What He Learned

What He Learned

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Today, walking to work from Metro, I thought about the book Everything I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.  It was crossing the street that made it come to mind and, once there, it wouldn’t go away.

The book was quite a phenomenon when it was published in 1986, and a 25th anniversary edition appears to be selling briskly. In it, Robert Fulghum says that he stands by his simple rules, that he still believes if we only practiced what we learned in kindergarten we would all be better off.

What did we learn? Things like “share everything,” “play fair,” “clean up your own mess” and “when you go out into the world, watch for traffic, hold hands and stick together.”

Though it’s easy to poke fun at the simplistic message, given the state of our nation and our world, Fulghum’s words resonate even more deeply today than it did when he wrote them.

Exceptional!

Exceptional!

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We’ve been dished out a couple of exceptional early June days with cool nights and mornings and bright, breezy afternoons.  It’s the kind of weather where you’re equally comfortable in long sleeves or short, blue jeans or capris.

It’s flexi-weather. Choose from a, b or c. Add d, e or f. Mix thoroughly and enjoy.

Which is what I’ve been doing. A short walk last evening took me only halfway round my usual course, but al fresco dining completed the night.

And this morning, I threw open the windows and let the air in.

We have so few days like this; I want to savor each one.

This Old Kitchen

This Old Kitchen

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The wallpaper is original, the cabinets, too. The countertop is Formica and the appliances don’t match. Storage is minimal and opening the refrigerator door blocks off the entire room.

Yet, more than 11, 000 meals have flowed from this room and countless family conversations have occurred in it. It’s been the scene of celebration, jubilation and consternation.

It was put through its paces this weekend, with all the meals prepared, dishes washed and leftovers crammed into any fridge nook and cranny I could find. And of course with the girls together making coffee, slicing fruit — and hanging out.

Though we took a few “formal” family shots over the weekend, it’s candid ones like these that I appreciate the most. They capture the allure of the kitchen, the craziness of it, the love and laughter it has known.

Will we ever renovate it? I doubt it. But if we do, I hope all the good vibes remain.

Shark Week!

Shark Week!

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I don’t think it’s officially Shark Week, but it was shark week at my house yesterday as Celia and I took in last summer’s “The Meg.”

Imagine the largest Great White you can, multiply it by 10 and you have a megalodon, a prehistoric shark-like creature that was thought to be extinct but which (in this rousing tale) lives on in a hidden part of the ocean floor below a layer of gas.

When a band of explorers finds a way to permeate the barrier and descend into an eerie place deeper than the Mariana Trench, they find a shark so large that it eats the explorer’s roving pod for breakfast.

Celia and I had great fun trying to figure out who would be eaten and who would survive. We were right about half the time.

Wow, it’s good to have her home!

Multiplicity

Multiplicity

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When I was a full-time freelancer, I often wrote articles for Working Mother magazine. One of their mantras was that women (people in general, but their audience was women) are happier when they have multiple roles — when they’re not just mothers … but mothers and accountants or mothers and baristas or mothers and CEOs. Or, in my case, a mother and a writer.

So today, in addition to being grateful for another trip around the sun; in addition to being especially thankful that my family is together to celebrate — I’m also grateful for my work, for the opportunity I have to be creative for a good purpose, and for the new friends I’ve made around the globe.

Because it’s not just the work, it’s the many worlds it has opened for me. It’s another dimension of life that my own mother, as creative and work-oriented as she was, did not have.

Nothing is more important to me than my family, the amazing young women I’m proud to call my daughters. But I’m so filled with joy and gratitude that I live in a time when being a mother is not the only thing I am. The many roles I have a chance to play enrich my life daily. And today, especially, I’m so thankful that they do.

Postponed Post

Postponed Post

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As the Seattlites sleep in (still on Pacific Daylight Time), I’ve lingered over my second cup of tea, which followed a long walk before the humidity began to surge, which followed almost eight hours of sleep.

This is what a life of leisure would be like, I tell myself (minus the time answering a couple work emails and putting up an away message).

I could get used to this.

(This posting was postponed by … people waking up and coming over!)

The Return

The Return

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Apart from Suzanne’s long sojourn in Africa, I’ve never had one of my kids be away as long as Celia has. She left more than 11 months ago, bound for the Pacific Northwest. She’s built a new life for herself there.

But that doesn’t stop me from missing her.  The last time I saw her, she gave me a little charm, a small shell that someone had given her when she left for the West Coast. I’ve kept it close ever since.

When I miss her even more than usual, I stroke the whorls of the shell, lift it up and inhale its scent, hoping that some trace of hers lingers on it.

We miss our children differently than we do our spouses or our parents or our friends. There is a visceral longing at times — I just want to hold her, give her a huge hug.

And, God willing, later today, I will.

Rainy Tuesday

Rainy Tuesday

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The weekend weather was sunny and hot, perfect for Memorial Day. And the rain quite politely held off until this morning. I noticed the first faint drops on an early walk.

At first they seemed little more than moisture squeezed out of humid skies. But by the time I’d returned home and brewed a pot of tea the drops had turned into a deluge, and I drove to Metro with foggy windows on puddling roads.

It was a tropical rain that fell, sheets and sheets.  I think of the flowers I just planted by the mailbox. They’ll be getting a long drink of water. And the ferns that are still in winter-basement mode (which is to say, half dead) … they will love the way this day is starting out.

Even humans don’t seem to mind terribly much. We’re heading back to the office anyway. So let the raindrops fall …

Last Monday in May

Last Monday in May

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It’s Memorial Day and the dust is flying. Though today is the holiday, the big celebration is two days away when my youngest daughter and her husband arrive from Seattle. There has been more cleaning than usual going on here.

One of the things I found in my dustings and scrubbings was an American flag. There’s no pole to fly it from, though, so I’m thinking of hanging it out the window (after I figure out which way to arrange it).

As I do, I’ll be thinking of my favorite veteran (my dad), all who’ve served, and all who are no longer with us. I wish we could all be together on this last Monday in May.

Buds, Blooms and Petals

Buds, Blooms and Petals

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The climbing roses reached their peak yesterday. I snapped photos of them from every angle, and Claire took photos with her new phone camera, too.

I tried to drink in their beauty as I scrubbed the porch table and chairs, as I removed the green film from the outside of the flower pots.

I tried to enjoy them during dinner with the storm that would be their undoing already making itself felt in the heavy air and ominous clouds.

I think I was successful, in as much as we humans every fully are. To savor the moment, the perfection of the bud and bloom, knowing full well the pile of petals that will follow — that about sums it up, doesn’t it?