My grandmother Kaia has a green thumb. Every Spring, well into her 80's, she would spend May down on her hands and knees in the Carolina dirt planting and tending her gardens, which she would keep thriving all summer long, along with the red wooden window boxes, clipping begonias, lilies and daisies for bud vases all over the house. Often she would gesture to some thick bush or blooming plant in the yard and mention how she'd snapped a sprig off of so-and-so's such-and-such and stuck it in the dirt and Voila!
Naturally, I've grown up believing that I too have a green thumb, or would have a green thumb if I tried my hand at it. Just like Nan's, my soul and the earth are intricately attuned, and fresh sprouting leaves and buds are bound to nose up toward my fingertips from pots or plots or patches of garden.
At least this is what I thought until I started growing plants of my own. The first few died, but to be fair, they were potted, or indoors, or we were traveling -- there were reasons.
Then a few more died.
And a few more.
Until ALL the plants I'd ever had were gone, including the ones "easy enough to grow in the palm of your hand." Basil -- forget it, leaves full of holes. Rosemary? No, the stalks turned black. The rose, tiny invisible bugs. Rananculous, juicy bulbous caterpillars. So it seems that I have no green thumb, or at least that despite repeated resolutions, I forget to water the plants...
During the past year, I thought my friend Amy was going to restore and mentor my buried plant-nurturing skills (plants quietly flourish on her patio, even now in the wake of an 8-week -old). But alas, even this week, an orchid that supposedly only needs water once every few weeks, is wilting and dropping blooms inexplicably in my dining room.
But this week, I found hope. Sitting on the warm wood of the back deck facing a stack of forsaken pots of dirt (I threw the plants out months ago), I noticed that from the largest pot -- the one on the bottom nearly completely covered by the others -- a green, healthy tuft of chives was growing its head off, secretly flourishing in the privacy of its own existence and found sun...
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Showers
In the past few months, one of my favorite indulgences has been the haven of a long, hot shower: alone with my thoughts, quiet, hot water drumming on my head, temples and achy back, smells of soapy goodness in warm humid air, scrubbed pores and even - on the very long showering days - shaved legs to boot.
This is not Ben's favorite phase seeing as I luxuriate in there until I've eeked every last drop of hot water from the tap and am forced out against my will by the cold, and he gets up for a shower after me. (what can I say? the early bird...)
So today, after feeling grungy through breakfast and a meeting, I am ready for a shower and this is how it goes: I begin my state of warm cleansing bliss (with the addition of a small naked boy on the other side of the shower curtain who poses the threat of pee all over the floor at any moment and who is repeating "I come in, I come in mama" like a mantra) when a little glob of extra body shampoo inexplicably flies -- from where? the bottle? my hand? mid-air?-- into my eye where it burns as if some small fiery meteor has landed.
So there I am hopping from foot to foot in pain in the slippery shower, sure to be blind forever in one eye, saying things like "Aaahh!" "ACck!" "Ow!" "OWW!", which make Silas worry and switch mantras to an urgent "mama? mama? mama?" As I am trying to rinse my eye, I realize the shampoo I just put in my hair is now streaming with the flushing water into my eyes, and as I try to reassure naked exiled Silas that Mama is fine (a lie), I resort to sticking my open burning blind eye straight into the hot shower stream (thereby probably singing all eye nerve endings, but I am blind anyway, so does it matter?)---
10 mintues later: naked Silas has entered the shower, my burning eye of fire is still closed and sure to be blind and brilliant red, and I am still attempting to flush it with water, which seems to do nothing.
By 3 PM, after playgroup, park, OB and chipotle, I am back in the shower (Silas is napping) and miraculously can see out of both eyes. This time the hot water runs out and I feel a little more sane emerging than when I entered -- ahh, thank goodness for take 2.
This is not Ben's favorite phase seeing as I luxuriate in there until I've eeked every last drop of hot water from the tap and am forced out against my will by the cold, and he gets up for a shower after me. (what can I say? the early bird...)
So today, after feeling grungy through breakfast and a meeting, I am ready for a shower and this is how it goes: I begin my state of warm cleansing bliss (with the addition of a small naked boy on the other side of the shower curtain who poses the threat of pee all over the floor at any moment and who is repeating "I come in, I come in mama" like a mantra) when a little glob of extra body shampoo inexplicably flies -- from where? the bottle? my hand? mid-air?-- into my eye where it burns as if some small fiery meteor has landed.
So there I am hopping from foot to foot in pain in the slippery shower, sure to be blind forever in one eye, saying things like "Aaahh!" "ACck!" "Ow!" "OWW!", which make Silas worry and switch mantras to an urgent "mama? mama? mama?" As I am trying to rinse my eye, I realize the shampoo I just put in my hair is now streaming with the flushing water into my eyes, and as I try to reassure naked exiled Silas that Mama is fine (a lie), I resort to sticking my open burning blind eye straight into the hot shower stream (thereby probably singing all eye nerve endings, but I am blind anyway, so does it matter?)---
10 mintues later: naked Silas has entered the shower, my burning eye of fire is still closed and sure to be blind and brilliant red, and I am still attempting to flush it with water, which seems to do nothing.
By 3 PM, after playgroup, park, OB and chipotle, I am back in the shower (Silas is napping) and miraculously can see out of both eyes. This time the hot water runs out and I feel a little more sane emerging than when I entered -- ahh, thank goodness for take 2.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Approaching Changes (Eli's Wedding week)
When Ben and I were planning our wedding, I was 22, had only ever been to one wedding before (a cousin's when I was in jr. high), none of my friends was married, and I was very much feeling out who in the world I was and where my own edges were. What a different wedding it would be if we were to throw it now as adults with a grounded sense of who we are.
My brother Eli's wedding is this coming Saturday. Silas, Ben and I fly out on Thursday for a hoopla weekend. Eli (who is 27) seems to have a laser-sharp vision of what he wants: he has already emailed a schedule for the wedding week with nearly every hour accounted for for 4 days, including tunes and words to hymns that will be sung and a revised wedding week schedule! Though I will miss some of the really fun ideas (barn dance and roller skating party anyone??) it will be fun to see what they've created...
He asked me the other day if I remember the week leading up to our wedding, and as I reached into the recesses of my mind I realized no, not at all. Later that night I asked Ben the same thing and he didn't remember that week either -- we each just have a few details here and there (none of which overlap). Funny to live and hover in such an expectant state with so much emotion/anticipation/anxiety only to be unable to recall it later. I think I spend a lot of time like this -- deliberating and weighing decisions that will simply play out.
As I approach change once again, I want to remember to hold loosely, to allow for time to run its course, to watch and see... Wouldn't that be nice?
My brother Eli's wedding is this coming Saturday. Silas, Ben and I fly out on Thursday for a hoopla weekend. Eli (who is 27) seems to have a laser-sharp vision of what he wants: he has already emailed a schedule for the wedding week with nearly every hour accounted for for 4 days, including tunes and words to hymns that will be sung and a revised wedding week schedule! Though I will miss some of the really fun ideas (barn dance and roller skating party anyone??) it will be fun to see what they've created...
He asked me the other day if I remember the week leading up to our wedding, and as I reached into the recesses of my mind I realized no, not at all. Later that night I asked Ben the same thing and he didn't remember that week either -- we each just have a few details here and there (none of which overlap). Funny to live and hover in such an expectant state with so much emotion/anticipation/anxiety only to be unable to recall it later. I think I spend a lot of time like this -- deliberating and weighing decisions that will simply play out.
As I approach change once again, I want to remember to hold loosely, to allow for time to run its course, to watch and see... Wouldn't that be nice?
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Spring Joys
Bloming bay, air that smells like sage, head-high mustard erupting over the hills
this energy
Crafting with Silas (he's gluing pom-poms on goody/Easter bags)
His first real birthday party -- Train Park
a sweet Easter morning
my parents here for the weekend -- boat ride to Catalina
Easter and Silas celebration over Plum's Dutch Baby and a Lemon Meringue waffle...
one of my favorites...
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Spending
I've been challenged recently to think about whether my spending reflects my priorities and values. So, I'm making a list of what I think is worth splurging on/investing in/paying full price for. This is what I have so far:
- skin protection and moisturizer (and what really does this mean? Chanel sells a moisturizer for
$100 an oz. and Oil of Olay sells one for $5.49 for 3 oz -- how different are they?)
- teeth (I say this but consistently become furious when the dentist tells me I have to get a filling
that will cost $150)
- shoes
- sheets (I loooooove soft sheets)
- a comfortable mattress
- organic fruits, vegetables, and dairy,
and good food in general made of natural, real ingredients
- a good babysitter
- bras
- great jeans
- wellness (doctor, acupuncturist, massage, specialists, yoga classes, therapist, holistic medicine etc.)
What else would you include here?
What I am amazed to discover is that these things are NOT what I spend money on. In fact, I more often then not skimp in these categories. So, the question becomes, where IS my money, bit by bit, going?
- skin protection and moisturizer (and what really does this mean? Chanel sells a moisturizer for
$100 an oz. and Oil of Olay sells one for $5.49 for 3 oz -- how different are they?)
- teeth (I say this but consistently become furious when the dentist tells me I have to get a filling
that will cost $150)
- shoes
- sheets (I loooooove soft sheets)
- a comfortable mattress
- organic fruits, vegetables, and dairy,
and good food in general made of natural, real ingredients
- a good babysitter
- bras
- great jeans
- wellness (doctor, acupuncturist, massage, specialists, yoga classes, therapist, holistic medicine etc.)
What else would you include here?
What I am amazed to discover is that these things are NOT what I spend money on. In fact, I more often then not skimp in these categories. So, the question becomes, where IS my money, bit by bit, going?
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Family Codes
I often assume that people are like me. And most often, they really aren't. Even my very best friends. They don't keep in touch the way that I would. They don't get angry at what would enrage me. They pick fights where I wouldn't. They laugh when I don't. They parent their children differently. They spend their money when I would save it, save where I would spend it. We are different.
What I never fully appreciated is how true this is with families. I knew families were different, obviously, all you have to do is sit at someone else's dinner table. But I didn't really appreciate the power of the family code. We all have our own individual codes that wind us through life, but what's a little creepy about a family code is that it's shared by a whole group of people -- a code of conduct, of interaction, the "givens" in exchanges. What's also a bit creepy is that it's hard to decipher the elements and workings of the code even in one's OWN family. Such subtext...
Aspects of a Family Code: What is talk about, what is avoided. How direct or indirect conflicts are, anger is, general newsy communication is. What expectations are for "being connected" to one another. What expectations are for sharing information. (Expectations are a big part of the code). What hurts -- things that are done? that are undone? What is funny, to whom. Who sets the tone. What stays unspoken. What gets resolved. How do people reach resolution. Family humor. On and on.
Maybe it takes our whole lives to keep pulling apart the strings of our own family make-up.
Becoming part of another family and clashing and colliding with the hum of their code helps. Beginning one's own family, faltering, floundering and finding our own ways, helps too.
I'm reading Joyce Carol Oates' novel We Were the Mulvaneys about a family of 7. She talks a lot about the family code and the unraveling that happens when the code is broken...
I find myself wanting to make some judgment or conclusion about family codes -- that they are limiting, or redemptive, or need to be broken -- but really I think they just are. They are, for good or bad, how we've become family and learned to meet each other again and agian.
What I never fully appreciated is how true this is with families. I knew families were different, obviously, all you have to do is sit at someone else's dinner table. But I didn't really appreciate the power of the family code. We all have our own individual codes that wind us through life, but what's a little creepy about a family code is that it's shared by a whole group of people -- a code of conduct, of interaction, the "givens" in exchanges. What's also a bit creepy is that it's hard to decipher the elements and workings of the code even in one's OWN family. Such subtext...
Aspects of a Family Code: What is talk about, what is avoided. How direct or indirect conflicts are, anger is, general newsy communication is. What expectations are for "being connected" to one another. What expectations are for sharing information. (Expectations are a big part of the code). What hurts -- things that are done? that are undone? What is funny, to whom. Who sets the tone. What stays unspoken. What gets resolved. How do people reach resolution. Family humor. On and on.
Maybe it takes our whole lives to keep pulling apart the strings of our own family make-up.
Becoming part of another family and clashing and colliding with the hum of their code helps. Beginning one's own family, faltering, floundering and finding our own ways, helps too.
I'm reading Joyce Carol Oates' novel We Were the Mulvaneys about a family of 7. She talks a lot about the family code and the unraveling that happens when the code is broken...
I find myself wanting to make some judgment or conclusion about family codes -- that they are limiting, or redemptive, or need to be broken -- but really I think they just are. They are, for good or bad, how we've become family and learned to meet each other again and agian.
Courage... and Rejoicing!
I wrote this a couple months ago:
"I have friends who are in the midst of the adoption process. They are in the hardest part -- open-ended waiting.
To begin the process, along with filling out and completing a billion forms, having their house approved, and making endless decisions most potential parents never even consider, they had to submit a scrapbook about themselves for birth-mothers to peruse. Talk about naked vulnerability! Not only did they have to state clearly what they wanted -- your baby -- they also had to let someone else interpret (and potentially misunderstand) who they are. All the more scary today when a birth-mother can sit at a computer, google you, and paste together who you are from the scraps that pop up!
Trying to adopt= courage. To tell someone (or many people) that you want to adopt, raise, have their child and then to sit back to wait for someone to approve of you and want you back -- THAT is giving up control. Really giving it up. All games are gone, the channels of communication and requalifying are closed -- it's just you, standing on honesty, waiting.
Rare.
Brave.
Beautiful."
AND what makes this REALLY beautiful is that 3 weeks ago these friends got a call that a birth mother wanted them!! And last Monday, their daughter was BORN!! They are taking her home today. Bursting joy*
"I have friends who are in the midst of the adoption process. They are in the hardest part -- open-ended waiting.
To begin the process, along with filling out and completing a billion forms, having their house approved, and making endless decisions most potential parents never even consider, they had to submit a scrapbook about themselves for birth-mothers to peruse. Talk about naked vulnerability! Not only did they have to state clearly what they wanted -- your baby -- they also had to let someone else interpret (and potentially misunderstand) who they are. All the more scary today when a birth-mother can sit at a computer, google you, and paste together who you are from the scraps that pop up!
Trying to adopt= courage. To tell someone (or many people) that you want to adopt, raise, have their child and then to sit back to wait for someone to approve of you and want you back -- THAT is giving up control. Really giving it up. All games are gone, the channels of communication and requalifying are closed -- it's just you, standing on honesty, waiting.
Rare.
Brave.
Beautiful."
AND what makes this REALLY beautiful is that 3 weeks ago these friends got a call that a birth mother wanted them!! And last Monday, their daughter was BORN!! They are taking her home today. Bursting joy*
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