The past week

The past week has been a fun one for us - our last beach trip as a family of three, for starters. We spent several days in Wilmington, NC, with my aunt and uncle at their lovely beach home - a much needed vacation for us. We ate, slept, swam, and just hung out - just what the doctor ordered. Here are a few photos from there:

Check out Amy, the Newfoundland, next to Stella. She is the most gentle dog you'll ever meet. She's also the hugest!




Stella didn't like the ocean much, but she loved digging in the sand and playing with a bucket of mud. I think in this photo her bathing suit strap was falling down.




Our big girl making footprints. Check out how few people there are on the beach! I know, private island living must be nice sometimes.




We got home yesterday, and today we had a fun-filled day of July 4th festivities. We went to a block party on a street where we know three families, so we saw tons of friends, met new ones, ate some great cookout food, and just enjoyed hanging out in the comfortable evening temperatures around here. (yes, I'm pregnant, and yes, I'm constantly burning up. Thank God for mountain summers!) Check out some photos from that event:

Showing off her George Washington tattoo. After 2 minutes, she was begging for me to wash it off.



Just a cool dog at the party.



A house on the street where the party was. I'm no photographer, but I love how this one turned out.



The 5-foot-long banana sundae. Yum.



And us.



Happy 4th, everyone!

Good Advisors

Everytime I talk to someone about our businesses they say, "That's super that you're being so successful!" I appreciate their comments, but, honestly, any small business in its first few years (we're in our third) is fairly close to disaster. The potential for disaster can actually get larger as one's budget gets bigger.

That's why I always tell folks who have businesses to get good advisors. You have to be humble and ask for advice. You might get three different opinions on any single question, but it's more likely they will start to echo one another -- a signal you need to pay attention. Anytime I want to make a bold move (ex. a new hire, new equipment, a new way of marketing) I talk to a few of my advisors. Sometimes it will become clear that I need to go ahead with the move. Other times it's clear I need to wait, maybe even switch focus.

I see businesses fail around me for what must be a host of reasons. But I suspect that a lot of the time it is because the owner had a one-track mind and didn't listen to good advisors.

A bittersweet day

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I was hot, cranky, not rested, and just in a bad mood. Combined with the woes of third trimester pregnancy and a snotty, coughing child, by 7:15 a.m., I realized this was a day I'd rather just crawl back into bed for.

But of course I didn't. Stella and I let Eric sleep in, while we cooked breakfast for him. When we heard the shower water turn on, we quickly packed up his gift, and she burst into the bathroom holding the bag, saying, "Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" That made me laugh and cry - laugh because I knew he was naked in there, and as her curiosity buds about our various body parts, he does try to maintain some privacy in the house. And cry just because, well, I'm a hormonal mess.

We piddled around the house mainly, doing a little yardwork, watching a Sesame Street video, taking a walk. After a restless, steamy nap for she and I, we decided to get out of the house and head down to the Waynesville Rec Center field, which has a nice shaded walking path along the creek.

All this complaining is leading up to something - I promise. As we strolled along the path, I had a revelation as to why I was being such a complete grouch - this was father's day. Duh. I couldn't believe that I hadn't really thought much about my own dad in the days leading up to Father's Day, and now that Eric is a dad, the focus was naturally on him.

My dad passed away 3 1/2 years ago of liver and pancreatic cancer. It's weird to even type that, because while so many people in my life know this event well, most people reading this blog are friends that I've met after his passing. It's crazy to think that people that I now consider close friends have never known me with a dad.

I don't feel old or mature enough to be here without him. I know that people of all ages lose parents and that it's hard anytime. I just never imagined myself in my 20s with two kids and no father to share them with.

He was a funny man, sociable, with a contagious laugh. He was a prankster, mischievous and took great pleasure in embarrassing me any chance he could get. I know that his marriage to my mom wasn't the best, and he certainly wasn't the perfect husband, but I think of all the roles in his life, he took most seriously the one of father.

We found out in August 2003 that he was sick, and by January of the next year he was gone. 13 days after he died, at some ungodly hour in the morning, Eric and I stood in our bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test sitting on the counter. Dad always predicted that I'd have a daughter one day, "just like you," he'd say. Well, she's a lot like her dad too, but he called it. Oh, if he could see her now.

How lucky she is to have the father that she does, because I know how special that bond can be between a little girl and her dad. Thank you, Eric, for giving her that priceless gift.

I Love My iPod

The iPod has all but replaced the radio for me. I don't make any apologies, because in these mountains it's hard to get - and keep - a good radio station tuned in. And how many times can you listen to "I Love This Bar" on 99.9 without going a little bug-eyed?

It's possible to download podcasts that have video, but I just download audio podcasts. I plug my iPod into my computer and drag and drop the selections onto the iPod, which will hold around 30 hours of audio. My iPod has ear phones that still allow me to hear traffic around me while I'm driving. Partly that is because I'm not into listening to music on my iPod. I prefer interviews. Here are my favorite podcasts and where to get them:

This American Life (http://www.thisamericanlife.org)
The Story (http://www.thestory.org)
The World Technology Report (http://www.npr.org) -- I think that's where you go.
Don Carlin's Hardcore History (Find it at http://www.podcastalley.com, along with lots of other podcasts. You have to sort through the junk to find the jewel.)
The Manager's Toolbox (find it at podcastalley).

I have an iPod Shuffle, which you can order online for about $79. The Shuffle doesn't have a screen to help you make selections, but you can play your library one selection after the other (instead of randomly) or skip forward or back to the next selection at any time.

Give it a try. You'll be amazed how much time you spend in the car once you start listening to your pod and realize how much good programming you can get through. And you'll be grateful that you're not singing along to "I Love This Bar," for the thousandth time.

Judy Dothard Simmons: A Friend On Our Level

Listen to the words of someone who knew Judy Dothard Simmons way-back-when, and try not to smile. Okay, go ahead and smile. Says Winifred Wrisley, Judy Dothard Simmons' high school music teacher, who met Judy when Judy was just 14 years-young:

"(Judy) was unlike any other person who has ever come through my life. She had a lot to give to people who cared to understand her. And (Judy) was not terribly understood."

"She sailed right through, making enemies all over the place, because she was so far ahead of everyone."

"I couldn't keep up with her when it came to the piano. She refused to practice -- she didn't need to practice. I think I was smart enough to realize that I wouldn't help Judy any if I tried to hold her back."

Another pupil who went through the Allen High School for Girls in Asheville, N.C., a few years before Judy arrived was a young musical talent who later adopted the name of Nina Simone. Said Wrisley: "Judy was that much ahead of the modern stuff that was coming out. Nina Simone -- Judy was ahead of (her). There was something in Judy that was pretty much ahead of what most people were doing."

And that was in the late-1950s. Fifty years later, I'm not sure many of us ever managed to catch up with Judy. But I don't recall her ever - ever - wanting me to feel dumb or deficient. Judy had a way of finding your gift and pointing it out to you. She didn't flatter or stroke -- she wanted to share what she knew, and learn from you, too. Conversations with Judy - at least those "let's update each other on our lives" phone conversations I'd have with her -- were pleasant respites from a normally harried life. Judy served as Confessor Priest to me, when I thought I didn't have time to reflect on my days. A call from Judy was permission to relax. Maybe I can say that because I was never Judy's editor. (Editing Judy could be like trying to comb a lion's mane. You needed to have the touch.)

But we did have a relationship as writerly colleagues. A few years ago Judy got me involved in writing book reviews for a print-on-demand publishing company called iUniverse. Before their self-published books went to print, aspiring authors would pay iUniverse to have folks like Judy and me (Judy and I? Help, Judy, help!) grade their work and either launch it to "star" status or make recommendations for improvement. At just $75 to read and review a work, it didn't pay to dwell too long on any one title. But Judy wrote pages upon pages of analysis and suggestions, far more than she was getting paid to generate. I'd challenge her on this, but she admittedly could not help herself from being helpful. If an author showed just an ounce of literary promise, Judy offered a pound of literary therapy. I should never have begrudged her that gift she gave others. She was my best reader, too, and she didn't charge me a slim nickel.

Judy channeled Ancient Greek poets and philosophers - in their own vernacular, of course - while providing no-nonsense modern language to the issues of the day. When I tried to engage her in conversations on politics I was usually disappointed ... in my own lack of vocabulary. As her teacher Wrisley said: "Judy was so far ahead of everyone." Certainly, she was over the heads of our politicians of today who find success in keeping their messages simple. Very ... simple. (Here envision Judy miming a robot as she recites, "Very ... simple.") Perhaps Judy was a political idealist, but if so, hers wasn't a simplistic idealism. It had nuance to it - for those who cared to understand it.

Judy - in the few years leading up to her mother's death and the years since - also developed a spirituality with nuance. She thought about spirit no less rigorously than she thought about other things in her life. In 2002, Judy sent Wrisley a book by Bishop John Shelby Spong, "A New Christianity for a New World," all lit up in highlighter pen. Here are a few highlights of Judy's highlighting:

"To suggest that God and one's own understanding of God are the same is not only to stop growing, it is to die to the quest for truth."

"I will attempt to free Christianity of its exclusive claims and its power-needs, which have totally distorted its message." (Judy was very skeptical of power as a corruptive force. Probably none of us will ever reach Judy's level of skepticism, but shouldn't we all be a little more skeptical than we are?)

Judy goes on with her Bishop Spong highlighter:

"I speak ... of the God I experience as the Ground and Source of All Being and therefore the presence that calls me to step beyond every boundary ... into the fulness of life with all its exhilarating insecurities."

"If God is the Ground of Being, you worship this divine reality by having the courage to be all that you can be -- your deepest, fullest self."

And this, my favorite of Judy's highlights:

"God is the ultimate source of love. One worships this God by loving wastefully, by spreading love frivolously, by giving love away without stopping to count the cost."

My, my, was Judy uneconomical - in personal finance - but most of all her friendships. Her friendship circles are multiple and vast, like ripples in a pool from a dropped pebble. She had her print journalist friends like me, but also the friends she made through her piano performances, the caretaker friends she made in the eight-plus years of caring for her mother, and the friends she made of friends of friends. (When Judy came to my wedding in October 2000, she befriended my Uncle Mike from St. Paul and they talked forever about their favorite presidential candidate: Ralph Nader.) There are the New York crowd who, likewise, occupy several different rings of her life, from her years training as a poet at Columbia University to the radio station and so on, and so on. Judy, the consummate journalist, could hang with anybody - and I mean anybody. She dealt with people, not in the world of appearances, but on the soul level. You weren't dealing with someone who fit into a demographic cubby-hole. You were dealing with a human being.

I like the image of Judy's friendships being like ripples in a pool, on a single plane, because I don't believe Judy put friends on pedestals or played favorites. She was far too democratic for that. When I expressed awe upon learning from her that she'd once accompanied the now famous jazz vocalist Cassandra Wilson on piano, her response was not pride, but something like: "Playing with her was hard. We couldn't keep up with each other. It was a mess." I suggested that she might have established a beat and let Cassandra keep pace with her. "Is that the way it's done?" she asked, possibly teasing me, as she loved to do, usually signaling a tease with her delighted - and delightful - girlish snicker.

I strongly suspect Judy was most comfortable in life playing her music solo - though "solo" certainly does not mean "alone." Never alone. We know that well, having known Judy like we do.

P.S.

About three weeks before Judy died, I received a last phone call from her. There was no way I could have known it to be a final word from her. It sounded to me like -- not the recently tired, old and sickly Judy -- but the more familiar, serene, magnanimous, unencumbered Judy. I can only imagine she is all those things still.

Bossy and other personality disorders

Stella, for all her endearing qualities, is bossy. We think she may border on OCD as well. And I'm not just using that term colloquially. Here's a conversation (I guess that's what you could call it) that she had tonight with me and Eric.

Scenario: She's just been put to bed. All of her expected requests have been made: both mom and dad have tucked her in, with multiple hugs and kisses. We all three sang B-I-N-G-O and the ABC song, which she calls E-I-E-I-O. She has her cup of water next to her bed and her seven (no joke) things that she must sleep with: brown bear, blue bear, new baby, big baby, little baby, sheep, football (yes, a football), and of course, bumpy, her blanket. OK, so it's eight.

We close the door and two minutes later she starts to scream.

Stella: Clean that up, Mommy! Mommy, clean that up. (louder now) Come clean that up, Mommy!

I open her door.

Me: First of all, you're not going to get anything asking like that. How do you ask nicely?

Stella: Peez, clean that up.

The child is referring to a puzzle that she left on her floor.

Me: Thank you for saying please. No, I'm not cleaning that up. Get out of bed and do it yourself.

So she does. Problem is, her overhead light is broken, and it's very dark in there. So it takes her forever to put the puzzle back together and in the right place. I tell her goodnight and walk out.

Two more minutes pass, and she starts up.

Stella: Where's that piece? That piece! Need that piece!

Eric goes this time.

Eric: Sweetie, what's wrong? (his patience isn't worn as thin by this time of day as mine has)

Stella: Need that piece!

OK, so the puzzle that she just cleaned up was missing a piece.

Eric: Stella, we can look for that tomorrow, but it's dark in here and it's time for bed.

Screams, cries, wails, and more begging ensue, all over the missing puzzle piece. Eric somehow has the touch, saying the right thing and eventually calming her down. He walks out of her room, and we just look at each other and laugh. Stuff like this happens all day in this house.

Considering I've had no other children, nor do I have much experience with two year olds, every day is an experiment with us. How can she one minute be such a maniac, but the next minute hear me clear my throat in another room, run in, and ask in the sweetest, most concerned voice, "You OK, mommy?"

Here's a shot of her being irresistable (from last fall). Hope everyone had a great holiday weekend!

Trip to Max Patch

We headed back to our FAVORITE spot in these mountains, at least that we've found so far. Good friends Kate and Kevin (Kate's an old Peace Corps friend) came for a long weekend, and we took them there....Not much news to write, but here are a few photos from our lovely hike on Sunday. Enjoy!



A requested belly-shot. This took some serious guts to post.


Stella acting like she's peeing like our dog


A hiker on the Appalachian Trail


Kevin


Our gal

Seeing the World Anew

Being able to see the world clearly seems like a simple enough thing, right? But you can't take it for granted.

In the sixth grade I had my eyes checked by the optomitrist and left with my first pair of glasses. I actually thought it was cool to have glasses. That just shows how dumb sixth-graders are.

By high school I was ready to try contact lenses. So I saved my cash from mowing lawns and bought the lenses. Loved them. My high school love life, lame as it was, might have been a lot lamer without them.

Not long after graduation my eyes decided they had enough of lenses. I tried disposables, etc., and nothing worked. So in college I was back to being a four-eyes.

Glasses are a blessing for folks with really terrible eyesight like mine. I never HATED my glasses. I was actually thankful I had them. Prescription swimming goggles, prescription snorkling lenses -- they were expensive, but I was blessed to be able to see underwater. Most folks don't have access to glasses. (The Lions Club has a great project to take old eyeglasses to folks who need them.)

But glasses rubbed my face and caused small infections near my eyes that moved to my eyes themselves - about an infection a year. If I woke up to my daughter crying, I had to fumble for my glasses to be able to help her. I didn't want to lose precious time if there was an emergency worse than a missing paci.

About two weeks ago I had Lasik surgery. The biggest issue for me was trusting a doctor to do such a delicate procedure. I found the trusting doctor in Clayton Blehm of Waynesville. I met him through the network of parents in our town who trade babysitting. And I asked my family doctor who did his Lasik: Clayton Blehm. "You'd have to be pretty drunk to mess up Lasik," my doctor said. And Clayton is Seventh Day Adventist. He doesn't drink. All taken, choosing Clayton to operate on my eyes was a no-brainer.

I was so confident and relaxed the morning of surgery, I didn't even really NEED the two Valium they gave me before the procedure. (Okay, so maybe the drugs didn't HURT.)

The operation was painless, took about 15 minutes, and was kind of cool with all the green and red lights, actually. I slept for 24 hours (the Valium had something to do with that). I was driving short distances in three days. The fourth day was a little uncomfortable when Clayton took the protective lenses off my eyes, but it wasn't too bad. A week later I was driving 800 miles to Milwaukee, with just a tiny bit of blurriness in the distance. Two weeks later I have 20/20 vision. (He's never had a patient who DIDN'T achieve 20/20. How's that for batting average?!)

I can now wrestle with my kid without getting my glasses jarred. "Where are your glasses, Daddy?" my girl asked this morning. "My eyes are fixed," I said. "I don't need glasses. I can see you now."

She never looked prettier.

What else did this do for me? I'm motivated to see the world more clearly around me in everything and ACT to make it a better place.

Being able to see is that simple. And that profound. I'll never take it for granted.

Paci-Free Household

It worked!

The first day or two was pretty rough, especially at sleep times, but after that - no sweat. It's now been 10 days and she is 100% pacifier free. We're so proud of her!

Now, any suggestions on getting the child out of diapers?

Let's see - what else is going on with us? We went to Relay for Life tonight in Waynesville. For those who don't know what it is, it's an American Cancer Society fundraiser whereby teams are sponsored to walk - all night long. This local event runs from 6 pm to 6 am. at the Waynesville Recreation Center, which has expansive green space and an outdoor track.

Teams sell food and goodies, music is playing, kids are throwing footballs, families are hanging out in tents, etc. - it's just a good, community atmosphere. Eric, Stella and I ate dinner there and walked the track a few times too.

I had my glucose test today at the doctor, and it's a bit high, so I have to go back for the more extensive blood sugar test. It's frustrating - not only b/c it's a hassle to have to sit in the hospital for 4 hours getting poked and prodded - but more than that, I want this baby to be healthy. The same thing happened with Stella, and I got myself all in a tizzy convinced that I had gestational diabetes, and I didn't. So though it's probably nothing, I still left the office with a bad feeling.

I'm a Libra, OK - I want everything to be perfect all the time, and any imbalance of the scales throws me for a loop! Then multiply that by 1000 when it comes to my own babies.

I'll hopefully have more photos to post after our Mother's Day hike that I've (yes, me) planned. I can't wait! For now, you'll have to look at our child, with busted up knees, a sty in her eye, and missing one sock. She's still beautiful to us!

Pacifier Crisis

May Day, May Day! We took away Stella's pacifiers today. Lord help us.

It started off pleasant enough. We decided that there were babies in the world that needed pacis, and since Stella is a big girl now, we would mail her pacis to those needy babies. She complied beautifully, dropping all the pacis in the house into an envelope, along with a letter that we wrote to the babies. We took it to the post office, and she gave it and her dollar bill to the postmaster.

After tons of praise, we went to Whitman's, a local bakery, for a treat. She chose a sugar cookie. We sat and ate, talking about how big she was and how proud we were of her. Next was a stop at the local toy store, where she got to choose her very own big girl toy to take home. Of all things, the child chose a baby doll, glitter, and a football.

On to the house, where I fixed her favorite lunch, macaroni and cheese. She even ate some of the broccoli that I snuck in there.

Oh, life was so easy this morning.

After lunch comes naptime, which includes "bumpy" (her blanket) and of course, paci. She asked for it, but I reminded her of what we had done this morning. It seemed to work a little bit as we read a few stories, but when it was time for sleep, the shit hit the fan. Excuse my language, but that really is the only way to describe it.

I'd say she cried for a good hour, with many visits from mom, before she crashed. That sleep only lasted 45 minutes - this is the kid that takes 3 hour naps - and when she woke up, she was really pissed. "PACI PACI PACI PACI PACI WANT IT NOW WANT IT NOW MOMMY DADDY PEEEZZZZ NOW" pretty much sums it up. We finally got her calmed down, where she whined herself to sleep for another hour or so late afternoon.

We're not an anti-paci family by any means, not do we care what anyone thinks about whether our kid is too old for this or that. Our reasoning behind doing this was that with a new baby coming in 3 1/2 months, we decided getting rid of the paci now would be easier than having to explain one day why the baby can have one but she can't. Her transition to a big girl bed was so seamless, so we had high hopes for this milestone too.

And our hopes are still high. But seeing her so inconsolable, so out of control - and knowing that it is a direct reaction of something that I took from her - well, it's hard. I mean, these days I burst into tears if I see a goldfish on my newly-vacuumed floor. Hormones are raging, and stronger than ever is my love for this kid of ours. I say kid because she is no parts baby anymore. It's hitting me that this creature won't be the baby much longer, and though I feel confident that she'll accept her big sister role with typical Stella bossiness, it's still a period of change for all of us.

OK, enough mushiness now. It's not yet bedtime so more drama may ensue. Say prayers for us!

And here's a photo of our big girl, just being her.

A Chilly (but happy) Return

In theory: There I was - hanging out in Key West, no responsibilities, just looking at the water, getting a suntan, and enjoying virgin pina coladas. Sounds lovely doesn't it?

The reality: I missed these guys so much!

Well, let's put it this way - spending time with my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew was invaluable. And Stella and Eric having quality dad/daughter time was equally as important. But I'm here to tell you, when I am not with them for four straight days, it's really hard. I cried every time I said goodnight to little Stells over the phone.

But guess what, I'm back, we're all fine, and aside from occasional hormonal moments, I had a real blast. My brother rented a house right on the water in Cudjoe Key, which is about 20 miles north of Key West. Here's a view from the neighborhood we stayed in.



We rented a boat on Easter Sunday and spent the day cruising and fishing. We also went to the beach, kicked around downtown Key West, ate some good seafood, and just overall enjoyed hanging out together. They live in CA so I don't see them nearly as much as I'd like. Check out the massive fish my brother caught.



But by far the highlight of my trip was getting to see my only nephew, Jay. He's named after my late father, and sometimes he looks just like him. He's the baby that people stop on the street to ooh and aah over. Let me show you why.





Back to reality now, but you know what, my reality isn't so bad. Because these two loves are what make it all worthwhile.

Life with Stel

As Marian experiences a well-deserved break in Key West, I remain in the trenches of Life with Stel. This is a report from the front:

6:30 a.m. Stella awakes asking for milk. But milk isn't enough to get her to lie down and go back to sleep. She wants to get out of bed. I cajole her to play in her room quietly while I attempt a little more shut-eye. This works for about 12 seconds. So, last ditch effort, I give her the opportunity to lie in bed next to me and put her head on "mommy's pillow." This is quite an opportunity for her. I mean, "Mommy's pillow"! She is delighted, flops around quite a lot and seems intent on kicking a beat on the bed with her legs, preventing sleep on my part. But at some point she commences singing "if that diamond ring goes bye" and I manage to drift off -- for nearly 2 hours! This is an amazing development. Her dad will not soon forget this act of generosity on her part. How she never runs out of songs is beyond me.

8:30 a.m. On her way to the kitchen for apple juice, Stella can't help noticing something interesting outside. "Snow, Daddy! Wanna play outside!" We share a hearty breakfast of Cream of Wheat and trudge outside. Great fun, of course. And, as usual, right before reaching our home she starts to run and bites the dust. There were a lot of places she could have fallen in the soft, fluffy snow. But she managed to fall in the hard, unfluffy, road. "Are you beating your kid?" asks my neighbor, Dan, stepping out of his home. Sigh.

10:30 a.m. We head for Lake Junaluska where there is an Easter Egg hunt planned. The thermometer on my car says 24 degrees. If I were the Easter Bunny, I'd pretend I saw my shadow and go back in the ground for four more weeks, at least! But the kind folks at Junaluska go on with the show. The older kids (8 and older) are allowed to hunt eggs in the snow, while the little ones are ushered into rooms with eggs scattered all over the floor. Not much of a challenge to FIND the eggs, but the kids seem to appreciate product over process. There are opportunities to make crafts and decorate eggs, too. Stel seems a little bit intimidated by the crowds and refuses to hug the Easter Bunny.

When we arrive home, Stella asks for an icicle from our roof gutter. She loves the natural popsicle. This will be her undoing in the afternoon, as you shall see.

Noon. Lunch, a couple books, and Stella is OUT for the count till 3 p.m.! "Tire her out!" is my mantra for the next four days.

4:30 p.m. After an Elmo video, we go for a walk. She's upset that all the icicles from the roof gutter have melted and has me on the lookout for icicles elsewhere. I finally find a good one on a branch near one of the little streams in our neighborhood. She can't believe her luck! But she will not have mittens between her and the icicle. "Your hands are going to get cold," I warn. "Aren't your hands cold?" "No," she smiles, enjoying that icicle.

Ten minutes later she's crying. "Hands cold! Hands COLD!" She drops the icicle in the road and it SHATTERS, causing her to cry even harder. Her mittens are no solace - so I give her my giant gloves, which kind of cheer her up. She looks seriously deformed walking with those gloves flapping. Then she announces she needs her diaper changed, and begins crying at the discomfort -- then announces that she wants a "snack." "Goldfish! GOLDFISH!" she cries. There are too many simultaneous issues for me even to hope to resolve. I carry her home as fast as I can, and this kid is HEAVY. But we make it home and everyone is happy.

6 p.m. We eat a quick dinner and head for downtown for the opening of Women in Vision, an art exhibit at Gallery 86 featuring our friend Angela Blehm's paintings. I want my daughter to be inspired by creative women at an early age. Of course, when we enter the room she's immediately drawn to the snack plates people are carrying. "Want a snack," she says - even though we've had dinner already. I fill up her plate with cheese, crackers, half a cookie, and some other winning foods. Most of it ends up on the floor in time, but some of it makes it into her mouth - and some of that ACTUALLY GETS SWALLOWED rather than spit out on one of the benches people are expected to use to admire the art on the wall. I can't really study the paintings when I'm afraid my daughter will spit out her food on one, instantly earning me an art purchase I hadn't banked on.

6:30 p.m. We spend a half hour more on Main Street as Stella sings and dances like a Whirling Dirvish. This fits in nicely with the "tire her out" theme. Eventually her hands get cold and we head back to the car, to home, and evening routine, which is pretty straightforward.

8 p.m. and she's asleep again, until tomorrow...

Future Plans

You've heard the one about life being what happens when you make other plans. That's a frightening proposition for anyone who has a Great Plan For Their Future like we do right now.

It's especially hard for me. Whether it's that I grew up Lutheran (you're not really allowed to want anything if you're Lutheran -- it's about as far from the "Gospel of Prosperity" as you can be) or the fact I read too many Greek tragedies in high school, the thought of making big plans puts me at unease. Maybe that's part of the reason why I've bailed from most of the career paths I've started. It could be simply a desire for novelty (that's a big part of it, I'm sure) but I think it's also because after you've spent a few years in a field you find yourself having to go to the next level. Success in the first few years usually means more success later on, and you need to be ready for it. But I've been broke so long, am I really ready to have money? Not only does prosperity seem outside of being a good Lutheran, I'm not sure it fits with who I am as a person. I think it's related somehow to an actual and metaphysical fear of drowning: getting too far out in the deep end, not being able to get out before I'm crushed and suffocated by all the weight around me. Better to stick to the shallows where it's safe.

Having a kid is what started to change my outlook. It's not that I want to give her all the "things" she might want. (She won't get her own car in high school, I can already tell ya, and if there is a car she gets to use on a regular basis it will be a 1985 Dodge Omni. It was good enough for me, gd!) It's just that being at the office for 10 hours at a stretch, not seeing my kid for basically 3/4ths of her waking hours, just started to depress me. So when she turned 3 months I took family leave from my job and never went back. I thought about freelancing again as a writer for magazines, but that can be just as grueling and require just as much time away from family as working for The Man, especially when travel is involved.

So, we created a company that allows us to set our own schedule to a degree. I can help with Stella's morning routine, usually be home for lunch, and be home in time for a late afternoon walk. Working more can wait until 8 when she's in bed. It's not unlike the Kiribati way, for it's rare that a person does not eat at home with family three meals a day. (The only difference is I don't fish or hunt for crabs.) This kind of day is very gratifying, and, really, if we can keep it up and still pay our bills it will be enough success. It will be all the wealth we need to build.

But something has been nagging me all this time. It's the feeling that, for the first time in MY life, at least, I need to consider the possibility of building something bigger and beyond the day to day. If Stella wants to spend a month learning how to mush dogs in Alaska, I want to be able to help her do that. If she wants to attend a sailing camp, or spend time in an ornithology lab in the Amazon, or attend field hockey camp, I think it would be great to be able to make those things happen. Even better: what if her family could join her on some of these adventures ("Aw, Dad, can't you just drop me off at the bus stop and write me letters!!!") What I'm talking about is spending a few months in the Pacific, a part of the world we can teach her about. Spending summers at the beach near Wilmington which so edified my wife's growing up. I don't know where our interests as a family might take us, but it takes money to make those things happen. In addition, I'm curious to see if our company can edify the community by, number one, providing a high number of high-paying jobs, and, two, getting involved in community initiatives (ex. a new senior center, an after-school place for teens - you get the picture). In short, I'm wondering if the Lutheran in me just needs to go be happily miserable waiting for doomsday someplace else, far away from the rest of me.

So, we're going to PLAN a company strategy that imagines the next twenty years. I expect real life will diverge considerably from what we put down on paper. I'm not afraid of that. It's just that for the first time I'm afraid of staying in the shallow waters too long. It's a good feeling to be "getting in deep." The swimming, after all, is so much better there.

Abridged version of our trip

Charleston is a romantic, beautiful, scenic and historical city, one that I would love to visit again and again. There really is so much to see and do, tons of great bars and restaurants, parks, beaches, and great things for kids too. I would recommend it to anyone, because whatever your interests, you could still have fun there.

I must admit I was anxious traveling with Stella since she moved to a big girl bed, and she's long grown out of her Pack and Play, which meant she was sharing our bed. It's crazy how my moods and overall happiness level directly correlate to how much rest I get these days. And while the first night was a bit rough, she did GREAT for naps and nighttime the rest of the trip. We were so proud of her!

While Eric and Pat worked most of Saturday, Brittain and I took Stella to Folly Beach. The photo (see last post) of her with filthy clothes happened like this - she had sand on her hands as we were walking back to the car, and I said, "Stella, just wipe them on your shirt and we'll change you later." Well, she took that as an open invitation to grab handfuls of wet sand and clump them all over her clothes, since I said it was OK. Brittain and I laughed so hard at that one. Check it out in this pic.



We also ran around tons of parks, fountains, piers, and of course, strolled the lovely streets of the city. We ate good seafood, everyone else drank good drinks (though I did have a virgin pina colada that hit the spot), and got sun and salty air on our skin, which felt incredible.

The picture of the bride and groom was taken in one of the most beautiful green spaces I've ever seen. They were gorgeous, just posing for their photographer among these tremendous oaks and spring flowers, with the beautiful old houses on one side and the ocean on the other. Everyone around was staring at them!

Can you tell that we really needed a vacation? Between running the businesses, chasing Stella, and just getting through every day, we don't take enough time to just be with each other and good friends. It was just what the doctor ordered.

Here are a few more photos just for fun. Expect another update next week after yours truly returns from Key West! Supportive emails and phone calls to Eric over Easter would be welcome as he'll be full-time dad for 4 straight days. God Bless him.

Charleston Photos

We only returned a few hours ago from our weekend in Charleston, but we had a blast. Here are some pics we took - but I'm too tired to explain them. Will try to get to that tomorrow! Enjoy!

She's Alive

Stella's been better for a while now, but we've just been lazy about blogging, and I think it's about to get worse, as our lives get a bit more exciting. Next weekend we're headed to Charleston to do a video biography of a 90-year old lady. Eric and Pat (our employee and our dear friend) will working mostly on Saturday, while Brittain (pat's girlfriend, my BFF from college), Stella and I do the Charleston thing. Can you believe that I've lived in the Carolinas most of my life, but have yet to visit that lovely city? I can't wait!

The next weekend, yours truly is off for an Easter vacation in Key West! Yes, just me! Yes, my dear husband is keeping our maniacal two-year old for four straight days while I travel with my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew from CA. Also never been to the Keys, so I'm looking very forward to that as well. Maybe a suntan will make my pregnant self look a little more presentable.

Then two weeks later, we're headed to the NC coast to film the wedding of my oldest friend's sister. They are a family of five girls and two boys, and I've known them like my own siblings practially my entire life. We're gonna stay in Kinston a few days too (my hometown), to see my grandparents and mom too...

So that's about it from here. I will try to post photos more frequently, but no promises! Good night!

Elmo marathon

So disregard the last post that we were all on the mend. Poor Stella has a stomach bug again, this time bigger and badder....so we are busy getting her well. Elmo movies are the best remedy we've found.

More to come when she's back to normal!

OK, I suck

I have what I consider legitimate excuses for not blogging lately. Between major work deadlines, a stomach bug (Stella and me), colds (Eric and me), and both of our parents visiting in two weeks, blogging has been the last thing on my mind.

Alas, we're coming out of our fog, wrapping up some big projects, and finding a little more time to ourselves. Thank goodness, because American Idol is in full season - and I am addicted. If you are a fan, our favorites are Brandon for the guys and Lakesha or Melinda for the girls. I definitely think a girl is going to win this year. Ok, I have to make myself stop because I could go on and on.

Attached are some photos from our morning jaunt to Cherokee last weekend. We went to the Harrah's Casino hotel to look at some of the incredible art there. Stella was excited to see "drawings" - which in her language include paintings, sculptures, wall hangings, etc. The place does smell like cigarettes, but besides that, it's a good way to spend 45 minutes showing your child some pretty cool stuff. She liked the escalator more than anything.







I promise to try and do a better job blogging regularly. I have such a double standard, because when my friends don't blog every day, I take it personally. It's one of many things I need to work on!

I have my 16 week OB appointment tomorrow. Time is flying. I was just saying to Eric that when I found out about this baby, I was only 5 weeks along - and that was almost 3 months ago. It's becoming more real now as my clothes are heinously tight, but my maternity clothes look frumpy and lame. We've begun the long struggle to pick out the two names, and my ultrasound is scheduled for March 19, but we'll be turning our heads again when the wand goes over the private parts. Tempting, but well worth the wait in my opinion. We are so excited to be parents again.

That's all for tonight. Hope everyone is well, and please leave comments!

My Panacea

This morning I am enjoying my time at Panacea, a coffee shop here in Waynesville that has turned into, well, my panacea. I've done some traveling, drank coffee in much bigger, fancier places, but I'm here to tell you - this place tops them all. It's got an old warehouse feel, with brick walls, concrete floor, bright artwork, and best of all, delicious coffee. They roast all their beans in house, and they've also got a great lunch menu that is unlike most in this small town - translation, I don't think anything there's anything deep-fried on the whole menu!

I'm finishing up a big editing project due on Friday, so I've been dropping Stella off at her little preschool and coming here to work for the few hours that she's there. It's been such a great release. Yes, I've been working, but it feels good. Accompanied by two cups of delicious coffee (yes, one was decaf - I am trying to be a somewhat responsible pregnant woman), surrounded by the buzz of friends chatting, professionals meeting, and coffee beans grinding. And the most peaceful part of all - I'm not chasing a two year old around the place.

Though it's time to go get her now, and my heart is aching to see her. It's ridiculous how excited I am to have some space, yet how desperately I miss her after only a few short hours. Here I come, my Stella Bell!

"Coffee, My Brother, I Salute Thee."

When I started not to like sweets such as Now-and-Laters and Nerds (okay, every now and then I still do) I knew that my taste buds must be undergoing some kind of metamorphosis. Were my taste buds, like my hair, turning gray? Suddenly I could no longer drink orange juice without cutting it with water first. And drinking the juice from a can of peaches, while it used to be so grand, was almost torture by sugar shock. Even as I pause in the writing of this, I'm taking the frosting off a brownie Marian served me (heated up, with ice cream, ain't I a king?).

I like to think that my sense of taste has matured. One other sign is that I now drink coffee after 34 years of NEVER drinking it. I mean, I always thought that coffee tasted like a mud puddle. In Kiribati, I could never drink the stuff because they always mixed into their coffee pot about a gallon of condensed milk. I always teased Marian's principal, a Kiribati woman of about 50, "Would you like a bit more coffee with your sugar?" Even if they had not sugared it up so, I still wouldn't have liked the instant Pablo, an Australian staple that tasted like a pinch of outback mixed with kangaroo pee.

See, I've become a coffee snob. Perhaps it was parenthood (read: not near enough sleep) that got me wanting a lift in the morning, some kind of ritual that my daughter could not co-opt. I mean, she steals my silverware, my napkin, and even my food, often placing one or more of these items in my water glass when I'm not looking. But my coffee is DANGEROUS, so she can't get near it. "Daddy's hot-cuppa-KO-fee," she dutifully recites, giving appropriate ground to my grounds.

My grandfather used to drink a pot of coffee every morning from a cup that looked like it been hewn from marble by Michelangelo and had been damaged by a multitude of European and American tourists over the course of four centuries. It had a tremendous number of long cracks but somehow did not leak. It appeared, when empty, to weigh a little over four pounds, and was bigger than a small child's head.

Now I know why Roy liked that cup. It had a thickness that kept the heat in and a smoothness that helped the coffee to enter his mouth at just the right velocity. Drinking a pot of coffee is, after all, a race between you and the morning, because you wouldn't want to be drinking it past noon. Someone might think you had a coffee drinking problem.

That was my mom's dad. My dad's family put honey in their coffee. Not my favorite way of sweetening coffee, to be honest with you. But they came from a long line of farmers and I wouldn't be surprised if honey was the main sweetener they used back in the 19th century.

I used to work for a guy whose alarm in the morning was me grinding the coffee beans at five minutes past seven. These days, I grind coffee for me and Marian. It is a terrible noise that Stella and I used to dance to because she thought that was pretty funny. Eventually she could no longer be fooled into thinking it is music so now she screams, "Very very LOUD!" when I grind the beans in front of her.

This morning we didn't have any beans left so I had to buy my coffee at the only "to go" coffee place on Highway 19 - the Sunoco next to Ferguson's. They actually have quite a bit to choose from, but I'm not going to say what I chose is anything to write home about. Certainly better than nothing, and enough to get me past my coffee jonesing moment today.

What bums me out is that Breuggher's, which has such great bagels, has pretty terrible coffee, if you ask me.

Some of the best coffee I've had I brought back from Jamaica, where Marian's brother married. My sister (who had honeymooned there) gave me $40 to buy a lot of Blue Mountain coffee and bring it home. It was about $17 per pound at the resort but maybe $5 a pound one of the little souvenir shops run by locals. I think half the weight I brought home consisted of these little burlap bags of coffee. It was good stuff.

I don't have much else to say about coffee, or to coffee, except maybe to walk up to it and say, "Thanks, Bro'. You've helped me get by."

Not sure what this photo means

This photo cracks me up - because I can't tell what Stella's expression means. I've decided that it's either her sexy pose in 15 years, or her bully, don't mess with me on the streets face. Either way, it's cute to me.

Work, work, work

January 2007 was our best business month ever - we more than doubled our revenue from last January! We've already got 25 weddings on the books for this year, with more coming in every week. We're getting busier with our home and property videos too, and with the addition of our first full-time employee, we think more customized video projects are soon to follow.

Highs like this remind me why we started our own businesses in the first place. It's so satisfying to succeed when you've worked so hard. Don't get me wrong - it's still a struggle every day. But when our numbers consistently grow, and our employees seem happy, and our clients love their videos - it feels good to know that we're delivering quality products AND somehow paying the bills each month (though it's been VERY dicey more than once!). And best of all - no bosses!

I'm trying to really put in some time before this baby arrives, because I'm sure I will be little to no help for a few months until we get our rhythm down as a family of four. I'm working on my second newspaper insert for KARE, a local child abuse prevention non-profit. It's basically the organization's annual report, filled with photos, stories, blurbs, etc. that I'm supplying. I love working with the staff there, and I believe in what they're trying to do, so it doesn't even feel too much like work.

I'm also busy with editing work from the Center for Creative Leadership out of Greensboro, NC. Mainly taking articles and re-writing them for podcasting. They've also given me several pieces to edit down for publications all across Asia.

With our new hire, Eric has been able to be out selling and marketing, which is both what he's good at and what he enjoys. I swear that man could walk into a tee pee in Tibet and make friends with everyone there in minutes. OK, I don't know if there are tee pees in Tibet, but you know what I mean.

Stella is still keeping us on our toes. That kid doesn't miss a beat. We'll be having breakfast together, and she will commentate the entire meal. "Daddy drinking water." "Mommy's toast." "Tella's eatin toast too." I'm serious, it doesn't stop. It's cute, really it is, but there are very few quiet moments in our house these days. I guess that's how it's supposed to be, right? Today I said, "I love you, Stella." And she said, "Tella wuves mommy....so much."

For all her preciousness, she can certainly be a pistol sometimes. Today she slapped our dog in the face with an empty ziploc bag. Moments before, it was full of Goldfish, but she decided to dump them all out in the middle of our family room before hitting Kope upside the head with it. I don't know why I'm laughing as I type this, probably because I can't believe the ridiculousness of my life sometimes, but I promise, it was not funny.

That's it from Maggie Valley tonight - our dear friend Kristen is coming tomorrow and there's still cleaning to do.

Good night! And leave comments!

My favorite meal of the day...

Hands down, it is breakfast. And I don't mean raisin brand or toast, guys, I mean a full-on, hot and delicious breakfast. Eggs, homefries, bacon, biscuits, french toast - OK, not all in one meal usually, though these days I am eating for two, remember?

This morning my dear friends Brittain and Pat treated Stells and I to breakfast at the Hot Shot Cafe in Asheville. There's nothing incredibly special or unique about the place, but there's something about sipping coffee in the morning with friends, planning our day and recapping their previous night's adventures (they have a great social life, much like I did before I had a human alarm clock at 6 every morning).

I always love seeing Brittain and Pat (Brittain is my best friend from our UNC days (a sorority sister, okay - I don't want to hear the Greek jokes from anyone), and so does Stella. They are definitely her two favorite people on the planet. The whole way to Asheville this morning, she was saying "Uncle Pat wuves Tella?" To which I would reply yes. Then she'd ask, "Aunt B wuves Tella too?" And I would reassure her that these two special people did in fact love her. So here they are, spending time with their little buddy Stella.





Have a great rest of the weekend!

Pascal's Wager, Revisited

Perhaps you've heard of Pascal's Wager. Here's a summary: "If I believe in God and I'm wrong, I've lost nothing. If I believe in Him and I'm right, I get eternal life. If I fail to believe and there's no God, I've lost nothing. But if I fail to believe and He exists, I've REALLY missed out." The moral: "Believe in God -- for you've got nothing to lose, and everything to gain."

Perhaps the choice to believe in God is one of the hardest choices that exists. It certainly throws a lot of people for a loop. But an equally difficult choice is the choice over whether to work hard or not.

They say that man on his deathbed never wishes he spent more time at the office. I'll buy that. But if one has the opportunity to work really hard at the office for the next 10 years in order to be very successful and not have to go into the office AT ALL for the 20 years that follow ... might that be a really good trade?

Not if, I suppose, at the end of that 10 years, one croaks. So ...

The only wager on work I'll make is one that lets me spend terrific moments with my family, every day, no matter how hard I'm working otherwise. Burnout is not an option -- it's not very productive in the long run anyway.

For what it's worth, I do believe in God. It's not easy sometimes, but it's sure better than the alternative.

Sweet Words

Stella usually talks and sings for a while before falling asleep. Sometimes I listen at her door to hear the funny things she says. Tonight took me by surprise.

"Tella wanna hold mommy's baby."

As if I weren't already an emotional wreck. Love you Tella.

Snowy Weather

What a beautiful snowy day in the mountains! The snow fell all day, probably a total of 4-5 inches here at our house. When Eric got home from the office, we got out the camera and the video camera to get footage of Stella in the snow. She had a blast! And falling on her face at least a dozen times didn't even seem to phase her.

Not feeling much like writing tonight, but did want to post these family photos of our time outside today. Good night!

I'm just in love with her

Today was a day that I just really loved being with Stella. It wasn't out of the ordinary in any way - late brunch with a friend, naps (hers and mine), a neighborhood family walk - but it was just fun.

She started off the morning by climbing in my bed chanting "marian jones larson" over and over again. I woke up laughing. I have never been a morning person, but if I must be woken up, I've decided that Stella does the job best.

So here's a shot of us snuggling in "mommy and daddy big bed", as she calls it.

I could get used to this

Reading back over recent posts that Eric has written, I've noticed a lovely pattern forming - his saying great things about me. While I'm not sure what's gotten into him, I'm not complaining. It might have something to do with me carrying his baby, or the fact that occasionally Stella and I whip up a decent breakfast or dinner for him.

So it's my turn to tell the world (or at least the 3 people that probably check this blog) how lucky I am to have him. He is the fairest (I'm giggling, because I originally typed "fairiest"), most honest person I know. He is unpretentious, not at all into material possessions -- the opposite of that annoying "cool guy" that girls may find cute when they are freshmen in college but not when looking for a life partner.

This inevitably means that he does wear black socks with tennis shoes, and may on occasion throw on his Mr. Rogers cardigan when he's cold around the house. But you know, in some twisted, backwards way, I find those things cute, because it reminds me what he really is all about. He is an incredibly hard-worker and in my mind a self-taught success story, especially in business. He is a dreamer and goes after things he believes in so fiercely that I can't imagine him not succeeding.

And don't even get me started on how he is with miss Stella Bell. When he walks through the door, she immediately runs to the couch and screams "Daddy Wanna Sit!" Once he sits, she is relentless in her pursuit for tickles and cuddles. And I have spent ALOT of time with this kid, but I've never heard her laugh like she does with her dad. When I see them together, well, that sight wells up the happiest feelings that I think I've ever had.

So even though I am awesome (see posts below), I've got a pretty good guy helping make me so. Thanks, love.

Big-Hearted Girl

There's a Queen song (or maybe I'm thinking of a Spinal Tap song) with a chorus that sounds a lot like "Big Bottomed Girls make the (blah-blah-blah) world go round." My wife will laugh because she knows that I never get radio lyrics right. It's unfortunate because there's SO MUCH to learn there, right?

Marian's criticism of my radio knowledge is, of course, one of her flaws. But it is one of very few. (She also thinks I dress funny. Hey, Marian, clue phone: when you tuck your pants-legs into your socks you feel warmer!) I can tolerate these peanut gallery comments, because there are so many other things to love about Marian.

Marian is a big-hearted girl. She not only cares about her own children and family and shows it, but she cares about you, too, probably. She has enormous capacity for empathy. (My tank is nearly empty these days, and I'm trying to grow the supply, but it's hard because I'm old and cratchety with a few gray hairs.) Marian is actually moved to tears when someone is hurting in the world. It's not the silliness of a woman who bawls because "the poor mousy is being hurt by the kitty-catty!" It's a genuine concern.

When people tell me I have a wonderful wife, I just nod and say: "Yes. I interviewed widely."

A good marriage, I'm convinced, is one in which two people make each other better.. I'm not talking about marrying a drill seargent - though some female drill seargents are quite hot! (Just kidding, Marian. Correction: They're all ugly!) Yes, I'm sure that some of the faults Marian and I share do reinforce one another. But overall I have to thank her for helping me be a better person (and a much better dresser than I would be otherwise).

Mostly I just count myself lucky to have her in my life. I don't deserve her, but I'm not complaining.

Our Lima Bean

I had my first ultrasound at the doctor's office today....

(Oh, incase the reader doesn't know our news yet, we're expecting baby #2 in August!)

So this ultrasound was a different experience for me, because I didn't see Stella in utero until 20 weeks, and I'm only 7 weeks along right now. It's still so early, so to see that tiny creature and hear the faintest of heartbeats was so reassuring. It confirmed for me that my ridiculous fatigue and craving of foods with zero nutritional value were valid.

Stella keeps looking down my shirt and saying "mommy got a baby in dere" or "mommy got a baby in belly button." It's cute in theory, but not cute when she's ripping my shirt off to say it again and again.

Aside from that event today, we're just trying to stay healthy - Eric with an eye infection, Stella with the sniffles, and me being a moody mama - and working hard to prepare for our big annual wedding trade show in a couple of weeks. This is crunch time for weddings because brides like to get things organized at the beginning of the year. Good for us!

Happy New Year!

The Scrooge Effect

"People don't change." I hear that all the time, even from brides and grooms who have just embarked on one of the biggest changes in their lives - marriage.

To that I say: "Bah! Humbug!" We all know from Dickens that people can change radically, overnight. It's known as the Scrooge Effect. (Young readers might know it as the Grinch Effect. Same difference, as they say.)

I know what you're thinking: "A Christmas Carol" is a story. It isn't true. Well, let me suggest that if it wasn't true, it wouldn't be a story that would connect with audiences deeply.

When people say: "People don't change," what they often mean is: "Don't expect me to change," or "Don't expect me to expect change from the people close to me," or "I've tried to help folks around me change, but the people close to me are pigheaded stubborn!"

The first two attitudes are cop-outs. The third is understandable, of course, because some people really do dig in their heels. But I'll bet that for every heel-digger there is someone who really can change.

Not everyone wants to change or ever will change. But many can, and some will.

Notice in the Scrooge story that the Ghosts use three things to change Ebeneezer: emotion (nostalgia), awareness (of the present), and revelation (one might stretch this and call it imagination -- for practical purposes, let's call it that.) It probably does take all three of those to create change in one's life.

For example, let's say I remember the day Marian and I were married. We didn't yet have any baggage as a married couple. I remember how beautiful she was and how much I loved her in that moment. I remember that feeling.

Now let's say, six years later, Marian is really upset at me about something I did. Maybe it's not unlike something I've done or said a hundred times. She can't expect me to change!

But I remember how much I loved her six years ago, and so I want to do something. I'm aware that she's upset, and I suspect she's venting to her friends on the phone. I realize that she's not so eager to make breakfast for me the next morning, and she seems not to be getting good sleep. She doesn't smile a lot. I can choose to pretend these things aren't happening. And I've certainly been guilty of this in the past. Maybe I can do it again!

But I begin to imagine how things might progress if I don't apologize, and the Ghost of Christmas Future shows me a very unhappy Marian -- and Eric. Is divorce out of the question for a couple that does not tend to one another's feelings? Do we think that divorce is something that strikes from the outside, like lightning? And even if divorce isn't in the cards, is an unhappy marriage a satisfying alternative?

It really does take all three of those to loosen my heels from the hard ground of my heart and say, "I'm sorry."

When you go to the doctor, do you tell him in advance, "Now, don't tell me anything is wrong with my body, and don't you dare prescribe any medicine, diet change, or treatment of any kind. Because I'm fine as is!"

Then why do we get mad at therapists who tell us we need to change our ways if we expect our relationship to get better?

And why do we dig in our heels when our spouse points out any character imperfection whatsoever?

One of the vows we make at marriage should be, "I invite you to help make me a better husband, a better parent, a better person."

Some would exploit an invitation like that. It takes honest effort on both parties for it to work well.

You used to be a fun-loving person. You used to be a happy person. But you changed.

If you can change in one direction, can't you change in the other?

Every day I see our daughter change. She has changed radically in the past few weeks, nevermind months. By the time she hits her 20s, it may be hard to see any change in her for years at a stretch.

But I'll hope she'll know she can.

Please post examples of people you know who have changed in small or radical ways, for good or bad.

"God bless us, Every One!"

The Blog-Solution Resolution

Part of the problem with most resolutions is that they are private affairs and no one holds you accountable. I probably need a life coach who will weigh me and whip me when I haven't lost the 20 pounds I say I'll shed. But I don't have the cash for that, even though it's probably a method that would work. (I really, really, hate to be whipped.)

So, I've decided on experiment: I'm hoping that those in the blogosphere who know me will supply the necessary encouragement and chiding to get me on track. Not with my weight, but with those more spiritual resolutions that we all try for. Ones like these:

1) I will be more kind, more encouraging, and listen better.
2) I will send ten thank-yous for every critical message I send.
3) If I think to say something that I think is lighthearted and funny but that might be taken the wrong way, I'll bite my tongue.

I could list more, but one of the problems with these things is getting carried away with good intentions. I'll do well to carry out even one of the three faithfully.

If you've noticed that I broke one of the above in 2006 in your presence, and it makes you feel better to point it out, I'll gladly hear you out and won't get defensive. And that goes for 2007 as well. You are welcome to post your comments as "anonymous," even if I know you well.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of thank you notes to send.

"All I want for Christmas is my san-i-ty, my..."

Call me old fashioned, but I love those old Christmas albums my parents collected. Johnny Mathis, Spike Jones, and so on. Yes, we all know what we should know to be the real reason for the season, but there's something heavenly about Christmas kitsch, too. There is a cozy Christmas aesthetic that has been accumulated in our culture. Here are just a few holiday touchstones that come to mind, and you tell me if they don't ring a (Christmas) bell in your memory: Santa Coca-Cola glasses from Krystal; Rudolf, Heat Miser, and the odd way Frosty says, "Happy Birthday" whenever he comes to life in that cartoon; driving through otherwise uninteresting neighborhoods in the cold dark and checking out the lights; the cool feel of tinsel in your palms (because you just took it down from the attic) as you decorate the tree; the funky musty oldness of that 20-year-old cardboard box; the egg-shell ornaments your grandmother made during her "crafty" days; the color-coded (white, yellow, red, blue) painted metal ends of the plastic tree branches that you had to jam just so into the fake trunk; the Hickory Farms salami sausage you bought for your grandfather, which he shared with you; seeing a red light blinking on a jet and your parents confirming, yep, that's Rudolph alright; the plastic grips on your first bike's (a Rampar) handlebars that start to slip off after a few days; the way all the kids put their opened presents in a pile next to the hearth, and the fun of going through that pile again and again for a day or two; the feel and smell of new softback books you got for Christmas; the black, empty face of the Ghost of Christmas Future in the best "Christmas Carol" ever produced for film; putting together your first Star Wars puzzle with Han Solo and "Chewie" in the picture; helping out at the East Side (i.e. poor white side of town) Salvation Army putting toy-bundles together and groceries to give out to the families who show up there (yes, that's a cozy memory, too -- don't ask me why). I guess what I'm getting at is that being told over and over that we better be spiritual at Christmas ignores the fact that we are creatures of our senses, too, and have an affinity for sounds, tastes, touches, sights, and scents that are special and pleasing. Christmas appeals to the senses in so many ways, the closest to real magic we can ever get - save through romantic love. No wonder the Christmas story in the Bible is so appealing from start to finish. Depleting Christmas of Santa and presents and fine food (and fast-food Christmas glasses) might be like cutting out the part about the Three Wise Men and their exotic gifts; the donkey; the "Lo!" of the arch angel. We love those details of Christmas, too. I happen to think that God smiles at our delight of the so-called "trappings" of Christmas, because He gave us an awareness of beauty that is never so alive as at this time of year. Perhaps our senses (and our memories) are never more awake and aware than at Christmas. We're ready for a Scrooge-like conversion from our crazy, boring, insane adult lives. I'll take it. God bless us, every one!

canine cuddles (and struggles!)

I think Eric would concur that our biggest discipline problem with Stella is her physical, emotional, and verbal abuse of our dog. He has the patience of a saint, but any living thing can only take so much. She throws things at him constantly, runs full-speed towards him with her grocery cart/doll stroller/own body, yells very loudly when he comes near, and starts to cry when we are showing him attention.

OK, you may be laughing, but it's really not funny. I see now why people say to wait until all your children are older before introducing the family pet. I hate that Kope gets the shaft by being put outside for something he TOTALLY didn't do - but I can't risk a dog bite, no matter how much she egged him on.

After reading that, you'll see why this photo warms our hearts so much. Good night!

Gingerbread Houses (well, sort of)

Hi Guys!

OK, I'm trying really hard not to be as lazy with my blog as I have been with journaling in the past. With so many other things to do throughout the day, it's hard to make this a priority. But I'm going to give it my best shot (just be forgiving until the holidays are over)!

The last few weeks have been busy around here. We're winding things up with the businesses for 2006 and are proud to have filmed 60 weddings for 2006! That's up from 28 in 2005 - so we more than doubled our numbers. We are so pumped. We hope to do 75 next year. Our other company, Stellar Media, hopes to expand even more next year - doing more property videos, and trying our hand at commercials and life stories.

We're headed to Alabama in a week to spend 6 days with the Larsons. It should be fun - lots of ridiculous eating and a younger cousin for Stella to play with too! We will stop in Chattanooga on the way down to meet a friend and take a trip to the Tennessee Aquarium there in downtown Chattanooga.

Speaking of Stella, she has really been a hoot lately. I think her current favorite thing to do is to push her babies in her doll stroller. We will bundle her up, take that thing outside, and push that cheap little pink stroller up these hills, through the puddles, over rocks, etc. It doesn't even phase her. And she even stops at various sights (stream, flower, etc.) to "show" her babies. I love it.

Tonight we went to a Gingerbread House-making party. Our friends Jeff and Laura went all out preparing for it - all the house pieces nicely organized, dozens of candies, etc., for decorating, and munchies and good drinks for those of us working so hard. Stella decided to eat most of hers, but she did create what one friend there named the "gingerbread playground." Take a look for yourself.