Five Simple Rules for Happiness

1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less.

~Anonymous

Little Angel

My talented Aunt Barbara created this beautiful page from a coupla nakey pics of Olivvy-Girl. Isn't it darling? Barbara has done some more pages from pictures past, and now that I have permission to share them, I'll post them for a fun trip down memory lane.

(And I'll keep this one close, to pull up as Little Ololly Doll continues to push the boundries these days...)

Anyone one there? "Comments or Questions on that?" I'll send you a prize if you can tell me where that quote came from. And I might send you a prize if you just comment on this page. It's fun to know if you're out there reading. Miss you!

Hudson Gardens Dance Performance

This morning, after dropping Zach off (more like "abandoning" him, if you asked him, but that's a story for another entry...) at VBS, Olivia and I headed south to Hudson Gardens for a free dance performance. Kristen, Sofia & Emerson invited us, and Lisa, Anne Peyton & Tommy were there as well as Lisa's friend Melissa and her daughter Jackie.

Five of the Hannah Kahn Dance Company members danced a 45-minute show for a mostly-moms and kids crowd spread out on blankets on the grass. The burgeoning thunderclouds over the foothills formed a spectacular backdrop, until they overtook the stage, and we made our hasty exit to go retrieve Zach (who ended up having a great morning!).

The choreographer (was she Hannah?) introduced the pieces and led the audience in various exercises and an abbreviated "dance."

What an invigorating way to start the day! It was awesome to see the joy on the dancers' faces. They seemed to truly love what they were doing. In addition to watching them, we learned a bit about warming up, choreography, "partnering," and different types of music. The kids were encouraged to move around, which is great when you're trying to make a toddler sit through a performance - even when it's just a 45 minute performance.

We didn't have time to explore the rest of the Gardens, so hopefully we can get back there another day soon. (Click this post's title for a few more pics.)

From Pioneer Woman Photography

(click title of post to see article)

Then, get in the frame. Now.

“You will have written exceptionally well if, by skillful arrangement of your words,

you have made an ordinary one seem original.”

– Horace

Learning Opportunities Abound

Just when you think all you can do is try to come up with another trick to entertain the kids while waiting for their brunch, BAM!, you realize this is a great opportunity to learn from your surroundings. In this case, just focus your attention on the nuggets of knowledge posted on the walls at the Country Road Cafe.

Pop, did you soak it in? It will make you wiser. You're already older, so let's round it all out.

And again, say it out loud: ...the-way-your-WIFE-told-you.

Women - Amazing

Wow! I got this forward from a friend -thanks Becky!- and knew it was something that I had to share. I believe it's an excerpt from The Middle Place (has anyone read it? I'd like to), but I'm not certain. It is written by the same author, Kelly Corrigan.

I hope you will take a few minutes to listen and, I hope, enjoy this beautiful tribute to the bonds of women. I guess I'm still feeling The Love this New Year.

Thank you, all my female friends and family members! You are the best!

* Below is my attempt at a transcript, but I may have missed a few words, and it's so inspiring to hear it from the author, so listen first. *

Transcending
Words on Women and Strength
-Kelly Corrigan

I had one of those milestone birthdays a few months back. I tried to make a toast, something about my mom and her friends who call themselves the Pigeons. But I blew it.

There were once at least a dozen Pigeons, a self-effacing twist on “hens.” In the past few years, they lost two of the greats, Robin Birch and Mary Maroni, to cancer. On the Pigeons go, though, like women do, limping one minute, carrying someone the next.

They started in the 60s, in suburban Philadelphia, with bridge and tennis and Chardonnay…okay, vodka. And, over time, became something like a dedicated fleet, armed ships sailing together, weather be damned.

For me and women of my generation, it started with play dates, cutting carbs, and meeting on Monday mornings in workout clothes to do awkward moves with large, colorful balls. And I can see exactly where it’s heading:

We’ll confer about jog bras, and contractors and pediatricians.

We’ll gossip about babysitters, teachers and in-laws.

We’ll speculate about who had a shot of Botox, who cheats on their taxes, who cleans until midnight.

We’ll persuade each other to bake, fold, stuff and write checks for our favorite non-profits.

We’ll celebrate each other’s achievements, opening an exercise studio, a corner store, a jewelry business.

We’ll celebrate our kids’ achievements, making the traveling team, singing in the choir, learning to use the potty or speak French or play the flute.

We’ll borrow eggs, earrings, extra chairs.

We’ll throw birthday parties for each other and stain the rug and shatter the wine glasses and mark up new counters with the odd slice of lemon.

We’ll worry about who seems down, who looks tired, who’s drinking more and more.

We’ll say things we wish we hadn’t and have to find a way to regain each other’s trust. Things will break; they always do. Many will be fixed.

We’ll fret over our children, too shy, too angry, too needy. We’ll brainstorm ways to help them become more resilient, patient, light-hearted. We’ll protect them fiercely, pulling little bodies from the deep end, double latching windows, withholding car keys.

We’ll bury our mothers and fathers, shuttling our children off for sleepovers, jumping on red-eyes, telling each other stories that hurt to hear about gasping agonal breaths, hospice nurses, scars and bruises and scabs and how skin papers shortly after a person passes. We will nod in agreement that it is as much an honor to witness a person come into this world as it is to watch a person leave it.

People will drift in and out. Book clubs will swell and thin. We’ll write someone off, and they’ll reemerge later. And we’ll remember both why we loved them and why we let them slip away. But we’ll be softer, and we’ll want them back.

We’ll admire each other for a fine crème brule, a promotion, finished marathon. We’ll commiserate about commutes, layoffs, mortgage rates, and the High School Musical soundtrack.

We’ll confide in each other about feeling anxious or angry or uninteresting or about how many pieces of Halloween candy we accidentally ate from our kids’ bags. We’ll confess that we text while driving or that we should be having more sex or that we yell at our kids every day.

We’ll admit that we believe in God, Jesus Christ, Heaven and Hell. Or that we don’t.

We’ll give up things together, caffeine, Tylenol PM, catalogs, social smoking. We’ll take up things too, morning walks, hybrids, organic dairy, saying Grace.

We’ll diagnose each other’s brown lawns, torn muscles, basement odors. We’ll check each other’s heads for lice, examine new bumps and moles, and listen to a list of symptoms.

We’ll teach each other how to set a ring tone, make a slide show, or download a movie.

We will call and say, “I heard the news.” And whatever the news is, we will come running - probably with food. We will insist on second opinions, lots of rest, and the best surgeons. We will face diseases, many kinds, and we will temporarily lose our hair, our figures, and our minds.

Eventually, someone who’s not supposed to die will. Maybe one of us, maybe a husband, God forbid a child.

And all this celebrating and sharing and confessing will make certain essential comforts possible. We will rally around and hold each other up. And it won’t be nearly enough, but it will help the time pass, just a hair faster than it would have otherwise.

We will wait patiently and lovingly for that first laugh after the loss. When it comes, and it will come, we will cry as we howl, as we clutch, as we circle.

We will transcend, ladies, because we did all this.
In that worst moment,
we will transcend.

Blessing

MAY THE SUN bring you new energy by day,
MAY THE MOON restore you by night.
MAY THE RAIN wash away your worries,
MAY THE BREEZE blow new strength into your being.
MAY YOU WALK gently through the world and know its beauty all the days of your life.
-Apache Blessing

A Quick Reassurance

Phew!

(Yes, LOTS to catch up on. Will try really hard to do that. Some day. When I'm not too busy gabbing.)

Mothers

Mama Friends - you must pick up a copy of this book at the bookstore or library, let the kids enjoy books of their own, and settle in for a delicious read. My friend Theresa recommended it, and I can't love it more.

Someday by Alison McGhee (with absolutely beautiful illustrations by Peter H. Reynolds) is a treasured part of my library now.

Most of the book speaks to mothers of sons or daughters, but some thoughts are especially touching for mothers of daughters.

If you can't wait to get to the library, you can listen to the story as read by the author. Be warned, however. If you're even a little bit of a *sweet* sap, this may induce tears.

No More Than a Potato

"Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children … shall strike their roots in unaccustomed earth."

The passage above was quoted from Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter in a story about Jhumpa Lahiri 's new collection of stories, Unaccustomed Earth.

That passage spoke to me, given my family's repeated "transplantations." While it was always difficult to leave old friends and familiar settings, we did get to experience some amazing new opportunities. The Silver Lining, right?

Some day, I'd like to check out Lahiri's new work.