Little words of wisdom...

In celebration of Annie's birthday month-- from the archives.

June 24, 1997

Nick and Annie were having a terrible argument concerning how they were going to play a rain forest game next to the climbing tree. Neither one of them would give in. So I entered the battle. Nick was SO mad he stammered with a red face, "Mommy, I feel like calling Annie stupid!!!" Then he quickly added. "NO, I feel like calling Annie butthead!!!" I said, "Well if you do, you will be in alot of trouble." That was when Annie responded in a quiet voice with, "I feel like saying to Nicky, 'I love you.' " I said, "Really" She nodded. I added, "Then tell him that." She turned to him with eyes alive, and said, "I love you, Nicky." He made such a face and then said, "Come on, let's play." And all was well... until the next time.

time FLIES...

A Tribute to a Home

August 10, 1997

The parting hour draws near. Another home awaits! And it comes complete with the life and character that one might expect from a forty-five year old honey-brick house. It is a charming place to be.

But soon we shall remove ourselves from the only home this little family has ever known. Eleven years in-residence. How will the disconnection affect us? Only a bit more time will tell. Oh- the children, Mike, and Molly-the-dog will be fine. The four cannot wait to browse the park of their own backyard. But I think that I shall kiss each and every wall of this home goodbye. Yes, I think I shall. Just as I did when I was seven and we were leaving New York for the wilds of the west.

Change is always a disconnection of sorts. Letting go is paramount. But I do not change or let go without a reason for the bittersweet. This home was the framework of our family. It was palette and canvas for my creativity. Many, many things have happened here.

Come the eve of August 17 the house will be free of all our treasures. It will be a shell of memories. I will tour the property one last time. Will I be able to hear the echoes of Nicholas's cries for an eleven o'clock, one o'clock, three o'clock (and on and on) feeding? Will I be able to hear a one-year-old Annie's Italian-like calls for her "mama mia?" They were babies for only an instant.

My hands will graze the handmade oak mantle that Mike constructed. I will remember how Nicky insisted on putting a candle in the fireplace so that Santa Claus would not be frightened. I, too, will wish for a candle this night. Will the memories be as keen without the cues??

Some of you may say, "Doesn't this woman have a camera, for cryin' out loud?" And I will say to them, "I have one, thank you very much." This is different.

Then I will kiss each and every wall of our home goodbye... I will walk through the entry one last time... and out the door. I have another canvas to tend to! And there are more memories to be made.

This disconnection is an opportunity to change... to let go. A beautiful door has closed... but another has opened!

Italian Peasant Woman

Isn't her pretty? I found her years ago-- hand casted and painted by a sculptor who lives in the Artic half of the year and Boulder the other. The lemons are mine. Depending on her mood, her basket is sometimes filled with nuts. Sometimes fancy soaps. Sometimes walnuts... or olives. She's fairly moody. (You can see it in her eyes... hmmmm?)

(there...just for you, Theeeeee.)

Pushing my princess...

Today, I'm pushing my princess books a little bit. I'll be signing books at The Bookery Nook. this Saturday Oct 10 at 10:30. The little ones have been encouraged to wear their princess outfits and hiking boots. And the owner has informed me that those that purchase a princess book get a princess wand! I know I'm gonna want one.

Princess in the news: Here's to "real girl power" and a neighborhood discussion in The Denver Post about Pinkalicious and Do Princesses Wear Hiking Boots? And a video of a Bloomington librarian reading... well, you'll just have to see for yourself. :O)

And here's another one, if you're finding yourself with a little extra time on your hands.

singing for his surgery...

Recently, my dad sang for his surgery, well, actually he played the harmonica for his surgery. Let me explain....

In pain from two molars broken to below his puffy gums... my 86-year-old dad was informed by the VA, that patients are not covered for dental and oral surgery, unless completely disabled.

So, my dad did what any self-respecting former Navy radioman from the Bronx would do... He whipped out his harmonica and began playing "Clementine" for the VA physician assistant-- right there, in her office. Granted, he dramatically slowed through the part "...you are LOST and gone forever, dreadful sorry, Clementine..." because remember, he had just LOST the top part of his molars. "Dreadful sorry..." :(

But here's the best part... The physician assistant alighted, visibly touched, "Ted. No one has EVER played harmonica for me before."

She promptly made a few calls, pulled a few strings, and the result?... he is scheduled for oral surgery at the VA this Wednesday.

"Ohhhh-MY-darlin'...!."

DEEP shade

A July morning, a mile high, I'm mincing in and out of cottonwood shadows, alongside a gurgling Highline Canal. The sun plays a sneaky game of tag with me... "You're IT. " Except I am trying my darndest to hide behind a clump of inky green shade. "NOT IT!!"

I'm rather fond of shade, you see. It's July, remember? Yet still, there's something to be said for a little dab of both: sun-soaked sidewalks slow dancing with a handsome wood.

Not at all the same... without the other!

Everything is possible...

Sheesh... I guess with a little practice you CAN do just about anything.

Let's see... I can tie a knot in my hair using one hand. Ummmm... and I can sing like Tiny Tim.

So there.... :O)

Dove's Beauty Campaign continues to educate....

Dove has done it again with their campaign for real beauty.  

Those ready for a little grit, click on  Onslaught   

But also watch "Amy" while your there...  I love it.

Hairy Potter!

                                       lulu...

Personals:   loves doing impersonations of superheroes; favorite treat involves stray popcorn;   will work for belly rubs; gold medal in sprinting around the block;  misses Nicky-- but tries to keep a stiff upper lip (hmmm do dogs even HAVE lips?);   is able to leap tall beds with a single bound;  goes along for the ride;  longs for social visits from auntie thea, grandma tena, grandpa tedy, ben, max, david, jason, wyatt:  triple jointed;  chases bunnies; owns a polo shirt;  performs sing-alongs with the recorder or harmonica... 

comfy cozy...

Princess-Boots-cvr
Originally uploaded by carmelacoyle

Annie (age 15) created a cubby in her closet last night... a sleep cubby with puffy purple pillows (okay, YOU try saying that five times fast.)   She constructed her comfy cozy hideaway for snoozing and reading. Her boyfriend commented with sarcasm, "And you like being eight again??"

I doth proTEST!  This is the same sweet boy who gave her a build-a-bear for Valentine's Day.  Hmmm... and the very same boy who was quick to inquire, when he arrived to take her out for the afternoon, "Can I see the cubby?" Hah.  Jealous...

This has reminded me of why I wrote Do Princesses Wear Hiking Boots? eleven years ago, when Annie was four.  It was my nonconformist tribute to beauty,  peer pressure,  scholastic achievement and athletic performance.    And although the story now is read to little girls across America and beyond,  the original impulse will always belong to Annie-- take the trail less traveled;  snort when you laugh-- if you must;  wear mismatched socks by all means; and build cozy cubbies when you damn well please.   

No... Annie 's not off trying to save the planet, yet, (all in good time...) or inventing a panacea for our economic ills or reveling in political activism... but she amazes me everyday with her level of heart.   

It is all too easy to measure teens by how "adult" they behave, and how pleasingly mature their extracurricular activities.  Looky here, my teen has started her own business!   Honors, AP, IB, 4.5 gpa...  It's tempting to buy into it, and admire it all-- I do, but I don't.   (Thank you, Waldorf Education. ) I can't help but wonder if our children's hearts and souls are ready for that level of achievement?   Too much too soon.   (Eventually they might need to escape to their very own little cubby too.)  

  

Truth is,  I am an advocate for letting teens be teens, letting them experience a portion of life that goes by fleetingly fast, and  harbors lessons galore- albeit painful and pleasant.    I say...  let it rip.    As long as parents are willing to set boundaries, and put in the time it takes to parent a full-fledged teen.  Get ready,  it may not be the prettiest time of their lives.  They might be selfish, narcissistic, and roll their eyes a lot.   But they may also warm your day beyond calculation with a smile or a hilarious story.   

Disclosure:  I am the parent of another teen-- the high achiever type,   HA, is my acronym of choice.   Regardless, he remains a teen.  He's not yet setting the world on fire with plans to reconstruct the Amazon Rainforest. (But if anyone could... )   Instead he is learning and observing how the world ticks.   In all his intelligent glory, he  intentionally leaves a trail of (carbonless) footprints behind him in the dirt.  Just so we can catch up with him, eventually.  "Wait up, Nick!" 

Annie is readying herself for whatever her worldly contributions will be simply by being who she is...  a teenager.  I take comfort in knowing she will make that quintessential discovery and it will be rich and rare.  Okay, so she's taking a few moments to acquiesce, reconstruct something from her childhood, akin to the fort.   I feel blessed to have teens who are teens, by their own standards,  even if there are a couple pairs of peat brown eyes rolling all over the house.   

There. I'm done.   I need a nap--  And I know of just the right place...  

Comfy cozy cubby (five times fast!)

My husband sent this youtube of Australian Nick Vujicic over 10 days ago and I never seemed to have time to watch it.  

Today, I watched it...    An Amazing Man

Here he is.... my guy all grown up- well mostly, sort of.   Making his way, forging a path through college.  

  

              Nick 2009 2nd semester Freshman,  CU Boulder Colorado

Reading two at a time...

In addition to The Time Traveler's Wife,  I'm ALSO reading The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck.   (A brazen tribute to imagery great and small.)  I can almost taste the dry gusty swirls of dust and lonely debris from that 1930's drought.  Quick!  Get me a lemonade.   

Somehow the Grapes of Wrath avoided me in high school.   But, fast forward a few decades and my daughter Annie, the sophomore,  is reading it for her Waldorf Block class.  What an unavoidable time for me to read it too!   Don't you think?  I plan to pace my reading with her assignments, so we'll always be reading the exact same chapter.  Wooo-hooo...

"I'm reading it so we can have our  own little book club.  Just you and meeeee," I say, ending with a big toothy grin.  (Mine, not her's.)

As her eyes stammer and revolve from left to right like wind shield wipers, she replies with a waver, "Oh boy..."   

She's excited about it too.  I can tell.... 

  

  

Looking for a respite?

I am inspired by the quotes (and delicious photos) in this short slide montage... (click on the link)

Finding Joy... 

PATHETIC!!

That's what I am.  

Presently, I'm reading The Time Traveler's Wife-- and yes, it has become all too apparent to me how trippy "time" is.   One moment it's here... and the next moment... it's here.   Only different. Trimmed down and lean with loneliness.  Or fat from a diet of constant companionship.   

At least that's the way it is for Henry, the librarian.  Hopping to and fro, tip-toeing hither and yon, through out-of-order moments in space/time.  Naked. (Apparently you can't time travel with stuff, including clothes.)  How does he have time to restock books?  Zip zapping around like that...   

As for me... I'm flummoxed to a good ol' fashion linear time line,  kerplunked down on the grid, wearing jeans, a t-shirt and sweater, oh and occasional eye make-up.    The only excuse I have is "time" is in constant motion ticking and tocking until there just doesn't seem to be a second left in the day to write.   See?  That's how it  happens.  When I checked my blog site entries this morning,  I had to squint, blink a dozen times, and rub my eyes.  August??  You've got to be kidding!!  

As I continue this week to read about the time leaping naked husband,  I'm hoping to take this whole "moment to moment" continuum thing more lyrically-- toss some new words around the time line-- and supplant a lazy five minutes with a sentence or two.   Are you with me on this??

Music to discover countries by.

Take a listen.  Click  "Lalo's Norwegian Rhapsody"   wait a second for it to load.  Be patient... it's worth it!  

Turn up the volume and prepare to start discovering.

Nice, huh.

Oooo-lah-lahhhhh.

...

Venus de... Shelly

Shelly, dear... did you know that the sea would one day be worn about your neck and head?  By way of four clam shells... pushed ashore by a wanton wave?  Did you??  I know I hadn't thought of it.   Just think of the route those ocean artifacts have taken,  through surf and sand, desert and mountain-- through  (who knows how many)  landlocked states, all for the sake of becoming a necklace and a hat!  (Looking a little like a saucy French maid, are we?) 

Hmmmmm.  I suppose one never knows what travels lie ahead...

(Note:  I  can't resist plopping something onto the head of the statue in my studio...  Hee.)  

here's looking at you...

I am looking at you now.  In the form of a photograph taken when you were four-years-old.  Long golden hair with eyes peeping out to a wondrous world beyond a knitted brim. Hmmmm.  A glint of perfect health radiates across your dimpled smile ("say cheeeeese!") into the camera lens.  You are gorgeous, OH-FOUR-YEAR-OLD!

Fast forward... you are gorgeous still, my lovely-at-fifteen.  But did you know that you look even more gorgeous without make-up?  (I saw you roll your mascaraed eyes.  Now, as I usually say, roll them back the other way so you won't get out of balance...) It's appealing to wear make-up... to try on new pastels, to see all the drama that can be had when you draw a black line around your upper and lower inner lids.  Or shimmy on some aqua eye shadow with sparkles.  Or guava lip color.  It's OH-SO-FUN!! And will remain forever so, as long as this "made-up" beauty doesn't become a crutch, or a habit.  Ask yourself, "Can I leave the house without make-up and still feel like myself? Because make-up doesn't define who you really are.  It never will.  For you see... it can't.  No amount of make-up can enhance your internal features.  Your kindness;  your intelligence;  your smile;  your forgiving nature;  your love; your honesty;  your wonderment- "how deep do you think that water is?";   your talents; your laughter colors your cheeks with a make-up not yet known to cosmetic counters. 

The world is full of beautiful and hot girls (which is another topic altogether.)   They are EVERYWHERE.   Around every corner.  At every school across this ominous planet.  On every magazine page,  in every movie and mall.  Everywhere.  But what is not everywhere, is the girl that is both beautiful on the outside... and on the inside.  The girl that isn't afraid to be herself. Yah-yah-yah, I know... old stuff. Regardless.  It is true. Most boys know this too, even though they like to look at all the beautiful and hot girls.   And they like to talk about them... and often times pursue them... but rarely do they end up loving them forever.   Sadly, rarely do these girls end up loving themselves forever either. 

You've heard it all before, I know.  (Remember to roll your eyes back the other way.) 

Lazy hazy...

We're grilling, eating, sipping, reading, writing, playing, working, idling, napping outside more than inside nowadays.  Are you??  "Summer is my favorite month"-- ala Annie-- her fav is always the one we're in!!  Handy, isn't it?  It helps that all four seasons in Colorado have a raw, radical beauty.  Including those darkly eclipsed days of January and February. (I know, I know... easier said than done- unless you're a snowboarder...)  For right now... I'll simmer in the shade of some wildly bodacious sunshine.

Lingering sunrises; drive-in movies (boohoo-Cinderella City drive-in bit the dust this year;)  potted plants;  juicy homegrown tomatoes; pink grapefruit Ting soda in a glass bottle; outdoor candlelight;  dark green patches of shade;  a summer blockbuster;  faraway thunder; evening air moving through the trees;  that early bird;  salads!!;  teen volleyball games; lemons in all forms of yummy;  homemade ice cream;  seashells;  sea foam sliding up a beach...  okay, okay, the list could go on for eternity....   oh, but if only summer could...

  

Festooooning...

Cascading Floral Balcony
Originally uploaded by donnacorless

If I was to write a travel book... it would most definitely be one about flower festooned balconies. There's one balcony in particular in Santa Fe that stuffs itself silly with flowers. (Remember, Thea?)

Flowered balconies stop me in my tracks, especially those with emblematic wrought iron scrolls embracing ivies, alyssum, petunias, maiden hair, geraniums.... against a pinkish stucco-- cracks encouraged... Big BIG sigh.

The thing is... I have some. Balconies that is... four to be exact!! Well, they are classified as French Windows, meaning they are second story French doors that open up to 3 ft wrought iron grills... ( just so's we don't fall out!)

Let it be known!! That this is the year of the balcony! Hah! And you thought it was the year of the Rat...
Well it is still the year of the Rat, but it's also the year of the balcony.
I'm going to festoon!

Can't wait for May.