How strange this existence: four people living under one roof: two over 40, two under 10. Some days I hear the girls from another room and wonder, "what are they doing?" They are in a different world, and it's increasingly becoming one I'm not fully privy to.
Read more5. The List: Memories from my Childhood Christmas
And because it was the 80s, we used orange bulbs in them, you know for enhanced effect. You could walk around the house literally without any other light on and see relatively well because of how bright they were. As a child I loved this built in night light and I would screw and unscrew the miniature bulbs all the time. I would imagine Santa arriving and catching a glimpse of his sleigh just beyond their luminosity. They stayed on all Christmas Eve night.
3. The Magical One
She didn't believe in herself enough to see it. She always looked outside for the beauty, the joy, the truth. How could she ever let go of the immense disappointment she held for herself so that she could recognize her potential? if she could do that, she could do anything.
2. Enter December
December is like a great, old aunt that shows up at your doorstep when the weather is cold. She comes in with a hobble and a sing-song, "Hellllloooooo"; loud and wonderful and a bit too enthusiastic. Of course you fall deep in her bosom delighting in her fullness, then welcome her inside.
Read more1. The Advent of Magic
My mom shared some stories about him recently while she was in and out of awareness in the hospital recovering from her stroke. The stories were absolutely delightful, as was my mom as she told them.
Read moreDeep Thoughts 3.0, Chapter 3
You're getting so big!
I overgrew.
Maybe Emma got her haircut from the same movie.
Maybe (and Mary Stuart Masterson has nothing on your new 'doo but she can play the drums better).
Missed lyrics:
Honeydew. Couldn't escape if I wanted too.
I overgrew.
Maybe Emma got her haircut from the same movie.
Maybe (and Mary Stuart Masterson has nothing on your new 'doo but she can play the drums better).
Missed lyrics:
Honeydew. Couldn't escape if I wanted too.
La Que Sabe
Come sit next to me,
be still my dear.
Together we will listen to…
Not a snow day
I keep thinking about this woman who helped us a week ago in JoAnn Fabrics. It was the first day of COVID19 social distancing and we were out and about buying stuff to keep busy. We needed a craft project and she was cutting swaths of fabric for us to make dresses.
Maddie mentioned how much the material cost. I said it was expensive (given my lack of talent and confidence with making clothes). The woman told Maddie she was 82 and had two jobs so she could buy the things she wanted. She said it happily and matter-of-factly and reminded me of my mom, whose 81. I thought about this generation and how able-bodied they are. My mom is the same way, though she is lucky enough to have the safety net of retirement funding so she doesn't have to work. This woman clearly did not.
I looked down the aisle, past the next person in line, at someone who was wearing a mask while she was shopping. I gazed back at the delicate hands cutting the material on the table in front of us and wondered, was this woman scared to be at work today? I knew she was just doing her job but this situation suddenly seemed extremely vulnerable to me.
I was on the front end of concern about the virus; thinking surely all the older adults of the world were hunkered down. Another older woman checked us out. I started thinking about how many people working at JoAnn's are retired. We went to three more stores after that prepping for two weeks of stay at home days.
For the next few days, I got out once everyday to a store or for a run. But I'm living with a "prepper" who has been waiting for a situation like this. Everyday he watches with concern as I appease the stir-crazy. It was all I could do to get him to go out in our camper just to get away from it all: the house, the virus, the WiFi... Sadly weather made us come back home too early but being away felt more freeing than I expected.
Each day I feel more confined. The numbers go up and more people keep their distance. I feel less socially awkward but still strange non-the-less. Yesterday I went out in the snowstorm to a store right by JoAnn's. After I was done, I thought I would swing by for some more fabric so Maddie could make a quilt. I approached the door and the store said it was closed due to COVID19. It felt surreal, I didn't understand for a minute, the snow confused me to since less people move around on snow days. I looked past the sign and there was a floor cleaner just inside the doors in the middle of the floor. Things were disheveled and the stillness and silence seemed to echo. I wondered if she got sick or if the company just chose to do the right thing.
Maddie mentioned how much the material cost. I said it was expensive (given my lack of talent and confidence with making clothes). The woman told Maddie she was 82 and had two jobs so she could buy the things she wanted. She said it happily and matter-of-factly and reminded me of my mom, whose 81. I thought about this generation and how able-bodied they are. My mom is the same way, though she is lucky enough to have the safety net of retirement funding so she doesn't have to work. This woman clearly did not.
I looked down the aisle, past the next person in line, at someone who was wearing a mask while she was shopping. I gazed back at the delicate hands cutting the material on the table in front of us and wondered, was this woman scared to be at work today? I knew she was just doing her job but this situation suddenly seemed extremely vulnerable to me.
I was on the front end of concern about the virus; thinking surely all the older adults of the world were hunkered down. Another older woman checked us out. I started thinking about how many people working at JoAnn's are retired. We went to three more stores after that prepping for two weeks of stay at home days.
For the next few days, I got out once everyday to a store or for a run. But I'm living with a "prepper" who has been waiting for a situation like this. Everyday he watches with concern as I appease the stir-crazy. It was all I could do to get him to go out in our camper just to get away from it all: the house, the virus, the WiFi... Sadly weather made us come back home too early but being away felt more freeing than I expected.
Each day I feel more confined. The numbers go up and more people keep their distance. I feel less socially awkward but still strange non-the-less. Yesterday I went out in the snowstorm to a store right by JoAnn's. After I was done, I thought I would swing by for some more fabric so Maddie could make a quilt. I approached the door and the store said it was closed due to COVID19. It felt surreal, I didn't understand for a minute, the snow confused me to since less people move around on snow days. I looked past the sign and there was a floor cleaner just inside the doors in the middle of the floor. Things were disheveled and the stillness and silence seemed to echo. I wondered if she got sick or if the company just chose to do the right thing.
The Cornish Feels
Lately I've been thinking about how nice it is to connect with others; to keep it low key and laugh. We did that yesterday with birthday cake and neighbors. Nothing special. I went to yoga, putzed around in some local shops and then came home to treats from D and the girls. It was all I needed to feel loved.
Look at their faces; they're so lovely in the moment. I attribute the Cornish feels to just enjoying the moment, being light and having a smile or joke to tell. My how time flies. It's almost been 10 years since I've talked to my dad. I still miss his energy but it's in me, it's genetic. Somedays knowing that is what keeps me going.
HBD RAC.
HBD RAC.