goods and heroes

city kids

After a long, happy nature-soaked weekend like the one we had up in Michigan over the 4th, I sometimes wonder if we should just do a complete life switcheroo and buy a little house in a tiny town, with a little creek in the back or a patch of beach nearby and no sidewalks and just become a country family.

And so it seems that the gods of urban dwelling were listening to my fanciful and somewhat naive (although I did spend much of my upbringing in small rural communities) thoughts and wanted to remind me of all the treasures that can be found right here in the Big City. Or the Second City.

Saturday we spent most of the day on the bikes and then ended the day at the beach. I think Saturday needs to become "Supper on the Beach Day" from now until September.

Sunday we were invited to a movie to help raise funds and awareness for a food pantry garden my friend Sarah is masterminding. It was still too sunny at 6 pm to watch the movie outside, so we moved it into the church gym, sat on the floor and munched on free popcorn while watching Wall-E.  Everybody loved it so much that there is now talk of doing this once a month. We will certainly be back for more if it happens again. (I have figured out that I like the down-home community action that often happens in smaller churches. I like the chili suppers and the White Elephants and the bake sales. Too bad I have no desire to go to church on Sunday.)

Monday morning we were in another church, this time in the basement. Ben and I have been taking a Musikgarten music and movement class for the past few weeks. Ben loves the instruments and when we get to "dance" with scarves and he also like banging the big drum that Miss Amy brings out. I am not so good at the signing the kids up for structured activities and classes (I doubt that my children will ever be "over-programmed") but I am so thrilled that Ben and I are doing it. It's totally our special thing. We ride the bike over, go down the stairs, see our class pals, make music and march around in circles and then come up, go right across the street and play in the park until we get hungry. Not a bad way to spend a Monday morning.

And then last night, we kept the music appreciation going until the sun went down. We headed to Millennium Park for a special tribute to Shel Silverstein, aptly called a "Shelebration."

Poems were read, songs were sung and we ended the performance sort of dancing and romping and tossing a ball around while the Unicorn Song was belted out. We stayed out much later than maybe we ought to have. But I think it was worth it. I am pretty sure my kids thought it was worth it.

So I think we're going to hold off on fleeing to the country. There's just too many fabulous and magical things to do right here.

pop pop!

Ted and I have been historically lousy with the trio of summertime holidays: Memorial Day, 4th of July and Labor Day weekend. We never seem to have anything planned (except for that one Labor Day weekend about 13 years ago when we had ourselves a little wedding) and then the day or the weekend sneaks up on us and then we find ourselves sort of clueless and always lacking in plans. But this year, at least for 4th of July, a plan fell into place in an easy but unexpected way.

For the last five years, our friend Jonny has hosted a group of friends at his parents' place in Michigan, which sits overlooking the lake. It has for the most part always taken place in August and always been a mellow, happy gathering. This year, however, since everyone's schedules were so tight, the only weekend we could all agree upon was the 4th. (Hey, maybe we aren't the only ones who don't make big plans for this particular weekend.)

I don't know how the planets were lined up or why things somehow flow the way they do, but man, I think we had as close to a perfect 4th of July weekend as you could ever hope for. Or shoot, maybe my standards are just wonky since we don't have much to go on. No, I think it's the former, I think we had a gathering that was full of simple, joyful pleasures.

We certainly ate well, including homemade doughnuts and lots of berries.

And hot dogs & watermelon, of course! (And Tri-tip and local corn and Semi-Freddo for the grown-ups.)

We went and picked cherries. Both of the sweet and tart variety . . . plus we got to ride on a tractor-pulled hay wagon to do so.

We swam in the lake.

Nick, Ellen and Sam played board games, including Sorry! Chess and Monopoly.

We collected wood and rocks and built a bonfire with a stone circle around it. A few of us dug in the sand for hours without any interruption.

And it being 4th of July we busted out the fireworks--including  poppers and sparklers.

This is Ben's first time ever holding a sparkler.

And then when the sun went down, the bonfire was lit and the "Big Boy" fireworks began. Sam was in pyrotechnic heaven.  He went from being the kid that has never really seen a proper 4th of July fireworks show of any sort, to being the kid helping to light the "Thunder Crackling Wave" fountain cone thingy. Jonny went all out at the massive Phantom Fireworks store and so we had quite the impressive show. You know, big and dramatic enough that you are hooting and hollering for the booms and pops and showers of light. Genuine oohs and ahhhhs.  I have to say,  watching fireworks over a very large and peaceful lake is probably one of the best ways you can do it. Watching these fireworks sitting on an old weathered log on the sand with a bonfire blazing on the left, a cold beer in one hand and a melty s'more in the other is my idea of a heavenly happy way to celebrate Independence Day.

And the next day we headed back down to the beach for more swimming, more simply amazing beach action. It's funny, but my kids didn't ask me once when we were at the beach, what they could do. They just did it. They did it on their own for hours.

More digging, more swimming, more rock collecting.

I think Ted and I now have a pretty clear idea of how great a 4th of July weekend can be. And it doesn't take a lot, Just some friends and good food and a lovely setting, decent weather, water, wood, rocks, fire. Throw in some fireworks and it all becomes super special. Just as it should be.

I am crossing my fingers that we find ourselves doing the same thing or something very similar next year.

My mom began home hospice care this past week for her emphysema. She requested that she have a chance to be with all of her children while she is still feeling pretty well and lucid. So Ben and I flew to Colorado last Wednesday--Ted and Sam had already booked a big trip to NYC for the same weekend. I suppose I could tell you about meeting with the amazing hospice nurse or the dizzying daily menu of meds: the Atavan, the Decadron, the Mucinexm or I could be catty about the ashtrays scattered about or the tanks of oxygen standing like soldiers or share the jokes about urns and ashes . . . but I think I want to keep this relatively focused since my emotions are swirling around faster than sparrows. So I am going to tell you about the little celebration that my mother hosted.

That's right, she picked Saturday afternoon in their back yard as the time and the place to gather with her children and my father.  We only knew she wanted to give us each a little something. So we gathered in a circle of sorts, some sipping beer, others sipping coffee. My mother sat there, sitting up straight -- I knew right away she had put a lot of thought into this and it was incredibly important that she got to do it on her own terms and that she wasn't rushed. We all sat there silent. A little nervous, a little unsure of what exactly to expect. And then my mother began to spreak, a little shakily, with tears in her eyes but she spoke with strength and confidence in her voice. In so many words she told us all that being a mother has been the most precious, sacred, meaningful part of her entire life. She then told each child what she respected and revered in them and then shared details of the unique connection she has to each of us. 

It was amazing. I am so proud of my mother and thrilled that she was able to share all this with us. And it's certainly not lost on me how insanely lucky that all of us had this glorious chance on a summer day to sit and listen and know what is in her heart. What an enormous blessing in the middle of something so sad and painful.

She loves giving gifts, my mom, and she puts a lot of thought and sometimes even humor into her gifting. And so on Saturday afternoon she gave each of us a few things that she wanted us to have.

Each of us received one of her fetish necklaces. She and my father have always loved New Mexico and each of these necklaces my father bought for her. She wanted to share the joy that my father gave her on their trips to Taos, Santa Fe, Farmington and beyond. Sylvia recevied one with lots of bears on it, my mother said, because she is so strong and wise.

She then gave us each a box.

This is the box she gave my brother, those are her father's dog tags from when he served in the South Pacific.

She gave this big jade heart to my sister Jennifer, which is so right because my sis has such an enormous heart. It had been my grandma Ruthie's.

And this is one of the things I received.

It was my Great-Grandmother Ida's. I never met her, I never even met her son, my Grandfather Richard. But now I have a connection to her. This thing I can hold in my hand, I can clutch it and I will always remember my mother and the day in the back yard where she shared so much beauty and strength and joy. And here's what's so magical about this. For Mother's Day I had hinted to Ted that I would really like an old-fashioned locket so that I could put a picture of each of my boys in it. He looked and looked and couldn't find one that was quite right. This is a locket. And there were no pictures in it. It is waiting for them to be filled.

That will happen soon enough. For now, my heart is full.

summer

It has started. In a sort of bull-in-the China-shop Chicago sort of way.

But at least we got to segue into this much anticipated (albeit confusing) season with my sister Sylvia and my nephew Clinton and and my niece Cassidy, who were all visiting from Colorado.  We hit the museums, we hit the beach and we ate a lot. Sylvia made that spring/summer magic happen (after our visit to the Green City Market on Saturday morning) with a hearty, tasty pasta of bacon, peas, mint, garlic and heavy cream. It was a glorious thing to come out of our little and hot, hot kitchen.

 

And then, the next morning, Sylvia and Ben, being the earliest risers, made a batch of homemade biscuits from scratch. Syl really honored Ben's participation and he made his own little "Ben biscuits."

 

We topped these with fresh strawberries and whipped cream the first evening. On the second we slathered them with butter and strawberry jam. And tonight I ate one with nothing but a bit of butter. And then I had another.

Summer, I am so thankful you decided to show up. And my sister and her kids and the peas and bacon and mint and strawberries didn't hurt either. So here I go, I am blowing a kiss to you, summer. Over the extra biscuits.

almost

Strawberries and peas, strawberries and peas . . . that means it is June and it is almost summer. And both are sweeter and nicer and truer than any candy you could ever pop in your mouth.

And summer, I have been waiting ever so patiently for you, I am going to just kiss you when you get here. Or maybe I'll just give a generous smooch to the nice fella who likes to eat strawberries and peas as much as I do and I'll blow summer a kiss. And then pop another juicy red strawberry into my mouth.

family fun -- sort of

Hi all: This is my super souped up crazier than usual crazy work/lifestyle week. Today, the Family Fun Tent in Millennium Park opened for the fun-seeking public and I am in charge of the plant-based activities inside of it. Last year the first few days were super slow, I am talking glacial . . . so this year we backed off on our plant orders and guess what? Oh yes, of course. Today it was a happy frenetic mob scene and we ripped through 500 perennial plugs in less than 4 hours. (We were kind of hoping that they would last a few days.)

So this afternoon in a moment of very quiet but somewhat controlled desperation, I found myself at my local garden center. (And by that I mean Gethsemane, not some Big Box place.) And I bought 12 flats of Marigolds. Because that is what you do when you are about to run out of plants and you know that people will be showing up the next day anticipating some free plant action in a big tent that is supposed to be all about fun.

And then you become the odd lady who packs her beater Volvo to the gills with Marigolds. And thinks nothing of it. Sort of.

And then you wedge your kid (Sam) amongst the Marigolds and just go with it. Sort of.

And just to add to the goofiness of all this, tomorrow morning Sam and I will be in the Family Fun Tent at 5 am (which means we have to arrive @ 4:30 am and you can do the backwards planning on when we have to wake up and dress) so that Roz from Channel 7 can do her "live" traffic report from the tent. So if you are up at 5 am, look for Sam. I hope to be hiding behind the Marigolds. Sort of.

little guy, big day

Things are definitely ramping up around here and I must say, I have been running from place to place in a frenzied, frazzled fashion that I don't like much. But yesterday for a few hours all the noise and bustle and deadlines and projects got happily plopped on a crowded back burner for a most wonderful reason: Sam graduated from Kindergarten.

There were actually two ceremonies, one in the morning in the Ginkgo classroom, which he has been in for three years (with Amy, an outstanding, magical teacher) and then one after lunch for his Extended Day classroom, which was the afternoon class consisting of only 5-6 year-olds or "third-years" as Sam called them.

So of course, that meant I cried twice.

 

And so, we now have the summer to play and explore and travel and be outside and try new things. Fall and first grade are a fuzzy silhouette on the horizon.

nature's playground

I know I have been doing a lot of nature-related posts of late. Part of it is a pure no-brainer, seeing how we endured an impressively long winter. Part of it is because I think we are all just naturally curious and kinetic and prone to happiness when we are out of doors and so that's what's really going on in our world. But I think we also owe a sincere nod of thanks to this book.

First of all, you need to know that there are hundreds of so-called "Nature Crafts" books out there that are just crap. I have been so dismayed over the years, buying this one that sounded so right and another that sounded compelling. They'd arrive and I'd be completely, utterly underwhelmed.  So I stopped buying them, ages ago. And so when I read a positive review of Nature's Playground I was like, yeah right. But for some reason, I decided to check it out from the library.

Not to gush, but it is just so, so good. In many ways it is a riff on Andy Goldsworthy for kids. It's all about working with natural materials in an elemental but honest way that children (and adults) will actually be drawn in by. For example, I was flipping through it, digging a few projects when Sam asked what I was reading. I showed him the book and he sort of shrugged. The next day (this was in early February, very much still winter here) I found him on the little blue couch curled up with, not a comic book or Harry Potter but this book.

Since then he has curled up with it to explore things we can make and do (and I have since bought a used copy on Amazon). And because of it we have made bow and arrows (with help from friends) and Fairy Houses/Gnome Huts, moss people and more. 

It has helped me with work a bit too. Just this past week I used the book as inspiration for a workshop I was co-presenting at with friends from Garfield Park Conservatory Alliance and North Park Village Nature Center. The workshop was all about "Loose Parts" and unstructured play and encouraging children (and their parents) to play with sticks, seeds, rocks, water and other open-ended natural materials. One of things I showed the participants in my little station was how easy it is to collect a few materials (even in an urban environment) and make what the book calls a "magic carpet."  You can make one practically anywhere, on any surface and in every season. All you need is items from nature and a flat space to display and play with them. It's as simple as that.

There are still many projects in the book I am hoping to try. Weaving with green grasses and freezing plants in ice and making mobiles out of them come to mind. And I bet Sam will curl up with the book again very soon and help me decide what the next project ought to be. It might be the writing poems in mud with a very big stick or it might be something that will take me completely by surprise. Who knows? I certainly don't and that's exactly what I like about it all.The book and of course, just nature in general!

playing outside

It was back up to Michigan for the Memorial Day weekend.

And so this meant  . . . discovering a turtle on the hill

 . . . walking in the woods (and on fallen trees)

and walking in the creek and getting good and muddy.

It also meant a quick trip to the beach to collect and sort rocks

and make a gnome beach house

and just dig, dig, dig.

happy house

It is officially garage sale season here in Chicago. I couldn't go to the one over at Sarah's house on Saturday because I had to work, but there was another community-wide sale over in the Ravenswood Manor neighborhood on Sunday. I'd never been to this one, but my friend Molly went last year and raved about its offerings and scored us the five buck bench that now sits comfortably in front of our condo. We had an end of school picnic Sunday morning but when that was over, Sam and I headed to the garage sale action to see if there was anything left. I must say, the goods were pretty picked over, with mostly just baby stuff, books and an odd assortment of hardware remaining. But Sam scored some cheap and free action figures (mostly of the Happy Meal variety) and ran into a good buddy and I scored a nice stack of old children's books.

I was about to call it an afternoon, when I decided to check out one more house. You know that instinct--just one more house. Sometimes you score and sometimes it's a dud. Score! Sitting on a table of mostly baby toys was this gem.

This was my Fisher Price house when I was a little girl. This is the house I would play with for hours, on my belly with the funny little wooden people. This was the one. I picked it up very quickly and I asked the lady what she wanted for it and she said, "Oh, I suppose--two dollars." I was so thrilled I had that jittery giddy thing going on in my chest. The little house was rather dirty and kind of beat up on one edge and even had a few spider webs inside but it didn't matter. I had (finally) found my old Fisher Price house. And I wasn't even looking for it. But there it was. I quickly paid for it and walked quickly back to where Sam was playing with his friend. "Who's that for, Mom?" Sam asked. "Ben, I guess," is what I replied. (I can tell you now in all honesty that I wasn't exactly thinking of any of my children when I purchased it.) "Oh, well, can I play with it too sometime?" Sam asked. "Of course," I said, "Maybe I'll play with it too." And Sam gave me a look that meant I was being exceptionally silly or just plain weird.

This is the part I remember the most -- that upper room, the kids' room with the orange and brown rug. Check it out. That's where I spent most of my time having unstructured, open make-believe time with the little wooden Fisher Price people. Hours, I am telling you. (I actually think this might have positively contributed to me really loving and needing time to myself to this day--if that isn't too much of a stretch.)  Oh and my mother was completely anti-Barbie and not for some feminist ideas but rather, she thought they were poorly made and couldn't fathom chasing after the "horrid little plastic shoes" and having to purchase all those "crappy little outfits." (I am paraphrasing my mother here but I have heard this so many times over the years, I think I have nailed it pretty true to her words.) So being a Fisher Price kid was sort of a given. We also had the barn (you know, the one that moo'd when you opened the doors) and we had the parking garage with an elevator. The memory of that is kind of fuzzy but I know we had it.

Anyhow, I brought it home and cleaned it up and put it on the table in the sun room to see how Ben would respond to it.

The past two mornings Ben has awoken extra early to bring his guys and the babies and the cars to be a part of the house. He seems most fond of the garage, which has a blue plastic door that goes up and down. 

And he is also rather smitten with the front door (as am I all over again) which has the most honest little chiming "ding!" if you flick the teeny plastic lever. 

It went off several times this morning at 6:02 am. It was a happy way to start a day. Such a happy house. Such a good toy. Such great memories. This is why going to garage sales is a worthy effort. Especially when you score something simple but so good. Oh and I haven't played with it yet, but I will.

a (tardy) cartouche

Well, I am only 4 days late (ahem) in following up to my last post. I believe I told you all I would post photos of our Egyptian "souvenirs" as part of our presentation. We went round and round on what exactly these should and could and ought to be. Ultimately Sam articulated that he wanted something cool but he did not want any sort of food or snack "thing" since "every family" had already done that and the kids got "too crazy" with the snacking/sampling. So I asked, what about little pots of honey lip balm? (The Egyptians used honey for all sorts of things including makeup and medicine) Nope, said Sam. Then I remembered that when Sam and his friend Ben and I had gone to the Field Museum this past winter, they both really dug the "Hieroglyph Name Machine" (for lack of a better descriptor) down in the basement where we fed a dollar into the machine and then typed in each boy's name, and it printed up and shot out a "cartouche" with each of their names in hieroglyphs.

How about that, I asked Sam. "Yes, Mom, that is cool! They'll like that!"  But I really didn't want to go to the Field Museum and pay a buck a piece for each kid. It's a very good thing that we had ordered this set of "Fun with Hieroglyphs" rubber stamps a few months back. I got it used, on Amazon and the stamps were in excellent condition and cost me a third of the current price.

Using the little guidebook that was included, I made a blank template of a cartouche (a cartouche was a nameplate for royalty) and then copied that onto brown-ish paper and then rubber stamped each child's name in hieroglyphs and wrote their name at the bottom.

I thought they looked nice but just handing a kid a flimsy piece of paper seemed a little underwhelming to me. So I decided to roll it up into a teeny tiny scroll and tie it off with a bit of wool orange string.

It really didn't take that long. They were so tiny! There is something about tiny things. I mean, I know there's the obviousness of them being "precious" but in this case, I think they helped the kids to sort of pause. And slow down. And since I (lazily!) tied these off with knots, they had to sort of slowly slide the string off anf be just a little bit careful.

I must say, Ted made it all even more fabulous by calling each child's name and having them come up to receive their cartouche, as if receiving a very important document (like a diploma). This was completely unscripted and off the cuff and shows how well Ted can read a very young crowd.

And I just want you all to know, that in the midst of this crafty project, I actually started to learn the foundation of hieroglyphs. I am not kidding. I now know, without a cheat sheet, that a vulture is for the "eh" or "ah" sound and a reed is for the "el" or "reh" sound. "Ssss" is a folded cloth and "nnn" is water. So call me if you need a cartouche or just brushing up on your ancient Egyptian text. Just kidding, of course, but I am happy to whip up a cartouche for you or a couple dozen of your friends. Especially if they are six years old or younger . . . or check out this website that will create a virtual (and free) cartouche within seconds. Have fun!

Egypt

Yesterday was a big deal day around here. Ted, Sam and I gave a presentation to Sam's Extended Day class. At the beginning of the school year each family was assigned a country and each month one or two families have gone to the Magnolia classroom and taught the group about that particular place. We were assigned Egypt. I have to say at first (if I am going to be completely honest) I was a tad underwhelmed with Egypt as our country because . . .  well, I was kind of hoping for a place that had food that I could connect with. You know, take the family to a couple of restaurants, make snacks from that culture, that sort thing. Obviously they eat wonderful, varied foodstuffs in Egypt, but it doesn't necessarily have its own culinary scene here. At least, not in Chicago. No one has ever asked me if I'd like to go out for Egyptian food. But then I was swiftly (and happily) reminded that this was Sam's project first and then ours as a family.  

Of course, Sam was super crazy excited, I mean duh, Mom, everybody knows Egypt is all about mummies and tombs and pharaohs and treasure. I then remembered how insanely excited I was when I was a kid and we took a bus all the way to San Francisco to see the King Tut exhibit--all the gold, the drama, the larger than life-ness of it all. I can still see that golden mask of King Tut's. It seems like we stood in front of it for ages. So I quickly got on board and enthusiastic about the project. And then I remembered I'd gotten Sam a book on pharaohs and mummies at the South Shore branch discarded book sale last summer (for 50 cents!) and so we read it. And Sam read it and re-read it. He was hooked.

The book provided a nice, solid foundation for what life was like in ancient Egypt. But what really helped make it come alive for us was visiting the Oriental Institute in Hyde Park. What a magical, exceptional place. If you ever come to Chicago, you must pay it a visit. It isn't enormous but what they do have is exquisitely displayed with thorough interpretive signage. It isn't overwhelming but rather it is inspiring. You know that you will be able to calmly walk all of the galleries and take it all in. And there are so many beautiful things to see! We went a total of three times, all in the spirit of research.  It just so happens that Ted's cousin Carole is in charge of the Education Department for the Oriental Institute. Ted arranged a date with her and one day he and Sam went down and they got to walk the galleries with Carole. Talk about cool! Sam loved it. (I'm just sorry I didn't get to go as well.)

Sam even got to go upstairs to her office and see that all sorts of people work for the Institute doing a wide variety of jobs, from education to research. I think he liked seeing "behind-the-scenes" as much as seeing all the amazing artifacts. Sure, we could have looked everything up on-line and called it a day, but this was such a great process.

As we got closer to P-Day (presentation day) Sam decided he would focus on pharaohs, mummies and tombs and I since I was really drawn to the hieroglyphs and how the Egyptians wrote on papyrus (which is where the word paper comes from) stone, wood and clay, I would talk about that.

\

Ted decided to cover modern Egyptian cities and talk about geography and act as our MC of sorts.

Oh, we also got an amazing resource from the Oriental Institute, a "Mini Museum" in a box. It has a dozen replicas of artifacts like a scarab amulet, a statue of the goddess Bastet, a broad collar necklace and more. It also has laminated cards with details on each object and these were perfect cheat sheets in case we forgot anything.

Just before the presentation, Sam was pulled from class so that I could apply some black eyeliner to his eyes--he wanted to show how both men and women wore makeup in ancient Egypt. I was nervous, my hand was shaky trying to apply it to his eyelids and he was doing his jittery hand thing he does when he's really excited or nervous (and I think in this case he was both at the very same time).

I don't have any photos (too excited and nervous myself) but just let me say that I am floating around on pure mama pride today. I mean, Sam rocked. He was telling the kids things about Egypt I didn't even know. He didn't have any sort of flash card or notes or anything. He would simply hold up an object and just tell them everything he knew about it. I think his favorite artifact (surprisingly to me) was the alabaster bowl which he used to segue, quite comfortably, into the fact that Canopic Jars were used to hold the internal organs of the deceased into the afterlife. But . . . the brains were thrown in the garbage because they thought that all the thinking was done in the heart. (I saw the eyes on a couple of 6 year-old girls get very, very big with that one.) And he wanted to just keep going. Ted and I had to pretty much cut him off, telling him gently that our presentation was over. I think he would have kept talking until the sun went down. You know, like, hey, order a pizza and take your shoes off, friends. I still have so much more to say. Maybe we have an anthropologist or a politician here. Or maybe just an inquisitive boy who had access to really inspiring materials about Egypt.

I will post tomorrow about the little Egyptian "souvenirs" we gave each of Sam's classmates. For now. my boys are waiting for me to join them on the couch to watch Peter Pan and chomp on popcorn. My kind of a Friday night movie night with the boys.

21 x 2 is me today

These are my feet. They turned 42 today, as did the rest of me.

As part of this birthday action, I have have been completely surrounded by grace and kindness and humor and pluck and style and most importantly, love. And I am just talking in the past 36 hours! Oh, the parcels and emails, voice mails and phone calls and cards and crazy-thoughtful presents and pizza with girlfriends and cupcakes with the boys. I have been showered with genuine niceness. And this is why birthdays are so great. I mean, I was born (thank you very much, Mom) and for a day (or two) people are exceptionally nice to me. I love it. I love it every year. I have loved it since I can remember. I always will. When me and my feet are 84 I bet we will be blathering on about how amazing birthdays are. Because they are. And they always will be.

things I am digging

in no particular order . . .

The Happiness Project all of it but especially the You Tube video of people responding to Julie Andrews ("Doe, a Deer!) in a train station in Antwerp. Watch the whole thing. You must. And of course you can sing along!

The White Hot Truth   I was super dubious at first, I mean, pretty/aggro motivational action ("Because Self-Realization Rocks!") but if you look around, some of this is, well, rocking. I especially love the How to Be Depressed post. I mean, after all that happiness and dancing, you need to not forget about how being depressed can throttle you or someone you love. I like how she handles the topic with honesty and humor.

These porcelain objects over at Soda. Love the little charms and cups that can hold juice or crayons or flowers.

The kids (especially your own) say the darndest things cards over at Angry Chicken. "It's all good except the poo-poo." Uh-huh.

Seeing this movie the other night. Gary is a good guy (and an old boyfriend) so glad that he is doing exactly what he is wanting to be doing.

MSN Money (!!!) covering urban foraging across the country and featuring Nance.

first::lost

looming, part two

I posted back in February about a group of us making a loom out of buckthorn. Well, we made the loom and just as we were tying the last few knots, the rain started coming down in buckets and big flashes of lightening were tearing through the sky.  You might already know this about me, but I am really terrific at starting things and then . . . and then never finishing them. It's a lousy "skill" to possess and it always manages to have guilt skulking around in the back of my psyche. (Un-sent pitch letters, countless book ideas, the tart that has never been made, the teddy bear that is still just pieces of flat fabric, I could go on but let's not get too much on a bummer here.) I really thought that maybe the loom was going to fall into that pile and I would never be able to return to the nature center without feeling, well, like I'd dropped the ball on yet another creative project. But good old Sean followed through on the follow up and even though it took almost two months to get back to it, get back to it we did.

The loom was there, a bit loose in the soil so we pounded back into place, tightened things up here and there. And then we were ready to put the loom to the test and see about making a mat of natural materials.

First we went and cut some sort of eulalia (a tall, blonde-colored grass), Milkweed and Rattlesnake Master from the area in from of the nature center. It was nice to be clipping back the plants and catching up and laughing in a relaxed but purposeful kind of way.  (And I love any project that involves making piles. I think that's the control/compulsive part of me. I even make neat little piles of green beans when I am trimming them. I do. Cringe.)

Then we hauled our clippings around to the loom and began putting the plant material in.

At first we weren't moving the um, is it called a shuttle? left and right, we were just placing the plants over and under the string. It still worked but it wasn't as tight. So we problem solved collectively, with humor and a sort of unspoken acceptance that it didn't need to be this perfect, precious thing we were making. And then when we did also move left and right, it worked better. Made a tighter, neater row.

Alternating the light plants and the dark plants made it visually a little more interesting. I could definitely see adding even more types of plants and even fabric or old ribbon.

And in about 45 minutes, while we talked about food and the summer and work and those sorts of things, we were done. We had made a mat. Sean tied it off and modeled our creation.

We did it! Together. It wasn't perfect and it was pretty big. We waffled on whether to trim the shaggy edges to make it look neater but we decided to just leave as it is. Immediately we started brainstorming on what you could use this sort of thing for--a roof for a temporary shelter or lean-to, as walls for an outdoor room or changing area, as a screen or a fence of sorts, or in our case, simply as a wall-hanging.  It was a very satisfying group process. Even though we were chatting and laughing, we did have to communicate what we were doing and why, we had to share the different tasks and like I said, we had to problem solve. Plus, we took plant material that would have been but back and mulched (or in some instances burned) and we made something out of it.

I will definitely be doing a version of this in the Lurie next March when all the plants get cut back. Even if we just do it as a staff feel-good project, but I think it would be great to do as a family workshop. And maybe in late summer we can do one up in Michigan with all the plants that grow crazy big in the meadow . . .  right over by the gnome hut/fairy house we made back in March. Hmmm, making things together with natural materials seems to hold some sort of simple magic for me and my family and many of my friends. Wonder what the next project will be and who it will be with? I suppose part of the magic is not really knowing. 

neighbors, worms and Rilke

It's late but I just want to tell you how much I am loving and appreciating our neighbors who live two buildings down. They have two boys and they have a lovely side yard and well, we don't--I mean, we don't have the lovely side yard . . . and in this way they have saved us many a time when we were not quite sure what to do with ourselves. Even in the dead of winter when we really were bouncing off the walls they invited us to slide down their super kid-friendly sled run and make an igloo and just be in the snow. Friday afternoon, when it was so insanely Spring-like and we needed to be outside, they opened up their yard to all of us to just be there and hang out.

After a bit of time, Quin and Sam were literally laying on their bellies, collecting worms from the compost bin.  And putting worms on their arms, watching them crawl . . . Sam asking, "Can we take some home, Mom? Can we? They are so cool!"

And Ben was jumping up and down, just tickled and sort of alarmed in a happy way.

It reminded me of this excerpt from a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke.

"If you will cling to nature, to the simple in nature, to the little things that hardly anyone sees, and that can so unexpectedly become big and beyond measuring; if you have this love of inconsiderable things and seek quite simply, as one who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor: then everything will become easier, more coherent and somehow more conciliatory for you, not in your intellect, perhaps, which lags marveling behind, but in your inmost consciousness, waking and cognizance."

Yes, yes and yes.

eggs

I am thrilled to report that we had a gorgeous Easter weekend. It was kind of quiet and relatively simple but happily shared with friends up in Michigan. And yes, that meant more rambles in the woods, lazing on the grass, a happy clan of children just tumbling in with each other, good conversation . . . and it also meant eggs.

A big mess of eggs for boiling. I am in love with the retro graphics of this packaging. I bought the eggs up at the Hardings grocery store in Coloma and I am such a dork, I saved the box and brought it home.

And then the eggs needed to be dyed, which is such a satisfying communal creative thing to do. Next year we definitely need to buy twice as many eggs, seeing how the adults in our group wanted to dye just as many (um, if not more) as the kids. We were a very hodge-podge group doing the egg dyeing (and later filling the plastic eggs with candy) and let's just say we have bastardized the holiday of Easter in the very best way to be inclusive to anyone that likes kids, art, spring, ritual without religious overtones, the element of surprise and chocolate. Oh yes, and eggs.

And so, very very early Easter morning, the "Easter Bunny" (who just days prior was leading our family in a Seinfeld-esque Passover Seder) got up at dawn and hid eggs all around Grandma's garden. And several hours later, the sun blazing but still with a good chill in the air (hats were required and noses were running just a wee bit) the thrill of the hunt began. Sam and Jarek were all about quantity, Estelle was all about patience and exploring, Ben found five and then went to play with a truck down by the barn and Ruby was wrapped in a sling staying cozy, slightly oblivious to the hunt.

We finished off the egg-centric weekend with an early supper.  Sarah decorated the table with pussy willows, daffodils and wisteria from down by the creek as well as moss and bark and of course, our hard boiled eggs. (This nature-based magic made with complete ease and in about the time it takes me to chop an onion.) The table, as you can imagine, was gorgeous, the salmon and the waxed beans with fennel and bacon were spot on. But just so you know that things aren't all pussy willows and moss and fennel--we also had Ben frisbeeing his plate on the floor the minute it was served to him ("hot dog!" is what I think he screamed in protest over the pork roast and green and yellow beans on his wee plate). 

And at some point Sam and Sophie were both crying and tug-o-warring over a diminutive wooden chair they both insisted they just had to sit on. (I think this was just as the food was about to be served.) And there were several kiddie cups spilled across the floor that was already littered with the foil wrappings of chocolate eggs and egg shells.

But, even with that, all the soft yet warm colors in front of us and the brilliant light coming in the window made all of us around the table agree that Spring is the most encouraging season. And the eggs--dyeing them, hiding them, finding them (or ahem, eating the candy in them) are such a magical part of the celebration.

I hope yours was warm and real and full of goodness. And hopefully an egg, of the hard-boiled or the chocolate variety, was part of the mix too.

Happy Spring!

letting magic happen

I was going to do a snappy little list of all the things that were so wonderful about our trip to Florida. But as I keep thinking about all of our different activities and adventures, I think what I really want to tell you about is Sam.

Or actually, to give props where props are due, I want to tell you of the magical effect a boy named Moses and a girl named Haddasah and their papa Peter and mom Judith all had on Sam while we were in Florida. I am still in awe of how in a very short period of time they gave Sam so much. And I don't mean things. 

In the span of six days, that went by way too quickly, they (collectively and individually) managed to get Sam to do things he has either been very hesitant to do or just simply not shown interest in. Or just had never been introduced to.  Last year I begged him to go to the beach with me and he begged right back to not make him go. "I'm sorry Mom but I'm just not that into it." Saturday we were coming up the driveway on our way to meet Moses and Hadassah and hit the pool when we saw them walking along the road. They announced they were instead headed to the beach. Sam's face fell. "No thanks," he murmured, obviously disappointed. Peter leaned into the car window and said, "Hey, Sam, have you ever caught a Ghost Crab? We're going to looking for some, I bet we get some too, want to help?" And instantly Sam lit up and nodded and just about leapt out the window. Did they find a Ghost Crab? Did they ever! Did they stay on at the beach digging like fools and later even hunting for and finding clams? You bet.  Had the love affair with the beach finally begun? Yesssssss. And did I, the woman who loves the beach like nobody's business, have anything to do with it? No. And that was fine by me. My kid was on Cloud Nine and jumping up and down telling me how to catch clams.

The next day Moses taught Sam how to cast and reel in a fish off the teeny pier behind Grandma's house. Then he introduced him to the joys (and odd humor) of Calvin and Hobbes. How cool is that? Calvin and Hobbes!

And then, on our last day we all headed back to the beach to end the trip on a high beach note. But the beach is an unpredictable place and when we arrived the on-shore winds were crazy. Sand was blasting and swirling. Hadassah quickly took Sam down to the surf and asked him if he wanted to go in. I was told later (by Hadassah) that he said, "No thanks, I'm really into digging in the sand for crabs and clams, but I'm not so into the water." (!!!) In so many words Hadassah, who is eight years-old, said, "Oh Sam, c'mon!" and led him into the water. I think you should know that the surf was pounding. I mean, Sam had a right to be rather timid. But somehow she led him slowly through the beach break and then he was waist high in the water and laughing and screaming and running and . . . he was hooked. Just as this was happening little Ben on the beach was getting completely sand-blasted in his eyes and ears and howling and writhing and mostly being miserable. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't fun for him and frankly, neither for me, trying to comfort the squirming, screaming, kicking being. I looked over to the water, saw Sam and Hadassah playing in the foamy surf and saw that Ted was at the water's edge watching both of them. I looked over my shoulder at Sam in the water as Ben thrashed in my arms. I smiled for Sam and walked away, deciding to take Ben in the stroller and leave the beach and head home. Did I have anything to do with Sam's first real body surfing experience? No. Was I thrilled for him? Yes. I don't have a picture of it. But as super cheesy as it sounds, I have the picture in my head.  I always will. I just know it.

And if that wasn't enough, at some point in the visit Moses and Hadassah taught Sam how to play the card game War. I had forgotten what a great card game it is. And you know what? You can play War anywhere. You can play War on the plane ride from Tampa to Chicago on the funny little fold down tray of your cramped seat. I know this for a fact because Sam and Ted did just that on our way home and I want you all to know that we were surrounded by dozens of 6-10 year-old boys on the plane and every single one of them was plugged into a DS or DVD or some sort of electronic device. Sam was plugged into a deck of cards Grandpa Bob gave him and was in heaven. 

So that's it. I still am amazed and insanely thankful for the wonder of Moses and Hadassah. And I had a big gift myself. I learned something. About mothering. That sometimes you need to let someone else make the magic happen. I realized (finally!) on this trip that it doesn't always have to be about me and Sam. Sometimes it's actually better to give him some space or watch him over my shoulder as I walk away. And Sam and I will still get to be thrilled. Because the magic still happens. I guess that's a part of growing up. I mean that for both of us.

floridian flora

We're back from our happy, sunny adventure in Long Boat Key. House is a mess, suitcases erupting clothes, dishes rioting in the sink, magazines and mail scattered hither and thither but it doesn't matter since we are still riding high on all the balmy vacation action. More on that later. For now, a few shots of the local flora that caught my fancy.

One of my favorite outings was visiting the Selby Gardens. Heaven. Freaky orchids and much more. Oh and going out on a kayak with just Ted first thing in the morning wasn't too shabby either. New goal: more adventures with plants and water and my husband--three things that I know make me a calmer, nicer person.