Reflecting

Hands pressed together
Voices lift in earnest prayer
Hope for the future

Book Bonding

Some (long) time ago, not too (very) long after I opened this blog, I posted a piece about the things (15 of them) that we might like to see in a care package from home. It was a write-on-a-whim moment. One of those I seemed to be better at when I first kept this blog verses what it's been like around here lately. The ultimate result of posting such a list was an overwhelming outpouring from these "strangers" in my life who took it upon themselves to cross the blog barrier and become real life friends by reaching out and sending out care packages of various sizes and contents.

Stunning, amazing, incredible really.
And awful damn cool.
(I hope you all know how very thankful I am for all of it--all this time)

Among the generosity by post was a box of books from a new friend whose own childhood roots were in Holland, and whose love of reading rivals the readers in this house. By email I was able to peruse her bookshelf titles and shortly after we were treated to a delightful package of reading material straight from her home to ours. So happy was Emma with the offering she gathered all the titles I had "ordered" for her and promptly planted herself on the couch to read.

Of course, I caught the moment on film, pixels.

And now, this year, as part of the campaign launched by Soccer Mom in Denial to take a DAY TO READ, that photo is the proud poster for the event.

So, here am I again, offering thanks to Anno, to Allison and to my darling Emma for the the supplies, the inspiration, and the shared love of reading.

It is, after all, about the love of the book.

All Mixed Up

Of the many souvenirs and memory treasures I brought home from Boston, there is one which has risen to the top of my favorite things. This is a big deal, because, hoo-boy I brought a lot of things home from Boston! The physical treasures include a Folbot Kayak for Don, a new Camera (and ultimately a new lens) from Zeff Photo, massive amounts of food treats from the USA, and several (okay, more than several) shiny, pretty things I picked up during the weekend away.

Women in Black

Emotional keepsakes include the night out (and a first meet) with Alex Elliot and Allison for dinner, drinks and lots of great conversation. And of course, the premiere souvenirs of being able to spend time with THE Soccer Mom herself (though to be fair the current sport was baseball) as well as engage in phone conversations with THE Ambassador and THE Cybergoddess.

I tucked all of these finds away in luggage and memory. You might be thinking that this was a weekend packed with experiences which I will linger in for a long, long time.

You would, of course, be correct.

Ah, me.

Last week I got a treadmill for the house. There has been a running (haha!) discussion regarding this purchase for our home and whether the machine would soon become the most expensive clothes hanger in history, or the most massive dust collecting knick-knack we own. I am happy to report that as of ownership day #6 it is neither as my feet and its belt have been in intimate daily contact. It's kind of my new best friend.

This now, is where the revered tiny treasure comes to play. On my last day in Boston, Allison tucked inside my carry on bag a last few special items to bring home. There was the CD crammed with the photos she took of my appearance in her son's classroom to chat with the kids about life in Holland, and there was this:

The birthday CD from her daughter's recent birthday.

Upon this little treasure of "songs that make her dance" are a variety of ab fab tunes which the little darling loves to dance to. Me, I am using this CD as my accompaniment for exercise! And it couldn't be more perfect. Things start out nice and slow with Carole King's Really Rosie and then morph into the action of ABC's Look of Love, moving into Sing by Annie Lennox which really gets my heart moving. Then for a little rest I walk and croon along with Cindy Lauper's True Colors and then pick up the pace again when the music moves me with Erasure's Blue Savannah straight into Abba's Mama Mia. You get the idea here? This darling goldilocks has provided the perfect mix tape to get my body moving too! 57 minutes worth of rhythm and music to be exact.

And I love it.

Every last heart pounding minute.

~~~~~~~~~~~
More music at SMID's place today.

It's Music Monday folks!

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Running like the wind
My stationary treadmill
is my new best friend
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Wait. What's that up there? A Haiku?
Oh, yes, friends it is once again time for the Haiku Buckaroo contest!

Check out the details
over at My Mommy's Place
Start writing Haiku.

You know I will be~
I want to drink my coffee
from that Haiku mug!

Lang Zal Ze Leven

It wasn't so long ago, but really it feels like forever since we met. And I don't mean forever in that this-administration-meeting-where-we-talk-about-everything-and-accomplish-nothing-is-going-on-FOREVER kind of way. I mean the forever in that I've always had this freckle on my arm kind of way. She might as well be part of me, that's how forever it feels like.

It's actually been about a year since I found her. I linked to her blog via this site (another woman I adore) and once there didn't leave for hours. That could have spooked her really, to have an instantaneous stalker arrive on the scene. But it must not have, because she was willing to establish communication and build a friendship.

Pretty damn cool if you ask me.

She is damn cool.

And so kind.

And witty.

And talented.

And funny.

And quick.

And beautiful.

And smart.

And brave.

And so, so real.

Of course, I am talking about the lovely and wonderful Jami of Not That Different. If you haven't met her yet, I highly recommend you go round her way and introduce yourself. And then spend some time with her wit and her candor. You'll be so glad you did.

Naturally, while you're there you can wish her a Happy Birthday. Because, yes, that's right, my dear friend, Jami is celebrating her birthday today!

Were it possible I would most like to be at her party tonight to watch her blow out 60 candles. Also, I would be very willing to propose 60 toasts in her honor. And I would most definitely be up for planting 60 kisses upon her lovely cheeks.

But, alas, I can't be there, so all I've got is this quiet venue from which to shout:

GEFELICITEERD MET JE VERJAARDAG JAMI!
IK HOU VAN JOU!

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While we are on the subject of birthdays, I would like to mention this little project. Alex Elliot of Formula Fed and Flexible Parenting is hosting a carnival at her place. The theme is birth-days and it's the opportunity of a lifetime to share the birth stories you've always wanted to tell. Whether they are first hand, second generation or made-up tales of glory, the venue is open for all who have a story to share. Even if you're not a blogger but you have something to say, please write it up and I will post it here for you. Me, I am a little torn about what I might share: Will it be the birth of my favorite cat? The stories of my children's births? The adventure of my own birth wherein I had my first haircut even before I was born?

As always, I'll have something to say. I hope you'll come by to hear it.

Hup Holland Hup!

Hoera Holland Wednesday

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Too excited for words Wednesday

Where the Heart is

I am part of an ever growing circle of friends. People who seemingly love and accept me as I am and hold no real expectations that I should be something different than just that. These are good, good people in my life.

Some of them I have never met face to face.

But none of them are imaginary.

I remember my imaginary friends. I had many. They were very small, a bit elfish in nature and they all lived in a colony in my closet. They came to play with me quite often, and usually helped me with the more tedious tasks of my five-year-old life. Like when I had to put my socks away.
Later as a school aged kid, I daydreamed often that Michael Jackson was stashed away under my desk helping me grasp the finer points of my education. I am sure it all stemmed from the Jackson Five hit "ABC", but whatever its source, for awhile Michael was the man for me.
Okay, he was a boy and he was imaginary, but whatever.

I suppose we all (if we had them) grow out of (or away from?) our imaginary friends as we learn and gain the skills to make friends (and keep them) in the real world. I haven't seen my imaginary friends in many, many years. Yet still, I remember them fondly.

Somewhere in the growing up years I discovered a book which will likely forever remain my favorite read on this planet. Of course I am referring to The Little Prince by Antoine de St-Exupery.

Best. Book. Ever.

My favorite passage between its pages being the lesson of the fox who teaches the Little Prince (upon his discovery that his flower is not unique at all but is merely a common rose which can be found in multiples in the gardens on earth) that it is the time we waste for our friends which makes them special. The thing which makes them unforgettable. That the time we spend to tame each other and become friends is valuable, maybe even necessary.

Then the fox shares with the Prince in a simple line the one truth I have held firm to for years: "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye"

Sentiment worthy of contemplation.

And implementation.

In recent weeks I have experienced a serious roller coaster ride of experience and emotion in my personal life. It's personal so I haven't really shared it, except in cryptic form here at the blog. I still don't intend to share the details but I will say that the surface is smoothing out and my feet are steady underneath me. This last in answer to the "are you okay?" query from a friend last week.

And to be honest, in large measure I am okay because of that circle of friends who asked those kinds of questions and made gestures to send me cards or emails, or picked up the phone to check on me.

Some of those friends are those I have yet to meet. But they all tell me--and I trust this--that they love me for who I am and each of them offered support in whatever best way they could offer it from near or far.

All of them wasted a bit of time for me.

This friendship and community bond I have long waxed poetic about in my life is tangible; real, not imagined. And completely empowering.

To my friends, old and new, near and far, I want you to know I see you rightly.

And you are essential.

I Still Have Something to Say

So for the first time in about a million years, I am playing Flashback Friday hosted weekly by Cablegirl at 42. And the way I am doing it today is this: I am flashing back to exactly approximately one year ago. This post that follows sits in my archives and was written when I had been blogging just over a month. As you will read, at that writing I had about 80 posts on this blog. At this writing today, as my blog just recently passed its one-year-in-production mark, I have 373 posts sitting in the archives. I suppose I am making good on my title. I do have something to say. And you can trust me that there is still more to come.

This is an interview style post, with questions posed by Allison of Soccer Mom in Denial. I have other pressing questions sitting in my email inbox from both Jen of A2eatwrite and Goofball of Goofball's world. I am confident both women think I have long forgotten about those interviews. I assure them I have not and intend (honestly!) to answer some of those probing questions in the coming days. You want to know what I have to say. Right? Am I right?

Yeah, you'll be back.

Now then, finishing this ultimately too long lead, I now give you last April's post. Original date: 19 April 2007.

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I am going to confess something here. I like to talk. I know this comes as something of a shock to you as there is no evidence to support that statement. I mean, it's not like there are already close to 80 posts on this 50-day old blog. No, wait. There ARE nearly 80 posts here. I must have been thinking of somebody else.

But since we are on the subject of me, let's just linger awhile.

My new mentor and greatest cyber supporter Soccer Mom in Denial has recently been interviewing friends and fellow bloggers. I have so enjoyed reading the answers to her questions and actually have been tickled by the questions themselves. So much so, that I just couldn't stand it anymore and I asked if I could join in and play. I like to be included in what all the cool kids are doing. She happily complied and sent me the following questions.

Here is what I have to say.

1. If you could go anywhere with your family (and money and time were not a factor) where would you go?

At the very moment I am typing this I am listening to my youngest son squeak and grunt as he cavorts around the living room attempting to elude the ride to bed in his daddy's arms. My oldest son is gyrating through an impromptu Napoleon Dynamite dance on the rug in front of me; and my daughter is asking if she can have 30 Euro for a lunch card at school. So in answer to the query, if I could go anywhere right now, (and the return time were not a factor) it would be WITHOUT my family. To anywhere.
Seriously, my answer is anywhere. And everywhere. I have an incredible wanderlust and I absolutely love to go. Go and see. And there are myriad places to go and see in this big, wonderful world.
Where shall we meet?

2. What is your typical Friday like?

It seems so trite to respond this way, but my Fridays are complete TGIF days. Friday is the one day of the week that I don't have a destination first thing in the morning. No school for Andrew, no dancing class, no coffee groups, no Mom/Tot meetings. It's a day made just for me and my special guy and our pajamas.
There is NO SCHEDULE on a Friday and after the morning wake up ritual of munching breakfast in front of the BBC, we make it up as we go along. The big kids are out the door by 8:00 to cycle to school and Don leaves shortly after that for work. Andrew and I indulge in watching The Tweenies and checking email (you can make your best guess about who does which) and just take the day as it comes.
Friday nights are reliably date night with my husband. I never turn that down. He's a great guy to hang out with.

3. Why Arizona before the Netherlands?

Why Arizona? Because I was born to be barefoot of course.

Why Arizona before The Netherlands is a longer story. Our convoluted path since we married began in Southern Utah, and then a stop in Las Vegas, Nevada. Both were education related moves. Most of our moves have been education related, as a matter of fact. With undergraduate school tucked away we were faced with some choices for Don's law school education. Initially we were set to return to Utah for that three-year course of study but then a letter arrived from the University of Arizona, with an offer we couldn't refuse. We moved to Tucson with our Honda Civic and a 10' trailer which held EVERYTHING WE OWNED and became desert rats for essentially the next twelve years. Eight of those years we spent in Phoenix.

4. Do your kids have the same life-is-an-adventure attitude as you?

Uh... yes. Maybe. And no.

My daughter is one of the most adaptable people I know. She seems to take anything and everything in stride when it comes to moves and changes and adventures. I have joked that we could move to Mars in the morning and by evening she would have found alien playmates and would have already scheduled her first sleep over.
My youngest of course doesn't seem to mind whatever it is we are doing or wherever it is we are. As long as he can "do it myself-okay?" and count on his peanut butter, then it's all good for him.
My oldest is my most routine oriented child. He just likes things the way he likes them, and though he has adapted beautifully to this experience and has grown immensely, I believe his preference would be to settle and stay somewhere. I picture him years from now, living a stable life IN ONE PLACE while he rolls his eyes to the top of his head as his parents pull up to his driveway in a ramblin' RV. We are a little on the flitty side and he is deeply rooted.

5. What were you in high school (e.g. jock, dramaclub, studious)?

I was a drama clubbing, madrigal singing, poetry writing social butterfly. And by the butterfly part I mean that I was (and still am) able to find a comfort spot with all kinds of people. Like a chameleon I can blend in with my environment. The bottom line is I really like people and I believe we all have more in common than what we sometimes perceive. It's all about spending time with each other and finding out just what that may be.

6. What did you expect when you started blogging?

I expected that I would find it to be cathartic and a worthwhile creative exercise. I hoped it would help me hone my writing skills. I also hoped it would help me process and record some of the experiences here. Both of those hopes are being satisfied as I blog. What I didn't realize was that it would bring me such deep satisfaction to write and share all of this every day. In addition I have been most surprised by the sweet support out there from readers and other bloggers. I didn't expect at all to find a group of terrific and loyal friends because of it. But I did. And that is a perfect sweep of icing on my blogging cake.

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Do you have questions for me too? Ask away, by email or in the comments section. I will be happy to wax forth poetically on all things me for as long as y'all think you can possibly stand it. Bring it. I can take it.

Listen for Awhile

It's Music Monday, friends. Visit Soccer Mom in Denial for more.

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When I was eight years old, I remember sitting, delicately perched, at the end of the piano bench as my mother played, and learning every word to Killing Me Softly made popular by Roberta Flack. In 1974 I was far too young to really understand the nuance of the lyrics but I loved singing alongside my mom as she worked through the melody and we sang out a life in the words. That's a song that kind of sticks with you.

This is another one.

I was directed to this piece by a good (amazing, kind, beautiful, wonderful, compassionate, incredible+) friend the other day. As I googled it and found both lyrics and video for this tune, I was stunned and overwhelmed. Someone was singing my life with her words. Suddenly, every passion that Ms. Flack had ever embedded in the words she sang in her tune in that 70's hit, made perfect sense to me. Clear and perfect sense.

(This is the moment in time wherein you label me as a maudlin, sappy, idealistic and overly romantic little girl, and I will wear that badge proudly, because at my core I know I am all that and I am okay with it. Really.)

Hold me love, you know I can't sleep again
You know I have to kiss your lips-
I wanna lay here next to you

I remember walking in the rain
Rain was falling on my hands
I don't wanna live through that again, love.

Outside it hardly gets dark now
Lovers walking in the park now
Children singing songs that
Will now make all our dreams come true
I'm in love with you

I know it takes love
Love is a healing thing
When you give everything
You're loving the world
The world gives you love to hold onto
Remember who, when summer is over

Just give me many chances
I'll see you through it all
Just give me time to learn to crawl

In September, when the rains come,
and the wind blows, I will see you walking in your coat,
And if you let me, I will keep you here inside the stars
I will love the sound of my sheets
Since you have moved beneath them

Just give me many chances
I'll see you through it all
Just give me time to learn to crawl*

Written and originally recorded by Rickie Lee Jones, the following video was recorded by Jasmine Whenham. (I like it best of all that I could find on Youtube) It touches me in ways I can hardly explain. So, if you have a quiet minute to get carried away, by all means press play.

I know it takes love.

*RICKIE LEE JONES Stewart's Coat

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+ The friend of whom I speak is our guest today at Looking Into.

Please pop over and say a little something to her. It's worth the trip click.

I promise.

And Then the Tears Fell

I woke up this morning to a sweet surprise in my inbox. A surreal surprise really, but a welcome one all the same.
Judd Corizan of The Rising Blogger dropped me a line, a warm message, and a code for this button:

It is an award for this post. Someone pointed it out (who are you? I thank you kindly) and he picked it for the post of the day.

So I cried. Not only when I read his words in the email, but also when I read the post at his place. I don't have words enough to say thanks enough for the kindness shown. Perhaps you can help by popping by his and leaving a comment. Tell him I sent you.

Thanks and thanks and thanks again.

All my love,

Jenn

At the Heart of it All

love.

click here for the rules.

Write your name in my heart below. er... I mean in the link box.

Please leave a comment too. It does my heart good.

1. G 2. Goofball 3. Jen of a2eatwrite

4. Flower Child 5. citizen jane 6. Anneke

7. Kate Forsey 8. Mariposa

Powered by... Mister Linky's Magical Widgets.

From My Vantage Point

I work in an office.
I have a desk and a chair, a computer and a phone.
It's possible that sounds like the makings of the world's-most-boring-job-on-the-planet but trust me when I tell you that the moments in a day wherein I actually get to light in that chair and stay for any extended period of time are few and far between.

Everyday is a whole new adventure in chaos at the office.

Just the way I like it.

When I do get to sit and *ahem* work at the tedious tasks which are indeed included on my list, this list following is part of what surrounds me to make my desk space my own, and dare I say, meaningful to me.

1. My psychedelic sock monkey, hand made with love and stellar skill by Leslie of My Mommy's Place. He is the talk of all who spot him tucked perfectly underneath the computer monitor sitting cross legged and still, smiling at me constantly. He's been named by the children: "twilight" and I dare say he's coveted daily, but that doesn't worry me. I know he's all mine.

2. On the wall near the monthly calendar (hand-highlighted for all holidays!) hangs the tag from a set of flowers delivered to my co-worker and I early in the year. We had been effective in assisting someone through a nerve-wracking crisis, and after all had settled the family sent us thanks by way of a bouquet. The tag reads: Cartier & Taylo. We have long thought these variations on our last names were most fitting to our super-power prowess, and if we ever reveal our cape-clad-world-saving-inner-selves, this just may be the name of our famous duo.

3. Two water bottles sit sentry at the edge of my desk. I wish I could tell you they were empty because I fill and drain them multiple times each day, to keep the waterworks clear and all, but in spite of my recent descent to bladder infection hell (Level 9) I sometimes mostly forget to drink the water. Somebody shoot me.

4. Next to the photos of my husband and my children hangs a postcard. It's an Edward Hopper print sent to me spontaneously from a friend in Boston (have I mentioned her before?) and I love it. I carried it around for months in my bag so the edges are soft and frayed. It now hangs with pride in my office and every time I see it, I grin.

5. Underneath that postcard hangs another, freshly arrived, from Texas. Meaningful on several levels to me, this new card from a dear friend reminds me that friendship, once discovered, is a forever thing.

6. Tucked away inside a tin which once held delicious shortbread cookies (thanks Kate!) personally delivered from the Isle of Wight, is my secret stash of chocolate and other treats. Okay, it's not so secret really, since most of the staff is on to me and more than once in any given day someone will stand at the office counter with puppy dog eyes full of longing, and ask 'if isn't there please somewhere something a body could eat?' and I drag the tin out from it's hiding place and share the goodness within with any and all who ask.

7. No list would be complete without mention, real mention, of the woman who works opposite me in this shared place. She has been not only mentor and teacher to me this year as I have learned the ropes of the job and all it entails, but she is ultimately and at the heart of it all, my friend and an incredible support in my personal life. I feel lucky, nay, blessed, everyday to sit across from her and share the frustrations and the triumphs of the little and the big moments in our day. She is a friendship treasure.

So, there you have mine. Show me yours?

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Newly on display: A photo blog

She calls it Project 1 Picture a Day

and the redundant rules state:

1. post 1 picture

2. everyday

3. for one year

Please take a minute to visit, bookmark and return to watch her complete the challenge.

Help me welcome her to the neighborhood.

Say something about her photos.

Go. Click here. Click-click-click.

Doubled Up

I have been remiss in telling tales of the legendary weekend when Allison came. You heard about that right? My blogging friend and co-creator at the photo site flew across the ocean to meet me.

Yeah, it was so cool.

Or more to the point it was downright hot; at least it was for a weekend in February. An absolute subjective phenomenon. One of the first conversations we shared as we hit the streets, cameras in hand on that weekend, was about our desperate need for sunglasses to shield our tender winterized eyes.

When you get up in the morning and the light is hurt your head

The first thing you do when you get up out of bed

Is hit that street a-runnin' and try to beat the masses

And go get yourself some cheap sunglasses

First stop then when our shoes hit the sand at Scheveningen beach in The Hague was to stop off at the first shop on the board walk and do just that.

Get ourselves some cheap sunglasses, that is.

Spied a little thing and I followed her all night (well, it was day actually)
In a funky fine levis and her sweater's kind of tight (not so tight, no)
She had a west coast strut that was as sweet as molasses
(she's from New England, but yeah, I'll have to go with her strut being sweet)
But what really knocked me out was her cheap sunglasses

In truth what really knocked me out was the absolute natural rhythm we fell into, both with our conversation and our photography. I kinda thought we might, but was rather pleased that we did. It's nice to walk alongside someone who moves at the same pace as me. Meaning, someone who gets equally distracted, camera in hand, by the moments awaiting a photograph.
That's how I see it, when I am looking through the lens--the objects and spaces around me are animate and beckoning. So I investigate as I walk and I pause a lot to see what I can capture. Generally, I am the hold up to any crowd I try to tour with but even with her long legs, her steps (and crouches) matched mine.

Told you she was cool.

Now go out and get yourself some big black frames
With the glass so dark they won't even know your name
And the choice is up to you cause they come in two classes:
Rhinestone shades or cheap sunglasses
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah *

We perused the rack and modeled them boldy for one another, then bought two pairs the same. She has them in brown, and I the same pair in black. Two peas-in-a-cheap-sunglasses-pod you might say. But alas since that first weekend, the investment hasn't had much payoff and the glasses haven't seen much action in use. As predicted might happen, the fluke of a spring weather weekend didn't last for long.

But, oh, baby, when that sun returns?

I am ready.

*ZZ Top Cheap Sunglasses

It's Music Monday! Visit Soccer Mom in Denial.

Magic Words

I try not to take myself too seriously.
I am not often successful in this endeavor.
I tend to read too much into things. I lean toward the over-thinking regarding any given situation; I over analyze most everything I do or say. Or write.

So, after weeks long agony over whether I should/shouldn't would/wouldn't share the news about four-year-old Andrew's recent autism diagnosis here at the blog, I settled (in a moment of zen) on doing so in a most unconventional way. I wrote it, I published it, and then I fretted over it.

I didn't need to.

The response to that post was in a word: incredible. I have been moved beyond words by the outpouring of support and understanding, both in the comments section and via email which many friends and readers reached out with. It was the safety net I was looking for to catch me as I struggled with what it all might mean, for him, for us, for life.

And then, in only the way the blogging world can, I received accolades for the post.

First, Kelly of Kellyology awarded the post with this:

Which was followed up by a reader's vote choosing it as the winner of Most Evocative Haiku at Leslie's Haiku Buckaroo contest.

Beyond that, it was also awarded an Honorable Mention overall in the same contest, being selected by Jami of Not That Different, the contest judge (and original reigning queen). She had this to say of the poem:

"In terms of evoking the emotion of a moment, this haiku is almost perfect.

It’s a 17-syllable short story that rocked my world, too."

Now I ask you, with that kind of heady praise and acknowlegement, how can I not take it seriously?

The thing--the absolute thing--is that in the beginning steps of this journey I am buoyed up by the support around me. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for that. As we move along this road, I am quite certain I will be using this moment in time as a touchstone for steadying myself and moving with a more sure step. With everything I have and everything I am, I want to give my son everything I am able.

After all, he gives me so much.

I Say It's All Right

There are precious few things in life which I can get all that excited about. Ownership of material items has never been altogether important to me. That's not to say that I don't appreciate having things, or even relish the accoutrement of my life. Nor would it be true to insinuate that I don't get a little giddy over, say, buying a new pair of boots. I like things; truly I do, but I know I can live without things. That's all I am trying to say.

What I can't live without is friendship.

If you've been reading this blog for long you may have picked up on that notion before this bold announcement. But I am all about pointing out the obvious things. Additionally, if you've been reading this blog for any length of time at all, you may well have picked up on a friendship I have been nurturing with a fellow blogger.

She's been coming by to comment almost from the first day I opened this blog.
We email often.
We run a little photo site together.

We met for the first time last Friday.

While it was not my first blogger meeting, it was certainly my first blogger-who-flew-across-the-ocean-to-spend-time-with-me meeting.

Strange, perhaps, inviting someone you've never met to come stay with you for a few days, and yet, the most natural thing in the world. In honesty it was a face to face meeting which seemed long overdue. We kept it a little quiet in the weeks leading up to her trip to my side of the pond, for one thing, because it was a touch and go departure for her as she battled illness both in herself and her children. We also kept it quiet because, well, we didn't want it to look like we were bragging, or lording it over anyone.

But I can't help just to gloat over it just the tiniest bit.

Bear with me.

As Allison donned her red boots and packed her red suitcase for the trip, she loaded it chock-full of all kinds of sought after goods for this expat family. Peanut butter, chocolate chips, cake mix, goldfish, NEW YORKER MAGAZINES, etc. made the journey across the water and were delivered to exuberantly grateful recipients. (That would be us) She also brought a plethora of little surprises and very thoughtful gifts; each a treasure in its own right.

But the best thing she brought with her? The thing all of Holland is really in awe over?

She brought the sun.

No kidding.

I have been whining for weeks about the grey skies and the wicked winds of the lowlands. I warned her that it would likely be a cold, rainy weekend we would spend together. It would still be fun, but we would certainly be hunkered down inside somewhere listening to the wind whistle and watching the rain pelt the windowpane.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Instead of a typical winter weekend, this one with Allison was perfection. Blue skies, warm temperatures, and no wind. It was absolutely incredible on every level. We had a blast.

And, as you may have guessed, we have the photos to prove it.

So, to my darling friend, a dedicated Music Monday post with a tribute to the light she brought along.

Sing it with me now.

Here comes the sun,
here comes the sun,
and I say it's all right

Little darling,
it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun,
here comes the sun
and I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun,
here comes the sun
and I say it's all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear

Here comes the sun,
here comes the sun,
and I say it's all right
It's all right *

*Here Comes The Sun, The Beatles

*******************************

Please join me in welcoming another new friend to the blogosphere!

C'mon, bring a little sunshine to a newbie in the neighborhood.

Click here to find her.

With Arms Wide Open

welcome.

Are you joining the group hug? The rules are here.

1. Soccer Mom in Denial 2. Jen of a2eatwrite 3. Kate Forsey 4. Anneke

5. Wholly Burble 6. CableGirl 7. CableGirl 8. jenn

9. Fourier.Analyst 10. Flower Child

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While You Were Sleeping

Part of the downtime I have been forced to take because of this illness, has been spent sleeping. Part of that sleeping time has been drug induced napping, but no matter, I have literally spent a lot of time in bed the past few days. Not altogether a bad thing, generally, but still...
I woke from a mid-morning nap yesterday with a heavy dream still lingering, and it has taken me awhile for it to distill and come into focus in my mind. I don't know if my interpretation of the images and experiences in my subconcious are correct or thorough, but I am intrigued by the way this dream is hanging on in my psyche. Like it came to teach me something.

I remember having a dream with this kind of impact a few years ago as well. It was just after receiving an email from my second sister, an email which arrived in my inbox just before we moved to Holland, in which she basically announced that she was cutting her ties with me. She didn't want to see me/us as we made our visiting rounds to family and friends before our departure, and she wished me a nice life.

It was an email equivalent of a dagger to the heart.

I spent days wrestling with the why's and the what's of such a communication and cried buckets of tears over its message.

Then one night, at my parent's house in Texas, I had a dream. I was driving down the road, when my car received a crushing blow from a huge, swinging apparatus. Immediately, I stopped the car and climbed out from under the crushed aluminum and began banging at the crumpled metal. I tried with all of my might to pull or push the pieces straight again, to flatten them out, and to make the car whole. The whole time in the dream I was sobbing and banging and wishing with every thing I had that I could make it better. That I could fix it. But I couldn't. Not by myself. There was no way I could fix the car without help from someone else.

I woke from that dream so sad and confused. I mulled over it for hours, days even, before a meaning presented itself clearly to me. It was a message about my sister. My relationship had survived (albeit barely) a crash, and no matter how much banging, or pulling, or weeping I did over the wreck, I wasn't going to be able to fix it myself. I had to wait until someone else could help me. Specifically, I believed I must wait for my sister's help.

I am still waiting.

But yesterday's dream still has me guessing a little.
I was exploring a theater building wherein I was supposed to be performing, or running a show for others, and I was confused and slightly overwhelmed because I wasn't really sure where I was or what I was supposed to be doing there. Then, as a dream is wont to do, suddenly I found a staircase which seemed familiar. So I descended the steps and instantly I knew exactly where I was. I was standing in the basement corridor of the Capitol Theater in Salt Lake City. It was the performance venue of my youth, and I was there in the dream, surrounded by familiar sights, sounds and smells. I knew this place and felt completely at home there.

But the message which seems obvious on one level is still eluding me on others. Or perhaps it isn't and I am not quite ready to embrace it fully yet. But it has me wondering.

And thinking.

And that can never be a bad thing.

Tell me your dreams.

*****************************

On a less contemplative note: I have just had a dream fullfilled.

More on that later, but only because I love keeping secrets

and I really love surprises.

Pinky Toe Promise

This little girl neglected to drink enough water,

This little girl got quite ill,

This little girl went to the doctor,

This little girl got a pill,

And this little girl cried "it hurts to wee, wee, wee" all the way home.

(This little girl has also vowed to take better care of herself in the future, and as this little girl is only drinking water in copious amounts the next several days, she thought it might be fun to share this recipe with any and all who have a little variety available. Go ahead, drink to my health!)

The Recipe For Jenn

3 parts Cleverness 2 parts Uniqueness 1 part Silliness Splash of Giddiness Serve over ice

What's the Recipe for Your Personality?

Secret Keepers

friends.

List your link if you are playing. And please,link back to me. It's what we call sharing the love... and should be no secret that love is all I need.

1. anno 2. Anneke 3. CableGirl

4. Flower Child 5. Jen of a2eatwrite 6. yummy

7. Res 8. gardenweasel

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You Send Me

I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden twinkle in my eye

I never had a chance to shine
Never a happy song to sing
But suddenly half the world is mine
What an amazing thing

'Cause I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden sun up in the sky

Okay, it's not a ticket exactly. It's a postcard.
And not a postcard exactly but a photo which really could be a postcard, mounted on a card.
And it's mine.
Jenn sent it.
I love it.

I love cards.

And mail.

How much do I love cards?
This year when the Christmas cards began rolling in from family and friends, including one from Allison and one from Leslie, I strung a line across my dining room wall, and hooked them on one by one with tiny clothespins. It gave me such a charge.
In spite of the fact that Christmas has been cleaned up for weeks now, I still have my cards prominently displayed. It will likely be March before I take them down.

That's how much.

I am going to take a stab at it here and guess that you are fond of cards too. Or at least of mail that isn't a bill, a reminder, or a sale flyer.

So, I've got an offer.

Here on my desk sits a stack of cards, of which I must admit I am quite proud. And I want to send one to you.

Yeah, you.

You might remember shades of this kind of offer before--last summer when I offered and sent postcards. That was seriously so much fun, I want to do it again.

You want to play? Here's the deal.

1. Comment on this post. It can be any length you choose--verbose or succinct.
2. Make it rhyme.
3. You heard me.
4. Rhyme.

Then leave me your email address (even if you think I have it) and I will contact you for your snail mail address. Then,

5. Wait.

You'll be singing soon.

'Cause I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden chance to make my way
And with a golden ticket, it's a golden day*

*Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newly