Monday Blessings

It is most difficult to leave her when she is awake. I stammer goodbye at least three times while she is hoisted up over Grandma's shoulder, her evolving blue eyes blinking at me with fresh grown lashes.  She doesn't know that I am leaving for work nor does she cognitively comprehend my attempts at reassurance that I love her dearly. According to the developmental books, she only has a 10 second memory at this stage. It's possible that I am forgotten once I am gone and she has batted her lashes another eight times. Unlike me who day dreams of our reunion.

Maybe it is too soon to miss my previous life- the one where I luxuriously scheduled a hair cut with minimal time restrictions. 3:30 on a Wednesday? I'll be there! It is true that my super fun solo outings now involve the fruit market where I bask in taking a few moments to marvel at the varieties of berries.  These are good times. Recently I was driving down Wilson Avenue and I had a strong desire to round up Ben, Pat, Kelly, and Emily and head to Bangers and Lace. The way the wind shield was dotted with a misty rain and the early darkness of a November evening made me nostalgic for friends, a corn dog, soft pretzel dipped in chocolate stout mustard, and an Allagash White beer in Wicker Park. That and I missed Emily's birthday outing this year which was sad. But mostly I love just being with my husband and daughter. Other than the two scenarios described above, I cannot think of another moment where I wanted it to just be just me and Ben. Or just me. I'm sure this will change when the little one starts walking and has unreasonable demands but for now I cannot think of many other places I would rather be than cuddled on the couch, watching an episode of What Not to Wear or reading Click Clack Moo. 

(Now the always-in-need-of-re-stocking do-I-have-enough-wipes? diaper bag... THAT is something I would be okay never having to tote again.)

Pacific Northwest... Into the Wilderness

A few days in the gritty city and then moving north.

Above: A mountain on the way to Whistler, Canada.

Standing among the same trees that hundreds of Olympians performed before.

Ben and Josh taking a few shots at the Olympic Biathlon 

Awww....

Winners!

Moving back to the far northwest side of Washington...

Into the rain forest of Olympic National State Park

And then over to the Pacific Ocean: Ruby Beach

Ben stopping to add a rock statue... 10 rocks high. 

Fourth of July: the best holiday of the year

Rachel- my loverly sister-in-law- filled this red container up with

rosemary infused margaritas. Of course it's all about 

presentation too... don't forget the table cloth! 

(Grill master Ben in the background)

Mr. Teo on the paddle board. So skilled. So tan. So balanced!

Still smiling. 

Drinks on our blanket.

Miss Maye after our kayaking expedition. 

She got the free ride between her mama and Daniella. 

One of the hottest fourth of July's we've had in a while but we celebrated with absolute deliciousness and plenty of Lake Michigan water. This was the first time I ever found Lake Michigan not cold enough! My sister in law reserved some paddle boards and kayaks as well as prepared a yummy spread of herb and garlic infused burgers, herbed potato salad, and corn/ avocado salad followed by flour less chocolate cake. Despite the 100+ degree temperatures I could live this day over and over. We settled under a tree and when we became hot, we darted into the water for a few minutes dodging flying volleyballs and children in life vests.

After dinner we headed over to the fireworks at the boat yard (where a variety of people from our church and Ben's parents are usually camped out right on the shore), Teo (10), Daniella (13), and I weaved through the enormous crowds of families and fiestas (literally). 

Daniella to Teo: "I spend a lot of time at camp with little kids. I mean, you are a little kid but you are a cool little kid, you know? You're not a little little kid."

Teo: "Yeah. And you are an older kid but you aren't a crazy older kid. You are cool too." 

Can we please have more of these conversations in adulthood please?

Summer Solstice

Longest day of the year. My absolute favorite day. (Next to fourth of July)
I can recount so many of these evenings when the sun lingers just above the horizon at 8:30... 8:45... Nine. It is always with great joy that I realize I have just celebrated summer solstice in a hotel room in Nice, France. On the sled hill with Melissa (and Gigi). Driving hand in hand up and over hills on the north side of town. Sipping a bubble tea in a Thai restaurant after an afternoon of lazy reading by the beach with Elizabeth. And then this year.

The intensity of the sun setting behind us sets our skin aglow against the dark blue wavering Lake Michigan. I watch my niece's long, thin nine-year-old legs- almost as milky white as mine- jumping over the shallow waves chasing after her mother. Rachel (my sister-in-law) is trotting as we all do when we run in water- with our elbows bent, hands near our shoulders, and our wrists waving. Broad smiles. Ruthless giggles. Maye with bright eyes and long wet lashes peering out over freckles. Rachel tries to escape the cool body of her daughter who purposely tries to press against Rachel's bare back to send shivers down her arms. It works. Half hugs- half torturous coolness. And then she is dunked. Out of nowhere Teo leaps out from another rolling wave. Emerges like a merman or a starfish or a whale. A gift from the lake. There is a splash fest and then it is quiet. We realize the sun is still so very high and it is 7:30. It is my absolute favorite day. (Next to fourth of July)

Happy

"You literally cannot get out of your parking space unless I move my car," she told me. "No, literally, I am two inches from your bumper. You are going nowhere if I don't move."

I don't want you to move, Angela. 

More reasons to visit Minneapolis in fall 2012. 

This picture makes me happy though.

Fighting the Fight with Ponytails

She visits me in old Rancid concert t-shirts and perfect arching ponytails. Her cane has been decorated by her two young children who encourage her daily to "be different" and "be colorful" despite the new illness. And so we sit across from each other- I am encouraging arm strengthening and appropriate rest breaks between sets. "Can you write the exercises down for me?" she asks. I am embarrassed that I forgot to make a photocopy of the proper exercises as I had promised her last time we met. "I can draw you some super awesome stick figures doing the exercises," I say.

I pull out a lavender sheet of paper and I draw a stick figure holding a Theraband. The stick figure isn't quite a stick- she has a neck and lovely biceps that grow into hands that look like boxing gloves. I put the figure in a Rancid shirt and a massive side ponytail held in place by a gigantic scrunchy. "It's you," I tell her after drawing the first exercise and adding sweeping bangs to the forehead. "And you're smiling." I place a huge grin on the figure's face.

The next figure is bigger... I didn't mean to make her bigger. The pony tail is larger and the boxing gloves more refined. The next figure is even bigger. "She looks like she is actually moving! This has such great perspective!" my client exclaims and I admit, I've drawn a pretty dynamic ponytail. We are laughing uncontrollably as the next figure is even bigger. Scrunchies are everywhere and sweeping bangs could take over the world at this point. "I want to be this stick figure's friend!" my client says through snorts of laughter. "She's you!" I continue to convince her. "And she's still smiling!"

I finish my kitschy home exercise program and make her promise not to show anyone who wants to take me seriously. Ever. We are wiping tears from our eyes and I am so happy in these moments of "being helpful". I add an Everlast stamp to the boxing glove that is supposed to be a hand. "Keep on fighting the fight," I tell my clients after an hour's hard work. And you would not believe the champions I am honored to coach day in and day out. 

"The people laugh and love and dream, they fight, they hate to die" -The Mountain Bed, Woodie Guthrie

(Still one of my all time favorite songs ever)