3.14.16

 

Spring has always felt hopeful.

Hopeful feels good.

 

!!@#$%^

I keep thinking that I should have something profound to say, but I'm stuck at the point of grief that I like to call All The Swear Words. 

How do I feel?  All The Swear Words.

What do I want to say?  All The Swear Words.

So, there's that. 

country roads

Last weekend, I removed the seats from my van, and loaded it up with my wares.  Picked up a sister and her lovely things and headed north to the town we called home for our growing-up years. 

 

We joined forces with a friend - the kind that's as close as a sister, and held a little party.

 

It was wonderful.

 

Like a breath of fresh air. 

 

We laughed.

 

And ate chocolate, and Earl's and Jakes.

 

The. Best.

 

Hugs all around.

nearly the same

I was looking at a couple of lovely blogs three minutes ago. 

Pictures of clean houses and delicious food. 

Kids working on great-fun-educational projects.

 

My kids are drinking Shamrock Shakes and watching PBS. 

I just drank a giant diet coke.  And ate a bowl of chips. 

Upon which I poured pickle juice.

 

Junk.

 

All the junk.

 

 

 

 



living

Today had all the makings of a bad day.  Mittens that felt funny, bloody noses, last minute bathroom trips.  Slowly things started to turn around. 

 

It's a terribly blustery day today.  I love terribly blustery days.

 

: : : :

 

On Saturday, as I was leaving home to run some errands, I got a call from a girlfriend.  She was at a thrift store. Could I come and look at a dining room set she found?  Was it different-cool or different-yuck?  It was different-wonderful.  Also, these chairs were there.  So I brought them home to my little old lady living room.

 

 

When my dad died, I felt the need to make all sorts of drastic life changes.  We did not move.  I did not get a face tattoo.  But we did get a dog.  I looked for Naida the Scottie.

But couldn't find her.  But I did find him...

 

 



 

Scotty the Schnauzer.

 

: : : :

 

chutes and ladders

 

I'm learning that grief is a little bit like chutes and ladders.  The process isn't all forward.  It's up and down and backwards.  Just when you think you've walked ahead, it comes up behind you and grabs you by the throat.  There is no mercy.  It is crying through an entire church service.  It is blinking fast away the tears in the coffee drive-thru because you couldn't switch the radio fast enough. 

 

It's having a conversation about your loved one and thinking the entire time, "I can't believe I can do this with out crying."  It's smiling.  And laughing.  And laughing so hard you start to cry but then can't stop crying. 

 

It's going about a regular day.  And then another.  And then one where you stay under the covers all day with your iphone. 

 

It's feeding your family sandwiches.  For breakfast and lunch and dinner.  Because your brain doesn't always kick on.  It's also pizza, spaghetti, pizza, spaghetti, cereal, cereal, cereal.

 

It's one foot in front of the other.  Taking all those next steps until you reach a ladder or a slide.  And you think you can pick which one you would prefer, but it doesn't work that way. 

 

 

we said goodbye

 

It was a quick and fierce battle. 

 

It still doesn't feel totally real.

 

He was so very loved. 

 

 

onward

My dad is sick. 

His diagnosis came mid September.  Adenocarcinoma.  We were praying for lymphoma.  Have you ever prayed that your dad would have lymphoma?  I never thought I would.  But that one is treatable.

He went from healthy to not in a matter of weeks. 

I keep telling God, "Please.  You have to show up big."

And He does.

My dad isn't scared.  "You can't scare me with Heaven."  He's been telling everyone.  I've been telling everyone.

My mom is his constant companion.  She's not scared either.  The worst thing that can happen is also the best thing that can happen.

My sisters and I spend most of our time at his feet.  Rubbing his feet.  He likes that.  We do, too.

We're kind of wrecked.  He's pretty much the best dad, ever. 

 

Naida the Scottie

She doesn't exist yet. 

But I've been slowly and purposefully brainwashing my children.  If you ask one of them what kind of dog we should get, they will give the correct answer.

My husband is a tougher sell. 

I'm going to start whispering in his ear at night. 

photo:  http://www.petguide.com/breeds/dog/scottish-terrier

a little bit like hope

She had started to slur her words. 

What's going on?  Depression?  Her mother had passed a couple years earlier.  The two had been very close.  The death hit hard.  Maybe so hard that depression was taking away her voice? 

It didn't seem so likely, when time kept passing and the words became harder and harder to decipher. 

A notebook and pen became a constant.

Man.  What in the world could it be?  67? 68?  Still so young.  She was so active and healthy and vibrant.  A firecracker. 

But then the diagnosis.  ALS.  What in the world.  Louis Gehrig's disease?  What does that even mean?  It means that she can't talk anymore.  It means that she can't clean her house.  Or decorate her own tree at Christmas.  It means that your super cool Nana with the candy apple red convertible mustang is going to slowly fade away.  Because there is no cure.  There is no treatment.  There's only suctions and feeding tubes and feeble hand squeezes. 

It means taking turns staying by her bedside at the hospital so she's never alone. 

It means soft music and foot massages.  And love.  And scripture.  And Jesus.

It means the most beautiful death. Surrounded by family and the most providentially timed reading of David's Psalm.  Last breaths counted and charted until there were no more.





And now all these buckets of ice...all these nominations and donations.  All this attention.  Towards a cure?  It feels a little bit like hope. 

early bread

We're in full-on summer mode.  At the onset of summer vacation, I mapped out a three month calendar.  It amazes me how quickly all the activities fill our days.  It's good stuff.  All the kids are old enough now to have places to go and things to do.  

Busy has been good.  

But this is how I start my day, every other day...with the bread.  Two loaves.  For toast in the morning and sandwiches in the afternoon. 

This is my favorite recipe:

Amish White Bread

(adapted)

1/2 cup raw sugar

3 tsp yeast

2 cups lukewarm water

1/4 cup canola oil

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 cup ground flax

6 cups flour

Proof first three ingredients for 10 minutes.  Add remaining ingredients, save 3 cups flour, stir to combine.  Fold in remaining flour and kneed for 10 minutes.  Cover, and let rise for 1 hour and 20 minutes.  Punch down, and divide into two greased bread pans.  Let the second rise go for a good hour. Longer is okay.  

Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

happy holidays

 

My five year old helped to hang hearts around the house.  That day, after preschool, he shouted "Happy Holidays!" to everyone we passed on the way to the car.  

bucket list

I think most people have one?  Mine is less about things I want to accomplish and more about things I want to accumulate. 
Less exciting and more greedy. 

 

In college, we toured a Herman Miller Dealer.  The purpose of the tour was to learn about systems furniture (cubicles), but we couldn't help but learn about a handful of Design Greats during the process.  Major contributors to Midcentury Modern style. 

 

That's when I first fell in love with this chair:

I will be an official grown up when I own this chair.  In my own library.  With my own husband reclining in it as I bring him the morning paper and his coffee.  And then I'll sit down next to him in my matching Eames Lounge Chair and Ottoman. We'll look out the window at the rolling hills outside.  I'll say with a happy sigh, "Honestly." (that's a word I'll use a lot when I'm older)

 

Then I'll ask what time it is.

 

And we'll listen. 

 

Because down the hall will be:

our Howard Miller (or some other) Grandfather Clock -

ready to chime on the 1/4, 1/2, 3/4, and top of the hour. 

 

Or,

 

we'll listen for

our Chalet Black Forest Cuckoo Clock to sing.

 

Then I'll say, "I should really get the sheep their breakfast."

 

and here's the thing

Christmas this year?  Was pretty eventful.  And by eventful, I mean full of events.  Like everyone in my family contracting strep throat.  Also our (new) furnace quit working.  5 times in 7 days.  And on the day right before Christmas eve, when my furnace was out, I thought it a good idea to bake.  You know, to keep my house toasty.  Which worked as well as it can when it's freezing Minnesota December outside and one space heater plus an oven inside. 

AND THEN, I popped some cinnamon rolls from my sweet friend Anna into the oven.  I was puttering around the kitchen.  When I heard sparks and saw FLAMES SHOOTING OUT OF MY OVEN.  Which was when my oven became dead to me. 

The good news is: now I have a new oven! 

Merry Christmas to me.

In other good news: our furnace is working again. 

In additional good news:  we no longer have strep.

on an autumn day

 

 

 

autumn

 

All summer long, I waited for the fall colors to hit. I do this every season - too excited for the next to enjoy the present.  It's something I have to work on.  All the time.  Enjoy the now.

Right now, life feels busy.  Good busy.  The kids are all doing things.  Getting involved and figuring out what they like to do and how they want to spend their time.  It's been a (good) trip seeing them blossom.  We are pretty lucky duck parents. 

We remark on that often.  How blessed are we?  Most evenings once all the ducks are in their nests, we sit.  And remark.  And plan.  We've got this plan.  It's loose.  Maybe more of a direction?  There are things we are doing and things we are not doing.  Evaluating our choices....prioritizing, etc.

: :

Our little home was starting to look a bit shabby. A weekend of scraping and painting and things are perking up. 

I've been painting on canvas, too.  Some good things are happening on that front.  I'm excited.  So far everything is fitting in the loose direction plan.   

Enjoying the now.

right now in a dining room

 

fall photo shoot

 

 

My Very Eager Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas

Pizza included.

 

Granny

I live in a little house built in the 50s. 

My living room is a little 50s living room.   So, for a long time, I've been looking for little furniture.  Most contemporary pieces in my price range are overstuffed and oversized.  The same goes for chairs and coffee tables. It's all too big.  But I get it.  When you live in new homes, living rooms are big.  And little furniture looks  ridiculous.  Big homes need big pieces.  Scale and whatnot.

 I had my heart set on something midcentury modern.  But then that show came along and everyone else got their hearts set on MCM.  It's The Thing.  So MCM is no longer in my price range...supply and demand, you know.

I did some self reflection.  Am I really a midcentury modern kind of gal?  Or am I an old lady kind of gal?  Do you know what I discovered?  I am an old lady!  AND!  Old ladies take THE BEST CARE of their things.  I found a couch on Craigslist.  She is a thing of beauty.  She is sturdy and pristine.  She lived her entire life covered in plastic.  We named  her Granny Lou.  Do you see Granny Lou's sister?  That coffee table?  Eighteen dollars.  Ha!!  She needed a little bit of love in the form of Murphy's and Mineral  Oil.  These gals are right at home in my old lady living room.