Some time ago I decided to switch to mostly using my husband’s things.  I realized I had already been commandeering his undershirts for years, and then I took to using his shaving cream.  It costs WAY less than womens’ and it works much better.  Recently Burk came home with a new two pack of shaving cream and when I pressed the top I was thrilled to see it was this deep dark blue — my favorite color.  Our little one came in (because I never have any privacy,) saw the color, and exclaimed “COOL!”  “It really is,” I said, grinning.  So I wrote it out on my leg, to her delight.  “Mama, you should blog about it” she said.  And so here we are.  When the mundane turns unexpected it is a little burst of joy.  It’s just shaving cream, but it went from having a manly kind of scent and ick looking color to smelling crisp and coming out in this glorious shade of blue.  The English poet and theologian Samuel Taylor Coleridge once said:

“The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions — the little soon forgotten charities of a kiss or smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment, and the countless infinitesimal of pleasurable and genial feeling.”

So yes, dark blue shaving cream made me very excited and happy today.  I will always try to seize joy and happiness wherever I may find it; time is too precious not to.  I hope to possibly share some of that joy and happiness with others when I am able.  Sometimes it’s the little things.

I am still behind on my posts, but today I saw something that made me smile.  As I was standing there smiling broadly, fortunately the car’s owner came up.  I then proceeded to ask if it was OK to take a picture and she graciously consented.  The first thing that comes to my mind still when I think of false eyelashes is the iconic television star Lucille Ball and her show I Love Lucy.  Lucille Ball is a woman whom I have always admired.  She was beautiful, but she was not afraid to laugh at herself.  She joked about coloring her hair and wearing false eyelashes and made hilarious faces.  Her show to me remains nearly timeless even after over 65 years.  So here I was looking at this car, grinning, and I asked the woman why she decided to put eyelashes on it.  “So my son would not want to drive it,” she quipped dryly and I found myself laughing out loud.  “And does he still?” I asked.  “Yes,” she replied.  “I even tried to put something on the back to embarrass him,” she said as she pointed out pink high heels and pearls encasing her license plate.  I remember not driving a car until my twenties and not caring WHAT Daddy had; at least I could drive!  So it was no surprise to me her measures were not really deterrents.  I thought the whole thing was hilarious!  Lucille Ball herself once said, “I’d rather regret the things I’ve done than regret the things I haven’t done.”  This woman driving around town with the giant, silly eyelashes on her car seemed to me to have that kind of pluck.  I want to take more chances with my life and loosen up.  When I was younger I cared so very much about what others thought.  I find it very freeing now that I don’t nearly as much.  So here’s to Lucy who, for me, started it all, and to fun women who have cars with eyelashes.  And here’s to having tried more things with no regrets.

My whole life I just wanted to have a two story house.  I had these visions of coming down the stairs on Christmas morning to discover prettily wrapped presents under a shimmering tree.  We may not have a grand staircase, but we have a beautiful two story house for which we are exceedingly grateful.  Our little landing seems to be the point of popularity amongst our household.  Pictured here is Dakota, surrounded by five of our little one’s toy cats.  For the record our real cats enjoy it as well, I suppose because it lends a pretty good vantage of our house between the skylights in the roof and what’s going on downstairs.  Navigating it, though, is a whole other story.  Our male wolfie is about 6’4″ tip to tail and thinks he’s a tiny lap “dog.”  Our little one has taken to playing here despite my repeated grumblings that I am going to topple over onto my head one of these days.  And then I thought to myself, every time I go up or down I am treated to love.  It’s either from a sleeping cat who wants to nuzzle, one of the wolfies who wants a pat, or a charming vignette left behind by our child.  How blessed I am to have not just a house but really the love that makes it a home.  The famed Japanese poet Matsuo Basho said, “Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.”  For me every day is a journey landing on the landing.

When I was pregnant, one of the first things I did was to buy a little painted bookshelf for the baby.  My husband and I tried to make a date night each week where, after dinner, we would visit the bookstore to slowly build a small collection for her.  We both love to read so we really looked forward to going.  As we began placing books on the little shelves I realized we were really filling her library with our loves, our hopes, and dreams we had for her.  We bought favorites from my youth like Madeline, a sweet daily devotional entitled Give Me Grace and our old dinosaur books even managed to find their way in.  When she was first born we read to her each night but let’s face it, we also read for ourselves.  To this day my husband’s favorite book of hers is One Ted Fell Out Of Bed.  Now that she is older, we have infrequently resurrected our old bookstore date nights (party of three now,) proud that she loves exploring the shelves even though she is really just beginning to read.  On this night I decided to head down to the cigar shop and let them have a daddy/daughter date.  When we met back our little one came running up to me saying, “MAMA!  MAMA!  LOOK WHAT DADDY BOUGHT ME!”  My husband, with a slight blush, told me it was in the clearance bin.  She could not stop chattering about the precious box she held full of ten plastic, colored, winged ponies.  At least she came out with a book I thought, as the story was inside the box.  I tried to follow the unGodly complex lineage and storyline of these creatures — I really did.  But My Little Pony is more complicated than a soap opera!  My head began to pound after almost half an hour of earnest listening.  And then I realized her father had let HER choose her own book, allowing her to read about interests she has developed all by herself.  The American novelist Lauren Myracle said, “Ideas matter.  The world matters.  Our lives matter, and the choices we make as we navigate our lives perhaps matter most of all.”  My parents empowered me to make my own choices.  That is my fervent wish for my child.  I don’t want to clip her rainbow pony wings; I want her to soar.

When I was little my mother would line me up in front of just about anything and take my picture.  I feel certain that somewhere in an album there is a picture of me looking all 1970’s taken at this very spot.  Only instead of a dark-eyed, curly-haired little girl I was a green/blue eyed, and strawberry-blonde little girl with straight hair and crooked bangs because my mother cut them herself.  I became resigned to her beginning most of our outings by taking a picture.  I have come to see she was really an archivist; preserving my childhood for me thanks to her love of taking pictures.  I remember thinking the place in this picture was so swanky as a kid.  I could not believe my little one when she remarked it was “fancy.”  Funny how somethings retain their stature while others fade with the passing of time.  It’s also funny how big things seem when you’re little and how small they seem once you’re an adult.  Time seems to move so slowly as a kid (waiting for a birthday or a holiday takes FOREVER) and yet when you’re grown they all seem to speed by.  How I cherish all the pictures my mother took.  They are a moment in time captured forever.  It’s quite amazing when you stop and think about it.  The American photographer Aaron Siskind once said:

“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving.  What you have caught on film is captured forever … it remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.”

I am thankful for photographs; they are snapshots of the past.

One of the many things I like about cats is their nonchalance.  They just blithely take over things and don’t care.  Clean laundry?  Perfect!  Your favorite spot to sit?  Occupied.  Right in the middle of the stairs where you nearly trip and tumble down the last half?  Meh.  Almost the entirety of the bed?  Why not.  They have an uncanny way of either sprawling themselves out or shrinking themselves down, depending upon where they choose to be at the time.  I have discovered ours snoozing in sinks, watching the birds somehow IN the skylights of our ceiling and once, peeking out of our empty crock pot.  I remember I had a girlfriend watch my cats one time when I was on a trip with my mother and she kept freaking out because every time she came in the house was different.  Little things had been moved (whatever the cats decided to carry off and/or bat around) and she would find varying cabinets open almost every day.  I tried to explain to her that was simply the nature of the cat.  The English author Terry Pratchett once said, “In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.”  My husband, who did not grow up with cats, has been fascinated with studying them in the ten years we have been married.  One of the things he has graciously come to accept … from his socks to his newspaper to his water — is cat appropriation.

I can always remember my husband’s birthday, as it is just ten days after our wedding anniversary.  We have two big family months — June and October.  June is our wedding anniversary, Burk’s birthday, and Father’s Day.  October is my birthday and my daughter’s (who was born on the same date as my daddy) plus there is Halloween.  My husband doesn’t like a lot of fuss but I know he enjoys being celebrated by his family.  His grandmother even got a gluten free cake so our little one could dig in.  I love that my husband is easy to please.  He is truly one of the kindest men I know and tries not to be difficult.  If I could have a birthday wish for him it would be to stop worrying so much about everything.  In the Holy Bible it says:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not much more valuable than they?  Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?  And why do you worry about clothes?  See how the flowers of the field grow.  They do not labor or spin.  Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?  So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’  For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.  But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”  (New International Version, Matthew 6: 25-33)

Happy birthday to my wonderful husband; let your heart be light.

Every parent thinks their child or children are beautiful; as it should be.  I know mine certainly did.  In this picture I simply captured my little one coming into the kitchen to ask a question while I was cooking dinner.  Admittedly biased, I was stuck by her natural beauty.  I have often joked it is like my mother and my husband had a baby.  I could see Burk’s dark eyes looking back at me.  She has the full checks, cupid’s bow lips, and pert nose that belonged to my beloved mother, her namesake.  Sometimes her hair looks more red than others.  The incredible thickness of it originates from her paternal great-grandmother, who at 91 rocks a full head of thick hair that is enviable at any age.  It is a joy and a privilege to be her mother, watch her grow, and teach her about anything and everything.  The English actress and singer Denise Van Outen said, “My daughter is my biggest achievement.  She is a little star and my life has changed so much for the better since she came along.”  Those are my sentiments exactly.  I wake up every morning to sunshine.  Sometimes I still cannot believe I carried her inside my body — what a miracle.  She is my best supporter and I most certainly am her biggest fan.

From an early age, I was heavily involved in the theater.  I loved to sing and I love to act.  I have tried very hard not to project my unfinished goals and latent desires onto my little one.  But when a friend invited us to a children’s play I jumped at the chance to see if she might be interested.  Saying absolutely nothing, we took our seats.  Even before the the end my little one was asking if she could be a part of the acting workshop next summer.  No words can describe my elation as I tried to play it cool and say, “sure.”  Our little one was so engrossed in the show she was actually yelling at the characters!  Rather than this being a bad thing, I felt her heartfelt love of the performances given by the other children were embraced and even welcomed.  I would not have even known this play was was going on if it weren’t for my friend.  And the children were beyond gracious — encouraging her for the next year and being so generous with their time.  Our little one proclaimed she wanted to do it next year!  And the mothers, the children, and the directors had nothing but praise for her, given how immersed she found herself — shouting at the bad characters and cheering for the good.  I was frankly overwhelmed by their generosity.  The American professional road bicycle racer and three-time Olympic gold medalist Kristin Armstrong said:

“I write about the power of trying, because I want to be okay with failing.  I write about generosity because I battle selfishness.  I write about joy because I know sorrow.  I write about faith because I almost lost mine, and I know what it is to be broken and in need of redemption.  I write about gratitude because I am thankful – for all of it.”

These talented, sweet young girls took the time to show not only show kindness towards my worshipful daughter, but they encouraged her as well, without even knowing her talent.  I have never experienced such kindness by a cast.  All I can say is bravo!

Because I have fallen behind writing in “real time” about my blog, my readers have no way of knowing that this was our first day back from Paris.  My little one had been a proverbial party girl, saying up late and keeping up with all the other tourists from around the world who had their kids on summer vacation.  I elected for us to come home the first day after the summer solstice, so that she could gradually assimilate to the time change before she started kindergarten.  School is extremely important, and I wanted to prepare her for that.  However, I am not superhuman, and I certainly did not have the time to cook after we had landed, passed through customs, and finally made it home.  Our little one was all set for a Tex-Mex dinner but, as you can see here, she just couldn’t make it.  I don’t blame her.  My husband and I were exhausted with the time change ourselves.  Before our eyes she has become such a big girl and I then I looked over only to discover she was sound asleep in our booth.  So I covered her with my napkin and asked that her food be made to go for the following day.  Meanwhile, it felt as if my husband and I were on a private date.  We got to speak with each other uninterrupted and had the security of knowing our little one was right by my side the entire time.  The American musician Taylor Hanson said, “Having a baby is a life-changer.  It gives you a whole other perspective on why you wake up every day.”  Our “baby” is now five and a half years old.  But she has changed our lives in the best possible way forever and — despite her embarrassment — she will always be my baby.