154-160 Transition

Sunday

Singing. Conversations with friends. Homemade chicken-cheese quesadillas for lunch. A peace and calm after a collaborative project is wrapped up and ready to go. Pleasure in what we've made.

Monday

On Makes You Mom launch day, I'm grateful:

For the workshops and retreats where I've met so many wonderful people and made fruitful connections and collected dear friends.

For Tweetspeak Poetry and its community, especially The Writing Life workshop by Ann Kroeker and Charity Singleton Craig that I took in 2013 (it's being offered again! Take it, writer people).

For the insight and long-range vision of, and an invitation from, L.L. Barkat.

For each woman whose words appear now, or will appear in the coming weeks and months, at Makes You Mom.

For the posting and tweeting and sharing and such to carry their words to new readers, and to make this an astonishingly wonderful launch day.

For the readers, and the hope and humor and goodness they will find there.

For people in my life who are underwhelmed, and keep me grounded, and give me the good gift of reminding me that nobody's world, not even mine, revolves around me.

Tuesday

Successfully resisting the first King Cake at the office. (There'll be others.)
A sunset walk at the Big Dam Bridge.
Skilled listeners who hear the silent words beneath the spoken or written words and lovingly, creatively answer a question you didn't consciously ask.
Seeing blog posts inspired by Makes You Mom.
Successfully washing two loads of laundry without having accidentally left a Kleenex in a pocket.

Wednesday

Chatting with a receptionist about her proofreading superpowers.
Chatting in the waiting room with someone I hadn't seen in years.
Discussing Mark Twain with the doctor.
Discussing grandchildren with the nurse.
Being done in time to go back to work.

Thursday

The Super Bowl-themed feast at work (chili cheese dogs, vegan soup—something for everyone).
Gentle reminders.
Learning new technology.
Something sweet that someone did for me and for someone else she doesn't even know.
To-do lists.

Friday

Lovely, lively, laughing conversations.
A long walk in the sun.
Getting to meet two big dogs (and a person) I'd until today only read about.
Ending the day with cleared kitchen counters and a rack of clean dishes.
Happy that I chose what I chose (which applies to several things today).

Saturday

Good coffee, and the "Rise now!" invitation of its smell.
A friendly conversation with a visitor who knocks at my door every few Saturdays.
Remembering to do something today that would have cost more tomorrow.
A complimentary note of thanks from a stranger.
Mushrooms sauteed in butter.
A really good book.

A note to subscribers: I'm going to be continuing this blog, but in a different form (and I'm not sure yet what that form will settle into) at my new multi-author website, Makesyoumom.com. I invite you to visit over there and, if you like, to subscribe. Have I ever told you I'm grateful that you're reading? 

147-153 A busy week

Monday

I don't know. I didn't write it down. Let's see. Based on the evidence ... a glorious sunrise, a conversation about mom superpowers, the gift of a photo from another glorius sunrise in Tennessee, knowing a friend is writing and teaching again.

Tuesday

Yesterday at work on a table where we leave stuff for people to take, a whole branch of laurel. Bay leaves for the picking! So much greener and fresher than the ones from the store!

And those cookies someone made because Monday, with chocolate chips and orange something and I don't know what all — such rich flavors, no two bites alike.

The what, now, fifth day in a row of sun and unseasonable warmth?

That joke at work that built and built, and the obvious puns were made, and then not so obvious ones, and then when it seemed to die down a bit someone else would throw in a new punchline, and I passed through snorting to the point where I start to double over in silent mirth and want to pound the desk, and I wasn't the only one. Man, it feels good to laugh like that.

A new reading chair, and cheerful help loading it from the little boy who's too big to be rocked in it any more.

What a good week so far.


Wednesday

Walking in the sunlight at lunchtime long enough to feel its warmth.

Being asked for my suggestions at work.

Assembling a gift.

Hearing hurt and speaking love.

Realizing the training wheels are off and I'm rolling on my own.


Thursday

Joys today, small, great, and in between:

Seeing the word "skedaddle" in a headline (about some guys in hoodies who started to rob Arkansas' most iconic jewelry store and then skedaddled when the owner fetched a gun and shot not at them, but near them, to get their attention).

Trying and liking the cookie dip made with chocolate and and a secret* ingredient.

Being complimented, in person, by phone and in writing.

Complimenting others, in person, by phone, and in writing.

The satisfied, cozy feeling of coming home with groceries and planning to hunker down for a few days.

The marvel of the tiny hard balls of loose tea transformed into kelpish leaves.

Reading in my stylish new rocking chair.

Getting a writing assignment because of this -- these nightly lists.

The way connections from way back and far away can come forth and bind us together over time.

And always, always, things that made me laugh.



Friday

Much work, good news, cinnamon toast, friendly perspective, marionberry tea.



Saturday

Sleeping in a little, and the interesting dreams that seems to yield.

A lively twitter chat on collaborative blogging.

Granola with green apple bits.

Wise counsel.

Working hard on, and getting really excited about, a new project for and about moms.  

147. Tender

Seeing the crescent moon before sunrise.

A quiet little "Good morning" text.

A tender reply to a secret shared.

One brownie split seven ways.

Talking to my girl and hearing her boy in the background.

146

A tasty dinner and relaxed evening with an old friend.
Coloring and reading books with a lively boy.
My brother's enthusiasm over the superior cooking abilities of his new grill.
Deep mutual trust.
The first public glimpse of makesyoumom.com.
A really cool thing I can't talk about yet.

That's what made me happy today.

Are you happy? Do you know it?

145. Glad

Glad for sun today, and deep quiet; the last of the fruitcake for breakfast; many things crossed off the to-do list; great pictures of a baby boy; and people saying yes.

144. Writing group

I loved having the writing group over tonight.

I love how the cat always greets people with her presence and her voice, how they make themselves at home in my home, how attentively we read and how openly and fiercely we discuss each other's writing.

I love how much we laugh when we're together, how friendly we became from the beginning, how much we trust each other, how we encourage and support and nudge each other.


I loved taking the Tweetspeak Poetry workshop ‪On Being A Writer‬, which gave participants a gentle push toward finding embodied writing community where we live, and I love that it is being offered again this year, and a new round of writers will receive its gifts and bear its fruits.

I love the way the place feels after people have been over — rooms clean and uncluttered, sure, but also they way their essence lingers, and I can bask in it while I put away the leftover snacks and wash up our dishes.

I love each of these women. And I love it that every single one of them said yes (in an "Of course. Why would you even ask?" way) when I offered them some of a friend's mother's homemade fruitcake.

143. Appreciate

Today I appreciated ... 

The honesty of someone who started to sugar-coat it. 

The courtesy of a coworker to admit an oops in person. 

The patience of the people behind me when I held up the line. 

The cooperation of many drivers when a busy intersection's traffic light went on four-way red blink at rush hour and we all took turns nicely. 

The generosity and playfulness (and many other virtues) of L.L. Barkat in our work together this month.

142. Poetry at Work Day

Featuring the Toaster Oven Series

Today I'm glad ...

For poet Tania Runyan's reassurance that those waxed, sprayed clementines (I read the small print after I opened the bag at home) probably aren't going to kill me as long as I don't eat the peel.

To learn that forsythia is edible, and tastes (so I'm told) both bitter-spicy and honey-sweet.

For an expert opinion that something I was a little (well, maybe more than a little) worried about is probably nothing to worry about.

To spot poetry in places one might not think — the obits, the bridge column, the toaster oven (and for the pair who made it a series by writing their own toaster oven haiku) — and to see how others played with Tweetspeak Poetry's annual ‪Poetry at Work Day‬.

For independent confirmation (that is, people I can run something by and they will objectively tell me yes or no) that something I thought was weird is, in fact, weird.

And for many other things besides.

How about you?

The Toaster Oven Series

Sandwich is still cold

What's wrong with toaster oven?

Oops, pushed wrong button
                    —me

bread is smoking, black 

what's wrong with the toaster? oops 

poetry distracts.
                    —Simply Darlene

What's that putrid smell? 

Toaster oven wins again. 

Pizza never learns.
                    —Donna Z. Falcone

Whether you possess

a toaster oven or not

won't you join the fun? 

Have an orange. I've got plenty. Chocolate, too.

137-141 Catchup, with fruitcake, cheesesteak and mincemeat

137. Warm coats and scarves and mittens, sunlight, catching up with a friend, people who made me laugh, breakfast for dinner, good hard work.

138. The satisfaction of finishing a project. The feeling-known-ness of seeing the same doctor for years. The kindness of the man this morning who was actually next when the receptionist called me, and who insisted I go ahead, which made reminded me to do the same this afternoon when someone unwittingly stepped ahead of me. Solving a problem. Cheesesteak. The arrival in the mail of a homemade fruitcake, consumption of the first slice, and fourth annual live-tweeting of the whole thing — one of my favorite new Christmas traditions. 

139. Five loads of laundry washed and dried and folded. The way the cat curls up in front of the little space heater as if it's a hearth. A cleaned-out fridge. The arrival in the mail of a small soft hand. Baking tiny mincemeat turnovers. Getting lost in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader just like I did the first time. 

140. Waking to find the earth is not covered in icy rain! Walking into the wrong class and being glad I did. Seeing and hugging a gal who wouldn't have been there if the weather'd been better. Chipotle. An unnecessary but thoughtful apology from someone who is apparently as analytical as I am. 

141. An invitation to edit. And invitation to write. An invitation to — oh, too intriguingly much to tell. Baked potato in a stoneware bowl. A phone call from one of my elders. Joy. 

136. Talk, teasing, tea

Happy news about a little boy.
A heart-to-heart talk, ear to ear through the telephone.
Affectionate teasing, which is a form of saying, "I know you well."
Dropping off a check and being invited in for tea, with fetching hospitality from the dog and cameo appearances by the cats.
Hot, plain, simple cheese pizza.
Anticipating a fruitcake.

135. Wrapped in the love of others

From neck to toe, I'm wrapped in the love of others. 

Scarf from my great-aunt sometime in the last millennium. 

Sweater from Dad and Mom2 some years ago. 

Coat from Dad the last Christmas he was alive. 

Hand-me-down jeans from a friend. 

Socks from Mom2 this Christmas. 

Besides my underwear and shoes, everything I'm wearing today is a gift.

Whose love are you wrapped in today?

134

Good questions, and the thinkers who ask them.

Local pure raw honey, and the beekeepers who collect and bottle it. 

Traveling art exhibits, and the institutions that book and display them.

Laughter, and the people who provoke it. 

Clean, dryer-warmed laundry.

133. feasts

I was late to church today because, frankly, it was one of those mornings I was ambivalent about going. Today's five gratefuls:

1. Some friends sit three or four rows from the back, and there was space beside them, so I could slink in and sit beside someone who was glad to see me and not judgmental about my tardiness.

2. It's perpetually odd to me that so few people make eye contact during communion, which is in concept, if not in practice, a shared meal. But the neighbor who passed me the trays today looked me in the eye and smiled every time. Thank you, you.

3. Sitting in the back put me in view of the sign language interpreter and the two or three people she signs for, and let me tell you, there is so much beauty in what happens in that microchurch. First of all, the hands. Some of the signs so visually depict the words they represent; it enhances the meaning for me to see it as well as say it. Secondly, because they face each other, they are doing what we are encouraged to do but feel sheepish and self-conscious about on those rare occasions when the song leader asks us to: "addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs." It kind of makes me want to dredge up the tiny bit I remember from that ASL class 24 years ago so I can go sit with them once in a while and sing with both hands and voice and look at someone who can unabashedly look back.

4. We're working through the book of Luke, and today's lesson was from that story Jesus tells in chapter 14 about the banquet where, when it's time, the folks who've already been invited all have excuses for why they can't come. Heck with them, the host says; go fetch the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind (and, I reckon, the deaf). Go to the highways and hedges. Let's fill this house.
I hope that if I were in that situation, and the summons came, I would drop what I was doing and go to the feast. Wouldn't care about checking my land or test-driving my new oxen. Wouldn't worry about what I was wearing. Would, if I was with someone, ask if they could come too.

5. Sometimes the thing that gets me there, frankly, is knowing that my own microchurch, my lunch bunch, will share a table afterwards. And look at each other. And share things with each other. And be family for each other. I know some people sit in a congregation week after week, even year after year, and never find a connection like that. I hope that if I noticed someone like that in our midst, I'd try to be a friend.

I'm glad I attended. Always am. Next week's goal: Be on time. Don't miss a note.

What about you?

132. Hike

Today I'm glad for an exhilarating hike, a snack of oranges and chocolate, companionable books, endorphins, and ibuprofen. 

And I'm glad to know my friend Barbara Mahany, who was born on this date. You can read more about her (and my hike, and new year's intentions, and getting lost), here. 

131. Hearing a voice for the first time

A good conversation, and hearing a voice for the first time.

A new year's walk in the woods.

Waterproof boots.

Finding a forgotten gift card (Panera).

Waitresses and counter staff who affirm customers' food choices (turkey chili).

Curling up on the couch with tea, cat and good book.

How was your day? What made you glad, made you smile, gave you hope?

130. Hello, 2015

Dreaming a recurring dream, but with a different, more satisfactory ending.

Getting up with the alarm for quiet reading and writing time.

Great food, tasty conversation, folks I hadn't seen in a while, hugs, and an incredibly well behaved collie at an annual New Year's brunch.

Commencing decluttering and, in a single bag, finding missing good socks, my missing watch, a missing Christmas gift, my car phone charger, a missing compact umbrella, art supplies and $2.59.

Cashews in the morning and pistachios in the evening.

A phone call from a traveling friend.

Looking forward.

Happy New Year! How did you start 2015?

129. Goodbye, 2014

It's been a good year.

I'm grateful to have met a bunch of people face to face this year, people I had already formed friendships with or whose writing I had edited or whom I had some online connection with or whose writing I had read and admired or who have the same publisher.

Grateful, too, to have met people I didn't know existed until we met the old-fashioned way, in real life.

Grateful to have seen and spent time with folks I love and like and seldom know when I'll get to see again, family and friends both.

Some highlights of the year:
• The Festival of Faith and Writing, especially playing Scottish music with Tania Runyan.
• Working through Kevin Young's Book of Hours with Megan D. Willome.
• Hutchmoot.
• Making progress in my writing career with the help of coach Ann Kroeker.
• Taking a road trip with one Judy.
• Growing a garden with another Judy.
• And last but far, far from least: becoming a grandmother and meeting a baby boy.

There were rough parts of the year, too, and I can even be grateful for some of them, for what they taught me, for the people who made them smoother. But they don't get any air time here.

Thanks for being a part of my life by reading this year, and for the privilege, pleasure, fun and joy of being part of yours. To 2015! Happy new year!

What in 2014 were you grateful for?

128

Things that are true of and part of every day, therefore easy to take for granted:

Divisions of time apparent in the natural world. Sunrise and sunset and the arc of a day. The year's cycle of seasons.

Bodies and voices that can make music; memory's capacity to carry a tune; the comforts of humming.

Laughter. Humor. The affection and acceptance wrapped inside some teasing.

Limitations. (I made a choice last night that I had kind of wanted to make but might not have if some easier, less bold choices hadn't been removed by the time I decided.)

Vision and hearing.

127 Table for five, please

In 2008 I went to my first Glen Workshop, sponsored by Image Journal. One of my classmates wrote about her years of wrestling with infertility. Painful. Anguished. Reading it, you could feel the weight of it.

This afternoon, she and her husband stopped nearby for the night on their long post-holiday drive home. Was I free for dinner? Yes! I joined them ... and their 4-and-three-quarters-year-old (whom I'd met before and whose first steps I witnessed) and their 2 1/2-year-old. Adorable. Energetic. Watching them, you could feel the joy of it.

So, so good to remember that longing for family and to see it come true and to be at the table with them all. I can't stop grinning.

Thank you, Image, and the Glen, for the many fruits of those weeks. A week can change a life, for sure. Deep, true friendships have been among its greatest blessings. And thanks, friend, for yet another memorable time at the table together.

Other gratefuls today:
Ann Kroeker's new podcast series; listening to Week 4 helped me get out of bed on this chilly morning and get myself to the desk.
A reminder that a bill is due.
Mobility.
Bananas.

What did you enjoy about your day?

123-126 Home for Christmas

123 The first day of Christmas.
Sleeping in like a grownup, then being the first one awake like the youngest in the house, which I was.
Drinking coffee in our pajamas.
Arrival of my brother's family, which made me the third oldest and fifth youngest in the house instead of first youngest.
Presents!
Delicious dinner. Especially the noodles and the succotash.
Cleaning up the kitchen together.
Many rounds of Mexican Train.
Pie. (Apple or pumpkin? Both, please.)
Not being as sad this year as we were last year.

124 The second day of Christmas.
Waking to sunlight after a gray day.
Lunch at Coleman's (whitefish sandwich!) with my bro and nephews. 

Getting to wash a bunch of dishes by hand. 

Playing music with the folks from Nashville. 

Singing around the table with our bellies full of pie.

125 The third day of Christmas.
A warm conversation outside in the cool morning. 

Lots of hugs. 

Going through pictures with my oldest relative. 

Generosity I don't deserve. 

The ease and joys of a 30-year friendship.

126 The fourth day of Christmas. 

My flights up were on USAir, and I'm grateful that my flight out was on American, so I wasn't one of the 300+ people in the USAir line at the airport this morning.

Also: uneventful travel; a chat with the nice young Marine beside me on the flight to Little Rock; a fairly easy work shift (with a collegial debate over a semicolon); and coming home to a Christmas card with the annual me-and-my-dog photo, which made me laugh and laugh and laugh out loud.

How was your holiday?