You Capture: Sweet

If you would like to see more You Capture pictures, please visit I Should Be Folding Laundry...

Sweet Feet:









Sweet Things:

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Pencil written notes asking to meet after school
Sitting on concrete risers in front of a small town library
Awaiting our respective rides
Nervously joking and clumsily holding hands
Quite quick to release when a car passed.

You Capture: Colors

Today's You Capture topic is Colors. For more, please visit I Should Be Folding Laundry.



It might just be me, but my colors seem a bit more vibrant... more vavavoom now that I am shooting everything manually.



And the absence of color:

You Capture: Expression

Last week's You Capture topic was Expression. For more, visit: I should be folding laundry.

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No excuses, no explanations. Just coming back.

********

Always with the video camera, chronicling every different day, tapes (now disks) labeled, organized, and stored in a box marked "someday."

And your kids, full of expectation falling short of entitlement, will love to have them, "someday."

Spring

This week's You Capture photo challenge was "Spring."

Our snow is finally melting (though I am thinking we might have 1 more good storm in store for us). This little guy was left out in the fall, buried before he could be brought to safety. He must be glad that spring is here:



And a missing whiffle ball:



You can see other spring photos at I Should Be Folding Laundry.

To Boston tomorrow, I am hoping to see more signs of spring there.

Sidebar

My friend ITFL got a new camera and is playing around with it a lot. She pointed me to You Capture which offers a weekly photo challenge.

I love my camera and decided to play along. But (you will be shocked) I am late. Maybe this week I'll be on time. Last week's topic was Reflections and here are my 2 shots:



and:




It's my goal to get back to posting here more this week. But more importantly, how are you??

Planning

I'm feeling swell and am back on the meal planning menu bus.

Exciting:

Mon- Whole Wheat Teriyaki pork wraps (with lettuce, cabbage, carrots, blanched broccoli, and an Asian inspired dressing). 2 of 3 kids? LOVED these.

Tues- homemade pizza

Wed- Make your own Cobbish salad with homemade rolls (butter lettuce, carrots, eggs, avocado, diced baked ham, feta, garbanzo beans, broccoli, apples, etc.).

Thur- Corn Flake chicken, sweet potato steak fries, crudite'

Fri- Puffy Pancakes with fruit (How good do these look?)

Sat- A lightened up version of: 3 cheese baked spaghetti, broccoli

Sun- Pork and apples over rice (crock pot)with veggies

Mon- Open (leftovers?)

Tues- Teriyaki steak wraps (variation on last Monday)

Wed- Lasagna in a skillet

Thur- Homemade Pizza

Fri- Veggie and cheese oven omelets

Sat: Open

I have to admit I was feeling completely uninspired and so I bounced around some of the 436 Menu Plan Monday links up at Organizing Junkie. Yeah, 436 at last check! The I figured if I liked reading what those folks were eatin', I should post my menu here again.

So, I did.

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20 years ago you were the captain of everything.

Your gregarious ways are still the same.

And your girls... could be the same.

But they aren't.

They are two portly statistics who engage fully with magical boxes.

Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!

Excuse #356 I've been sick, but after 8 days of really feeling pretty bad and playing an exciting game of "stump the doctors," tonight I feel pretty ok.

Excuse #357 Is there a Brady in the house? This was taken about 15 minutes ago:



So, How's the lion that is the beginning of March treating you? Looking forward to the lamb leaving? Yeah, me, too. I'll be happy to change the clocks this weekend. It is a big step in the right direction.

Causes

Every year our family participates in the Big Brothers Big Sisters bowl-a-thon. It is always a very positive experience and the money goes to a fantastic program that improves the lives of children and families in a real and meaningful way.

$1, $5, $10... the donations add up and the sum goes towards changing children's lives. If you can, please consider making a small donation.

Aidan and Clay are also participating in the St. Jude's Math-a-thon. They each have set a goal to raise $35. They saw the video at school, and were very moved by the children at the hospital.

For all of the charitable giving that you do, thank you from the Hatches.

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You may have been having an affair with a stripper when I knew you.

You may have received your marriage certificate before your high school diploma.

You may have been granted custody because she didn't want it...

**

Sheepish squirm. I'm fine thanks, and you?

I decided to switch to 37 words after my birthday. At this rate I might reach 50 by the time I finish this project. The good news is I am already planning my next x365. I wonder what technological advances will be made between now and then.

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Such lightness, with a laugh that must be mirrored, a gentleness worthy of reverence, a shine in the eye and a wiggle in the hip.

Less than a challenge, Grace contained, we're lucky to know you.

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I see your oft bent elbow and smoky aura.
I read your indecorous updates.
I expect to hear that your family rushed from the shadowed night into the too bright halls of the hospital.
Too late.

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The strength of us was tested by the boy in the middle. How typically predictable. The integrity of the structure was severely compromised.

Before: beach volleyball, long talks and olives.
After: Christmas cards and occasional email.

***********

My birthday is this month... do I change to 37 words?

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Your primly proper persona, Laura Ingalls inspired wardrobe, and Dorothy Hamilish hair were juxtaposed by your gift of making students feel dumb.

After I left your school, rumors escaped that your single self was with child.

**********************************

Oh, good gravy. Remember how I asked for banana bread recipes? My friend Nancy sent me one that must be shared. I should mention that I tweak recipes and rarely make anything exactly as I'm told. The recipe here contains my modifications. I might cut back the white sugar by 1/2 next time.

First off it was a muffin recipe, but I doubled the batch and made it in a 9x13 pan and called it cake. We had it for dessert.

Banana Cake

3 cups flour
1 cup brown sugar

1 cup white sugar

1 1/2 tsp. baking soda

3/4 tsp. salt

6 medium ripe bananas

2 egg

1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup applesauce

1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

In a large bowl, combine dry ingredients. In another bowl, mash the bananas; add egg, oil and vanilla. Mix well. Stir into the dry ingredients just until moistened. Fill greased 9x11 pan. Bake at 375 degrees of 18-22 minutes or until brown on top and a toothpick comes out clean.

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We were 2 of the few left standing around the bonfire, listening to late guitars. I was soberly expecting my third, your son was sleeping soundly.

The 3 am call to you still leaves me laughing.

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Some say that blogger "someones" are just plain folk. I watched you, bored with boredom, falling back to the comfort of your crew. Not exactly cruel, but less than kind. Like plain folk.

Who wants plain?

****************************************************************************

Nancy asked if I was having fun with this budgeting thing. I am. My kids are, which I find totally weird. But I'm making things I haven't made in awhile and most of these have been big hits. Now they want a say on deciding what makes it to the calendar, which is cool. And they've been helping to cook more, also cool.

***

CNN just reported 70,000+ jobs cuts were announced today.

***

The Total Money Makeover addresses the issue of keeping up with the Joneses. I know the Joneses. I'm related to a lot of the Jonses. I'm friends with some of the Joneses.

The Joneses stink. Mostly they stink because (many of them) are completely overextended and living off their credit cards and paying finance charges while projecting an aura of complete financial harmony. They are buying new cars and taking trips and yes, even saving for college, but they are doing so while paying high interest rates and overage charges on their credit cards.

But they are projecting harmony, which will make it hard to decline invitations and live within a budget. Except that progress is tangible. And hopefully, enough.

Menu Planning

The Organizing Junkie does a Menu Plan Monday. I'm trying to see if I can get on that train because those women are mo*ti*va*ted. Not sure if I can make it work with my weird 14 day starting on Thursday thing. Perhaps I need to adjust my schedule, which usually starts on payday. Hmmmm....


I've done my 2 week meal plan and shopping. Here's the schedule:

Thursday: Taco soup (simmering as we speak)
Friday: Homemade Pizza
Saturday: Night out, pasta and veggies for the Punks
Sunday: Pulled Pork Sandwiches (new recipe)
Monday: Ham/Cheese/Veggie Frittata
Tuesday: Burritos
Wednesday: Taco Soup
Thursday: Homemade Pizza
Friday: Leftover night
Saturday: Turkey
Sunday: Veggie Frittata
Monday: Creamy Turkey and Egg noodles (new recipe... contains cream cheese :)
Tuesday: Quesadillas
Wednesday: Breakfast for dinner (fruit pancakes)

I'm pretty motivated by thwe amount of money I'm saving, so I am talking about it a lot.

Care to share a favorite dinner menu?

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

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I stood behind the backstop with you at bat. Playing on the boys soccer team gave me confidence and I watched openly.
You were only vaguely interested, and we held clammy hands on a group date.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I'm struggling to stay on top of this. Part of it is lacking creativity. Part of it is lacking focus. Part of it is investing in an enormous personal reorganization. Part of it is thinking and planning the direction of GNMParents. Part of it is winter. Part of it is wondering who you are and why you're here. Part of it is another website I'm working on. Part of it is a fourth site I'm contemplating.

Part of it is none of the aforementioned components fitting perfectly.

I'm having fun with the budgeting thing, though. An update will be up on GNMP tomorrow morning.

Today

Brisk Morning in Maine. At least there is no wind chill.

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There was dark drama in the hallways, time and time again. Together. Apart. Lather, rinse, repeat. The sweetest and the cruelest, as it often is with first loves.

And to think, it might've been with me.

*********************************************************

I need a rocking banana bread (or any other fruit/veggie bread) recipe. Do you have one to share?

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Tip-toe, hand wag, don't look me in the eye. Persist past the point of bother, into an unfamiliar, uncomfortable, unreal realm.

So sorry, they couldn't hear me. I hope that a teacher, leader, friend will help.

*********************************

Do you have a written budget? Do you stick to it? Is it fluffy or trim? We're trim compared to many, but I'm embarking on an effort to reduce our food budget by 1/4. It's very ambitious, especially because good, creative, healthy food is a priority.

Today I looked at the flier before I made my list, and then came up with a menu plan for the next week and a half. Week and a half. Which I think is better than an hour and a half. I bought things that were needed for multiple recipes and tried to keep things interesting, delicious, and healthy. Of course I'll need to do mini trips for more bread and produce, but other than that I'm hoping to make it through with what I bought today. We'll see.

I'm also going to get in the habit of making more homemade snacks for the Punks. How domestic. Muffins and banana bread and stuff like that. High fructose corn syrup be damned. Gosh, maybe I need an apron.

So, here's the thing. I keep reading and hearing about job losses and company closings. And about people who are getting slammed by unexpected expenses. And the husband, daughter, son gets who gets sick. I know you have, too.

Building and maintaining an emergency fund becomes increasingly important now. Or perhaps I'm over-reacting. Or perhaps we're behind the ball.

According to Dave Ramsey (Total Money Makeover), 49% of Americans could cover less than one month's expenses if they lost their income. Does that surprise you?

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Twice upon a time we worked together. One job was easy; the other was hard to leave, but harder to continue.

I bought your daughter's grandmother's tasty tamales one Christmas. They were the best I've had.

***********************************************************

I'm siiiick. Actually, I am feeling a bit better now, but it was a rough weekend. It was like the worst morning sickness I ever experienced combined with a splitting headache. Good times.

The upside was that I finally read (most of) Dave Ramsey's Total Money Makeover. So, that's what's on the brain. And the brain is cranking. More on that to come.

Have you read it? What's your take?

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It started when you started wearing so many swatches. Rubber bracelets and pretense were your things, swatches were mine.
Later, it was complicated by a boy.
Now it reminds me of Jerry and Newman.
I'm Jerry.

************************

You should read this sad account of a 3 year old who was shoved towards the pack. Mocked for her creativity.

It's a shame that children take to heart behavior that grown-ups don't think twice about.

Course, I have a feeling that that little girl won't be following the pack, despite the great sock mismatch debacle of 2009.

Hey S: Being creative is a gift. Meet Lucy:

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Your husband died first, and my memories of it are filtered through frosted glass. Then my father died but I don't remember you being there with us. Nor your children.

They were brothers, we're still family!

****************************************

So, Rob and I are always facebooking and tweeting about his Buffalo Chicken Pizza. Mmmm...

Whole wheat dough (homemade or from a good local pizza shop. We use Portland Pie. Not homemade.) rolled out.
A bag of shredded cheese- Parmesan and mozzarella combo works well, mixed with about 1/3- 1/2 cup of finely crumbled Gorgonzola (even if you don't really like it), spread evenly on the dough.
Sprinkle with chunks of cooked chicken breast coated in a little bit of Frank's hot sauce (Frank's hot sauce).

Cook on a 400 degree preheated/floured pizza stone with the oven door cracked open (for a nice crispy crust), for about 15 minutes.

Drizzle with Frank's hot sauce according to your taste, and serve with celery or sprinkle with diced celery.

Do you like Buffalo Chicken? because I have a dip recipe that is like totally to die for.

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You're caring and kind and kind of out of touch.

Soon 4 of yours: son, 2 sons-in-law, and daughter will be in Iraq.

You'll be home with your pride and your smily ageless boy.

**************************************************************************************

I mentioned a delicious dinner we had tonight, and got a tweet back asking for the recipe. It's a staple here in the winter and perfect for a stormy evening. We had it with a very fancy crudités which consisted of carrot sticks, celery, garbanzo beans and ranch dressing. I know, fan*cy.

diced onion and garlic and oil to saute them in
turkey kielbasa sliced thin
canned diced tomatoes (1 large or 2 small)
can canellini beans drained and rinsed
can kidney beans drained and rinsed
Tablespoon of thyme
Glug of balsamic vinegar (maybe 2 Tablespoons)
1/2 lb pasta cooked al dente according to package directions (farfalle or twists work well)

Saute onion until soft. Add garlic and add kielbasa, stir often, cook until browned. Add all remaining ingredients (except for the pasta) and simmer for a while. Add pasta, stir and serve.

Mmmm.... try it- it's good.

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The smell of erasers was pervasive as I voted for class president. Head down, hand raised, determining the immediate future of our third grade classroom. You pressed the flag stick onto the victor's desks with clay.

*********************************************************************

I wrote about Aidan's 9th birthday already. But this is worth sharing, too:

Like father, like son.

*************************************************************************

Vacation is officially over. The kids are asleep and in the morning we will be traipsing down to the bus stop. It went fast, was full of laughs and the general stresses of being in a family whose members make a commitment to spend the holidays together.

Which is interesting because it's a curse wrapped up in a blessing.

Which wraps the pain in guilt.

***************************************************************************

Enough: what's the last really delicious homemade meal you ate?

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Buzzing. Far away from sleep. Knowing that you will be Nine.
*
So much more than eight.
*
But you, my boy, my eldest Punk, are so much more than more.
*
My pride, too, is more than more.

*******************************************
HaPpY 9tH bIrThDaY aIdAn!
we love you so-

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You're too young for the secrets you hide. You disguise your poor choices, but the you that's presented is so clearly just the shell.

You awkwardly try to connect, but you're often insulting (bordering on mean).

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Though I asked you to stop, you continued to explicitly discuss a fatal accident in front of my small children. I complained to your boss.

Now you always call me Mrs. Hatch.

You're a children's librarian.

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Your stories grow taller and taller with each theatrical telling. You stand in exuberant neediness in the center of the circle. We laugh, we bend in laughter, but we aren't always sure why.

Everyone in moderation.

******************************************************

Happy New Year~

My only resolution is a goal extended: to be intentional. And you?

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They gave a young mom a success label that was far too heavy to hold. Years went by, each with a growing weight of brokenness.

I clearly remember the sweet smile of the daughter she killed.

**********

I reconnected with a former colleague and friend whom I hadn't spoken to in about 5 years. We worked together in 2 different jobs in 2 very different industries. There was a young woman we knew- she much better than I- who graduated from a program which employed us. This young mom went through easily, learning what needed to be learned and experiencing a great deal of success in the process. She was a poster child. A success story.

Yesterday I learned that 10 years after I knew her, she poisoned and killed her 2 children and tried to kill herself.

Sick. Sorrow. Sadness. Oh, my.

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Your burgeoning interest in photography is a beautiful thing, and your slide show warmed the wintry barn. It documented only the happiest parts of us.

You're close enough to fit, but different enough that you can't.

********************

Thanks for reminding me that I blog, Nance. Not sure what happened.

Over the past week I've spent some time with my family- my bigger family. There was a lot of goodness and fun in those moments.

Family members, like no one else, have the power and ability to inflict doubt and pain. It's a power that should be harnessed for good, not evil.

I know I'm not alone when I recount my mother raising us to the repeating mantra: If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Does that bring up an internal struggle for you? Are we teaching the Punks to subdue their thoughts and opinions or are we teaching them to be thoughtful and kind when communicating?

What do you think? And how've you been?

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When you were so small you laughed with my dad on the porch of your first house. You pointed, eyes on him. Erupting in laughter each time he responded. It's not a bee, it's a hook.

36x365x126 and Last Night

You endlessly do for the ones that you hold. Searching for ways to strengthen and deepen and magnify that connection. I hope they can see what you offer and respect what you want most.

I do.

**********************************************************************

Last night Aidan and I attended our local Chamber Singers event. It was too late for the younger 2, and it's become a tradition for A and I to go. I love to watch him watch, and it is beautiful stuff. This video was from a different performance last winter, but you'll get a feel for what we saw and heard:



Capathia Jenkins also performed with the high schoolers last night. She was wonderful and what I loved watching most was the way she was connecting with the kids in the Chamber Singers. And the smile that energized the entire place.

Daniel Strange (2001 graduate) also performed, accompanying some of the songs and playing a captivating instrumental version of We Three Kings with other former graduates Adam Frederick and Andy Robbins. These guys come back to do this concert every year. I'm not sure if they've played every show since they left, but I believe they've been there for the past several years.

It's inspiring to see so many people- young kids (the Boy Sings of Maine also performed- youngest members being 8), older kids, younger adults, and uh, more seasoned adults, who are so driven by their passions. So much a part of the community. So talented and so dedicated to sharing their talent and spreading inspiration.

It was lovely.

Pictures- OPK

I took some pictures of other peoples kids today. A few came out pretty cute:













Cute kids.

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I rode my big wheel down your practically vertical driveway. A precisely parked car prevented me from plunging down into the ravine. Ouch.

You were hard on your kids. Now, you display photos with genuine pride.

******************

Today is my father's birthday. I wrote about him already, and my rules are that I only do one x365 per person. I could write about my dad for x365. I wrote about him at GNMParents today, too.

He would have been 78. Wow. 78. The age grandfathers should be. The age dads should be. He should be grumpy and irritable and impatient and a big pain in the butt to deal with. He should be telling stories and making me laugh and making me cry.

My Lucy has my humor, which comes to me from both of my parents. Or maybe my mom appreciates my humor the way she appreciated his. In any case Lucy like to say things like:

Your dad died, right Mom? (giggle)
Papa's dad died too, right Mom? (giggle, giggle)
You're gonna die really soon, right Mom? (GIGGLE, giggle, giggle)
Aidan's gonna die before me! (Guffaw)

It's not freaky to me, although it is to many. She's been lucky- we've been lucky these last 4 1/2 years. She has no concept of death. This is part of figuring it out.

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You called my son "Little Bird" the day he was born. At 9' 11", "Big Bird" might have been more apropos. Did you think that then?

Your huge Italian name made you seem even more petite.

******************************************************************

I love and hate this time of year. I look forward to celebrating Christmas with my family while still dreading the travel and lists and many obligations that blanket us.

This is neither unique nor particularly interesting.

9 years ago this month I was expecting Aidan. I remember sitting on our couch, watching an MTV special about John Denver. Tears were pouring down my face and Rob was trying hard not to laugh at me.

We laughed a lot. We talked a lot. We walked a lot. Our anticipation simmered just below the surface. It was a quiet holiday. It was the only holiday I can remember not traveling.

And you? What's on your mind?

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I imagine your loneliness as you talk of your computer and the games within as though they were your family. Never smiling, never extending beyond your reach to even learn my name. It's Megin, not Heidi.

Recipe: Fresh Cranberry Relish

Several years ago a friend brought this cranberry relish to our friend Thanksgiving party. Ah, the days of sweat lodges and bonfires. Anyway... this recipe has become a must have at Turkey day. It is a breeze and it pops the beige food the day is known for. I dream of this relish with a piece of turkey and a bit of mashed potatoes.

No cooking- no peeling- it takes 5 minutes to make:

2 Granny Smith Apples (4 if they are the small ones)
2 Navel Oranges
1 Bag Cranberries (4 Cups)
2 Cups Sugar
1 1/2 Cups Crushed Pineapples - NOT drained

Core the apples and cut into pieces that will fit in your food processor (leave the peels on).
Cut the orange into pieces that will fit into your processor and check for seeds - leave the rind on. 
Process the apples, oranges, and cranberries until no large pieces remain.  Transfer to a large
bowl and mix in the sugar and the pineapple.  Chopped nuts can be added if desired. 

Refrigerate for at least 2 hours for best flavor. 

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Did you really worry that your new puppy loved me more than you? Did it really make you nervous?

Man, I fell hard for that tiny ball of silky softness. I think he loves me best.

Another Meme

I did a 6 random things meme a couple weeks back. Then dear Chris Brogan was tagged by Dominick Evans to do a 5 things meme.

And then Jon Swanson twisted it up a little and I liked that idea.

So, you know the "rules" right? Someone tags me, I write and link back to them. At the end I tag you and you link back to me, and at the end of the day we know more about each other then we did when we started.

So here's a 5 moments (or memories of moments) that I love meme:

1. I timed it right and the wave has me and I have it and there is a moment of wonder. I wonder if I'll get spit onto the shore with a mouth full of sand and blood somewhere. Then I feel the sand beneath my knees and I know it was just good. I love that moment.

2. The boys watch their wave and I watch them. They turn at the right moment and dive into it and just before the water takes them there is shining determination and anticipation in their eyes. I love that moment.

3. I wake in a quiet house, the night dark, the clock early, the quilt right, the warmth of a leg against mine, and hours to go before I must rise. I love that moment.

4. Mayhem surrounds, and I sit with the warm weight of a nursing baby in the crook of me. I look down at rouged cheeks against my skin, long lashed eyes softly closed, mouth just slackened with an occasional leftover swallow. I love that moment.

5. I sit to write and the words come together in just the right way to convey my meaning. I love that moment.

And because a meme is like a game of idea tag, as Jon describes, I take this moment to tag:

Catnip- because she's signed on for nablopomo and I think twisting up this meme might provide good fodder for her.

Mrs. Chicken- because she's my hero and her words inspire me.

Nancy- (not sure if you want a link) because I like to witness how her mind works.

Kat- because I really like to read all of the things she chooses to share.

Ron- because he has fascinating stories and it's been too long since I've read one.

Matt- because he just found me on facebook and seems to be neglecting his blog.

Bonus: Steve because he needs to get that blog started.

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You speak with acute passion. With longing. With understanding. With adulation. With discernment. From a place where changing the world is a reality, and yet still a possibility.

Your large hands will catch so many more.

*****************

The world is all a twitter with hope and expectation and full possibility. These are trying and very frightening times and so many of us are resting the substantial weight of that possibility in one man's hands. It's a burden. If, in fact, it takes a village to raise a child (Rob hates when I use this- but Hillary didn't coin it- it's older than that- it's about family and extending community- so deal with it,), then it takes more than a city, more than a state more than a region to save the world.

But it's happening. People are saving the world. Lots of people.

Geoffrey Canada is doing it at the Harlem Children's Zone.

Dan Pederson and Susan Buffet are doing it at Educare.

Dr. T. Berry Brazelton and all of the people at the Touchpoints Center are doing it.

These are a few of those people who have surrounded themselves with people who propel their ideas.

These people have long arms and monumental vision. They know that "investing in our children" is not a political buzz phrase. It is all of the hope and all of the possibility to start our kids lives with opportunity. They will grow up with opportunities to influence those who need influencing, to negotiate with those who need negotiating, to love those who need loving, to reduce what needs reducing and expand what needs expanding and most importantly, follow in the steps of dedicated people, like the ones mentioned above, to inspire those who need inspiration.

That opportunity, that hope, that possibility will assuredly change this world.

It will.

Who- who inspires you?

I'll leave you with this:

A SMALL ARMY OF LOVE

Heard the news yesterday,
And today, mothers cried.
Our children by tens of thousands
Have died.
And for what?

What will stop this madness?
The eternal sadness
Of small little caskets
Filled with dreams never had.
Are we mad?

We need a small army of love.
And no thanks:
We don’t need any rifles,
No guns, and no tanks.
Just love, and help from above.

Our army will be small,
Diverse, and unique.
Little soldiers in braids,
And some with sneakered feet.
All marching for peace,
And an end to the war,
That has claimed little soldiers
As they open their doors
And romp in playgrounds.
Can we stand anymore?

We need a small army of Love.
Start today.
Sentries on guard,
Keeping danger away.
While our young go to school
And play on our streets,
A small army of us
Standing guard while they sleep.
Can it be done?

And the love of our army
Will always sustain us.
When others disdain us with laughs,
ridicule,
Our love keeps us fighting.
Yeah, we’re fighting fools.

So I know what’s been whispered
and what some said aloud.
“Those fools with their pipe dreams,
Their heads in the clouds.”

But when you love all the children,
There’s nothing to do,
But start a small army of Love,
Me and You.

by: Geoffrey Canada

Watch this-

I went to a symposium yesterday and had the privilege of listening to this man speak. It changed me- more to come-

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I expect that there are many who don't care for you. Wry and sarcastic, direct and sharp edged.

But it's working for us and he's responding to you and I expect we're lucky to have you.

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In a kindergarten coatroom we accepted each others dare.

In 5th grade we passed notes and maybe held hands.

In high school your parents hosted a party which possibly prevented peril.

Memories of smiles and uncertainty.

*****************************************************************************

So, how do you feel about purple? I've never done a banner before but this is my all-time favorite photo and memory of my punks.

I'm trying to get back into the daily writing but... ain't happening so easily. Thanks for coming back, anyway. If you'd like you can use the subscription options in the sidebar. Don't worry about the submitting your email- you won't get spammed.

Dear President Elect Obama:

Dear President Obama,

Hello, my name is Aidan Hatch. I am 8 years old and I wrote this letter to congratulate you in winning the presidential race.

I'd like to tell you that the war is really bothering me because lots of people have died since it started. This makes me feel scared, upset, sad, and angry all at the same time.

I think you can negotiate with the government of Iraq to fix the problem! After that hopefully there will be peace.

Thank you for reading my letter!

From,
Aidan Hatch

P.S. I don't mean to be selfish, but it would mean a lot to me to have a signed photograph of you. My mom said she would get me a special frame for it. Thank you!

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You kept hundreds of girlie magazines side by side on a low bookshelf. I imagine they were chronologically arranged. You must have really liked the articles a lot.

Your decidedly young children passed the display often.

********************************************

I've born witness to more examples of racism since Wednesday morning than I have in many years combined. It's so very sad that this blatant stupidity passes down from generation to generation and that people are open and willing to accept this ignorance as our reality.

Gross.

Witnesses

Well, of course I am going to write about the election. I'm a follower like that.

I brought my kids into the gym today after school. We went right up to the "H" line and proceeded to the voting booth. It was quiet, with only a few of the many booths in use. We went to a far corner where I could squat down and explain the ballot and show the kids how to fill it out. Then we walked to the machine and submitted my vote.

I felt the tingle beneath my eyes and was more than a little surprised. I stopped and looked down at the kids and just felt it. Then I signed some petitions regarding things like health-care, a new town park, and same sex marriage.

And then we bought nut-free goodies at the bake sale.

By the time I reached the car my fallen tears had left paths on my face and my eldest, mouth full of cupcake, looked up at me in bewilderment.

I tried to explain that I felt privileged, and fearful, and lucky, and more than just a little hopeful. That I felt the possibility of change. That I believe that our next President might literally change the world, and I was ever so pleased that they stood beside me as I cast my vote.

I'm not rich and I'm not poor and it's not about taxes for me. It's about possibilities.

Then we figured out that in 10 years he'll be voting. In 11 years his brother will, and in 14 their sister.

I started to say, "I know you 3 might not realize how important that moment in the gym was..." But my eldest interrupted with, "Oh, I know it's important. I'm just not crying about it."

36x365x117

You coached boy's soccer at school. Before- I was one of a few who played with them. Then- I was supposed to switch to skirt and stick. But I made your team.

Happy eyes. Easy smile.

**************************************************************************************

Of this, I remember boys being mad that they were displaced from the team. I remember shaking as I dressed in a silent empty locker room and having to go into the boy's locker room for the pre-game team meeting. (Oh, I remember the smell.) I remember part relief part disappointment when we faced another team with another girl. Part pride part fear at being the only one.

I remember this kind man's easy and generous ways- his crows feet and almost the sound of his laugh.

36x365x116

You made biscotti for me when my father died and abstained from rent raising through an engagment, a theft, a sickness, a wedding, and a series of deaths.

You're talented and interesting and I enjoyed seeing you.

A Meme for a Change

I haven't done a meme in quite some time... but my new friend DAG tagged me and so I thought I'd comply.

The rules are simple:

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on the blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post.
5. Let each person know they have been tagged.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

Please note that it says "random" not "interesting"

Here we go:

1. I have 22 nieces and nephews. All but 1 of those comes from my own brothers and sisters. I am the youngest of 7 kids. Rob is one of 2. The kids range in age from 4- 25 and I joined Facebook so that I had an easy way to connect with them. They are convinced this makes me a weird stalker Aunt. Truth is, it freaks me out a little to be privy to the information they share.

2. My greatest heartbreak hit when my dad died in 1997. This loss was devastating and it took awhile before I could function normally. The heartbreak renewed when I had children- the loss was magnified and the pain reborn. I miss him madly.

3. And old beau wrote and recorded 2 songs for/about me. As he puts it, one worked and one didn't. It's strange to know those words are still afloat in the universe. We're Facebook friends now and I recently received disk after disk of his complete works. It's fascinating to hear the progression of his music over the past (gulp) 22ish years.

4. I am passionate about the idea that women need women. As I'm writing this it becomes pretty clear that this is tied to the fact that I have 4 sisters and while there is lots of love there, I don't connect with them in a way that I have always thought that I someday would/should. It's easy to gather with groups of women and have hours of laughter punctuated by moments of connectivity. It's easy, but important. It's more challenging to sustain relationships on a day to day week to week basis. Lives are busy and it's easy to not allow time to reach out to give and get support. When the path is open and clear it makes it easier to be a better mom, wife, daughter, sister, person. More challenging, but important. Women need women.

5. My kids are convinced that no chocolate is safe when I am near. They might be right.

6. Rob and I rarely celebrate our anniversary with gifts. We do, however, try to get away every so often to be together for a night or weekend. In 12 years of marriage I can't ever remember a time when we didn't have a great time. When we met we were in the same literary club in college. We both wrote poetry and stories. But not about each other. This year, on our anniversary he wrote me a poem. It tied together the past and future and I read it often. Often I'm amazed by the passing and growth in these 16 years of friendship.

There you have it- and I'm tagging ITFL, Catnip (when sh'e back), Velma, Dawn, Mrs. Chicken, and YOU! If you don't have a blog and want to play just leave a long comment...

36x365x115

When I remember you, you're mid-story at my dinner table, telling us about peeing your pants during a t-ball game. Then I remember later, watching you drive by while I stood waiting for the school bus.

Smiling

I was playing with Picnik- fun!

36x365x114

You opened the door to a community within the magic box that I didn't know could exist. You encouraged and explained and engaged- because that's what you do and who you are. It's really helped.

Thanks.

**********************

Have you noticed that the gaps in my posts are expanding? This is the 1st stretch that I've had trouble deciding what to say about whom. So I stare emptily. I just finished reading a GNMParents contribution written by Double Agent Girl. (DAG has a swanky new look at her place. I had a drink or 2 with this lovely lady at Blogher Boston. She's energetic and fun-ny. And she's got talent- the photos I've seen are so pretty and the words flow like smooth melty chocolate. Mmmmm...)

Why mention DAG? Today she wrote about someone who saved her. And I got to thinking about saving and what that's looked like at different stages in my life. So I wrote this one. I don't pretend it's the same level of rescue- but this is where my brain went.

Winter is long and can be so isolating as my real life community goes into hybernation for months and months. The discovery of this active and supportive, interested and interesting community in the blogosphere has impacted my reality is a largly positive manner.

Saving? It might seem like a stretch (and again I say I am not pretending to be recued in the rawly real way that DAG was), but it's real in a different way. To those of you who doubt, I'll ask you to spend a winter in my shoes, er, boots.

36x365x113

You ask a question that's puzzled you; eyes widening and smile flashing as clarity comes.

You're silly, generous, smart and creative.

My mystery boy. Don't let the shadow fall on you.

I love your crazy hair.

********
Happy Birthday, Clay!

You are something else- a fascinating enigma. Small bits reveal themselves and I treasure that understanding.

A triple layer birthday cake is coming your way, son!

36x365x112

You say you still see me sideways, and I am still in that pub watching you look at me.

Though now the Punks are by our side, it's still you and me.

Still a deep flutter.

***********************************

Thank you, Rob, for not dying yet.

I love you so.

36x365x111

Your powers of explanation and persuasion are developing strength. The proof? Your swiftly passionate negotiations that accompany every exchange.

You ask compelling questions. Your latest: who the heck is Jesus Christ?

We think you're pretty great.

36x365x110

Your arrogance was evident in your opening sentence. Your anger at Boston's male social media elite seemed designed to forge or widen a chasm of resentment.

If you'd like men to come, change the conference name.

******************************************************

BlogHer Boston was my first experience at a blogging conference- and only my second social media conference. By and large I found the environment to be engaging and passionate and welcoming and open and interesting and interested and helpful. Only one exchange (of many) left me feeling blech.

I'm a fan of Girl Power. I loved my experience at the Danskin Women's Triathlon for that very reason. Women supporting women. Strengthening bonds and foraging friendships. RAH! RAH!! I am woman... and all of that.

Don't get me wrong, I was fine with a few men participating yesterday- but if there were a whole gaggle of men it would've changed the experience for me. I've written a lot about moms needing moms and women needing women. It's a passion of mine.

I went because of GNMParents. That's the place where I invest energy in effort to really develop community. Because women need women and parents need parents. Because I admire the contributors at GNMP who lay it on the line to share and grow and learn from and lean on the other great people who hang out there.

I wasn't promoting this space. Here... this is different. It's not for promotion. It's for me and I am completely fine and almost always comfortable with my small but loyal following. I like knowing you're here.

You are here, aren't you? (That's your cue to leave me a comment- just tell me one thing you've done in the past 48 hours...)

36x365x109

When I called to speak to a nurse you asked what happened and berated me for not bringing my son to the hospital. Receptionist roles have expanded I guess.

I was scared enough to begin with.

Aidan

It's day 2 and he's almost back to normal- some swelling still in back but much better. I wish I took pictures yesterday. It's amazing the difference only a day makes. He was hamming it up for the camera today- yes, in fact that is a wife beater t-shirt he's sporting. It's his preferred pj attire.

36x365x108

Your utility trailer's ramp crashed down on Aidan's head. He lies on a bag of peas to calm the enormous swell, his face cut and burned by pavement.

You're more like a dad to your grandson.

***************************************

Aidan looks like he got run over by a truck. He and his younger friend next door thought it would be a cool idea to bring the ramp down on their utility trailer so they could ride their bikes up and down the ramp. It's a heavy duty trailer used for hauling heavy equipment.

Cool idea.

Unfortunately, it was so very heavy it hit Aidan in the back of the head throwing him face first into the pavement. Enormous swelling in the back of his head, road rash on his forehead and temples... it was a long day snuggling on the couch with bags of frozen peas and broccoli and washcloths and lots of being hurt and afraid.

We're pretty sure he's fine. We'll wake him up a couple times during the night as recommended by his doc, and keep him home tomorrow because it hurts so much to touch. Then he'll be fine.

36x365x107

I imparted injury when you left. I called, went, sat, told, listened and tried to answer questions that YOU should have answered. It hurt us.

Respect far lost.

Now, dust settled, I like your young wife.

36x365x106

I haven't seen you in a couple of years, but I can conjure your smell with no effort. Lotion. Powder. Spray. Covering the scent of... age? Make-up? Self?

You were a saving grace, but now?

Removed.

36x365x105

I might've been too young to babysit, but I did while she went to the local bar and drank and smoked and somehow made it home.

The 1st alcoholic I ever knew. It killed her early.

36x365x104

You told me I should add more bananas to my bread. Today, I did. It's mushy and won't soon (if ever) cook through.

You're the most competitive person I've met. Insecure beneath, and not often kind.

36x365x103

We played match after match of scrabble for hour after hour when it rained. We sat surrounded by places and things which held tight to the moisture. You held tight to the dictionary and regularly prevailed.

36x365x102

No, you aren't charming exactly, but magnetic.

You took on as patriarch, trying to save and pull us in. So like him.

Your kindness can be overwhelming, but still and always defined by your burpist history.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Lucy- My foot sure is asleep.

later

Lucy- Accidents sure aren't what my new bed is for.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888

How are you today? Rob and I are celebrating our 12th (gulp) wedding anniversary on Saturday- if his plane will take off and land in the monsoon that's approaching. Parenting together is infinitely more pleasing than going solo.

36x365x101

At the reunion I was touched by your sincerity. By your energy and interest and kindness and easy smile.

It's like your mother- I hear her voice and see her smile when I think of you.

36x365x100

You got fired for being inappropriate. It was easy to understand after witnessing your dance moves post-beach party in the Bahamas. Were you channeling Patrick Swayze?

But before that- you alone tried to boost morale.

36x365x99!

We share the burden of family secrets- because the weight is heavy alone.

I think if a secret weight fell to me I would share at least with you- I think.

On you- I wish love-

36x365x98

You talked about writing a book about Fenway. You chewed gum in class. You looked at us with light and saw us and made efforts to distract us from note writing with the great Annie Dillard.

36x365x97

There's a snapshot in my head: you, opening up a brown bag covered text book looking at a faded dog-eared black and white of your late mother. Embracing sorrow.

Now you help grieving children. Perfect.

36x365x96

One- actually two of my x365s have hurt someone's feelings.

I feel sorry about that.

36 words are so few to adequately encapsulate a memory or a relationship. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes the words string together nicely and with ease, sometimes it's a struggle and I feel limited by the snapshot I'm challenged to provide, and sometimes it's boring or severely lacking.

This x365 is equal parts pulling pieces out of the trap of my memory and trying to craft them in an interesting way from a writer's perspective. What I write is true- but only true to me and only in relationship to the snippet that I've pulled out.

I only ever expect the people who are reading these to identify a few of the "subjects," and only a few have I written expecting the person to read it. I don't use names intentionally (though if you think you know or want to know I'm happy to discuss).

Pssht. Anyway:

x96

Before you died you took a comprehensive inventory and gifted treasures to us. Mine you gave to me while you were still able.

I'd like to think we would have talked and listened and known.

p.s. tell me: what's the last song you listened to? Friend of the Devil is playing on iTunes right now, and before that it was The Cookie Bakers of the Night by Laurie Berkner. You have to love the party shuffle...

36x365x95

You've cheated on your wife of many years, your son, and your daughters. What did you say to yourself to make that bitter betrayal less real?

Will they know?

Can she heal?

Can he repent?

Fool.

36x365x94

Your style is diametrically opposed to "helicopter parenting." In public, when the kids warrent even a word, you're proud to roughly rebuff and belittle them. I wonder if they are already learning to hide the truth.

36x365x93

At a family party my playful young son raised the hose towards your car- "HE JUST WAXED IT!!" and towards you. You grabbed and if you'd gotten him you surely would have smacked him. You're mean.

9/11/2008

I won't be here tomorrow. I won't be at GNMParents, either.

Unlike most days when I am away, tomorrow's absence is intentional.

I've written a bit lately about living intentionally.

I am accepting Jon and Cathleen's invitations to not blog, tweet, or facebook tomorrow.

That will free up a little more time for listening and for being with.

36x365x92

From our first meeting I remember the (exact) Tupperware you left behind.

From our second meeting I remember a late departure due to unexpected ease.

On and on I remember understanding inappropriate humor and voluminous vomit.

36x365x91

You were crisp, clean, dry-witted, and read; all juxtaposed by cigarettes.

I was learning to write. And love.

One product of an opening sentence assignment stuck:

My brother hasn't died yet, but the process has begun.

36x365x90

I barely remember your roundish preteen face. I looked for summer "love" in our awkward exchanges. I hadn't thought about you in decades, until the moment she told me you'd taken enough drugs to kill yourself.

36x365x89

Once at school, you discarded your mom approved collared shirt for a self approved concert tee. Hardly hard core. We walked to Indian Rock together, holding hands, but what on earth did we have to say?

36x365x88

You surprised me when we met. I expected next to, I found (very much) with. Interested and dedicated, invested and willing to comfort and clean up vomit.

I look forward to sitting around the table again.

36x365x87

We learned that you were the youngest victim on September 11th.

I'm brought swiftly to tears imagining the loss of you.

You played with my son at daycare, then suddenly (and still) the world grieved you.

************************************

Christine was 2, and I don't pretend to be qualified to talk about her, I have only been remembering her.

36x365x86

You thought that befriending me might improve your relationship with my brother. He did his things in spite of me; our friendship gave you no advantage. But it did calm the waters for this freshman swimmer.

36x365x85

One summer, you and me and she and him and some cockroaches lived in a sublet near Sorrento's in the Fenway. I was proving brief independence. I don't know what the 3 of you were doing.

36x365x84

My father tackled house repairs with you by his side and scotch in his glass. Our plumbing was wrapped in electrical tape.

At every party you fell asleep with your glass perched on your belly's roundness.

36x365x83

In the cold green night grass of the backyard, we watched and listened to the game of tag. Waiting, unsure and waiting for first contact. Finally, a dry peck on the cheek before joining the game.

***********************************************************************************

There are moments when I wish I hadn't already written about someone because they are in my mind and I've more to say about them.

Rob is a poet, and that piece has lain dormant for years. Yesterday, he wrote for me and it was lovely and easy to read- not rusty and not the poetry of a boy who struggles or shocks or grieves.

This is a poem Rob introduced me to about 15 years ago.

I gave him the persimmons, swelled, heavy as sadness,
and sweet as love.

Phrases still run through my mind and I think it's delicious:

Persimmons

In sixth grade Mrs. Walker
slapped the back of my head
and made me stand in the corner
for not knowing the difference
between persimmon and precision.
How to choose

persimmons. This is precision.
Ripe ones are soft and brown-spotted.
Sniff the bottoms. The sweet one
will be fragrant. How to eat:
put the knife away, lay down the newspaper.
Peel the skin tenderly, not to tear the meat.
Chew on the skin, suck it,
and swallow. Now, eat
the meat of the fruit,
so sweet
all of it, to the heart.

Donna undresses, her stomach is white.
In the yard, dewy and shivering
with crickets, we lie naked,
face-up, face-down,
I teach her Chinese. Crickets: chiu chiu. Dew: I've forgotten.
Naked: I've forgotten.
Ni, wo: you me.
I part her legs,
remember to tell her
she is beautiful as the moon.

Other words
that got me into trouble were
fight and fright, wren and yarn.
Fight was what I did when I was frightened,
fright was what I felt when I was fighting.
Wrens are small, plain birds,
yarn is what one knits with.
Wrens are soft as yarn.
My mother made birds out of yarn.
I loved to watch her tie the stuff;
a bird, a rabbit, a wee man.

Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class
and cut it up
so everyone could taste
a Chinese apple. Knowing
it wasn't ripe or sweet, I didn't eat
but watched the other faces.


My mother said every persimmon has a sun
inside, something golden, glowing,
warm as my face.

Once, in the cellar, I found two wrapped in newspaper
forgotten and not yet ripe.
I took them and set them both on my bedroom windowsill,
where each morning a cardinal
sang. The sun, the sun.

Finally understanding
he was going blind,
my father would stay up all one night
waiting for a song, a ghost.
I gave him the persimmons, swelled, heavy as sadness,
and sweet as love.

This year, in the muddy lighting
of my parents' cellar, I rummage, looking
for something I lost.
My father sits on the tired, wooden stairs,
black cane between his knees,
hand over hand, gripping the handle.

He's so happy that I've come home.
I ask how his eyes are, a stupid question.
All gone, he answers.

Under some blankets, I find three scrolls.
I sit beside him and untie
three paintings by my father:
Hibiscus leaf and a white flower.
Two cats preening.
Two persimmons, so full they want to drop from the cloth.

He raises both hands to touch the cloth,
asks, Which is this?

This is persimmons, Father.

Oh, the feel of the wolftail on the silk,
the strength, the tense
precision in the wrist.
I painted them hundreds of times
eyes closed. These I painted blind.
Some things never leave a person:
scent of the hair of one you love,
the texture of persimmons,
in your palm, the ripe weight.

 -- Li-Young Lee

36x365x82

You took a cab home alone while I stayed behind for the very first time. But, I paid your way.

Later, I was all wrapped up and cut myself off. I've since tried to find you.

36x365x81

We were joyriding near the shore on the Cape, beach bound. Rounding a corner, with music and voices blasting, a burial was underway. Still, I wonder what it meant to them to have their somberness interrupted.

36x365x80

You joined with my brother's abuse. Whipping me with a beach towel- a fish hook snagging my inner thigh.

Even now, when a towel whips, alarm is immediate, "There could be a fish hook in it!"

36x365x79

You invited me to the prom, but I brought an era defining date from away. You were shyly funny and we might've had awkward fun. Once away, I sent you a birthday card and we wrote.

***********************************************

I was all about the letters freshman year. I got to know people I hadn't known though I'd seen them every day for years. I got to break away a bit from who I was in the hallways.

And it's a little bit like my relationship with social media now- getting to know people through GNMParents that I've never met. Re-connecting with people on Facebook that I've known in other lifetimes. "Talking" on the (severely neglected) wiki with newish friends (who, by the way, I miss).

Bits of all previous relationships have rolled into the snowball that I am now. But I am different then I was and the same as I was and my relationship with the world- in and out of social media- in and out of previous relationships- in and out of my current reality- help shape my outlook.

***************************************************

What website were you at prior to coming here today? Or, what's a must read for you?

Thanks for popping in today.

36x365x78

Dear young lifeguard,

Thank you for reaching Lucy a moment before I did.
She's a good little swimmer, but she strayed too far and panicked.
She clutched me and I her.
Shaken.
And then- we swam.

*****************************************************************

*sigh*

36x365x77: the cheating verse

v.1
You. Driving to the Burning Man as I write.
You. Thought you'd be dead by now.
You. Full of passion even when it's disguised by the weight that can't define you.
You. Always our best man.

*********************

v.2
Today is my good friend Matthew's birthday. He is an integral part of my life. I hold him dear. I hope for him, worry for him, pray for him, but mostly I am thankful for him.

*********************

v.3
You made Lucy a beautiful quilt. The kindest thing you could have done. Your warm embrace holds our family tight and neither time nor distance will ever diminish that. But we miss you just the same.

*********************

Happy birthday, Maffy. xoxo

36x365x76

We stayed up all night after graduation talking, listening, leaning, sharing. Freshman year we wrote and you called. Just before electronic mail.

Now your face is a vague blur and your last name is completely faded.

***********************************

Email me if you can help out with a name here. Next stop? The dreaded yearbook. Please save me from that. Please.

36x365x75

I cannot imagine your day to day. Though married, I think you parent alone. I don't question your desire to work outside your home. Is it nature or nurture? All of your children are simply exhausting.

36x365x74

On the narrow roads winding around Depot pond (near the Lapidary), you let me drive your old Mercedes. You said if I looked at the side of the road I would steer there. You were right.

***************************************************************************

I saw Mamma Mia tonight. It was the hokiest of hokey and Pierce Brosnan... eschh. The pain.

In the hours leading up to the movie I was on the beach in Scarborough. I swam, walked and read a book that was mostly about girlfriends. I was alone. The sun was warm, the water cool and the people fun to watch. Did I mention that I was alone?

So, I think about friendships. About building and maintaining them. About bridging distance and time and connecting in an honest manner.

And I think about mothering. About building bases and maintaining them. About allowing distance and taking time and connecting in an honest manner.

And I think about spousing. About giving and taking time. About giving and taking and connecting.

What's the last movie you saw in a theater?

36x365x73

Can you be light and airy all of the time?

What happens at home when life is heavy?

Who do you call on when you seek support?

Have you completely recovered from being hit?

Eat, eat.

36x365x72

You scooped up my 12 pound month old babe, saying, "We'll be back." You brought him to meet other nurses. Only slightly freaked, we loved you for it.

Later, we saw you at the Statler Brothers.