Naomi hatched our Sunday plans. After our weekly habit of cleaning up the house she suggested we bake a pie. Dawdling around the aisles of the grocery store we talked about flaky pie crusts and butter. Spent a lot of time in the produce aisle deliberating the type of filling we wanted.
Me: You know, with just the three of us the pie might sit in the fridge a while. It's best to eat pies while they're still warm.
Naomi: Mmmm, then we should invite over some friends today.
Me: Ok. I guess we could call Samantha and invite her girls to come over...
Naomi: ...and maybe Monique would come.
Me: Maybe Monique would come. I'll give her a call.
Naomi: How about Lily?
Me: Lily lives in Denver, sweetie. I'm sure she'd appreciate the invitation but, you know, it's a long way to drive.
Naomi: Yeh. (sigh) It'd have to be a really good pie.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Yellow
Me: So how was your day?
Naomi: Outstanding!
Me: Really?
Naomi: Yep.
Me: Outstanding?
Naomi: Mmm-hmm.
Me: So, what happened?
Naomi: Oh, nothing really.
Me: Nothing?
Naomi: Except Ms. Kaptuska painted our classroom.
Me: That's it?
Naomi: Well, it's yellow.
Me: And?
Naomi: Have you ever tried being sad when you're staring at a whole lot of yellow?
Me: Nope.
Naomi: Can't happen.
Naomi: Outstanding!
Me: Really?
Naomi: Yep.
Me: Outstanding?
Naomi: Mmm-hmm.
Me: So, what happened?
Naomi: Oh, nothing really.
Me: Nothing?
Naomi: Except Ms. Kaptuska painted our classroom.
Me: That's it?
Naomi: Well, it's yellow.
Me: And?
Naomi: Have you ever tried being sad when you're staring at a whole lot of yellow?
Me: Nope.
Naomi: Can't happen.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Twenty-Nine To Go
Last week the Spring semester started. I logged on to the website, downloaded my syllabus, ordered my books. I set my alarm clock and resolved to rise a little earlier. Resumed my habit of plugging the laptop in each night to make sure it’s charged and ready to go. Stashed my graphing-calculator in the glove-box of my car. My 2010 calendar suddenly spills over with deadlines and test dates.
But there is an energy I start the new semester with. An appreciation for learning and new ideas. I embrace an ambitious agenda for my nights and weekends. And think I might both get my homework and family's laundry done by Sunday. The semester is thirty weeks long.
As of last night, though, the count is actually one-down and twenty-nine to go.
________________________
Currently Reading: America’s Report Card by John McNally
Studying with N: World Geography
Dinner Table Discussion: Whether or not N accompanies me to Chicago in February.
Currently Watching: Prairie Wind (PBS)
Enjoyed Immensely: (500) Days of Summer
But there is an energy I start the new semester with. An appreciation for learning and new ideas. I embrace an ambitious agenda for my nights and weekends. And think I might both get my homework and family's laundry done by Sunday. The semester is thirty weeks long.
As of last night, though, the count is actually one-down and twenty-nine to go.
________________________
Currently Reading: America’s Report Card by John McNally
Studying with N: World Geography
Dinner Table Discussion: Whether or not N accompanies me to Chicago in February.
Currently Watching: Prairie Wind (PBS)
Enjoyed Immensely: (500) Days of Summer
Friday, January 15, 2010
Connectivity
I have this thin book I carry around with me. I write down random things inside: song lyrics, snippets of NPR stories, a clever exchange of words I'll over hear at the coffee shop, parts of church sermons.
Does everybody have one of these books? Something similar? Something you take out periodically to look at the words or revisit something you heard once? A book you thumb through when you're feeling down?
Yesterday I had to pull over to write down an idea I heard on our local NPR Station. As always I'm paraphrasing.
I sat there in my car, the engine humming, the buzz of traffic outside and listened to the whole interview. I shuffled through my cluttered purse to find my thin book and a pencil. Wrote down just fragments of the ideas, parts of words and the page blurred up. I can't possibly improve upon the sentiment. I just wrote it down in my book. And wrote it down here so it doesn't get lost.
Does everybody have one of these books? Something similar? Something you take out periodically to look at the words or revisit something you heard once? A book you thumb through when you're feeling down?
Yesterday I had to pull over to write down an idea I heard on our local NPR Station. As always I'm paraphrasing.
People are in no less need of true companionship or profound connection.
We are less practiced at it, certainly. We have more noise and distractions from it. The noise of Twitter or Google instant and easy communication eats up time and brainspace. It feels like a substitute because is pushes away the silence or the loneliness. But that need for connection goes unsatisfied. Fundamentally, neurologically, spiritually, biologically, however you look at it...we still need it. A true exchange of selves. A conversation or connection that is more than a series of well-rehearsed monologues.
We are less practiced at it, certainly. We have more noise and distractions from it. The noise of Twitter or Google instant and easy communication eats up time and brainspace. It feels like a substitute because is pushes away the silence or the loneliness. But that need for connection goes unsatisfied. Fundamentally, neurologically, spiritually, biologically, however you look at it...we still need it. A true exchange of selves. A conversation or connection that is more than a series of well-rehearsed monologues.
I sat there in my car, the engine humming, the buzz of traffic outside and listened to the whole interview. I shuffled through my cluttered purse to find my thin book and a pencil. Wrote down just fragments of the ideas, parts of words and the page blurred up. I can't possibly improve upon the sentiment. I just wrote it down in my book. And wrote it down here so it doesn't get lost.
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