From my Livejournal, April 25, 2005
So I woke up today to phones ringing. I hate phones ringing. The night my father died, I knew that call was important because not only was it late, but first my home phone rang....then my cell phone...then my work phone. Anyone who has all those and tries them has something important to tell me. It was never THAT important until the night they called to tell me my Dad was dead.
So when the home phone, then my cell phone, then my work phone rang, I was checking to see who it was as Chris' cell phone rang. It was my sister and I called her back. Seems Grandma has pneumonia, and they have her on antibiotics. But when Ev consulted G-mas wishes for life-saving measures, she lists antibiotics as a no-no. Ev was calling all of us sibs to poll us as to whether we believed the page said what it said, and how we wanted to handle it. We are all in agreement that this would be a life-saving measure she has asked not to be given. So we are telling the doctors to stop giving her antibiotics, and we will see how she does...
Ev was in "practical" mode, and commented that it would probably hit her hard later. I told her if she needed company, Chris and I would come be with her. Ev had moved G-ma to a facility in Des Moines, and has been staying nearby all week. She took us up on it, and after a late breakfast we drove down to see G-ma and Ev. Ev had had a really hard cry before we got there, and was back in practical mode.
Grandma is small and tired, but of good color. She can't really speak, and is not really cognizant anyway. She would sometimes nod, sometimes mumble something, would freak out if you tried to move her even a little bit, and looked so tiny in that bed. She didn't seem to recognize me at all, and was fading in and out of sleep, partly due to a combination of vicodin and oxycontin they have her on for her hip pain. She is also sometimes on oxygen, being given insulin a few times a day due to abnormally high blood sugar levels, and goes on a medicated breather a couple times a day to help keep the plegm in her chest from solidifying. She trembles a lot, and has a look like she wants to say something, but says nothing, and her eyes drift shut.
I sat on the bed and held her hand, studying her face. Even as drawn and marked as it is at this time, she is so beautiful to me. Her silver and black hair so sparse on her head now, so silky to the touch as I stroked it and looked at her. I wonder what she thought of this stranger touching her with such familiarity and gazing at her with a half-smile as I did, but she didn't push me away or seem irritated by me. As I stroked her hair, she seemed to drift into a comfortable sleep, but her eyes would pop open when I stopped. Her skin felt soft and elsatic, but fragile and thin. Her lips tremble a lot, and her brow furrows in frustration, but her eyes don't focus on things much, and she lays awkwardly in the bed doing nothing. She can't hear you unless you lean in and yell, and I fear I will startle her if I do that too much. Hell, the sound of my own voice sounds so harsh and startling to my own ears in this quiet place. I feel completely at a loss as to what I am supposed to do. So I just try to touch her and let her know I am there...somehow.
We go grab an afternoon snack at Anthony's in the Marina, sitting in the spring sunshine having a drink to calm our nerves. We talk amiably, and enjoy the smell of flowers and ocean. We drop back in on Grandma briefly to see how she is doing, and she is unchanged. The nurse comes in and pokes her harshly with an insulin needle. Grandma, startled and pained, yelps out, her trembling fingers trying to reach the point of the puncture, but not having the strength to rub her wound. She begins to cry, and Ev wipes her tears and tells her it's okay. "We're here, Grandma," she says, stroking her hair back and kissing her forehead. "We're here. Calm down. It's okay." I hold her hand and feel helpless.
Ev is gentle and patient with Grandma. She puts on her oxygen tube, and sits her up slowly. She is obviously wanting to hear something from Grandma. Some sign that she is lucent, and understands what choices are being made. At one point, Grandma's eyes take on a brief, seconds-long clarity, and she quietly but clearly says, "I understand..." and trails off. "You understand what, Grandma?" Evelyn yells, taking her hand in her own and kissing it gently. "I understand..." but she can't seem to finish the thought, let alone get the breath in her fluid filled lungs to finish a sentence. Unspoken, I know we both wish we could believe she was saying she understands that she is on the brink of the abyss, and she understands that we won't pull her back because she asked us not to. We hope that her words mean she understands that we love her, and that we want the best for her. That we don't want her to go, and in our hearts know that she wants to go, and so we will let her. We pray that it is her somehow surfacing from the deep waters of her muddled consciousness to tell us "It's okay." But there is no guarantee that her words meant anything at all...
We decide to head to Saltwater beach park for a stroll. We take our cameras, but there is little of interest to photograph. We chat, pet dogs, and leave. We aren't hungry yet for our favorite Chinese restaurant, our intended dinner destination, so we need to kill some time. We decided to drive around Burien, looking at how much it has changed since we lived there. We go past the old house I lived in after Evelyn had long since moved away. We drive past schools and shops, reminiscing about our childhood, and marvelling, as we always do, how two sisters' lives can be so different thanks to the 10 years that separate our age. And yet, so much of what we remember is the same. Like Wah Ku's, were we head next.
We eat a meal far too large to be eaten so soon after our appetizers and beers on the deck, but it's so delicious we can't stop eating. We roll out of there with overfull bellies and a bag full of leftovers to last several days' lunches. Chris and I drive Evelyn back to the facility, and go up to see if Grandma is awake. But she's not. She is bright red--too hot from the coating of blankets they have on her. Evelyn gently peels back the blankets and wakes Grandma to say hello, but she is too tired to open her eyes more than a second or two. I sit on the bed and rest my palm on her forehead. "Ooh, you're cold," she mumbles and almost smiles. She never opens her eyes and she doesn't say anything else. I tell Ev I don't want to bother her any more, and we say our goodbyes and leave.
On the drive home, Chris asks me how I am doing. I can't find enough words to thank him for being there all day. Never once seeming impatient, or mentioning the dozen errands we were supposed to run that day. He doesn't bring up the work he was supposed to do this afternoon, and instead has to go into work early tomorrow to complete. He never sighed heavily, trying to let me know how much he would rather be someplace else. He never did the things I would do in his shoes. I am unworthy...in the best most blessed way. I want to be more like my husband. He is a good man, and a remarkable human being....
So that was my day. I got to see my beautiful Grandmother. Maybe she saw me. I think in some way she did. I hope to see her again before the end. I do and I don't... I was pleased to realize as I studied her face that I would not only remember her this way. that was my greatest fear. That the image of her today, weak and delirious, would scar my other memories of her. But it didn't. I added it o my memories. She was beautiful...
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Today is a day I think of Chris’ awesome Mom, Pat. I loved her, and am often struck by a deep sadness at how little time I got to get to know her before she passed. Pat loved all things from her Irish heritage. She gifted me a coin for in my shoe—in a little pouch embroidered with a shamrock—for my wedding day. She gifted us an Irish poem in a jade green colored frame, for our one year anniversary. She loved cooking for the holiday (well, any holiday), and when I am in the kitchen for special occasions, I often think of her loving preparations for her family.
Even when she had so little, she was incredibly generous and thoughtful. And she raised two equally generous and thoughtful children, one of which I was blessed to marry, and the other his fierce-but-gentle sister, Stephanie. She gave of herself endlessly, both in physical manifestations as well as in her spirit.
I think of today as “St Pat’ys Day”. Here’s to you, Mom! Slainte.
Have you ever known a mother or father (or been a mother or father)
who forgot to pick up their child from a school activity, playdate,
daycare or school? Perhaps dates got shuffled around, maybe dad usually
picks them up but today mom was supposed to, the usual routine wasn't in
play, and it just slipped their (your) mind?
Luckily, there was probably someone who called and jogged their memory, and sheepishly the parent went and got them. These people aren't neglectful monsters. They are human beings and very normal parents juggling a million things in their world. Nobody would judge them too harshly, *shrug* it happens. Don't be so hard on yourself.
Now imagine that instead of being left at a daycare or neighbor's house, they were left in a car on a hot day. And since there was no one to call and jog your memory, horrifically, tragically, that child died. Suddenly, you are evil, hateful, cruel, selfish, unforgivable. You are vile garbage who clearly should have never had a child and should be locked up for life in the deepest darkest dungeon. No "good parent" would ever do such a thing.
I reject that notion.
A lot of discussion has been going on surrounding the media's attention on infant car deaths due to hyperhermia--that is, heat stroke from being locked in a car on a hot day. I have seen almost zero sympathy for these parents and the horrible tragedy they endured. Their punishment is their own thoughts, their prison will be their own minds having to live with what happened. I feel intense sadness for them, empathy for their heartbreak and incredible loss, but not anger. There is some good reading on this, so here is an excerpt from a HuffPo piece, and a link to a long, tough read which breaks down the phenomenon--how and why it happens, and who does it happen to. Not exactly a happy-sunshiney post today, but I wanted to share my thoughts, and the thoughts of these articulate writers, on the subject.
"What kind of parent forgets their baby? A monster, right? A callous, careless, stupid, irresponsible human being who should never have been trusted with a child in the first place, yes?
No. Which is why I keep asking this question.
The parents who accidentally leave their children to die could be any of us. That was the message of one of the most compelling pieces of journalism I have ever read, one in the Washington Post by Gene Weingarten four years ago (it later won him a Pulitzer Prize.) Dissecting a number of tragedies he persuasively argues that those who lose children this way could be you or me.
'What kind of person forgets a baby?
The wealthy do, it turns out. And the poor, and the middle class. Parents of all ages and ethnicities do it. Mothers are just as likely to do it as fathers. It happens to the chronically absent-minded and to the fanatically organized, to the college-educated and to the marginally literate. In the last 10 years, it has happened to a dentist. A postal clerk. A social worker. A police officer. An accountant. A soldier. A paralegal. An electrician. A Protestant clergyman. A rabbinical student. A nurse. A construction worker. An assistant principal. It happened to a mental health counselor, a college professor and a pizza chef. It happened to a pediatrician. It happened to a rocket scientist.'
...
Think that could never happen to you? Read Weingarten’s enitre article here. Then come back and tell me you are still completely sure. Think that parents who do this should be tried for manslaughter and sent to jail? Read of how these families punish themselves, and come back and tell me if you still feel the same way.
...
My heart breaks for the 15 families who have lost children to the heat so far this year and the more than 650 who have done so in recent decades.
Calling the parents inhuman monsters might make us feel better, but it won’t save the next child. Recognizing they are human beings just might."
https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/magazine/fatal-distraction-forgetting-a-child-in-thebackseat-of-a-car-is-a-horrifying-mistake-is-it-a-crime/2014/06/16/8ae0fe3a-f580-11e3-a3a5-42be35962a52_story.html
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/06/25/what-parent-leaves-child-in-broiling-car_n_3497956.html
Luckily, there was probably someone who called and jogged their memory, and sheepishly the parent went and got them. These people aren't neglectful monsters. They are human beings and very normal parents juggling a million things in their world. Nobody would judge them too harshly, *shrug* it happens. Don't be so hard on yourself.
Now imagine that instead of being left at a daycare or neighbor's house, they were left in a car on a hot day. And since there was no one to call and jog your memory, horrifically, tragically, that child died. Suddenly, you are evil, hateful, cruel, selfish, unforgivable. You are vile garbage who clearly should have never had a child and should be locked up for life in the deepest darkest dungeon. No "good parent" would ever do such a thing.
I reject that notion.
A lot of discussion has been going on surrounding the media's attention on infant car deaths due to hyperhermia--that is, heat stroke from being locked in a car on a hot day. I have seen almost zero sympathy for these parents and the horrible tragedy they endured. Their punishment is their own thoughts, their prison will be their own minds having to live with what happened. I feel intense sadness for them, empathy for their heartbreak and incredible loss, but not anger. There is some good reading on this, so here is an excerpt from a HuffPo piece, and a link to a long, tough read which breaks down the phenomenon--how and why it happens, and who does it happen to. Not exactly a happy-sunshiney post today, but I wanted to share my thoughts, and the thoughts of these articulate writers, on the subject.
"What kind of parent forgets their baby? A monster, right? A callous, careless, stupid, irresponsible human being who should never have been trusted with a child in the first place, yes?
No. Which is why I keep asking this question.
The parents who accidentally leave their children to die could be any of us. That was the message of one of the most compelling pieces of journalism I have ever read, one in the Washington Post by Gene Weingarten four years ago (it later won him a Pulitzer Prize.) Dissecting a number of tragedies he persuasively argues that those who lose children this way could be you or me.
'What kind of person forgets a baby?
The wealthy do, it turns out. And the poor, and the middle class. Parents of all ages and ethnicities do it. Mothers are just as likely to do it as fathers. It happens to the chronically absent-minded and to the fanatically organized, to the college-educated and to the marginally literate. In the last 10 years, it has happened to a dentist. A postal clerk. A social worker. A police officer. An accountant. A soldier. A paralegal. An electrician. A Protestant clergyman. A rabbinical student. A nurse. A construction worker. An assistant principal. It happened to a mental health counselor, a college professor and a pizza chef. It happened to a pediatrician. It happened to a rocket scientist.'
...
Think that could never happen to you? Read Weingarten’s enitre article here. Then come back and tell me you are still completely sure. Think that parents who do this should be tried for manslaughter and sent to jail? Read of how these families punish themselves, and come back and tell me if you still feel the same way.
...
My heart breaks for the 15 families who have lost children to the heat so far this year and the more than 650 who have done so in recent decades.
Calling the parents inhuman monsters might make us feel better, but it won’t save the next child. Recognizing they are human beings just might."
https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/magazine/fatal-distraction-forgetting-a-child-in-thebackseat-of-a-car-is-a-horrifying-mistake-is-it-a-crime/2014/06/16/8ae0fe3a-f580-11e3-a3a5-42be35962a52_story.html
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/06/25/what-parent-leaves-child-in-broiling-car_n_3497956.html
Here in Seattle, we are having a white Thanksgiving. I don't remember one since I was a wee little girl, so it is magical. It will turn to rain soon, and get slushy and yuck, but hubby and I are enjoying the winter wonderland immensely for now.
I have begun cooking, and the house is already filling with delicious smells. Honestly, we really began yesterday morning when I cooked up the brining liquid, filled our cooler with salt/suger/stock/allspice berries and plopped our 20lb bird in to float around for 18 hours in said cooler set up on the snowy back deck. About five years ago we started brining our bird in a simple water/salt/sugar blend, and two years ago we began to bypass stuffing our bird and instead using aromatics as recommended by our beloved Alton Brown--we will never ever make a turkey any differently ever again, and it even informed how we bake whole chickens throughout the year. In a word: YUM! This year we're going whole hog and using Alton's full recipe from brine to finish, and I am completely confident it will be the best bird yet! I am searing the skin now, will tent it and cook until our family arrives this afternoon. Chris' sister and her husband, and Bapa will be joining us this year.
It's a bittersweet holiday this season, not having Pat here. I find myself trying not to cry now and again, so I cannot even imagine what is in Chris and Steph's hearts as they face the first holiday without their beautiful mother. It makes me reflect on my family, on how little I get to see them, how much I miss my father and my grandmother... but it also makes me feel even closer to my new family I married into. Getting to spend time with them has become such a joy for me as I have gotten to know them better in recent years, and we are even closer now after what we have gone through this summer.
To sum it up, this Thanksgiving, they are my greatest blessing. I am so thankful for my family, and how warm they are in my heart this season in particular. I am thankful for their kindness, their humor, their generosity, and their love.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. May yours be as sweet and full of love as mine is today.
I have begun cooking, and the house is already filling with delicious smells. Honestly, we really began yesterday morning when I cooked up the brining liquid, filled our cooler with salt/suger/stock/allspice berries and plopped our 20lb bird in to float around for 18 hours in said cooler set up on the snowy back deck. About five years ago we started brining our bird in a simple water/salt/sugar blend, and two years ago we began to bypass stuffing our bird and instead using aromatics as recommended by our beloved Alton Brown--we will never ever make a turkey any differently ever again, and it even informed how we bake whole chickens throughout the year. In a word: YUM! This year we're going whole hog and using Alton's full recipe from brine to finish, and I am completely confident it will be the best bird yet! I am searing the skin now, will tent it and cook until our family arrives this afternoon. Chris' sister and her husband, and Bapa will be joining us this year.
It's a bittersweet holiday this season, not having Pat here. I find myself trying not to cry now and again, so I cannot even imagine what is in Chris and Steph's hearts as they face the first holiday without their beautiful mother. It makes me reflect on my family, on how little I get to see them, how much I miss my father and my grandmother... but it also makes me feel even closer to my new family I married into. Getting to spend time with them has become such a joy for me as I have gotten to know them better in recent years, and we are even closer now after what we have gone through this summer.
To sum it up, this Thanksgiving, they are my greatest blessing. I am so thankful for my family, and how warm they are in my heart this season in particular. I am thankful for their kindness, their humor, their generosity, and their love.
**Please note: If you are reading this on Facebook, I am on a FB cleanse right now and I am not participating much. If you want to comment on this post, please visit my blog at http://thetribaldancer.blogspot.com/**
It's pretty nonstop here at the Moore household. Last week I got word that my eldest brother, Ken, was in the ICU with severe pancreatitis brought on by a gall stone that had become lodged in his system, blocking his liver function. His digestive system basically shut down, and he was unable to eat anything, subsisting on IV saline alone for about 4 days. My sister was down there helping care for him that week, and the day after she left, I flew down to take over. He was home, but not very mobile, so I was doing laundry, cooking meals, and generally keeping him company. By the time I left 5 days later, he seemed to be doing much better, but was still in a fair amount of pain, distended belly, and various portions of his endocrine system were still swollen and not working at capacity. The day after I got home, he was back at the doctor getting more tests and x-rays, and potentially re-entering the hospital. I have not heard from him since his x-rays yesterday and am keeping my fingers crossed.
More lighthearted bits and bobs after the jump, I promise.
Here at home, I am gearing up for starting classes again next month. Unfortunately, with all that happened this summer, I never could get the foot surgery I had planned to. And sad to say, my brother's home is an apartment with parquet over...CEMENT. So no cushioning at all, and my foot is really messed up in pain from walking on that all day every day. But the show must go on. So I am starting back with only two classes, and praying that I can hold out until the holidays and maybe take another hiatus around Thanksgiving (after the Nebraska workshops) and get the surgery and be done with this pain!
Also I am doing some nesting. Bought some new bed linens, including some lovely huge, colorful euro pillows to dress up the bed when its made, which makes me smile. Today has been about getting my yarn stash as moth free as I can. I have had some yarns in the bottom of a bin in the living room that got eaten up. So I am doing a freeze-thaw-freeze cycle to try and kill the buggers off. I bought some new plastic bins and cedar blocks to store them in once this process is completed, and hoped that will be good enough.
I finished my first colorwork project while hanging out at Ken's. I made Eunny Jang's Endpaper Mitts for Chris. He was long overdue for some new fingerless mitts--he asked for some last year, and I started a pattern I was making up myself, and I made one of them...and ran into second glove/sock syndrome. I didn't like how those were turning out, honestly. These, I LOVE. I plan to make some for myself. They were SO easy! And I learned how to combine Continental and English knitting! It was my first time doing English style knitting, actually, so doing it in combination on a colorwork project means I am pretty damn proud of what I accomplished!
The pattern is harder to see up close (like a camera held in one hand photographing the mitt on the other hand ;), but looks great with a little distance. Chris was thrilled, which makes me beam.
When I finished that, I started to get some more blocks worked on my Dianna entrelac shawl. This is a photo from before I got another row onto it. This one is going to take some time...but I am loving how the colors are revealing themselves.
The weather is improving as the week goes on, which is nice. Spent some time in the garden today, weeding, deadheading, and watering. I keep meaning to take some new pics to share here, but keep not getting around to it. Some things are really blooming beautifully (like the petunias are TAKING OVER THE WORLD), and others are struggling (like the creeping lady's mantle that squirrels apparently adore to no end and keep digging up), but overall the garden has been thriving. I especially love my heliotrope, in all its purple glory, and the coleus are hanging in there and looking firey and spikey. Pics when I get the chance.
For now, it's back to working on my new website and getting ready to announce the class schedule and get that ball rolling. I hope your summer is going well, my friends.
It's pretty nonstop here at the Moore household. Last week I got word that my eldest brother, Ken, was in the ICU with severe pancreatitis brought on by a gall stone that had become lodged in his system, blocking his liver function. His digestive system basically shut down, and he was unable to eat anything, subsisting on IV saline alone for about 4 days. My sister was down there helping care for him that week, and the day after she left, I flew down to take over. He was home, but not very mobile, so I was doing laundry, cooking meals, and generally keeping him company. By the time I left 5 days later, he seemed to be doing much better, but was still in a fair amount of pain, distended belly, and various portions of his endocrine system were still swollen and not working at capacity. The day after I got home, he was back at the doctor getting more tests and x-rays, and potentially re-entering the hospital. I have not heard from him since his x-rays yesterday and am keeping my fingers crossed.
More lighthearted bits and bobs after the jump, I promise.
Here at home, I am gearing up for starting classes again next month. Unfortunately, with all that happened this summer, I never could get the foot surgery I had planned to. And sad to say, my brother's home is an apartment with parquet over...CEMENT. So no cushioning at all, and my foot is really messed up in pain from walking on that all day every day. But the show must go on. So I am starting back with only two classes, and praying that I can hold out until the holidays and maybe take another hiatus around Thanksgiving (after the Nebraska workshops) and get the surgery and be done with this pain!
Also I am doing some nesting. Bought some new bed linens, including some lovely huge, colorful euro pillows to dress up the bed when its made, which makes me smile. Today has been about getting my yarn stash as moth free as I can. I have had some yarns in the bottom of a bin in the living room that got eaten up. So I am doing a freeze-thaw-freeze cycle to try and kill the buggers off. I bought some new plastic bins and cedar blocks to store them in once this process is completed, and hoped that will be good enough.
I finished my first colorwork project while hanging out at Ken's. I made Eunny Jang's Endpaper Mitts for Chris. He was long overdue for some new fingerless mitts--he asked for some last year, and I started a pattern I was making up myself, and I made one of them...and ran into second glove/sock syndrome. I didn't like how those were turning out, honestly. These, I LOVE. I plan to make some for myself. They were SO easy! And I learned how to combine Continental and English knitting! It was my first time doing English style knitting, actually, so doing it in combination on a colorwork project means I am pretty damn proud of what I accomplished!
The pattern is harder to see up close (like a camera held in one hand photographing the mitt on the other hand ;), but looks great with a little distance. Chris was thrilled, which makes me beam.
When I finished that, I started to get some more blocks worked on my Dianna entrelac shawl. This is a photo from before I got another row onto it. This one is going to take some time...but I am loving how the colors are revealing themselves.
The weather is improving as the week goes on, which is nice. Spent some time in the garden today, weeding, deadheading, and watering. I keep meaning to take some new pics to share here, but keep not getting around to it. Some things are really blooming beautifully (like the petunias are TAKING OVER THE WORLD), and others are struggling (like the creeping lady's mantle that squirrels apparently adore to no end and keep digging up), but overall the garden has been thriving. I especially love my heliotrope, in all its purple glory, and the coleus are hanging in there and looking firey and spikey. Pics when I get the chance.
For now, it's back to working on my new website and getting ready to announce the class schedule and get that ball rolling. I hope your summer is going well, my friends.
**Please note: If you are reading this on Facebook, I am on a FB cleanse right now and I am not participating much. If you want to comment on this post, please visit my blog at http://thetribaldancer.blogspot.com/**
Obviously, I have been in hibernation mode lately. I am sorry, dear readers, for being absent. I honeslty had no idea how many readers, and how far flung my readership was, until I got that little widget guy on the left there. Wow! Thanks to all you anonymous readers who have been visiting and hanging in with me while my blog has been latent.
Catching up a little after the cut...
Last Saturday was my MIL's celebratory memorial. It was small, but special. The sun was shining, we ate good food, met old friends, and I got to share a slideshow I made (at Stephanie's behest), which went over really well. I was surprised how many people had never heard Warren Zevon's "Keep Me in Your Heart For a While", which is one of my favorite songs in the world, and only moreso when I got to put it to photos of an incredible woman like Pat. (Look up info on the recording of that song, and you can see why I cry hopelessly most times I hear it).
My friends Amy and Erik welcomed their second child, a sweet little girl they named Vera, into their family that same week. I got to meet her just days after being born, and it's exciting to see their family grow and change in the time I have known them. I am grateful for their friendship, and am blessed being a part of their circle of love during a time when I need friends most.
Gardening continues to be a fantastic success. The squirrels apparently approve, and that is a new frustration, but all-in-all, everything I am planting is flourishing this year. That is a new one on me. I keep having to hack back my petunias relentlessly, and they keep surging back in huge displays of color, while my ground covers, which you would think would be the most aggressive, are pretty low key. There is still so much to do.
And I have been knitting. Just finished my Luna Moth shawl this week. It’s my first lace project, my first major blocking project, and my first “from a chart” project. Blocking lace…what an exciting treat!
Disappointing, though, was that I could only do 5 repeats of the pattern instead of 6 because I was out of yarn, and while others found theirs to be long enough with this number of repeats, it was awfully small for my taste. Other than that, I am really pleased with the results. Here are some picks of the blocking process (for my non-knitting friends, blocking is basically setting the fibers into the desired finished shape by washing or wetting the fibers, and then pinning it and letting it dry, at which time it is set or blocked)
Before blocking, fresh off the needles
On the bed, pinning into shape.
Only took a few hours to dry.
Complete!
That is the briefest of rundowns. Hope you all are enjoying your summer!
Obviously, I have been in hibernation mode lately. I am sorry, dear readers, for being absent. I honeslty had no idea how many readers, and how far flung my readership was, until I got that little widget guy on the left there. Wow! Thanks to all you anonymous readers who have been visiting and hanging in with me while my blog has been latent.
Catching up a little after the cut...
Last Saturday was my MIL's celebratory memorial. It was small, but special. The sun was shining, we ate good food, met old friends, and I got to share a slideshow I made (at Stephanie's behest), which went over really well. I was surprised how many people had never heard Warren Zevon's "Keep Me in Your Heart For a While", which is one of my favorite songs in the world, and only moreso when I got to put it to photos of an incredible woman like Pat. (Look up info on the recording of that song, and you can see why I cry hopelessly most times I hear it).
My friends Amy and Erik welcomed their second child, a sweet little girl they named Vera, into their family that same week. I got to meet her just days after being born, and it's exciting to see their family grow and change in the time I have known them. I am grateful for their friendship, and am blessed being a part of their circle of love during a time when I need friends most.
Gardening continues to be a fantastic success. The squirrels apparently approve, and that is a new frustration, but all-in-all, everything I am planting is flourishing this year. That is a new one on me. I keep having to hack back my petunias relentlessly, and they keep surging back in huge displays of color, while my ground covers, which you would think would be the most aggressive, are pretty low key. There is still so much to do.
And I have been knitting. Just finished my Luna Moth shawl this week. It’s my first lace project, my first major blocking project, and my first “from a chart” project. Blocking lace…what an exciting treat!
Disappointing, though, was that I could only do 5 repeats of the pattern instead of 6 because I was out of yarn, and while others found theirs to be long enough with this number of repeats, it was awfully small for my taste. Other than that, I am really pleased with the results. Here are some picks of the blocking process (for my non-knitting friends, blocking is basically setting the fibers into the desired finished shape by washing or wetting the fibers, and then pinning it and letting it dry, at which time it is set or blocked)
Before blocking, fresh off the needles
On the bed, pinning into shape.
Only took a few hours to dry.
Complete!
That is the briefest of rundowns. Hope you all are enjoying your summer!
Mom Moore has always loved Neruda, and instilled a love of it in her son, who found the sonnet below today. He hopes to include it in her memorial somehow, and I think it is simply perfect.
Rest in the care of Your Father's arms, Mom. We love you so dearly. Thank you for the inspiring example of selfless love and giving you demonstrated in every aspect of your life in the time I have known you. You gave more of yourself in your time on earth than many could muster in three lifetimes. You were truly a gift in this life, and will surely continue to be so in the life you now go to. Thank you for raising such an amazing son, who has become my best friend and true partner in life. Your unconditional love lives on in his sweet heart, and I feel so honored to be a part of your family.
"When I die, I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands
To pass their freshness over me once more:
I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny.
I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,
I want your ears still to hear the wind, I want you
to sniff the sea's aroma that we loved together,
to continue to walk on the sand we walked on.
I want what I love to continue to live,
And you whom I love and sang above everything else
To continue to flourish, full flowered:
So that you can reach everything my love directs you to,
So that my shadow can travel along in your hair,
So that everything can learn the reason for my song!"
Sonnet 89
Pablo Neruda
Rest in the care of Your Father's arms, Mom. We love you so dearly. Thank you for the inspiring example of selfless love and giving you demonstrated in every aspect of your life in the time I have known you. You gave more of yourself in your time on earth than many could muster in three lifetimes. You were truly a gift in this life, and will surely continue to be so in the life you now go to. Thank you for raising such an amazing son, who has become my best friend and true partner in life. Your unconditional love lives on in his sweet heart, and I feel so honored to be a part of your family."When I die, I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands
To pass their freshness over me once more:
I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny.
I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,
I want your ears still to hear the wind, I want you
to sniff the sea's aroma that we loved together,
to continue to walk on the sand we walked on.
I want what I love to continue to live,
And you whom I love and sang above everything else
To continue to flourish, full flowered:
So that you can reach everything my love directs you to,
So that my shadow can travel along in your hair,
So that everything can learn the reason for my song!"
Sonnet 89
Pablo Neruda
**Please note: If you are reading this on Facebook, I am on a FB cleanse right now and I am not participating much. If you want to comment on this post, please visit my blog at http://thetribaldancer.blogspot.com/**
Today is supposed to be the longest day of the year. But I think yesterday was bucking for first place. Stephanie called early in the morning and told us to come over right away. We didn't get that message for three hours. Pat had woken up and was not responsive. Just staring. She refused food and water and pain meds all day long. She was still responding one-word answers to some things, and even put together short sentences in the morning, but by afternoon and evening wasn't speaking much at all.
Today she is aware/alert, but not saying anything. She is allowing water to keep her mouth wet, but still refusing to eat or drink. She can't really swallow anything right now anyway... Stephanie, Nathan, and Gina have been nonstop in their caring for her, even sleeping on the floor in her room last night to make sure she had someone nearby whenever she needed them.
Pat is surrounded by a lot of love right now. Friends and family coming by all day long, dropping off flowers and food and cards. We sat with her all day and night. We are back today by her bedside, trying to keep her comfortable, and saying the things we need to say.
It's understandably somber and quiet here. There isn't much to be done, so it's just *being here* that we can offer. And that is what we are doing...minute by minute, hour by hour, day by blessed day.
Today is supposed to be the longest day of the year. But I think yesterday was bucking for first place. Stephanie called early in the morning and told us to come over right away. We didn't get that message for three hours. Pat had woken up and was not responsive. Just staring. She refused food and water and pain meds all day long. She was still responding one-word answers to some things, and even put together short sentences in the morning, but by afternoon and evening wasn't speaking much at all.
Today she is aware/alert, but not saying anything. She is allowing water to keep her mouth wet, but still refusing to eat or drink. She can't really swallow anything right now anyway... Stephanie, Nathan, and Gina have been nonstop in their caring for her, even sleeping on the floor in her room last night to make sure she had someone nearby whenever she needed them.
Pat is surrounded by a lot of love right now. Friends and family coming by all day long, dropping off flowers and food and cards. We sat with her all day and night. We are back today by her bedside, trying to keep her comfortable, and saying the things we need to say. It's understandably somber and quiet here. There isn't much to be done, so it's just *being here* that we can offer. And that is what we are doing...minute by minute, hour by hour, day by blessed day.
**Please note: If you are reading this on Facebook, I am on a FB cleanse right now and I am not participating much. If you want to comment on this post, please visit my blog at http://thetribaldancer.blogspot.com/**
Today began as an adventure in entrelac knitting (see example to right, NOT my work, but a fine example). I have long wanted to try this technique, and since I wanted a little break from my lace shawl I am working on, it seemed a good time to take on some new techniques for kicks. Not only is this a chance to try the new effect, but it also gave me an excuse to try to learn reverse knitting. That is, learning to purl from the right side, eliminating the need to turn your work as frequently on a project such as this one which would require it constantly. So far so good, pics coming of my own work soon.
This afternoon was my first afternoon getting to take care of Pat, my Mother In Law. Chris' boss has graciously allowed him to take some personal time as needed to care for his Mom, so today he got to come with me while I started to learn some of the routines for Pat's comfort. My heart is breaking for everyone in Chris' family right now, and the prospect of volunteering for this heavy task was freaking me out, but I am truly honored to be trusted to be a part of the care of this amazing woman. As I told Pat today, my father didn't ask for help when he needed it most, so I didn't have a choice in caring for him in any way. In this I have a choice, and while it is hard on everyone to figure out the ins and outs (of course MOST of all Pat herself!!), it is a circle of trust and love and caring I am blessed to be a part of. I am thankful for being asked.
Stephanie, Chris' sister, possesses such a gentle soul and practical mind-a perfect combination in such circumstances. She is preserving her mother's dignity and frankly taking care of f*cking BUSINESS for her family in a way we can all only pray for should we find for ourselves in such need. Not only with daily health and comfort issues, but also taking over Pat's home business on the side of her own multiple jobs, Stephanie is a rock star. And I have decided her husband Nathan is just an angel, no question. This clearly is his family, too, deeply and without question, and all the ways he is devoting his time and energy to doing everything he can to support Pat and Stephanie on all levels is yet another miracle of time and place and people that Pat finds herself surrounded by.
Chris is making time in his very hectic life to be there for his Mom, and for his grandfather who also needs extra support right now, especially in the absence of his daughter who has been his caretaker for many years. I love Chris so much for his deep love for his family, and admire the way he is trying to balance stresses in impossible circumstances, while managing to keep a (mostly) even keel and offer so much love and support to those around him. His boss is being amazingly accommodating of him right now, and I can't thank them enough for freeing up Chris as much as they are able during a time when they could be pressuring him harder to meet some critical deadlines they are up against this week. I thank God for the very loving, human support they are offering my husband in the way of time and understanding.
I also have to give a shout-out to my friend Michelle, who has been an incredible resource of information, strength, encouragement, wisdom, and support. Michelle was the primary caretaker for her mother during her battle with pancreatic cancer, and thus has a lot of experience with all stages of the process, and has taken a lot of personal time to write generously informative and supportive mails to me, answering so many questions, easing fears, and letting me rant it out when I needed an ear. Pat and her family have no idea how much positive energy and caring is flowing from this woman they have never met.
Aside from the medical/daily health stuff, being there is mostly getting to hang out with Pat, knit or crochet, watch TV, chat, and just...be. Which, frankly, is what both of us need right now, and thus is yet again the Universe arranging for everyone to get what they need. Thanks, Universe. I'm listening.
If you are reading this, and have some prayers or energy to offer on behalf of my MIL, it would be most welcome. It may be the case that she stops chemo altogether, pending some further testing. We would love to see her having more energy and improving her comfort and quality of life, whatever the decision, and that is our prayer. If you would add it to yours, thanks in advance.
Today began as an adventure in entrelac knitting (see example to right, NOT my work, but a fine example). I have long wanted to try this technique, and since I wanted a little break from my lace shawl I am working on, it seemed a good time to take on some new techniques for kicks. Not only is this a chance to try the new effect, but it also gave me an excuse to try to learn reverse knitting. That is, learning to purl from the right side, eliminating the need to turn your work as frequently on a project such as this one which would require it constantly. So far so good, pics coming of my own work soon.This afternoon was my first afternoon getting to take care of Pat, my Mother In Law. Chris' boss has graciously allowed him to take some personal time as needed to care for his Mom, so today he got to come with me while I started to learn some of the routines for Pat's comfort. My heart is breaking for everyone in Chris' family right now, and the prospect of volunteering for this heavy task was freaking me out, but I am truly honored to be trusted to be a part of the care of this amazing woman. As I told Pat today, my father didn't ask for help when he needed it most, so I didn't have a choice in caring for him in any way. In this I have a choice, and while it is hard on everyone to figure out the ins and outs (of course MOST of all Pat herself!!), it is a circle of trust and love and caring I am blessed to be a part of. I am thankful for being asked.
Stephanie, Chris' sister, possesses such a gentle soul and practical mind-a perfect combination in such circumstances. She is preserving her mother's dignity and frankly taking care of f*cking BUSINESS for her family in a way we can all only pray for should we find for ourselves in such need. Not only with daily health and comfort issues, but also taking over Pat's home business on the side of her own multiple jobs, Stephanie is a rock star. And I have decided her husband Nathan is just an angel, no question. This clearly is his family, too, deeply and without question, and all the ways he is devoting his time and energy to doing everything he can to support Pat and Stephanie on all levels is yet another miracle of time and place and people that Pat finds herself surrounded by.
Chris is making time in his very hectic life to be there for his Mom, and for his grandfather who also needs extra support right now, especially in the absence of his daughter who has been his caretaker for many years. I love Chris so much for his deep love for his family, and admire the way he is trying to balance stresses in impossible circumstances, while managing to keep a (mostly) even keel and offer so much love and support to those around him. His boss is being amazingly accommodating of him right now, and I can't thank them enough for freeing up Chris as much as they are able during a time when they could be pressuring him harder to meet some critical deadlines they are up against this week. I thank God for the very loving, human support they are offering my husband in the way of time and understanding.
I also have to give a shout-out to my friend Michelle, who has been an incredible resource of information, strength, encouragement, wisdom, and support. Michelle was the primary caretaker for her mother during her battle with pancreatic cancer, and thus has a lot of experience with all stages of the process, and has taken a lot of personal time to write generously informative and supportive mails to me, answering so many questions, easing fears, and letting me rant it out when I needed an ear. Pat and her family have no idea how much positive energy and caring is flowing from this woman they have never met.
Aside from the medical/daily health stuff, being there is mostly getting to hang out with Pat, knit or crochet, watch TV, chat, and just...be. Which, frankly, is what both of us need right now, and thus is yet again the Universe arranging for everyone to get what they need. Thanks, Universe. I'm listening.
If you are reading this, and have some prayers or energy to offer on behalf of my MIL, it would be most welcome. It may be the case that she stops chemo altogether, pending some further testing. We would love to see her having more energy and improving her comfort and quality of life, whatever the decision, and that is our prayer. If you would add it to yours, thanks in advance.
**Please note: If you are reading this on Facebook, I am on a FB cleanse right now and I am not participating much. If you want to comment on this post, please visit my blog at http://thetribaldancer.blogspot.com/**
My friend Arya has a wonderful blog that I pop over to read now and again. Today, I caught up on a past post where she mused about the word "fine". What struck me was this portion of it:
My thoughts after the jump...
Talk about synergy! I had this very conversation with my husband this weekend. As you all know by now, my family is struggling with a beloved family member who is very ill. At a gathering this weekend, when I asked my SIL how she was doing, she told me "Fine", and smiled half-heartedly, knowing full well I knew she wasn't, and communicating with her face, and a hand squeeze, that she was not at all fine. But it was as if she had to go through that motion, even with me, because she was practicing it so much lately.
I, too, have been doing my best lately to not lie about how I am, without inviting too much inquiry or bringing others down. Fact is, 99% of the people who ask how you are doing are only interested in hearing something offhanded and ideally positive, and don't want to be drawn into any greater recitation of difficulty or drama. They aren't *really* asking how you are. It is simply just a common greeting, not really a question. So when people ask, I have a stock answer that sounds upbeat, but also isn't a lie. Right now my response is "Keepin' busy!" And I am. What they don't need to know is that I am undertaking a lot of busy-ness to distract myself from a miserable set of circumstances in my personal life. That videos and soundtracks of regrets and fears are playing endlessly in my mind, and weighing on my spirit, and that I have very few people I can even talk to about it. That is not what they are asking, and so I am being polite and offering a return greeting on par with their desire for shallow cordial exchange.
It's not a lie. I'm not fine, but I'm keeping busy. Or as Arya put it so beautifully, "I'm not well, but I'll be okay."
My friend Arya has a wonderful blog that I pop over to read now and again. Today, I caught up on a past post where she mused about the word "fine". What struck me was this portion of it:
"Fred: "Oh, hello, Alma. I haven't seen you in so long. How are you?"
Alma: "Hi Fred. I'm fine. How 'bout yourself?"
**********************************
Does the above greeting sound familiar? Have you been Fred or Alma - either on the receiving or giving end of a "fine"?
...
The truly sad thing about the overused "fine" is that it is usually a lie. A flat-out lie (just read the links above to read various definitions). Usually, everything about the person saying they're fine tells us otherwise. Alma looks disheveled. Her skin is waxy and her eyes have dark rings. She seems to sag, as if drained. And yet, when asked by a friend how she's doing, she tells him "fine". She could simply say, "Oh, Fred. I'm having a tough time right now. I appreciate you asking how I'm doing, but I don't feel like talking about it." She could be honest without going into details, "I'm not well, but I'll be okay." Somehow we, as a culture, have all become "fine" even when we're not."
My thoughts after the jump...
Talk about synergy! I had this very conversation with my husband this weekend. As you all know by now, my family is struggling with a beloved family member who is very ill. At a gathering this weekend, when I asked my SIL how she was doing, she told me "Fine", and smiled half-heartedly, knowing full well I knew she wasn't, and communicating with her face, and a hand squeeze, that she was not at all fine. But it was as if she had to go through that motion, even with me, because she was practicing it so much lately.
I, too, have been doing my best lately to not lie about how I am, without inviting too much inquiry or bringing others down. Fact is, 99% of the people who ask how you are doing are only interested in hearing something offhanded and ideally positive, and don't want to be drawn into any greater recitation of difficulty or drama. They aren't *really* asking how you are. It is simply just a common greeting, not really a question. So when people ask, I have a stock answer that sounds upbeat, but also isn't a lie. Right now my response is "Keepin' busy!" And I am. What they don't need to know is that I am undertaking a lot of busy-ness to distract myself from a miserable set of circumstances in my personal life. That videos and soundtracks of regrets and fears are playing endlessly in my mind, and weighing on my spirit, and that I have very few people I can even talk to about it. That is not what they are asking, and so I am being polite and offering a return greeting on par with their desire for shallow cordial exchange.
It's not a lie. I'm not fine, but I'm keeping busy. Or as Arya put it so beautifully, "I'm not well, but I'll be okay."
He had roses delivered on Friday with a beautiful Rumi quote attached (a lot of flowers he sends with Rumi poetry quotes:):
"The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
Lovers don't finally meet somewhere,
they're in each other all along."
I gave him a scarf I knitted. Actually re-knitted. The very first scarf I ever made I made for him, and it was kinda scraggly, and was pulled and uneven in places--he wore the heck out of it anyway, and keeps it for sentimental value. So I snuck it out of his stash and unraveled it and re-knit it completely into a much nicer scarf. It came out too short. He kissed me and wore it all night anyway.
We were out late Friday night seeing Coraline and having dinner with Celise and Befu, so Saturday morning we slept in. Then he offered to take me shopping for some new clothes. So we head to the mall and he patiently held hangers and purse and coat and generally lovingly pack-muled around, gave me his opinion on things I wasn't sure about, and happily ponied up on anything I wanted. All I heard all day was "Yes!" and "Of course!" and "Do you want to check this store out, too?" Ahhhh!
Then he took me to Best Buy and also bought me the Rock Band sunburst guitar I have wanted since Christmas but they were sold out of (and offered to buy me another video game I have wanted, but I demurred). Followed closely by heading to the store and getting some of my favorite cheeses to have a "cheese n' wine night" later this weekend (it is a three day weekend! WAHOO!).
We then had 8:30 reservations at Ponte Veccio, where we had our very first Valentine's Day dinner together, and we feasted on an incredible four course meal and two bottles of yummy wine, and talked about our last 10 years together, and what we want to make of the next 10 years.
Came home and watched Saturday Night Live on the Tivo and crawled into bed about 3am.
He is still sleeping, but I am about to go start breakfast for him!
I have a blessed life with my best friend, Christopher. Thank you, my darling love.
Happy Valentine's Day!
I have not been very good at blogging lately, and don't expect anything too stellar out of this one, either. I have waffled between very high highs, which are difficult to put into words which do it justice, and very blah lows, where I just don't feel like doing ANYTHING.
Christmas was good over here. Christmas Eve was at Chris' Mom house with the fam damily. Was wonderful to see Steph and Nathan again--I didn't realize how much I missed them until I saw them. And then everything was so rushed, and they were back in Alaska mere days later. Feel I didn't get enough face time with them. Got lots of time with Chris' Mom and Bapa, though, since not only did we spend Christmas there, but then spent the next Saturday afternoon at Bapa's house helping him set up his new TV he bought himself, and work out some computer issues he was having. And far too little time with my Mom, who was there and gone. But I was so so happy I got to see her at all, and I still love her and Bill together. He is good with her. He seems to "get" her. She still has a tendency to strongly absorb the men she is with, and Bill is no exception, but he has a gentle side that seems to feed into her on a level I haven't seen another partner of hers able to nurture. So it gives me a little peace to know she is with him.
Christmas Day was sleeping in, opening some more presents, and then dinner with friends. We went for Indian buffet, and then came back to my house to play with...
Oh yes.
Did I mention?
I got a PS3 and Rock Band for Christmas.
Chris was very naughty to spend so much this holiday, but we are getting our money's worth! He had me open it three days before Christmas, so I could have it over the full holiday weekend, which was super cool. He tried to trick me by giving me just the guitar from Rock Band, and the game disk. DUH! :) The PS3 is a bit of a pill in the user-friendly department, and those heating issues are the real deal. It's a brick. But it's MY BRICK! Oh, and he got me Time Crisis 4! :) Haven't played it yet, but mainly because I have been so tied to RB and WOW lately, I need some down time from games and screens. I have been knitting and listening to music to try and offset it.
Anyway, so we have been rocking a lot. Amy and Erik came over the Sunday night before Christmas and we played hours and hours. Then again on Christmas Day. Then again on the weekend. Then again on New Years Eve. And we are getting together again tonight with Renee to rock some more. I am in the middle of a defective guitar exchange with EA which allows us to have two (differently-abled) guitars for a couple weeks, and we are taking advantage of it while we can (they aren't selling individual guitars until February at the earliest, so this is the only way to have a basist in the band for PS3 players).
Next game I must have: Resident Evil, the Umbrella Chronicles for the Wii. Maybe then the Wii will get a little attention again. Poor neglected Wii.
Been feeling really at loose ends lately. So it was a real treat to get together with Renee yesterday and hammer out some WORK. I love my time off, but this Virgo needs some structure and grounding, and getting with Renee to work on troupe and class stuff really helps focus me. And I feel better today as a result, and felt motivated to organize a few other things (laundry, dishes, banking, etc), which includes this blog entry, certainly. Chaos begets chaos, and order begets order in my life. And I have been missing some order, and spiraling into a bit of a personal chaotic wad. It's S.A.D. at work, too, which I have to combat with ORDER.
Part of that work was finally restructuring my classes to really codify the level content again, reinforce our plans for the changes we implemented from the FatChance study we have done lately, clean up the inFusion format vocabulary, and get the class content lined up with that track. I was thrilled to be able to go to my web page today and finally rename my class levels, as I had been planning, and put up the first content on the new Student Resource Center, which included level content outlines. Seeing it all written out nice and neat did my heart good.
Guess I better get back to it. I need to create a 2008 calendar ASAP, as registrations have been slow thanks to people not being sure when classes begin again!
*trotting off to code*
So today as I was searching for my copy of the Artist's Way (which some of my troupemates and I are going to be doing together (again for some of us)), I walked past the stack of plastic boxes which had been passed on to me from my Mom on our last visit. In our family, we didn't have scrapbooks or anything so organized. We had "memory boxes". Basically, everyone had a cardboard box where anything you achieved was thrown into. Report cards, certificates of achievement, essays, birthday cards, pictures you drew, notes, photographs... They all would get crumpled and torn over the years, but that didn't seem to be an issue when considering changing systems.
So I opened mine. Or what was mostly mine. Over time, looks like a lot of cross-pollination took place, and there were some memorabilia from all my siblings in there along with my stuff. And then I came across some cards from my Dad to my Mom. And I found some notes that seemed to be pieces of a scavenger hunt my Dad had assembled for my Mom at some time, and a little handmade heart with a promise for a backrub from Mom to Dad. I felt like I was peering in on something intensely private, and at the same time, sad that my Mom wanted to throw all of this "out" by tossing it into my memory box and pushing it off onto me.
One discovery made me take pause, and is ringing in my mind right now. My father's handwriting is just as distinct as my Mother's, and completely the opposite. While my Mom has swirling script, my Father always wrote in all-caps. Precise, boxy lettering. And he never wrote much. Even in anniversary cards, he never wrote more than "Love, Me" at the bottom. No extra note. And he always signed it "Me". So it was surprising to find a small notecard--the kind that accompanies flower arrangements--written in his stilted unpracticed cursive, which he almost never used. It read, "Honey, You deserve so much more. Me."
My mind races. What circumstance inspired him to write such a self-deprecating note? What was he apologizing for? What had he done? Or not done? What had she said? Imagining my Father in some emotional state where he believed himself to be unworthy of my Mother, or somehow incapable of giving her the life he (or she?) felt she deserved...it breaks me heart. And felt like some kind of insight into his suicide all those years later... but maybe I am reading too much into one little note. I just know it made me well up with tears as I studied it, and makes my chest feel tight to picture it now in my mind's eye...
And then I realize that maybe the card meant "You deserve so much more (than just these flowers)". And the tightness doesn't go away. Because I realize that his suicide has made me approach every piece of memorabilia with the eye of some kind of detective. I am filled with a degree melancholy and suspicion as I dig through these memories, as if searching for a clue to the mystery. I read into everything. The tiniest notes make me feel connected to him, and at the same time remind me that I didn't really ever know what was in his heart and he feels even further away than you believe even death could carry someone...
I also found some "journals" of my Mom's. I had no idea she ever journaled anything. But here they were, funny little spiral-bound memo books with her clean cursive writing I recognize anyplace. And the entries are very short, and mostly matter-of-fact.
"Oct 11th
Left this morning for Honolulu. G&G came out to the airport--so did Daddy on his way to Newark. Arrived Honolulu at 12:30. Went to Holiday Inn. Kids swam in the afternoon, ate at the hotel restaurant. Didn't attempt to make flight as TE-11 was canceled. No room for us."
I continued reading, and found this was an account of the month-long trip she took me and brother on to New Zealand when I was about 7 years old. The entries were brief throughout, a few days apart throughout the trip. Now, I know for a fact that my Mom was completely harassed by the husband of a friend we went to stay with at one point during our trip. Sicker still, it was when his wife was in the hospital giving birth to their third child, and my Mom was helping take care of the kids and house while she was away. But the short little entries reveal nothing. Sure, they relate, in two sentences, how we went to see the Queen Mother walk down Queens Way, and that the Prince himself walked right up and touched my hand and smiled at me while I waved my New Zealand flag with zeal. She shares a couple lines about our walks to the bakery each morning, and our long day on One Tree Hill, playing in the park. How Brian and I were loving tea every day, and out on the farm how we loved the fresh milk and butter. But she was nearly attacked by her friend's husband, and she doesn't note it anywhere?
Which got me thinking about the nature of journaling, and associated blogging, and wondering "Who is this for?" And if it is for us, how honest are we in our writing, and how much of what we write is revisionist, in that we only write what we want to remember, and avoid writing about the things that we might later be sad about or even ashamed of.
I have stacks of hand-written journals I have kept for years. I no longer write in a hand-written journal, because frankly it is too slow for me. All my life I found it frustrating that my hand couldn't write as fast as thoughts came to me, and my hand would invariably cramp up at some inopportune time. Add to that the fact that with the advent of blogging, my focus in writing changed to be able to not only record my thoughts and experiences for myself, but to share them with friends so we can keep up with one another. Which changes the nature of the writing significantly. I look at some of my handwritten journals, and I cringe at times at some of the harsh honesty and embarrassing details contained therein (I am reminded that my father always told me that if I ever got famous, I should burn my journals. At times, I consider doing it anyway...). And then I look at my fairly sterile-by-comparison LJ, and realize I don't really write for me any more. I do, but it is censored and focused in such a way that it is more revisionist than I may have realized before today...before finding my Mom's journal.
Thing is, I am not sure who my Mom would have been writing her journal for. But I an inclined to believe it was just for herself. And she chose not to tell her own tale honestly. I wonder why...
So I opened mine. Or what was mostly mine. Over time, looks like a lot of cross-pollination took place, and there were some memorabilia from all my siblings in there along with my stuff. And then I came across some cards from my Dad to my Mom. And I found some notes that seemed to be pieces of a scavenger hunt my Dad had assembled for my Mom at some time, and a little handmade heart with a promise for a backrub from Mom to Dad. I felt like I was peering in on something intensely private, and at the same time, sad that my Mom wanted to throw all of this "out" by tossing it into my memory box and pushing it off onto me.
One discovery made me take pause, and is ringing in my mind right now. My father's handwriting is just as distinct as my Mother's, and completely the opposite. While my Mom has swirling script, my Father always wrote in all-caps. Precise, boxy lettering. And he never wrote much. Even in anniversary cards, he never wrote more than "Love, Me" at the bottom. No extra note. And he always signed it "Me". So it was surprising to find a small notecard--the kind that accompanies flower arrangements--written in his stilted unpracticed cursive, which he almost never used. It read, "Honey, You deserve so much more. Me."
My mind races. What circumstance inspired him to write such a self-deprecating note? What was he apologizing for? What had he done? Or not done? What had she said? Imagining my Father in some emotional state where he believed himself to be unworthy of my Mother, or somehow incapable of giving her the life he (or she?) felt she deserved...it breaks me heart. And felt like some kind of insight into his suicide all those years later... but maybe I am reading too much into one little note. I just know it made me well up with tears as I studied it, and makes my chest feel tight to picture it now in my mind's eye...
And then I realize that maybe the card meant "You deserve so much more (than just these flowers)". And the tightness doesn't go away. Because I realize that his suicide has made me approach every piece of memorabilia with the eye of some kind of detective. I am filled with a degree melancholy and suspicion as I dig through these memories, as if searching for a clue to the mystery. I read into everything. The tiniest notes make me feel connected to him, and at the same time remind me that I didn't really ever know what was in his heart and he feels even further away than you believe even death could carry someone...
I also found some "journals" of my Mom's. I had no idea she ever journaled anything. But here they were, funny little spiral-bound memo books with her clean cursive writing I recognize anyplace. And the entries are very short, and mostly matter-of-fact.
"Oct 11th
Left this morning for Honolulu. G&G came out to the airport--so did Daddy on his way to Newark. Arrived Honolulu at 12:30. Went to Holiday Inn. Kids swam in the afternoon, ate at the hotel restaurant. Didn't attempt to make flight as TE-11 was canceled. No room for us."
I continued reading, and found this was an account of the month-long trip she took me and brother on to New Zealand when I was about 7 years old. The entries were brief throughout, a few days apart throughout the trip. Now, I know for a fact that my Mom was completely harassed by the husband of a friend we went to stay with at one point during our trip. Sicker still, it was when his wife was in the hospital giving birth to their third child, and my Mom was helping take care of the kids and house while she was away. But the short little entries reveal nothing. Sure, they relate, in two sentences, how we went to see the Queen Mother walk down Queens Way, and that the Prince himself walked right up and touched my hand and smiled at me while I waved my New Zealand flag with zeal. She shares a couple lines about our walks to the bakery each morning, and our long day on One Tree Hill, playing in the park. How Brian and I were loving tea every day, and out on the farm how we loved the fresh milk and butter. But she was nearly attacked by her friend's husband, and she doesn't note it anywhere?
Which got me thinking about the nature of journaling, and associated blogging, and wondering "Who is this for?" And if it is for us, how honest are we in our writing, and how much of what we write is revisionist, in that we only write what we want to remember, and avoid writing about the things that we might later be sad about or even ashamed of.
I have stacks of hand-written journals I have kept for years. I no longer write in a hand-written journal, because frankly it is too slow for me. All my life I found it frustrating that my hand couldn't write as fast as thoughts came to me, and my hand would invariably cramp up at some inopportune time. Add to that the fact that with the advent of blogging, my focus in writing changed to be able to not only record my thoughts and experiences for myself, but to share them with friends so we can keep up with one another. Which changes the nature of the writing significantly. I look at some of my handwritten journals, and I cringe at times at some of the harsh honesty and embarrassing details contained therein (I am reminded that my father always told me that if I ever got famous, I should burn my journals. At times, I consider doing it anyway...). And then I look at my fairly sterile-by-comparison LJ, and realize I don't really write for me any more. I do, but it is censored and focused in such a way that it is more revisionist than I may have realized before today...before finding my Mom's journal.
Thing is, I am not sure who my Mom would have been writing her journal for. But I an inclined to believe it was just for herself. And she chose not to tell her own tale honestly. I wonder why...
My beloved is walking into his interview with Disney Online.He was excited and nervous when he left, as would be expected. Emphasis on the excited. I don't remember the last time I saw him bouncing around the house being his goofy self so much, let alone literally announcing, "I'm excited." He is also feeling very confident in his ability to get this job.
Of course, if he doesn't for whatever reason, that will entirely suck. But I feel really confident on his behalf, too...
The upside? Aside from Chris having a job he believes he will love--which is enough in itself--our vacation in September could potentially be as much as 40%-60% cheaper. When you don't have to buy park passes, and your hotel is 50% off, you save cash.
The downside? We can't win a THING in the Year of a Million Dreams contests! So if they try to hand us a super FastPass, or, GOD FORBID, a night in Cinderella's Castle...we have to say no!
I may tell Chris he has to quit immediately if that happens, though...
Sorry I have been so out of touch, dear friends. I just have not had time or inclination to write. Feels like a ton has happened, but *shrug*
This past weekend Chris and I attended his little sister's wedding. I am sure most of you know what I am talking about when I say that there are a handful of weddings you attend in your life that feel...perfectly...right. Where the couple is so obviously right for one another, you feel honored and full of joy at being witness to it. Stephanie and Nathan's wedding was one of those rare, beautiful unions.
The wedding was on a beach in Morro Bay, CA. The backdrop was this sandstone wall, overgrown with hanging shrubery, with a small creek cutting along the front of it. We were seated on a sandy bar facing the wall and creek, with the ocean crashing against the rocks to our left. It was overcast, but warm enough, and the rays still managed to burn us a bit. The wedding attendees were limited to a small number--parhaps 30+ of us in all.
The ceremony included a multi-stage water blessing. On the alter was a pitcher of water, and as guests arrived, we were invited to walk up, hold the pitcher of water, and "bless" it with good thoughts and feelings for the couple. Chris and I did so, holding the pitcher between us, and kissed over it, infusing it with love and successful marriage juju. The ceremony itself was very personal to them, for certain, and various readings enumerated the significance and symbolism of water and the color green (their wedding color) in their relationship. The attendants had processed with tall staffs topped with multi-colored ribbons, and stood like sentries creating a circle around all of us--keeping all that juju in! My favorite part was when the two entwined their fingers to form a sort of bowl with their upturned palms, and the many qualities of the blessed water was invoked as it was poured into their hands. Then they walked into the creek along with the officiant for a private exchange and blessing, after which they said their vows and exchanged rings. Seeing Stephanie kiss his ring before placing it on his hand makes me tear up to remember it even now. And the imagery of she in her beautiful silk gown and Nathan in his kilt standing in the rushing creek...so beautiful.
Afterward, they had a lot of people taking various photos, and Stephanie reminded Chris that she had asked him to take "official" photos. He didn't remember that, but we had been in this role before and enjoy it very much. And it had the added bonus of Chris getting to play with his new camera I got him as a belated anniversary gift (which is freakin' sweet!) Sometimes I wonder if we shouldn't hire out to do wedding photography together...it's fun! I do the "staging"--they stylist if you will. We frame them together, and Chris does the magic with the camera (aperature values? huh?) Having this beautiful beach as a backdrop, and two willing subjects (and their family and wedding party) made for a fun and creative time. Chris has offloaded the photos, but I haven't seen them yet. Can't wait to see how they turned out.
I was bummed that we didn't have more time to explore the beautiful region. We flew in Friday night, went straight to the (delicious and beautiful) Italian rehearsal dinner. Then Saturday at 11am was the wedding, we did photos, then rushed to the park to help decorate and set up for the barbecue reception, then hung there for hours eating and chatting, then back to the room for me to nap in preparation for an intended night out with the bridesmaids. We were on our way out to dinner when Gina stopped by and admitted she and the gals were too tired to hang out after all (they had been running around taking care of all the details the entire weekend). We tried to find a place open to eat, but everything was closed around 9:30. We picked up dinner at the local Albertsons instead, and had a "romantic" meal of pizza and salad on our hotel room bed.
Sunday we checked out at 11am, got some breakfast at a lovely little cafe in San Luis Obispo, and then hung at the tiny airport until our 2:30 flight to LAX, to continue through to Seattle.
On the trip home we experienced continuing exception to an otherwise uneventful trip, which is due to the fact that "Christopher Moore" is a name on the friggin' no-fly list. So thanks to George W, Chris (and I, with him) can never do electronic check-in, and they have to take our ID's into some back room and cross-check his birthdate and description with the guy who shares his name (which includes this other poor guy who is also not-guilty-but-treated-like-he-is). In LAX, they were having various issues with planes and computers which had us switching to a different flight (which was a 1:30 flight which was delayed to OUR flight time, which we switched to, and OUR flight was delayed an hour), and that combined with Chris' name being George W'd, we stood in line for (no exaggeration) 2 hours! Yes, our entire stopover was spent standing in line and at a counter waiting for a guy making calls all over the place to verify Chris' identity as an Honest To Goodness Law-Abiding American. I pressed the gentleman (who was very nice, though frustratingly un-forthcoming in sharing with us when the computer delays persisted) to allow us to step away from the counter long enough to get some food to take on the plane, and when we got back, they had finally cleared him. Then they issued tickets for the wrong flight, and we had to change that over before rushing to use the bathroom and right to the gate to board immediately. Chris is eager for a new President to take office, and hopefully fix these ridiculously ineffective procedures to "keep our air travel safe". *snort* While we're at it, chalk up the carriage of liquids and gels on planes. I packaged some of my products, but left the rest in my carry-on, and nobody said boo to me. I mean, come on. Why in a labeled package? I could put ANYTHING in a "Herbal Essences" travel bottle--the label does not do a damn thing. Limits to 3oz is also ridiculous, considering I can fill a gallon sized bag with multiple 3oz containers; not to mention I could have 2 friends do the same thing, and pretty soon we have over a pound of "shampoo" on the flight. *waving dismissive hand at the government*
But I digress!
Sadly, a quick drive through Burien revealed I was again to be completely disappointed I couldn't get my Wah Kue's! They closed and locked the doors as we drove up at 8:30pm! WHAT THE?! We picked up some Mandarin Gate (poor substitute) on the way home, and when we got there...the house felt sooo empty! NO PUPPIES! WAH! We pretty much pined all night for them.
In the AM, Amy and Erik's friend Pawl came to get the old couch we were giving away (they grow 'em tall in that part of the country!). Anyway, he took the sofa, and we head out happily to get the pups. Ah, family! The report card from the Doggy Haven staff said they didn't eat as well as their last visit. And Gretchen was timid around th big dogs, which is a new development. We need to get them back to the dog park... So they put Gretchen in with the little dogs area. Both Loki and Gretchen apparently threw a FIT when they were separated ("1-2-3-AAAAW!"), so they put Loki in with the little dogs along with her, and apparently they BOTH were a million times happier in there, and the rest of their stay was a happy one. :) The report also gushed about how sweet and cute Gretchen is and how much all the staff adored her. We have the best puppies.
Home again, we cuddled and coddled the pups for a while, but had to head out again...this time, to finally begin our "Ikea collection" with a new Ektorp chair. Doesn't matter how few things you come for, you walk out with more, and this was no exception. We wandered through the store, sitting in different chairs and taking in different inspiration ideas. We discovered that the slipcover we thought we wanted for the chair was waaay brighter red than we realized AND was this fluffy corduroy fabric. The other options were entirely not right for us, but we resigned ourselves to the plain beige, with hopes that they would come out with a different color cover in some future year that we would want.
We grabbed several other items, including the rug I have wanted for a while and thought would look good in the new dining room (it does!), and on our way out was checked the As-Is section...and tada. Another Ektorp chair--a display model with a few scuffs on the slipcover--was for sale at a very discounted price. And to boot, everything in the As-Is section was an additional 25% off that day only! Over $100 off total. It had a white slipcover, which was not our plan, but we figured using white in the interim--washing it as best we could, and swapping it out when we get a color we want--would work fine. So home we went with two WHITE Ektorp chairs. WHITE. With two BLACK HAIRED DOGS. With the wet, muddy Seattle WINTER COMING ON. Yes, it is temporary, but it still felt (and feels) so...wrong!!
We took the next two hours before I left for class playing rearrange. Sadly, the way I dreamed we would arrange the room will in NO way work. Particularly when we get the Ektorp sofa-bed to match, which is a foot longer than the current little loveseat, there is simply no other way to arrange the room than the way it is currently set up. So I got no satisfaction in that arena. But Chris was realy determined to get a layout I was would be happy with before I had to dash off to class. He made some great suggestions on re-orienting the current layout, and when I was in the shower hosin' off, he cleaned the room and set up lots of beautiful candles. It looked lovely, but still felt "off". Bottom line: part of it is the fact that the chairs are white and larger than the loveseat--making them stick out and seem larger than they are. It also makes the loveseat look "freakishly small" (Chris' words), which makes us all the more eager to get the sofa ASAP. The current TV stand is small and very different than the other furniture in the room, and combine that with it being all the way across the room, and the rest of the furniture is cuddled around the cozy red rug, it feels very separate and different. Once we get the TV bench on our list, it will help tie it together, and give us room to store our DVD collection. And last on the list of furniture "to-do's" is to get a large, square coffee table. This narrow one we currently have adds to the tunnel-feeling of the room as it is oriented now.
The good news is that the room feels very opened up! It feels cozier--more conversational-nook feel than it had before. The whole room feels softer since we angled some stuff to take some of the sharp corners out, and the furniture feels larger and more "overstuffed" in the small room (but without actually BEING bigger--we downsized overall). We are eager to get some new art up, as the walls are more exposed now, and the blank canvass it reveals is begging for attention. As it sits now, Chris and I each have our own easy chair. Gretchen says, "FINALLY! I have the couch to myself I always deserved!"
Now what to do for the bedroom when we're done in here. Or shall we work on the kitchen...? So many plans!
Today is my first troupe night since Renee has left for Germany for the rest of the year. I am trippin'! I feel so WEIRD! Renee is so much a part of my dance life, it's like a limb has been cut off, and tonight I have to try and work without it. I know that sounds dramatic, but it really feels more acute than I realized. I hope she gets a chance to e-mail soon. I wonder how her trip went, and how things are shaping up? They have been there about 3 days by now. Only 10 weeks and 4 days left... Heehee
This past weekend Chris and I attended his little sister's wedding. I am sure most of you know what I am talking about when I say that there are a handful of weddings you attend in your life that feel...perfectly...right. Where the couple is so obviously right for one another, you feel honored and full of joy at being witness to it. Stephanie and Nathan's wedding was one of those rare, beautiful unions.
The wedding was on a beach in Morro Bay, CA. The backdrop was this sandstone wall, overgrown with hanging shrubery, with a small creek cutting along the front of it. We were seated on a sandy bar facing the wall and creek, with the ocean crashing against the rocks to our left. It was overcast, but warm enough, and the rays still managed to burn us a bit. The wedding attendees were limited to a small number--parhaps 30+ of us in all.
The ceremony included a multi-stage water blessing. On the alter was a pitcher of water, and as guests arrived, we were invited to walk up, hold the pitcher of water, and "bless" it with good thoughts and feelings for the couple. Chris and I did so, holding the pitcher between us, and kissed over it, infusing it with love and successful marriage juju. The ceremony itself was very personal to them, for certain, and various readings enumerated the significance and symbolism of water and the color green (their wedding color) in their relationship. The attendants had processed with tall staffs topped with multi-colored ribbons, and stood like sentries creating a circle around all of us--keeping all that juju in! My favorite part was when the two entwined their fingers to form a sort of bowl with their upturned palms, and the many qualities of the blessed water was invoked as it was poured into their hands. Then they walked into the creek along with the officiant for a private exchange and blessing, after which they said their vows and exchanged rings. Seeing Stephanie kiss his ring before placing it on his hand makes me tear up to remember it even now. And the imagery of she in her beautiful silk gown and Nathan in his kilt standing in the rushing creek...so beautiful.
Afterward, they had a lot of people taking various photos, and Stephanie reminded Chris that she had asked him to take "official" photos. He didn't remember that, but we had been in this role before and enjoy it very much. And it had the added bonus of Chris getting to play with his new camera I got him as a belated anniversary gift (which is freakin' sweet!) Sometimes I wonder if we shouldn't hire out to do wedding photography together...it's fun! I do the "staging"--they stylist if you will. We frame them together, and Chris does the magic with the camera (aperature values? huh?) Having this beautiful beach as a backdrop, and two willing subjects (and their family and wedding party) made for a fun and creative time. Chris has offloaded the photos, but I haven't seen them yet. Can't wait to see how they turned out.
I was bummed that we didn't have more time to explore the beautiful region. We flew in Friday night, went straight to the (delicious and beautiful) Italian rehearsal dinner. Then Saturday at 11am was the wedding, we did photos, then rushed to the park to help decorate and set up for the barbecue reception, then hung there for hours eating and chatting, then back to the room for me to nap in preparation for an intended night out with the bridesmaids. We were on our way out to dinner when Gina stopped by and admitted she and the gals were too tired to hang out after all (they had been running around taking care of all the details the entire weekend). We tried to find a place open to eat, but everything was closed around 9:30. We picked up dinner at the local Albertsons instead, and had a "romantic" meal of pizza and salad on our hotel room bed.
Sunday we checked out at 11am, got some breakfast at a lovely little cafe in San Luis Obispo, and then hung at the tiny airport until our 2:30 flight to LAX, to continue through to Seattle.
On the trip home we experienced continuing exception to an otherwise uneventful trip, which is due to the fact that "Christopher Moore" is a name on the friggin' no-fly list. So thanks to George W, Chris (and I, with him) can never do electronic check-in, and they have to take our ID's into some back room and cross-check his birthdate and description with the guy who shares his name (which includes this other poor guy who is also not-guilty-but-treated-like-he-is). In LAX, they were having various issues with planes and computers which had us switching to a different flight (which was a 1:30 flight which was delayed to OUR flight time, which we switched to, and OUR flight was delayed an hour), and that combined with Chris' name being George W'd, we stood in line for (no exaggeration) 2 hours! Yes, our entire stopover was spent standing in line and at a counter waiting for a guy making calls all over the place to verify Chris' identity as an Honest To Goodness Law-Abiding American. I pressed the gentleman (who was very nice, though frustratingly un-forthcoming in sharing with us when the computer delays persisted) to allow us to step away from the counter long enough to get some food to take on the plane, and when we got back, they had finally cleared him. Then they issued tickets for the wrong flight, and we had to change that over before rushing to use the bathroom and right to the gate to board immediately. Chris is eager for a new President to take office, and hopefully fix these ridiculously ineffective procedures to "keep our air travel safe". *snort* While we're at it, chalk up the carriage of liquids and gels on planes. I packaged some of my products, but left the rest in my carry-on, and nobody said boo to me. I mean, come on. Why in a labeled package? I could put ANYTHING in a "Herbal Essences" travel bottle--the label does not do a damn thing. Limits to 3oz is also ridiculous, considering I can fill a gallon sized bag with multiple 3oz containers; not to mention I could have 2 friends do the same thing, and pretty soon we have over a pound of "shampoo" on the flight. *waving dismissive hand at the government*
But I digress!
Sadly, a quick drive through Burien revealed I was again to be completely disappointed I couldn't get my Wah Kue's! They closed and locked the doors as we drove up at 8:30pm! WHAT THE?! We picked up some Mandarin Gate (poor substitute) on the way home, and when we got there...the house felt sooo empty! NO PUPPIES! WAH! We pretty much pined all night for them.
In the AM, Amy and Erik's friend Pawl came to get the old couch we were giving away (they grow 'em tall in that part of the country!). Anyway, he took the sofa, and we head out happily to get the pups. Ah, family! The report card from the Doggy Haven staff said they didn't eat as well as their last visit. And Gretchen was timid around th big dogs, which is a new development. We need to get them back to the dog park... So they put Gretchen in with the little dogs area. Both Loki and Gretchen apparently threw a FIT when they were separated ("1-2-3-AAAAW!"), so they put Loki in with the little dogs along with her, and apparently they BOTH were a million times happier in there, and the rest of their stay was a happy one. :) The report also gushed about how sweet and cute Gretchen is and how much all the staff adored her. We have the best puppies.
Home again, we cuddled and coddled the pups for a while, but had to head out again...this time, to finally begin our "Ikea collection" with a new Ektorp chair. Doesn't matter how few things you come for, you walk out with more, and this was no exception. We wandered through the store, sitting in different chairs and taking in different inspiration ideas. We discovered that the slipcover we thought we wanted for the chair was waaay brighter red than we realized AND was this fluffy corduroy fabric. The other options were entirely not right for us, but we resigned ourselves to the plain beige, with hopes that they would come out with a different color cover in some future year that we would want.
We grabbed several other items, including the rug I have wanted for a while and thought would look good in the new dining room (it does!), and on our way out was checked the As-Is section...and tada. Another Ektorp chair--a display model with a few scuffs on the slipcover--was for sale at a very discounted price. And to boot, everything in the As-Is section was an additional 25% off that day only! Over $100 off total. It had a white slipcover, which was not our plan, but we figured using white in the interim--washing it as best we could, and swapping it out when we get a color we want--would work fine. So home we went with two WHITE Ektorp chairs. WHITE. With two BLACK HAIRED DOGS. With the wet, muddy Seattle WINTER COMING ON. Yes, it is temporary, but it still felt (and feels) so...wrong!!
We took the next two hours before I left for class playing rearrange. Sadly, the way I dreamed we would arrange the room will in NO way work. Particularly when we get the Ektorp sofa-bed to match, which is a foot longer than the current little loveseat, there is simply no other way to arrange the room than the way it is currently set up. So I got no satisfaction in that arena. But Chris was realy determined to get a layout I was would be happy with before I had to dash off to class. He made some great suggestions on re-orienting the current layout, and when I was in the shower hosin' off, he cleaned the room and set up lots of beautiful candles. It looked lovely, but still felt "off". Bottom line: part of it is the fact that the chairs are white and larger than the loveseat--making them stick out and seem larger than they are. It also makes the loveseat look "freakishly small" (Chris' words), which makes us all the more eager to get the sofa ASAP. The current TV stand is small and very different than the other furniture in the room, and combine that with it being all the way across the room, and the rest of the furniture is cuddled around the cozy red rug, it feels very separate and different. Once we get the TV bench on our list, it will help tie it together, and give us room to store our DVD collection. And last on the list of furniture "to-do's" is to get a large, square coffee table. This narrow one we currently have adds to the tunnel-feeling of the room as it is oriented now.
The good news is that the room feels very opened up! It feels cozier--more conversational-nook feel than it had before. The whole room feels softer since we angled some stuff to take some of the sharp corners out, and the furniture feels larger and more "overstuffed" in the small room (but without actually BEING bigger--we downsized overall). We are eager to get some new art up, as the walls are more exposed now, and the blank canvass it reveals is begging for attention. As it sits now, Chris and I each have our own easy chair. Gretchen says, "FINALLY! I have the couch to myself I always deserved!"
Now what to do for the bedroom when we're done in here. Or shall we work on the kitchen...? So many plans!
Today is my first troupe night since Renee has left for Germany for the rest of the year. I am trippin'! I feel so WEIRD! Renee is so much a part of my dance life, it's like a limb has been cut off, and tonight I have to try and work without it. I know that sounds dramatic, but it really feels more acute than I realized. I hope she gets a chance to e-mail soon. I wonder how her trip went, and how things are shaping up? They have been there about 3 days by now. Only 10 weeks and 4 days left... Heehee
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