getting involved with a sunglass-losing hag.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Portraits (part 2)
Our homeschool playgroup came back to the farm today, for Andrea to finish taking her portraits of the moms and for everybody to get to collect crystals. I'd like to spend as much time there as possible before it gets hot (any minute now). However, despite having a great time there yet again, frolicking with friends in the creek, the mud (and even in the decomposed compost) Jesse's habitual response to "let's go to the farm" will continue to keep he and I from being there too often. He thinks he would rather eat nails (well, technically, he'd say "eat eggplant"). This feeling of his in turn keeps me from burning out on the farm experience. Because truly, I wouldn't want to start having permanently cracked, black nails, irritation at the farmer being my boss, constant vertigo from bending over, freezing cold hands from washing greens in the winter, serious swooning from the heat in the summer, even more freckles, MIL overkill (Helen is great but no one wants too much of a great thing), and no energy left for other parental and creative pursuits - all of which was true when I was, for three long years, a real farmer's wife.
But I digress.
Here is Andrea taking my portrait (while I take hers) :
Isn't she beautiful? I have better ones of her but I want to show them to her first.
I stuck with my normal, crazy, curly hair. It is more me. Plus, I really didn't feel like blow drying it this morning.
Many of the kids believed that the crystals held magical properties. Three-year-old Hazel hoped that she would be able to use hers to shrink down to three inches.
I overheard a nine-year-old and a four year old discussing together how they would use their magic - both wanted to do whatever they wanted, whenever. I think I'd use my magic crystal to bring people I am missing to me.
What would you do?
But I digress.
Here is Andrea taking my portrait (while I take hers) :
Isn't she beautiful? I have better ones of her but I want to show them to her first.I stuck with my normal, crazy, curly hair. It is more me. Plus, I really didn't feel like blow drying it this morning.
Many of the kids believed that the crystals held magical properties. Three-year-old Hazel hoped that she would be able to use hers to shrink down to three inches.
I overheard a nine-year-old and a four year old discussing together how they would use their magic - both wanted to do whatever they wanted, whenever. I think I'd use my magic crystal to bring people I am missing to me. 
What would you do?
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
On the day that you were born, though I love you, I may forget you
A day late for another birthday. This time it is my brother. I have always been bad about birthdays but have never missed his, even by a day. He is really good about mine as well. Maybe we feel a special responsibility to one another as the only ones left from our primary childhood home. Whatever the reason, the deck has been internally stacked towards remembering my brother. Until this week.
I have been trying to prepare for these lapses, having gotten worse every year. A few winters ago, at a gathering of Nicolas' family to celebrate his mother, I stood up in front of the many nieces, nephews, brothers and sisters and proposed the idea of not necessarily recognizing every birthday. Rather, I proposed, we could just get a card or a present for one another when the mood hit us. I loved the honesty and spontaneity of this. I was very enthusiastic as I described the excitement one would have over the unexpected wrapped surprise in the mailbox, seven months before the day one was born! I painted a scenario where we could take one another to dinner or even throw one another a party, just because of really liking one another. Not all the time, no obligation...
I was met with unflinching, stone cold silence. No one was impressed. The first reaction came from Stacy. She is a birthday genius. Stacy keeps everyone's dates in her head(doesn't even need a calendar) and is always on time with a card, all while working at a full time job in NY. Now, with a new home in NJ and a baby to boot, she still has a perfect record. Her response was, "Are you a card person? Or do you prefer e-mail, a phone call...? Did you like birthdays growing up?"
The thing is, I love acknowledging birthdays, with homemade cards and cake, and would do so for everyone, if I only hadn't developed a block about being on time. I grow tired too easily and am terribly forgetful.
I have a birthday calendar on the wall, a silly one by Boynton, with cartoon animals pretending to be human. I have had it there, warping in the humidity, since Gillen was young enough to like Boynton, eight years ago. It is open to March and has been for a long time. It could serve me well (I wrote in all the significant family and friend birthdays and some added their own) if I would only take the time to go to that dark corner of the kitchen and look at the ugly thing.
Tomorrow, I will make myself a new one, right after sending my godson a gift. His birthday is on the sixth. I'm on time!
I have been trying to prepare for these lapses, having gotten worse every year. A few winters ago, at a gathering of Nicolas' family to celebrate his mother, I stood up in front of the many nieces, nephews, brothers and sisters and proposed the idea of not necessarily recognizing every birthday. Rather, I proposed, we could just get a card or a present for one another when the mood hit us. I loved the honesty and spontaneity of this. I was very enthusiastic as I described the excitement one would have over the unexpected wrapped surprise in the mailbox, seven months before the day one was born! I painted a scenario where we could take one another to dinner or even throw one another a party, just because of really liking one another. Not all the time, no obligation...
I was met with unflinching, stone cold silence. No one was impressed. The first reaction came from Stacy. She is a birthday genius. Stacy keeps everyone's dates in her head(doesn't even need a calendar) and is always on time with a card, all while working at a full time job in NY. Now, with a new home in NJ and a baby to boot, she still has a perfect record. Her response was, "Are you a card person? Or do you prefer e-mail, a phone call...? Did you like birthdays growing up?"
The thing is, I love acknowledging birthdays, with homemade cards and cake, and would do so for everyone, if I only hadn't developed a block about being on time. I grow tired too easily and am terribly forgetful.
I have a birthday calendar on the wall, a silly one by Boynton, with cartoon animals pretending to be human. I have had it there, warping in the humidity, since Gillen was young enough to like Boynton, eight years ago. It is open to March and has been for a long time. It could serve me well (I wrote in all the significant family and friend birthdays and some added their own) if I would only take the time to go to that dark corner of the kitchen and look at the ugly thing. Tomorrow, I will make myself a new one, right after sending my godson a gift. His birthday is on the sixth. I'm on time!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Stuff
I received a really great link from my friend Persephone to this short film , which is all about the reason there is so much stuff, especially here in the U.S. It's about what goes into making that stuff (not just about the slave labor, also the actual very harmful chemicals that are in our stuff), why we buy that stuff and what alternatives we have.
Writing about it does it no justice, at all. It is such an intelligent, clear, clever film. I hope you can grab a few minutes to watch it. It definitely gave me pause, as I sat at my newly purchased Target computer desk, watching it. It's not like I didn't know that it was not the best choice to go with new Target stuff. I had first tried to get a desk on Craig's list and at the thrift store and when I couldn't I had broken down and bought one on sale, at Target. After watching this film, I will try for even a few weeks longer on Craig's List and will travel a bit further to go to yard sales before buying the other thing we have on our list - a drafting table. I'll also try to wait long enough to realize that we can live without it.
Danielle had a very informative post recently about ways to change the way we deal with our stuff. Or, more eloquently put - how to reduce our carbon imprint on the planet.
Writing about it does it no justice, at all. It is such an intelligent, clear, clever film. I hope you can grab a few minutes to watch it. It definitely gave me pause, as I sat at my newly purchased Target computer desk, watching it. It's not like I didn't know that it was not the best choice to go with new Target stuff. I had first tried to get a desk on Craig's list and at the thrift store and when I couldn't I had broken down and bought one on sale, at Target. After watching this film, I will try for even a few weeks longer on Craig's List and will travel a bit further to go to yard sales before buying the other thing we have on our list - a drafting table. I'll also try to wait long enough to realize that we can live without it.
Danielle had a very informative post recently about ways to change the way we deal with our stuff. Or, more eloquently put - how to reduce our carbon imprint on the planet.
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