This is a blog I wrote at 3 a.m. this morning after having led our team to near defeat! Learn about the project and watch the movie.
Have you ever been too tired to go to sleep? I'm experiencing a version of that. We were the last ones to hand in our movie on-time, about about 30 seconds before they stopped taking qualifying entries. (I'm the one who ran like a demon from the car to the Brew and View.)
The last ten minutes as we rushed to the finish line (in NORTH Asheville) from our editor's house in SOUTH Asheville were about the most insane of my life. I had our DP drive my Subaru (he didn't trust his trusty minivan) as: A) I finished filling out the paperwork; and B) as my laptop in the backseat burned a data DVD with the movie file. I chose 8x fast-burn, but it didn't seem to go fast enough! I was appalled at how long my G4 was taking, not only to burn, but to verify the burn. "If we get to the View and Brew and it's not done verifying, should I cancel verifying?" I asked Pat. I'd never tried such a thing. "Better not," he said.
It was utter hell. Five minutes from end-time (which clock do we trust? Cell phone? Watches? Car clock? They all said something different). I was sure we were not going to be on time. We had taken a loop around downtown and were coming into town from the east on I-240. "Merrimon sucks," Pat said. "I know a quicker way." Like Luke Skywalker, I just had to let go and let the Force guide. Pat took the Charlotte St. exit, eventually found his cross-street -- and then tucked in closely behind the slowest car in town on a two-lane. Amazing.
I knew we would not make it, and everyone would hate me -- well, just the 10 others on our team, but that's a pretty high number to be hated by. I was the one who insisted on "one more edit." Because I am the team leader, I got my way. I was regretting getting my way. Of course, we hit the stoplight just before our destination, with 85 percent of verification finished. And then something happened -- my G4, perhaps sensing the urgency of the situation, STARTED TO SPEED UP. The last few percentage points went really, really fast, as did I, through cheers and toward Dylan, my sound guy, waiting for me. I gave him a hug. I gave the 48-hour crew my packet. I got my two free tickets. And I'm so excited, it's 3 a.m. the next day and I can't get to sleep. -- Eric, Team Stellar Media
I just want to give a shout-out of sympathy to all the teams who were late. I feel your pain, and think there ought to be a 10 minute grace period if a majority of the other teams vote for it.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Baby Larson
Today had a 36 week ultrasound, and baby weighs 5 lbs. 7 oz., which is perfect (and we saw him/her sucking its thumb!). I was nervous b/c one of the complications of gestational diabetes is often large babies, so knowing that this kid should be around 7.5 to 8 lbs. at birth eased my mind. I really have been taking good care of myself, exercising a lot and monitoring my carb intake. Oh how I miss orange juice. But these small sacrifices are all worth it when I get a good report from the doctor.
Only 2 more weeks and a few days until we see his/her face. I'm beginning to wash baby things, get stuff out of the attic, etc. Eric, in typical male fashion, wants to wait until the day before to even think about setting up a co-sleeper or installing a car seat. And me, in typical anal type-A fashion, wanted it done yesterday. We've compromised on a date of August 1st - having everything totally ready to go.
That's about it from here, just a quick note to say hi. Hope everyone is well!
Only 2 more weeks and a few days until we see his/her face. I'm beginning to wash baby things, get stuff out of the attic, etc. Eric, in typical male fashion, wants to wait until the day before to even think about setting up a co-sleeper or installing a car seat. And me, in typical anal type-A fashion, wanted it done yesterday. We've compromised on a date of August 1st - having everything totally ready to go.
That's about it from here, just a quick note to say hi. Hope everyone is well!
Friday, July 20, 2007
"Speech! Speech!"
Knowing who Stella's mom is, I just knew our daughter one day was going to have the gift of the gab. That's a good thing. But I couldn't know exactly how her speech would manifest itself.
Home Girl can monologue like no one I have ever known. She can go on for 5 plus minutes, as if she is Tom Brokaw reporting the news. Most of it is nonsense (as is the case with TV pundits, too) but often she'll throw out some phrases that sound like they make perfect sense. The only thing they are missing is the original context.
At any given time she may say one of the following:
"I don't think that's a very good idea, but..."
"That man's getting a little bit old, but that's okay." (She might be talking about me.)
"Mommy's got a baby in her belly. I'm going to be a big sister. He's a boy. His name is going to be 'Big Boy.'"
And she likes to end random sentences of babble with "August-time." I like that. She knows the baby is going to be born in August. Maybe that's where she gets that term.
A couple days ago she was urging Marian to get off the couch and lead a walk to our neighbor's house to feed her cat, Roxie. Stella tried her best to pull her pregnant mom to her feet.
"Come on, Mommy! Let's go feed Roxie."
When Marian wouldn't comply, she said.
"Come on, Mommy... Help a sister out!"
Both of us died laughing. You can bet where she got THAT.
We don't get "why" yet. That's going to be a blast, when everything we say is following by "why" or "how" or "how come."
But it's fascinating to watch. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: As people to study, kids are more interesting than adults, because kids change every day. Adults -- every few years or so. And one's own kids are usually more interesting than others' children. Funny how that happens.
I recommend a kid to most anyone thinking about having one.
Just be very careful when you're teaching them to talk.
Home Girl can monologue like no one I have ever known. She can go on for 5 plus minutes, as if she is Tom Brokaw reporting the news. Most of it is nonsense (as is the case with TV pundits, too) but often she'll throw out some phrases that sound like they make perfect sense. The only thing they are missing is the original context.
At any given time she may say one of the following:
"I don't think that's a very good idea, but..."
"That man's getting a little bit old, but that's okay." (She might be talking about me.)
"Mommy's got a baby in her belly. I'm going to be a big sister. He's a boy. His name is going to be 'Big Boy.'"
And she likes to end random sentences of babble with "August-time." I like that. She knows the baby is going to be born in August. Maybe that's where she gets that term.
A couple days ago she was urging Marian to get off the couch and lead a walk to our neighbor's house to feed her cat, Roxie. Stella tried her best to pull her pregnant mom to her feet.
"Come on, Mommy! Let's go feed Roxie."
When Marian wouldn't comply, she said.
"Come on, Mommy... Help a sister out!"
Both of us died laughing. You can bet where she got THAT.
We don't get "why" yet. That's going to be a blast, when everything we say is following by "why" or "how" or "how come."
But it's fascinating to watch. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: As people to study, kids are more interesting than adults, because kids change every day. Adults -- every few years or so. And one's own kids are usually more interesting than others' children. Funny how that happens.
I recommend a kid to most anyone thinking about having one.
Just be very careful when you're teaching them to talk.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
screech, not hoot
Owls, that is. In our neighborhood. A wise, elderly neighbor said they're not technically screech owls, but they sure do screech. In case you don't know, I hate birds. OK, a soaring bald eagle over the Rockies is fine, but little flitty birds, pigeons, birds in cages, and many others repulse me. I despise the ducks and geese at our local lake. I am a peace-loving woman, but I swear I want to shoot those bad boys with a BB gun when they hiss at me.
I'm not sure how I feel about owls. They are spooky, beautiful, ominous, and so unusual that I can't help but be intrigued. At the same time, they scare me to death. I took this photo through the screen in my bedroom window, because, quite frankly, I was scared he would fly at my head if I opened it fully. What if that owl got in my house?
Eric even set up his tripod and video camera tonight to get some footage of them. They are the talk of our street.
On another tangent, my best friend Brittain treated me to a pedicure, followed by a matinee showing of Sicko and a sushi dinner. What a great day spent together. She and I were convinced that the people doing our pedicures, who spoke Chinese to each other the whole time, were discussing how disgusting our feet were. Here they are, post treatment.
And here's a simple shot of our big girl in the bathtub. These days, she has to do EVERYTHING all by herself, including rinsing her hair like this.
That's it from here. Good night!
I'm not sure how I feel about owls. They are spooky, beautiful, ominous, and so unusual that I can't help but be intrigued. At the same time, they scare me to death. I took this photo through the screen in my bedroom window, because, quite frankly, I was scared he would fly at my head if I opened it fully. What if that owl got in my house?
Eric even set up his tripod and video camera tonight to get some footage of them. They are the talk of our street.
On another tangent, my best friend Brittain treated me to a pedicure, followed by a matinee showing of Sicko and a sushi dinner. What a great day spent together. She and I were convinced that the people doing our pedicures, who spoke Chinese to each other the whole time, were discussing how disgusting our feet were. Here they are, post treatment.
And here's a simple shot of our big girl in the bathtub. These days, she has to do EVERYTHING all by herself, including rinsing her hair like this.
That's it from here. Good night!
Monday, July 16, 2007
Pet Peeves
Pet Peeve #1:
Is waiting to find out the sex of your baby truly that strange? I cannot tell you the number of people that we've encountered who act like we are crazy for not finding out. It's really getting on my nerves. I mean, it's only been in the last couple of decades that it's even been an option to know. And technically, ultrasounds are for making sure the baby is developing properly, not to see what its wee wee looks like.
I'm not knocking anyone for wanting to find out, of course. But for us, it just doesn't feel right. It doesn't seem that outrageous, or granola, or insane, to want that moment of "it's a girl" or "it's a boy" to happen in the delivery room.
Pet Peeve #2:
I have gestational diabetes. Found out last week with only five weeks to go - bummer. But in some ways, it's been kind of a blessing. I've had to check my blood sugar 4X a day, and I've actually learned a lot about what to eat and what to avoid, and how much exercise can lower my numbers. I feel better than I have in 3 months, truly. I've been walking at least once every day since finding this out. I have tons of energy and am really getting excited to meet this little guy. Or girl.
Other than that, we're in the throes of potty training Stella, and it's going pretty well. She's pretty much mastered it at home, but going out is another story. Yesterday Eric took her out for the afternoon, and she had three accidents. At least he went prepared with many changes of clothes!
Business is busy but good. We're participating in the 48-hour film festival in Asheville this weekend (http://www.48hourfilm.com/asheville/), so that should be stressful, but fun too. We're re-doing our Stellar Media website, so I'll let you know when it's all finished. It's gonna look great.
That's about it from here. Hope everyone is well!
Is waiting to find out the sex of your baby truly that strange? I cannot tell you the number of people that we've encountered who act like we are crazy for not finding out. It's really getting on my nerves. I mean, it's only been in the last couple of decades that it's even been an option to know. And technically, ultrasounds are for making sure the baby is developing properly, not to see what its wee wee looks like.
I'm not knocking anyone for wanting to find out, of course. But for us, it just doesn't feel right. It doesn't seem that outrageous, or granola, or insane, to want that moment of "it's a girl" or "it's a boy" to happen in the delivery room.
Pet Peeve #2:
I have gestational diabetes. Found out last week with only five weeks to go - bummer. But in some ways, it's been kind of a blessing. I've had to check my blood sugar 4X a day, and I've actually learned a lot about what to eat and what to avoid, and how much exercise can lower my numbers. I feel better than I have in 3 months, truly. I've been walking at least once every day since finding this out. I have tons of energy and am really getting excited to meet this little guy. Or girl.
Other than that, we're in the throes of potty training Stella, and it's going pretty well. She's pretty much mastered it at home, but going out is another story. Yesterday Eric took her out for the afternoon, and she had three accidents. At least he went prepared with many changes of clothes!
Business is busy but good. We're participating in the 48-hour film festival in Asheville this weekend (http://www.48hourfilm.com/asheville/), so that should be stressful, but fun too. We're re-doing our Stellar Media website, so I'll let you know when it's all finished. It's gonna look great.
That's about it from here. Hope everyone is well!
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
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!
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.
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.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, June 15, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, May 28, 2007
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!
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!
Monday, May 21, 2007
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
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
Saturday, May 12, 2007
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.
Friday, May 11, 2007
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!
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!
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
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...
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...
Thursday, April 05, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, April 02, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
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!
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