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.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Deciding Whether Or Not To Run
I logged on to Active.com yesterday. For three years I've had a standing-date with this website. Each January I log-on and download a half-marathon training schedule. I transfer the prescribed workouts onto the pages of my day-timer. Create a spreadsheet to log dates, times, and distances run. McKibbin helps me download some fabulous music to my MP3 player. I give my running shoes a once-over and buy new ones if I need 'em.
Lincoln's Half Marathon gets me out of bed on these dark and cold mornings. Takes my mind out of the brunt of a midwestern winter and plops it closer to the finish-line in May. Yesterday, like clockwork, I arrived for my January date with Active.com. My day-planner in front of me and pen in hand. But as the page loaded I sort of gasped. The roadmap looked unusually hard. My leg muscles flinched reflexively.
I put down the pen and blinked back at the screen. Part of my brain readily conjured the thrill of hitting 12 miles three weeks out from race-day. But there is also the ache and groan of the steps to get there.
Plus I am currently holding down my job, a part-time schedule of classes, parent groups, church, book club, and...oh, yes ... a super-fabulous family. The half-marathon training schedule is ambitious to say the least. While the feeling of accomplishment and payoff are huge, my calendar is already filled with ambition this year.
Without committing to anything I closed the window on my computer screen. Decided to think about it a little bit more. I have a week or two to decide, though, I'm unusually torn about running this year.
Sometimes the decision not to run, is just as hard as the decision to do it.
Lincoln's Half Marathon gets me out of bed on these dark and cold mornings. Takes my mind out of the brunt of a midwestern winter and plops it closer to the finish-line in May. Yesterday, like clockwork, I arrived for my January date with Active.com. My day-planner in front of me and pen in hand. But as the page loaded I sort of gasped. The roadmap looked unusually hard. My leg muscles flinched reflexively.
I put down the pen and blinked back at the screen. Part of my brain readily conjured the thrill of hitting 12 miles three weeks out from race-day. But there is also the ache and groan of the steps to get there.
Plus I am currently holding down my job, a part-time schedule of classes, parent groups, church, book club, and...oh, yes ... a super-fabulous family. The half-marathon training schedule is ambitious to say the least. While the feeling of accomplishment and payoff are huge, my calendar is already filled with ambition this year.
Without committing to anything I closed the window on my computer screen. Decided to think about it a little bit more. I have a week or two to decide, though, I'm unusually torn about running this year.
Sometimes the decision not to run, is just as hard as the decision to do it.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Late Winter Surroundings
Naomi was out of school yesterday. She slept in. Lingered in her pajamas. While McKibbin and I trudged off to work she attended an all-day Detective Camp at the Lincoln Children’s Museum. Spent the day wrestling with encrypted codes, taking fingerprints, becoming a master of disguise and solving mysteries. She was luminous as I gathered her up in my arms at the close of the day. An excited, and epic, description of her day spilled out of her mouth and carried us all the way home.
Pulling into the driveway, I sized up the misty cold outside. The dimming sky. And I asked if she had plans for our evening? School was out the following day too which afforded a little more slack than our regular evening routine. I kind of cringed as I asked the question. Her day had, obviously, been so exciting I thought the evening could only be a let-down.
Nevertheless I asked. She stared out the car window and suggested we flannel-up and read books all night in bed. We walked through the front door at, maybe 5:30, and within minutes the plan was put into action. McKibbin arrived home around 7pm.
He found us under the bed covers, reading out loud and improved the scene with hot leftovers. Rolled up on the side of the tray was his Harper’s Magazine. He joined us for a little bit. Silently leafing through the pages of an article. Reading out loud isn’t particularly McKibbin’s thing. Naturally he’ll read Naomi bedtime stories but written words are compartmentalized in his brain separate from the sound of a person’s voice.
The draw to join us must have been the moment much more than the agenda. Hot food. Soft pillows. Naomi's dramatic reading from the pages of her latest chapter book. The cats purred and fixed us in their sleepy gaze.
And I snapped a mental picture. One I hope to keep close to me always.
_________________
Quote of My Day: “This fog is getting old--like the iceberg in my driveway.” (email from R. Munson)
Pulling into the driveway, I sized up the misty cold outside. The dimming sky. And I asked if she had plans for our evening? School was out the following day too which afforded a little more slack than our regular evening routine. I kind of cringed as I asked the question. Her day had, obviously, been so exciting I thought the evening could only be a let-down.
Nevertheless I asked. She stared out the car window and suggested we flannel-up and read books all night in bed. We walked through the front door at, maybe 5:30, and within minutes the plan was put into action. McKibbin arrived home around 7pm.
He found us under the bed covers, reading out loud and improved the scene with hot leftovers. Rolled up on the side of the tray was his Harper’s Magazine. He joined us for a little bit. Silently leafing through the pages of an article. Reading out loud isn’t particularly McKibbin’s thing. Naturally he’ll read Naomi bedtime stories but written words are compartmentalized in his brain separate from the sound of a person’s voice.
The draw to join us must have been the moment much more than the agenda. Hot food. Soft pillows. Naomi's dramatic reading from the pages of her latest chapter book. The cats purred and fixed us in their sleepy gaze.
And I snapped a mental picture. One I hope to keep close to me always.
_________________
Quote of My Day: “This fog is getting old--like the iceberg in my driveway.” (email from R. Munson)
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.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Out With The Old
Until recently an ugly, stained carpet occupied the upstairs of our house. The carpet was one of those eye sores that bothered me at first sight. I’d mutter with disgust every time I’d vacuum. Tried prettying up the space with tapestries and throw rugs. Encouraged guests to stay downstairs. But, with the New Year, I woke up and I couldn’t stand it anymore.I cornered my husband as he got ready for work. Had him talk me through the job. He had time to help me move the heavy armoire out of the way.
My three-day weekend was consumed by scoring the carpet and ripping it out. Lugging it downstairs. McKibbin would come home from work and find me scrubbing the floor surface. Three days of being dusted and gunked up at the elbows and knees. A kink in my neck that no amount of Icy Hot or Advil could knock out.
Naomi was thrilled to find her mattress temporarily located on the floor in our bedroom. The adventure of it was like camping, she said, without the bare ground or the bugs.
On his days off McKibbin took my amateur remodeling job and snazzed it up. He sanded and stained the oak surface.
Six days all told. Six days of sweat and soreness. Lots of take-out food and loud music in our house. More sawdust in stranger locations than I recall ever finding before. Naomi behaving like a free-range kid and finding ways to help or to entertain herself.
But six days into the New Year we unearthed the oak floors in that grand upstairs room at the front of the house. Given its long history of living in this house, the floor has some worn spots. All-in-all it's quite lovely.
Whew!
___________________________
Currently Gearing Up For: Spring Semester aka Calculus Round II (Wish Me Luck!)
Dinner-Line Up: Mulligatawny Soup, Naan Bread, Spinach Salad with Parmesan & Grapefruit
Big News: Naomi Auditions for the Prescott Talent Show this week!
My Daughter Advises Me: "So, Mommy, sometimes if I don't come downstairs right away for dinner you might just think to yourself, 'Oh, I bet Naomi is practicing her dancing for the Talent Show. I'm sure she'll be down in a minute. Practicing is very, VERY important.'"
My three-day weekend was consumed by scoring the carpet and ripping it out. Lugging it downstairs. McKibbin would come home from work and find me scrubbing the floor surface. Three days of being dusted and gunked up at the elbows and knees. A kink in my neck that no amount of Icy Hot or Advil could knock out.
Naomi was thrilled to find her mattress temporarily located on the floor in our bedroom. The adventure of it was like camping, she said, without the bare ground or the bugs.
On his days off McKibbin took my amateur remodeling job and snazzed it up. He sanded and stained the oak surface.
Six days all told. Six days of sweat and soreness. Lots of take-out food and loud music in our house. More sawdust in stranger locations than I recall ever finding before. Naomi behaving like a free-range kid and finding ways to help or to entertain herself.
But six days into the New Year we unearthed the oak floors in that grand upstairs room at the front of the house. Given its long history of living in this house, the floor has some worn spots. All-in-all it's quite lovely.
Whew!
___________________________
Currently Gearing Up For: Spring Semester aka Calculus Round II (Wish Me Luck!)
Dinner-Line Up: Mulligatawny Soup, Naan Bread, Spinach Salad with Parmesan & Grapefruit
Big News: Naomi Auditions for the Prescott Talent Show this week!
My Daughter Advises Me: "So, Mommy, sometimes if I don't come downstairs right away for dinner you might just think to yourself, 'Oh, I bet Naomi is practicing her dancing for the Talent Show. I'm sure she'll be down in a minute. Practicing is very, VERY important.'"
Monday, January 4, 2010
My Drift
Moving in together called upon my (future) husband and I to acclimate to each other's quirks. For instance I remember McKibbin being a bit gob-smacked when faced with my compulsive habit of shoveling snow.
I’m usually the first one on the block to have our sidewalk cleared. I’m compelled by an overzealous sense of civic duty to make sure pedestrians and mail carriers don’t have to muck through the snow to get past my house.
Even with thirty inches of snowfall last December our sidewalk was scooped several times a day when necessary and the driveway remained usable. But the forecast calls for more snow this week. Snowmelt from the last two bouts has been negligible. Which brought me, at the ripe old age of thirty-six, to a point of desperation I hadn’t hit before. I gritted my teeth and hired a contractor. Not to shovel. Just to move around the snow I’ve stacked up, like a fortress, outside my house.
With his Bobcat and snow plow he spent forty minutes moving the wintry stuff around. My skin winced even under the layered up mittens and scarves as I popped outside to survey his work and cut him a check. The relief of feeling ready for this next blast of snow made this, quite possibly, the smartest thirty bucks I’ve spent.
I hope you find a nice warm place to sit out the storm. Or, at the very least, that you have some place left to pile the snow.
I’m usually the first one on the block to have our sidewalk cleared. I’m compelled by an overzealous sense of civic duty to make sure pedestrians and mail carriers don’t have to muck through the snow to get past my house.
Even with thirty inches of snowfall last December our sidewalk was scooped several times a day when necessary and the driveway remained usable. But the forecast calls for more snow this week. Snowmelt from the last two bouts has been negligible. Which brought me, at the ripe old age of thirty-six, to a point of desperation I hadn’t hit before. I gritted my teeth and hired a contractor. Not to shovel. Just to move around the snow I’ve stacked up, like a fortress, outside my house.
With his Bobcat and snow plow he spent forty minutes moving the wintry stuff around. My skin winced even under the layered up mittens and scarves as I popped outside to survey his work and cut him a check. The relief of feeling ready for this next blast of snow made this, quite possibly, the smartest thirty bucks I’ve spent.
I hope you find a nice warm place to sit out the storm. Or, at the very least, that you have some place left to pile the snow.
Friday, January 1, 2010
The List
McKibbin's mother takes Naomi and her cousins to the mall each year after Christmas. It's a fun excursion all the girls look forward to after the crest of holiday occasions. This year Carol asked the girls to write down a list of what they might like.
I'll attach Naomi's Mall List (misspellings & all):
1. a watch
2. hay sack dress
3. pearl neclace
4. one more cat
5. a little little little doll with a tiney tiny cell phone
6. a candy bracelet
7. a little toy cat
8. to be a slave but know how to read and write so I can teach others
The wish-list makes me wonder what she'll come home with from the shopping trip.
Happy New Year, everyone!
______________________________________
Reading With Naomi: Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare
Currently Watching: Boston Legal (season one)
Weekend Soundtrack: San Andres Fault by Natalie Merchant
New Year's Resolution: Renovate Some Eyesores of My House
I'll attach Naomi's Mall List (misspellings & all):
1. a watch
2. hay sack dress
3. pearl neclace
4. one more cat
5. a little little little doll with a tiney tiny cell phone
6. a candy bracelet
7. a little toy cat
8. to be a slave but know how to read and write so I can teach others
The wish-list makes me wonder what she'll come home with from the shopping trip.
Happy New Year, everyone!
______________________________________
Reading With Naomi: Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare
Currently Watching: Boston Legal (season one)
Weekend Soundtrack: San Andres Fault by Natalie Merchant
New Year's Resolution: Renovate Some Eyesores of My House
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