Stop for a minute and look around you.
Let your eyes fall on something you would normally ignore.
Focus on the negative space that surrounds a Starbucks go cup. Notice the way the arm of a chair curves to meet the seat. Appreciate the pressed corners of the collar on a charcoal grey wool coat.
See the color of the cement when it’s wet. Try to think of the name of the color of a curled leaf. Is it amber? Is it burnt umber?
The turning leaves are enhanced by the dusting of white on the river bank. The leaves aren’t frosted in white, and the white bank isn’t covered with amber leaves.
The leaves and the snow bring out the beauty in each other.
__________
She offers to fill my calendar along with her own, and laughs when I say, “We’ll take a rain check on that one.” Continue reading →
“Hercules was a big strong guy with long wavy hair. Personally, I think he was a narcissist.” (The answer to one of her worksheet questions on Greek and Roman Mythology.)
“Mom, I’m positive Marie Antoinette was a narcissist – look at this picture. She ordered a special palace to be built, just for her.”
“Who did Napoleon think he was, anyway?”
While watching the Grammys: “Mom, do you notice that it’s not about the music, it’s all about what they look like? Do you have to be a narcissist to make it in music?”
“Mom, do you figure only narcissists drive Escalades. That name just sounds narcissistic.”
“Male lions have to be narcissists, why else do they sit around preening and expecting everyone to adore them?”
“Mom, don’t you think irises are narcissists? Just look at ’em. They stand up taller than the other flowers and then they die fast if they are neglected.”
“Mom, I love peacocks, but they act like narcissists.”
“Mom, you know all the Disney Princesses are narcissists, right? Cinderella is the worst. She’s always standing in front of the other princesses fanning out her dress to hide the dresses of the other princesses.” (You can’t make this stuff up.)
“Mom, do you think Tiger Woods is a narcissist? Why else would he act that way on the course and treat his wife the way he did?”
Even cakes can be narcissists. “Does that cake really need that much frosting and decorating? It’s screaming for attention. It has to be a narcissistic cake.”
“Mom, you can tell from the outside of a building, if a store caters to narcissists.”
When it comes to the necessary tools for surviving narcissism, their narcissism radar may be the most effective.
She sits in the glow of the computer screen, wringing her hands. It’s late – kids are in bed. She’d put her fingers on the home row and type, but she doesn’t know what to say.
She doesn’t know how to help.
She reads their words and feels their anguish. She senses the tightness in their chests. She hears the worries that keep them from sleep.
The instinct to want to protect their babies runs deep.
There is power in their anger. The strength required to control their anger makes them far stronger than most. Continue reading →
Change feels like the steady slow creep to the crest of the roller coaster hill, the brief pause before the crazy descent and the exhilaration that comes from having the guts to go, without the throwing up after.
Change feels like the warmth coming from the wood stove after splitting and stacking the wood and cleaning the chimney – the warmth that comes from self-sufficiency and independence.
Change feels like that pair of jeans that fits your figure and makes you feel good about yourself, even if there are parts of you that you’d just as soon forget about.
Change feels like the time you had the courage to raise your hand because you knew the answer, having been called on, and being right.
Change feels like knowing something – down to your bones: the directions to your brother’s house in a city you visit once a year; the memorized recipe for brownies you make from scratch when that craving for chocolaty decadence takes over; the friend you can call at whatever hour because you both are always there for each other. Continue reading →
“I braid your hair almost every morning. How come today I can’t remember how to do this? It’s like my fingers checked out and they aren’t listening to my brain.”
I started over from the top. This time I quit thinking about it. I let my fingers do the work and thought about something else. I watched as my hands worked together – pulling in new strands and overlapping them.
“Hand me a ponytail holder. It’s done.”
Jenny laughed and asked, “How did you remember what to do?”
“I quit thinking about what to do and let my fingers do what they do every morning. I got my brain out of the way. I’ve been telling Will that he ought to do the same thing with his golf swing. He needs to quit thinking about it and just swing.” Continue reading →
You may be thinking that you need a prescription, but it could be that you need to drive a road that lazily winds around a mountain lake. Roll the windows down and sing to the Doobie Brothers.*
Kids don’t need DVD players or iPads if one of ’em has a fishing pole, the other has a floaty mattress for playing in the lake and they both have nets for catching minnows.
Moms don’t need laptops, internet connection or a day at the spa if they have a good friend to chat with and reservations for dinner.
The withdrawals from that lack of internet connection last about four hours. Fill the void with Cheetos and red wine. It’ll pass. Continue reading →
She brings him a mug of coffee and says, “How’d you sleep?”
He says, “I slept great. How ’bout you?”
She says, “How can you sleep with that incessant dripping coming from the bathroom sink?”
He says, “That bugs you? I can hear it but I just roll over and go back to sleep.”
__________ Continue reading →
It was her job to load the splitter, catch the split logs and pass them to the stacker. They developed a rhythm as they worked, stopping only to drink water or wipe sweaty brows. They enjoyed a sense of accomplishment, congratulating each other as the stack grew. The hard work earned them the beers they would enjoy on the deck that afternoon.
Logs with knots were tricky for the splitter. She’d learned that when a log doesn’t split all the way because of a knot, she could lift the log over her head and slam it down on the ground with all her might. The force would split the log in two.
Sometimes.
That trick didn’t always work.
Some logs were tougher than others. Continue reading →
When you no longer notice the beauty in the things you possess, and shop for new, “more beautiful” objects.
When politely ignoring a situation doesn’t make it go away.
When you’re so over-scheduled that you can hardly wait to go to bed.
When you hate getting out of bed in the morning.
Grab a pen. We’re going to plan a party.
Really.
This’ll be fun.
What if you planned your life like you would plan the ultimate party?
Wait…. don’t tell me you hate planning parties. That’s probably because you think that you have to invite certain people, serve particular foods and drinks, provide a sparkling evening that will please everyone and clean up the mess when it’s over. Continue reading →
Take:
Mix children and dogs well together. Put them in the field, stirring constantly.
Pour this brook over pebbles; sprinkle with flowers.
Spread over all a deep blue sky and bake in hot sunshine.
When brown, remove and set away to cool in bathtub.
*Discovered in Rare Recipes and Budget Savers, a compilation of columns from The Wichita Eagle’s Home Town News.
Published in 1961.
Contributed by B. M. Pittenger.
By the end of the third full day of rain, we’d filled our Yahtzee pages and played enough Aggravation to understand how the game got its name.
We’d run through Oh, Hell and Cribbage, too. In a desperate move, I suggested Trivial Pursuit, even though I could clearly remember how the game was a yawn fest when I was a kid.
Jenny escaped to the garage to work on a project with grandpa.
Will, grandma and I dusted off the Trivial Pursuit box and pulled out the cards. It wouldn’t be long before we’d lose Will. We fumbled with questions like, “What team retired baseball player Stan Musial’s No. 6?” and “Who’s the barber in The Barber of Seville?”
It was Will’s turn. Continue reading →
The bouquet looks tired. She ought to have pitched it a couple days ago. She turns the vase to view the arrangement from a different angle and convinces herself that if she changed the water, she could enjoy it for another day or two.
He leaves hand prints in the dust on the cover of the box as he opens it. The box contains a package of lures, empty 22 shells, skateboard bearings, tech deck pieces and pictures of successful fishing trips. He keeps the packaging from the gifts. He’s yet to use the lures for fear he’ll lose one.
He closes the box and grabs for his cell. He’s hoping to make plans to shoot gophers or stop at the convenience store to pick up worms and go fishing or take a long bike ride. He leaves another message.
She devotes a drawer in her vanity to notes and cards. There’s one her dad have given her on her twelfth birthday. There’s a scribbled note from the boy that sat behind her in 8th grade English. She found a couple from college roommates.
The drawer is lined with the glitter sprinkled on the “fancier” cards. She remembers being a little girl excitedly opening a birthday card. The glitter would stick to her fingers as she read the card’s message. She believed receiving a fancy card was a sign of a true, lasting kind of love. Continue reading →
