cell of my circumstance

Directional Signs

2011-07-26T15:15:00.000-07:00

Don't Go This WAY!
(Sidewalk note encountered on recent morning run)

If only life's directional signs were this clear. Instead, I get the Cheshire Cat telling me that any road will do!

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.

"I don’t much care where--" said Alice.

"Then it doesn’t matter which way you go," said the Cat.

"--so long as I get SOMEWHERE," Alice added as an explanation.

"Oh, you’re sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."

[Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland]

Poetic Sky

2011-07-25T10:38:00.001-07:00

Arizona, Morning Sky

i thank You God for most this amazing

day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

[E.E. Cummings]

Arizona, Sunset Sky

LET us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherised upon a table;

[T.S. Eliot]

All Hell Breaks Loose

2011-07-18T19:31:00.000-07:00

Captured this shot on my drive home from work today (and didn't even get in an accident). I was so taken with the contrast between the blue and the dust.

It left me wondering whether that wall of brown was coming or going.

Also made me think about the extremes in life, and how the good and the bad presented to us strike such a stark contrast when juxtaposed smack up against each other. But of course the distinction is rarely so obvious.

Monday's Metaphor -- Pondering the Puddles

2011-07-18T19:22:00.000-07:00

Came across this path of puddles on a recent morning run after a desert night-time storm. I love how the trees and sky are reflected in what the storm left behind. Looking DOWN at the puddled ground soaking up through my running shoes reminded me to look UP at the clear, glorious sky above me.

Made me reflect on the fact that the storms of life often leave lingering remnants. But also that those storm puddles offer lessons (and hope) in their reflections.

Possible Impossible

2011-07-18T08:00:00.001-07:00

Flying Bathtub at the local children's museum
June 2011

I've been thinking of this quote from Alice in Wonderland:

Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said: "one can't believe impossible things." "I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." [Through the Looking Glass, Chapter 5]

These days, my life feels full of impossibilities, with every option a painful one. Maybe I need more practice believing impossible things?

Waiting for the Fun to Start

2011-07-01T07:49:00.000-07:00

I often find this cat sitting patiently by his favorite ribbon, just waiting for the fun to start. I could use some ribbon movement in my life too.

Hope your ribbon is flying (in a happy way). Have a great holiday weekend!

No Rest for the Weary

2011-06-27T10:09:00.000-07:00

Some days, don't you feel like everything inside you is pleading to PARK, or at least stop for a minute and unload?

Outlook? Out of Control

2011-06-24T09:24:00.000-07:00

Either my Outlook is experiencing a serious malfunction, or my life is more out-of-control than even I realized.

Morning Run -- Here Comes the Sun (And I Say It's Alright?)

2011-06-22T08:00:00.002-07:00

This morning's run was rushed, with anxiety and worry in hot pursuit, feet slapping the still-cool concrete. I had to hurry, because I couldn't be late for an early-morning meeting with an important person to talk about a possible career shift. That's nervous-making stuff for a measure-your-life-out-in-coffee-spoons person like me. Then I came across these desert blooms, almost set ablaze by the rising sun. Sun, sun, sun. Here it comes. In the valley of heatstroke, that's not necessarily a good thing. But the beauty of the scene gave me a boost. That, and I found another lucky penny. Must be a sign. Both lucky pennies came along in my suit jacket to my meeting. Sure didn't hurt.

All Day Long?

2011-06-21T10:58:00.000-07:00

Found this penny on my morning run, and I picked it up. I'm holding my breath for the all-day luck.

Monday's Metaphor -- Battle of One

2011-06-20T09:51:00.000-07:00

This is my daughter's Betta (fighting) fish. Faced with his own reflection, he goes into fight mode, flaring and puffing out his gill covers. Some days don't you just feel like you're your own worst enemy?

Catbird Seat

2011-06-16T11:56:00.001-07:00

A hovering hummingbird caught my eye on my morning run. I often see them, but they flit and fly off in an instant. This one was staying put (well, as much as a hummingbird can do), and there wasn't even any honeysuckle in sight. Curious. I stopped, trying not to make a sound.

Bird still hovering.

Slowly, I removed my iPhone from my pocket and readied the camera.

Bird still in place.

Click, click, click.

Bird still here.

Then I took a closer look. Unbelievable. My jaw dropped. There was a sneaky cat, desert-colored head peaking up over the wall, eyes round and piercing. Brings new meaning to the phrase "sitting in the catbird seat"! I stood there for about 5 minutes, barely breathing. That hummingbird flitted all around the cat (high on its wall-perch), coming several times within paw's reach. But the cat just watched.

As I look at the photos I captured (this one, for example), I have to wonder whether the cat was more interested in the hummingbird, or ME? A bit creepy, but I love this shot -- cat with eyes locked on me. Hummingbird flitting teasingly in cat's peripheral vision. Where do I even start with the metaphors here!!

Application of Some Happy

2011-06-16T08:00:00.001-07:00

I know my "Application of Some Happy" posts tend to focus on iPhone and iPad applications, but here's one for any woman who likes clothes and has a computer. Have you tried the outfit maker tool on Boden's website? Lots of fun.

Wednesday's Word -- Hobgoblin

2011-06-15T08:00:00.003-07:00

Hobgoblin Hall, William Wordsworth's House

I love this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson: "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds." Reminds me a bit of the definition of insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

I must say that I have always taken some pride in my ability to be consistent -- even when the consistency lacks wisdom. One foot in front of the other. Or, keep swimming, keep swimming, keep swimming.

I'd love to talk about the meaning of the word "consistency," but the word I especially love here is "hobgoblin." What exactly is a "hobgoblin" in the first place, and what does Emerson mean by linking it to "little minds"?

Hobgoblins are fascinating little creatures of folklore and myth. They are said to be friendly, mischievous, troublemakers who love to play practical jokes. I'm not sure if there are female hobgoblins, but according to tales I have heard, they are usually small, hairy elf-like men. Strikes me as creepy, but they are typically found living in human homes, and (here's a redeeming quality), they do odd jobs around the house (like dusting and ironing) while the humans sleep. Maybe after reading this, you are thinking of the house elves in the Harry Potter books. It does appear that those creatures are at least loosely based on the lore of hobgoblins. You can also find quite a few other references throughout literature and popular culture (e.g., I have memories of scary hobgoblins from my brothers' Dungeons and Dragons days back in the early 1980s). In case you're interested, my favorite hobgoblin tale is The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue.

So what is Emerson saying? Being foolishly consistent makes you a hobgoblin? Hobgoblins are foolishly consistent? Little minds are inhabited (or stolen) by hobgoblins? (My little mind could use some dusting and ironing, so . . . .) Based on my quick research, this quote is usually interpreted to mean that "little minds" (those unwilling to see reason) are afraid of change; they'd rather cling to foolish consistency. To reach this interpretation, the word "hobgoblin" is read to mean a source of fear of trouble.

I agree with the sentiment. Little minds would rather keep doing things the way they've always been done, even if there might be a better way. But as I ponder on it, I don't think Emerson was using the word "hobgoblin" to mean scary, hairy elf. Perhaps more of a trickster elf (like the famous hobgoblin Puck in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream). The full quote, which comes from Emerson's essay Self Reliance is:

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines."

If hobgoblin means something scary, then wouldn't Emerson have said (something like) change is the hobgoblin of little minds? Instead, he said that little minds adore these hobgoblins (i.e., foolish consistency). Yes, I think the genius of the quote is that little minds do adore their foolish consistency -- comfortable sameness that plays tricks on your ability to reason.

Stamp River, Vancouver Island (October 2005)

And finally, here's a little metaphor for you to chew on. Many years ago, I spent some time on Vancouver Island and took a short hike one day to see salmon swimming upstream at Stamp Falls. The rangers there had constructed an interesting little contraption called a fish ladder. This "ladder" doesn't have rungs but is a series of ascending pools that allow the fish to rest in little pools in between jumps. This ladder makes the process of leaping up a waterfall a whole lot more manageable. Watching the salmon leap was a thing of beauty. But the most fascinating thing to me was how many of the fish refused to use the ladder. Many of them instead insisted of making the journey the hard way, as the salmon for generations before had done. Made me think about which of the fish were the foolish ones. I suppose they were all headed towards spawning and death, in any event! But isn't that ultimately true for us all?

Monday's Metaphor -- I Lost My Child

2011-06-13T08:00:00.002-07:00

Came across this abandoned sippy cup on a run and couldn't help but wonder about its missing child. Made me think about the parts of ourselves we lose along the journey.

Application of Some Happy

2011-06-09T08:00:00.004-07:00

Now here's an application that brings me joy (and it's free) Log Your Run. I've used a Garmin GPS running watch for years (except on the days and weeks and months when I'd rather not know how slowly I'm running), but this iPhone application is great. It tracks your running route, measures your steps, calories burned, speed, etc.

My favorite part? You're running along, listening to music on your iPhone, and a voice breaks in to announce: "Mile 1" or "Mile 2," etc. For some reason, I just love that.

Wednesday's Word -- Miracle

2011-06-08T08:00:00.003-07:00

I'm not really a die-hard, devoted user of Philosophy products, but I do like reading the product labels. This miracle worker label caught my eye recently: "find the miracle in every moment, the beauty in every day." Good advice.

I've been thinking about how our lives are full of "miracles" if we are actually looking. (My recent fire ant-scipade, for example.)

How fitting then that the word "miracle" means something that "excites admiring awe." It comes from the Latin word miraculum, meaning "object of wonder."

But the best thing about the word? Its indo-european root means "to laugh, smile."

Lately I've been thinking that sometimes the ability to laugh and smile in the face of the circumstances is a miracle in and of itself.

Monday's Metaphor -- Ready? 1. 2. 3. BITE!

2011-06-06T08:00:00.000-07:00

Meet my nemesis the fire ant. Looks harmless enough, but these little guys pack a powerful punch. Here in Phoenix, they come out in force this time of year. Mostly you'll encounter them outside, but sometimes they make house visits.

The other night, I fell asleep at around 8:30 p.m. while putting my youngest to sleep (typical) and woke up around midnight. I stumbled to my office for a night shift of lawyer-ish work (also typical, unfortunately). Sitting at my computer, I felt a sharp (and too familiar) sting. Reacting with all the kung foo-like skills I could muster, I smashed a fire ant on my right foot, but was bitten in unison by about five of its friends. Most of the bites were on my toes and feet, but one actually reached my thigh when the message to BITE was broadcast across the ant waves. I looked down to the floor and found hundreds of the little beasts swarming under my desk. It's truly a miracle that I only received six bites. I ran for a can of bug spray and used nearly the whole can to annihilate the whole bunch of them (gentle vegetarian, animal-lover that I am).

The miracle is even more dear because I'm severely allergic to fire ants. I believe this is due to an unfortunate childhood experience that involved me sitting on a whole colony of fire ants, resulting in "ants in the pants" in the most literal way. That's the thing about the venom of these things, your reaction gets worse (not better) with each subsequent encounter. Ask me sometime about the time I was bitten by fire ants ON MY LIP. The night before an oral argument in court. I certainly wasn't going for the collagen-lip-injection-gone-awry look, but that's what I got. And I looked that way in front of a judge on a really important case. Good times.

Back to my point. So here's the amazing thing about these tiny bugs. If you find yourself in their territory (or they decide to invade your territory), they will climb into your shoes and up your legs as a group. They then send a signal to inform the entire group when to sting so that they can have the maximum impact possible. How do they do that?! I don't know, but I'm struck with how the stings of life often seem to come in unison as well, like a well-timed but cruel group effort of all that is bad in the universe.

The End of an Experiment

2011-06-04T10:44:00.000-07:00

I held out for well over a year, but finally decided to surrender and hire help again. This is the first Saturday morning in a long time I haven't spent cleaning my house. (Of course, I'm doing a mountain of laundry, but that's life. I'm waiting for the day we all wear disposable clothes like in The Uglies series by Scott Westerfeld.) Do you think it's okay to keep the green handbag?

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-06-04T10:30:00.000-07:00

This iPad joystick from thinkgeek.com. Brings back childhood arcade memories. My kids love to hear stories about the "old" days when people didn't have home computers, let alone Wiis or DSs. (And don't even get me started about corded telephones . . .) For the record, I'm not old.

This Curvy Chrysanthemum Vase from Anthropologie. Love the color combination. Makes me want to wear those colors.

This watermelon knife from momastore.org. Because my kids love watermelons, I hate cutting watermelons, and this knife might make the whole experience better.

Have a great weekend!

Application of Some Happy

2011-06-02T13:55:00.000-07:00

Have you tried this one? Pretty amazing. And educational to boot.

Wednesday's Word -- Memory

2011-06-01T08:00:00.010-07:00

Mnemosyne (1881), by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Memorial Day has me thinking about this old memory, and the word "memory."

"Memory" means the "mental faculty of retaining and recalling past experience." Why is it that memory tortures us so, when we most want to forget, and then escapes us when we most need to remember? As Mark Twain lamented about memory and aging: "When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now and soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the things that never happened."  {I can only hope that the years will leave me with rose-colored memories.}

But I like that "memory" also means the "capacity of a material, such as plastic or metal [or a human being] to return to a previous shape after deformation." Yes, we (and plastic) are resilient, if not indestructible. We snap back.

At its origin, "memory" comes from the Indo-European root *men-, meaning (no, not the male gender, but rather) to "think." I suppose The Thinker was a man, but (at least according to mythology) the original thinker was a woman: Mnemosyne (from the same root *men-). Mnemosyne was the Titan goddess of memory and mother to the nine Muses. She is said to have invented language and words and represented the rote memorization required, before the introduction of writing, to preserve the stories of history. (You probably know the word mnemonic (learning technique that aids memory), which comes from her name.) "[T]hey say that Mnemosyne discovered the uses of the power of reason, and that she gave a designation to every object about us by means of the names which we use to express whatever we would and to hold conversation one with another." [Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 5. 67. 3] Thank you, Mnemosyne.

It is also said that Mnemosyne presided over a pool in Hades called the pool of remembrance. This pool was next to the pool of forgetting (the river Lethe). Those entering Hades were encouraged not to drink from Lethe, but rather to drink from Mnemosyne's pool and continue along the journey into the land of the dead with memories intact.

As for me, I am no Titan, but I do preside over my own pool of remembrance. Some days I wish I could take a sip from (or dip in, for that matter) the pool of forgetting, but mostly I am grateful for my memories -- for the joys, the sorrows and the lessons contained in the depths.

Monday's Metaphor -- Gutter Glory

2011-05-31T08:00:00.002-07:00

The winds are blowing in the heat of summer, and I'm grieving over golden grove un-leaving. {Well, actually the palo verde trees formerly ablaze in golden splendor are reverting to green sticks.}

This sight left me thinking on the one hand about how fleeting the truly glorious moments in life can feel, but also how there is beauty to be found everywhere -- even in the gutter moments of our lives.

That and that, and also that there is a time and season for all things.

Monday's Metaphor -- Fruit of Your Labors

2011-05-23T08:00:00.006-07:00

This tree grows outside my kitchen window. In other words, I spend a fair amount of time looking at it. We have lived in this house for less than a year, and so the tree and I are foreign to each other. I've been amazed to observe its transformation from dead-looking-thing to vibrant-lush-nothing-can-stop-my-growth-thing.

This tree is covered with some sort of growing fruit that I have not been able to identify. I call it the "mystery fruit," and my children and I check it periodically, poking and squeezing and sniffing to try to classify it as something familiar. For now, we will wait and watch.

Sometimes your life's efforts (too) will produce unrecognizable fruit. Wait and watch. Watch and wait.

Anthropologie Etymologie

2011-05-23T07:53:00.001-07:00

Now this sounds right up my alley . . .

Wednesday's Word -- Trust

2011-05-18T17:57:00.001-07:00

I'm not one to follow celebrities (or think that what I think about them matters one lick), but I have to admit that I have always admired Maria Shriver. She is a strong, smart, capable woman. Have you read her 2009 Shriver Report on women? You should. Right now (whether she cares or not), my heart is aching (and still admiring her) for what she's enduring.

So this week I'm thinking about the word TRUST, and what happens when it is gone.

"Trust" means "firm reliance on the integrity, ability, or character of a person or thing." It is "something committed into the care of another." Like the word ENDURE, it comes from the Indo-European root deru-, meaning "hard." The word TREE comes from the same root. So fitting, because I really can't imagine anything more trustworthy, steadfast and immovable than a tree.

Times like these -- trust chopped to the ground -- leave a woman sitting on the stump, mustering the strength to get up and go plant her heart in more fertile ground.

Forming Them in Our Own Images (and then realizing it's futile)

2011-05-17T18:15:00.001-07:00

Athena "born" from Zeus's forehead

I've been thinking lately (for about the past 8 1/2 years) about the seeming futility of trying to shape my children into the beings I'd like them to be. Back when I was a psychology minor in undergrad (years and years before children), I really thought nurture must have more muscle than nature. But parenting has convinced me otherwise. When it comes to parenting philosophies, it's a buffet (of course). You've got Tiger Mom over on one end, and Serenity Parenting over on the other extreme. Like me, you probably dine somewhere in the middle.

But what does astound me over and over again is how pre-formed my children seem to have come. Like little Athenas leaping fully formed from the head of Zeus ("fully grown and armed, with a shout— "and pealed to the broad sky her clarion cry of war.") Although you can provide a good example and provide positive reinforcement for behaviors you want to encourage (and you should), each child is who she is from the start. I see this in my own children as I go to battle with one child to fight against her natural tendency to accept mediocrity, and then stand back and watch as another one of my children does what she calls "fake homework" (non-required work she prints off the internet to complete in her spare time) because it's "fun." That had to have come programmed in the genes, I tell you.

None of this is to say you can't make a difference as a parent. I had a long (and I think productive) talk with my "middle-of-the-pack-is-good" leaning daughter several days ago when we (amazingly) found ourselves alone in the kitchen. (I do believe the only way this occurred is that the other two must have been in time out at the same time.) I explained to her that the most successful people in life very often are not the ones who are so smart that everything is a piece of cake. In every class (and other life circumstance), there will be that person who finishes her work lickety-split and sits legs crossed, arms-smugly-folded, surveying the rest of the class with a self-satisfied smile. In my humble opinion, it's the ones who have to work hard who have the best shot in life. I explained to her that I have always known in my heart that I'm rarely the smartest or best in any situation, but I also know that I have a secret weapon: I outwork and out-try and out-persevere. I have to say that I think a light bulb flickered on for her during this conversation. She understood me. And that made me happy.

On the topic of nature vs. nurture, here's an extreme situation that sure makes for a great book. I'm currently reading a memoir called The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls. What can I say about the abysmal parenting described in this book other than WOW, just WOW. It's a terrific book and provides an astounding example of a child who lived through an unbelievably trying childhood to rise from the ashes into something amazing. Definitely worth a read.

I'm also currently reading See Jane Win by Sylvia Rimm on how 1,000 girls became successful women. I would highly recommend this read as well -- particularly if you have daughters. So what are the best practices for raising confident, happy and successful daughters? what do successful women share in terms of childhood influences? The women studied in the book are actually a pretty diverse group, but here are some of the (interesting to me) recommended guidelines:

1. Set high educational expectations for your daughters and don't be quick to back off if your daughters have to cope with pressure.
2. Help your daughters to understand that they don't need to be the smartest to feel smart. Help them to understand that studying pays off.
3. View your daughters as intelligent, good thinkers, and problem solvers. Value work, and be positive about your own work. Have family work projects.
4. Encourage your daughters to develop math and science skills (even if it has never been your personal strong suit). Also make reading a very high priority. Girls who are truly interested in learning have a better chance of success.
5. Encourage your daughters to enter competitions. Girls sometimes avoid competitive activities unless they are certain they'll be winners, but while winning builds confidence, losing is valuable too; it builds character.
6. Travel as a family.
7. Let your daughters know that popularity is not important, even if it feels important to them. Be careful to avoid pressuring them to have lots of friends.
8. You are your daughters' best supporters. Remind them you're their ally and definitely not their enemy. Be a coach, not a judge. Set firm limits.
9. Be sure that your daughters get leadership opportunities and responsibilities regardless of birth order.
10. As mothers, don't hesitate about fulfilling your own life dreams by returning to school or entering a career. Your daughters are watching you. If you achieve, they see you as competent and are more likely to believe that they, too, can be competent.

All of these strike me as sound pieces of advice. Maybe "serenity parenting" economist-dad Bryan Caplan is right and we should all relax and just enjoy our children more. Or perhaps Tiger Mom Amy Chua is right and we need to challenge our children in more intense ways to meet their potential. As for me (spread-too-thin-and-stressed-out mom), I'm going for a hybrid approach. And perhaps everything will turn out alright.

Monday's Metaphor -- Surprised by the Consequences

2011-05-16T08:00:00.001-07:00

September 9, 1974
Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia

My parents snapped this photo of me many years ago, just moments after a goose bite incident. I was one month shy of two-years-old and so indignantly surprised that the goose I was harassing actually decided to give me what was coming to me.

Sometimes in life when I'm astounded by obvious consequences that are nobody's fault but my own, I think of this photo and smile.

Monday's Metaphor -- Open Trench

2011-05-09T16:55:00.000-07:00

So many of my metaphors find me while I'm running. I (literally) almost tripped over this one. I've joked that I'm going to silkscreen the sign I wrote about here on a baby t-shirt, but I can imagine wearing this one emblazoned across my own chest: OPEN TRENCH. I know it's not Wednesday (and this isn't one of my Wednesday's Word posts), but indulge me.

The metaphor is probably obvious to you (because you too have likely had your heart carved out at some point over the course of the cruel days that sometimes make up our lives), but it improves with some dictionary help. A trench is a "deep furrow or ditch." Indeed, the word comes from a root meaning "to cut." Trench may also be defined as "a long narrow ditch embanked with its own soil and used for concealment and protection in warfare."

Sometimes when your insides have been carved out from within, the remaining cavity at least provides a hiding place. Caution advised for passersby.

MOMMA M.I.A.

2011-05-07T13:32:00.003-07:00

Picture of MOM MIA.
(Notice the brown "low lights" in the hair)

Sitting in the Chicago airport yesterday afternoon, overpriced yogurt/granola parfait in hand with 30 minutes to kill until boarding, I checked my email. Among all the work-related communications, this subject line jumped out at me: "WE MADE THE PAPER!" "Oh no," was my immediate reaction. I think I know where this is going.

Let me back up to provide some context. My daughter's kindergarten class had a big shin-dig of a Mother's Day party this week, and guess whose mother couldn't be there? In this mother's defense, she did everything in her power to convince the teacher to move the date of the party. And she had no ability whatsoever to alter her work travel commitment. And she spent about 10 hours preparing all the supplies to be used for the craft projects at said Mother's Day party. To make a bad situation all the worse, this mother has pretty much the most sensitive 6-year-old daughter on the planet. Even the slightest ripple in her universe renders her weepy. So what to do? Ask dad to stand in? Ask a good friend to act as surrogate? Neither option was good. Mother put it to daughter, and her response? "I only want you." Well of course.

In the end, the mother convinced her daughter that the dad could stand in. Thankfully, it was an island theme, and not the "spa" party the other kindergarten classes had planned. No hair styling or pedicure stations involved. The dad attended. He emailed the missing-in-action mom photos taken at the party, and there were no tears on the daughter's cheeks. Yes, the daughter's hair did resemble that of a hobo or wild gypsy, and the daughter was wearing an old t-shirt and shorts instead of the cute dress the mother had carefully set out for the occasion. All in all, the mother considered the crisis averted.

Until she opened the email from her daughter's teacher. Not only had the mother been shamed in the eyes of the teacher (who had responded to the mother's request to the move the party with "we have other working moms in the class, and THEY were able to arrange their schedules to attend . . .") and the other mothers, but now the whole failing had been documented in the Arizona Republic for countless others to see.

"Kindergarteners treat mom to 'Aloha' Day."
"Lone dad . . . substituted for wife [] who was traveling on business."

The article goes on to document that the daughter drew a picture of her mother, while dad "snapped a picture of her drawing to send by phone to his wife." "She tried to rearrange the date, but they just couldn't make it work," said the dad, "clad in a black and tan Hawaiian shirt that he'd purchased on a family trip to Kauai."

That's me. The mom who "couldn't make it work." Ouch.

Happy Mother's Day! Even to those of you who are occasionally (and defensibly) M.I.A.

The Metaphors, They Find Me

2011-05-03T20:46:00.000-07:00

I'm out of town and out of pocket this week, immersed in a week-long leadership training course at the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern. Fascinating stuff. Spent the day getting at least a flavor for what it would have been like to go to business school.

On a break, I literally made a run for it -- down along a path that hugs the lake. It was blustery, cold and gray -- and lovely. What to my glazed over eyes should appear, but a flock of kites, trapped in the air. I stopped in my tracks and was blown away (blustery, I tell you) by the symbolic significance--at least to a metaphor hunter like me. About a dozen kites caught in a stand of leafless trees, blowing in the wind, but going nowhere. Abandoned. So vibrant against the lifeless gray sky and yet-to-leaf trees. Took my breath away.

Ever feel like a trapped kite against a lifeless backdrop?

Monday's Metaphor -- The Hunt

2011-05-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

"I Don't Like the Sound of This" ,
Michéle Brummer Everett

I have a metaphor wall at home. (Are you surprised? I didn't think so.) On this wall hang various paintings, prints, and drawings that have some metaphorical meaning for me. Sometimes I will stand, staring at this wall to brace myself against the circumstances of the day.

Here is one item from my metaphor wall. It depicts a hunter holding a leaf in hand, with a bear on his back. The print is captioned: "I Don't Like the Sound of This." Here's the artist's description: "A mighty hunter and his favourite bear friend come across a suspicious leaf in the forest. Whatever he's saying, our trusty bear is NOT buying it!"

Now here's the beautiful thing about art. It can mean whatever I want it to mean. For me, I look at this print and am reminded that the thing I'm hunting for may already be on my back. Or some days, I take it to mean that transition (the new leaf) can be a scary/suspicious thing, even to a bear and a mighty hunter. Both metaphors apply in my life. Yours too?

Nifty Items I've Been Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-04-29T07:00:00.001-07:00

J. Crew striped t-shirt and Workday dress (not really to wear at the same time).

Wooden headphones from thinksound (cheaper on Amazon) or these from Skullcandy.

Application of Some Happy -- Camera Apps

2011-04-28T07:00:00.002-07:00

I don't know about you, but carrying around my digital SLR camera to capture of-the-moment shots isn't really compatible with my life. Now you're never going to get the same shot quality with your camera phone, but these iPhone apps sure make taking and sharing beautiful photos fun and easy. Here are my three current favorites.

Instagram Lots of fun, and free to boot. Select filters that make your iPhone photos look so much better than iPhone photos. You can follow your friends' photo updates as they move through their days. If you're all connected out, you certainly don't have to connect with friends through Instagram. You can work magic on your photos and then email them or save them. There's even a cool iPad app called Instagram viewer that lets you view photos, gallery style. Here's an example.

Morning Sun vs. Clouds

Camera+ This is my current favorite camera app, and I really can't gush enough. It really takes so so photos and makes them special. Photo too dark? No problem, you can fix it with a tap by using the "clarity" or "backlit" effect. You can also add color effects, retro effect and other cool tricks. Crop and add borders too. $1.99, and worth it. Here's an example.

Tree Serpent

Picfx This one is just for fun. Take a regular photo and apply textures (like white leak, plastic wood, or galactic), frames and styles to create some unique looks. $1.99. Not as wonderful as Camera+, but still fun. Here's an example.

Desert Flower

Enjoy!

Foreign Soil

2011-04-26T22:36:00.002-07:00

I recently read Unaccustomed Earth, a collection of short stories by Jhumpa Lahiri. Maybe you have read Interpreter of Maladies (her Pulitzer Prize collection of short stories) or her novel The Namesake? (I have read both, but I would especially recommend Interpreter of Maladies.) Lahiri tends to play with variations on the same theme in many of her stories, but there is something about the way she writes that makes me feel like I'm eating the words and don't want to leave a single morsel behind. And her use of metaphor is something to behold.

Over the past several weeks, I have been thinking in particular about a metaphor Lahiri uses in the title story of Unaccustomed Earth. The title comes from a quote from Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Custom House": "My children will have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth." Lahiri's stories examine the lives, relationships and emotions of displaced Bengalis raising families in the United States. These are the children of immigrants striking their roots into new, strange ground.

In the title story, 38-year-old Ruma is striking her roots into unaccustomed earth in many ways. She has just lost her mother to an unexpected death. She has just been transplanted from Brooklyn to Seattle, relocating for her American husband's job. She has no connections or friendships, and her husband is always traveling for work. She has just left her own job as a lawyer to take on a stay-at-home role, with one child to care for and another on the way. (As the narrator describes it: "Growing up, her mother's example -- moving to a foreign place for the sake of marriage, caring exclusively for children and a household -- had served as a warning, a path to avoid. Yet this was Ruma's life now.")

When her widowed father (who since his wife's death spends his time traveling abroad on packaged tours) comes to visit Ruma and her young son in Seattle, Ruma deliberates with some self-torture to decide whether to ask him to come live with her (as she feels is culturally expected of her), only to find that he prefers to strike his roots into foreign soil and has no interest in planting himself in her home. During his visit, he devotes himself (unbidded) to planting an extensive flower garden in Ruma's backyard. He involves her little son Akash in the process, who plants his own garden patch of toys and all manner of odds and ends. When Ruma's father leaves, eager to be on his way, there is no way to know whether the life he has planted in her yard will thrive and grow, or wither untended. (Certainly Akash's garden is doomed.) Nor is there any way to know whether Ruma herself will blossom and grow in this unaccustomed earth that is her life. But isn't that the reality for each of us?

I am no foreigner, at least in a literal sense, but this is a theme that resonates with me (and one I have written about at least a bit on this blog). As far back as I can remember, I have always felt planted into unaccustomed earth. I have never really entered ANY room and felt a true sense of sameness or acceptance. (For one thing, the longer I have traveled along this path in the legal profession, the fewer fellow travelers I find who bear any meaningful resemblance to me. But it's much more than that.) In truth, it is unlikely that anyone would guess this about me. And this is the aspect of the metaphor that captivates me. How many of us are trying to grow in foreign soil of some sort unbeknownst to the other flowers, fruits and vegetables in the garden?

Monday's Metaphor -- Gravity

2011-04-25T07:00:00.008-07:00

Snapped this shot on a recent morning run and couldn't help but see the metaphor in it. Sometimes if you can't grow upwards, you can at least grow sideways for a while. Some stretches in life are (by necessity) more lattice than ladder.

I love how this tree is thriving despite its current direction. For goodness sakes, it's growing parallel to the ground instead of reaching for the sky. But it's not giving up. I can relate.

Birthday/Deathday

2011-04-23T07:00:00.002-07:00

You know, this really never gets old. Enjoy.

Nifty Items I've Been Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-04-22T08:51:00.001-07:00

Outdoor furniture from West Elm (and the time to lounge). (Okay, I'll admit I did actually just buy some outdoor furniture. And wouldn't you know? Two days later I get a West Elm email touting 15% OFF ALL OUTDOOR FURNITURE! Is there some law that discounts are only offered after I've already made a purchase? Good grief.)

May flowers. But fake ones, because (alas) my ranunculus are already dead and gone. Something like these peonies from Neiman Marcus.

This Creative Thursday print, bunny holding a bear holding a bunny (discovered via poppytalk).

Have a great weekend!

Application of Some Happy -- Educational Applications to Make Your Life Easier

2011-04-21T07:00:00.007-07:00

I don't know about you, but on an enjoyment scale of 1 to 10 (with 1 being not enjoyable at all, and 10 being extremely enjoyable), fighting with my head-strong elementary school child over homework and test preparation is about a NEGATIVE 10. My deep-seeded fear (truth be told) is that she will crash and burn without my incessant ~~nagging~~ encouragement. If I were a braver woman, I would pull the plug, stand back and observe. Great balls of fire.

Here are two applications that give my nagging a break. Perhaps they will lighten your nagging itinerary too.

SpellBoard. This nifty application allows you to type in the weekly spelling list, speak the words and a sentence with each word (if you want to) and then hand the iPad to your child for testing.

I actually have my daughter create the test herself, because (a) it helps her learn the words, (b) she likes to say the words in silly voices and make up crazy sentences, and (c) it's one less thing for me to do. The app even has a whiteboard feature so your child can practice writing each word (instead of just typing in the answers).

MathBoard. As you can guess, this application helps your child study for math tests. You can choose addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, etc. You can even choose which numbers must be used (for example, if my child is being tested on minus 9 math facts, I make 9 a required number). This app has been a life saver for me, as my child appears to respond better to critcism from a computer than she does to criticism from me.

Upside? Your child has a better chance of acing her spelling and math tests without you ripping out your hair in the studying process. Downside? Good luck getting your iPad back (now that your child can say she needs it for EDUCATIONAL purposes).

Along these lines, I've been thinking about the topic of teaching your children to be competitive (or not, and how), but that's for another post.

Wednesday's Word -- Forgive

2011-04-20T07:00:00.001-07:00

"I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night." (From The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, p. 359)

My musings on The Brothers Karamazov (along with circumstances in my own cell) have me thinking about forgiveness. The word means "to excuse for a fault or an offense; to pardon." To forgive is "to renounce anger or resentment" or to "absolve from payment of a debt." Breaking the word apart, it comes from the Old English for-giefan, meaning to give away (for = away and "giefan" = to give). The related Latin word "perdonare" means "to give completely, without reservation" (per = thoroughly and donare = to give). And I like that the word "forget" (so often attached to forgive) means "to lose one's hold."

Give it (the right to exact a pound of flesh) away and let it (the pain) pack up and go. Easier said than done.

Also makes me think of a favorite poem on the topic. A forgiveness tree bears sweeter fruit than a poison tree, after all.

Holding On To the Ticket

2011-04-19T11:48:00.001-07:00

Dostoyevsky's notes for Chapter 5
of The Brothers Karamazov

It's been nearly a month since I finished reading Fyodor Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. The novel has been on my mental to-read list for a long time, and I worked through its nearly 800 pages with determination. I must admit that I let out at least a tiny sigh of relief when I reached the end, eager to move on to lighter fare. But passages, images and themes from the book keep coming to my mind unbidden, sitting here and then there, trying out the rooms like a mental goldilocks. Here is one.

I cannot sum up The Brothers Karamazov in this short post -- at least not in any manner that could do it justice. The short of it is that there are three brothers, Dmitri (28), Ivan (24), and Alyosha (20). All three share a father (Fyodor Pavlovich), but Dmitri is from Fyodor's first marriage, and Ivan and Alyosha are from his second marriage. Both mothers are dead, Fyodor is a "scoundrel" (to use a word Dostoyevsky uses repeatedly throughout the book), and none of his sons really love him. In fact, at least two of them (Dmitri and Ivan) would like to see him dead. Dmitri, the oldest, is much like his father -- a sensualist and a scoundrel. Ivan is an intelligent atheist. And Alyosha (the "cherub") is a novice monk who believes fervently in God, but is not without chinks in the armor of his faith. To make a very long story short (without spoiling all the twists and turns), someone murders the father, Fyodor, and Dmitri is arrested and tried for the crime. I won't tell you how the book ends, because that's really not the point of this post (and you should slog through it yourself, in any event!).

Plot aside, the book is about free will, God, faith, doubt, reason, sin, virtue, truth, deceit, guilt, love, and so much more. But it is especially about suffering. In one particulary gripping chapter (Book 5, Chapter 4 "Rebellion"), Ivan talks/rants to younger brother Alyosha about the inequity of the suffering in the world, speaking of the "tears of humanity with which the earth is soaked from its crust to its center." (I like the way that sounds, don't you? Can't you just picture it like a soggy loaf of bread?)  Ivan laments: "Surely I haven't suffered simply that I, my crimes and my sufferings, may manure the soil of the future harmony for somebody else." (Talk about metaphor.)

He then asks his monk-brother: "Do you understand why this infamy [suffering] must be and is permitted? Without it, I am told, man could not have existed on earth, for he could not have known good and evil. Why should he know that diabolical good and evil when it costs so much?" Rejecting the world that God has created because it is built on a foundation of suffering, Ivan proclaims: "Besides, too high a price is asked for harmony; it's beyond our means to pay so much to enter on it. And so I hasten to give back my entrance ticket, and if I am an honest many I am bound to give it back as soon as possible. And that I am doing. It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return him the ticket."

I am no atheist. But, like Ivan, I too struggle to understand incomprehensible suffering -- in the world, in my circle of friends and acquaintances, and in my very own life.  Like Ivan, I can't help but think that the suffering costs too much -- at least when it sacrifices the innocent on the altar of another's sin. Or when it hits, lottery-style in a randomness that confounds all understanding. But, unlike Ivan, I can see the joy too -- a joy that is (despite what he says) sweetened and strengthened by opposition.  Perhaps what Ivan couldn't (or chose not to) believe, is this:

"Joy and sorrow are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed." [Gibran, The Prophet]

That knowledge doesn't excuse the suffering, I suppose. But it at least grants me the perspective to hold on to my entrance ticket.

Monday's Metaphor -- Lost

2011-04-18T07:00:00.001-07:00

Found these ducks far from water, practically knocking on the door of a friend's neighbor. When I came close to snap a photo (really close because I only had my iPhone), they didn't even try to flee (or flap). Instead, they looked at me, raising their ducky bills in defiance, and quacked as if to say "Go ahead. You try the door. We're telling you, no one's answering."

Made me think about how "duck out of water" I've felt lately. Sometimes, in life, you just have to admit to yourself that you may be knocking on the wrong door, don't you think?

Also made me think about this old duck story.

Have a good Monday!

Nifty Items I Was Eyeing and Couldn't Stop Myself from Buying

2011-04-16T15:54:00.001-07:00

{Because I lack the restraint to eye and never buy,
here is my periodic post of items that are making me happy.}

Tree sticker from Ferm Living and knitted poufs from CB2 (because Ferm Living's version is apparently sold out). These simple items are evidence that money can indeed buy happiness -- at least fleeting! Seriously, these do make me smile.

This Under the Canopy print from Alicia Bock. Doesn't it look nice with the mat and frame I chose? I hung this by the door going out to the garage so I can enjoy it often as I'm coming and going.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend! We went to see Rio and it kept the attention of my 2-year-old the whole time. That's a good thing.

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-04-15T10:20:00.000-07:00

A couple of nifty things that caught my eye this week:

1. The botanically-inspired artwork of Dan Bennett (discovered via Diane James' The Buzz Blog). I honestly can't swoon over these prints and paintings enough. Like this one:

helleborus3, acrylic on canvas

2. Something springy like this dress from Anthropologie. Black and gray are my best friends, but there's just something not quite right about it when the world is blooming.

Application of Some Happy

2011-04-15T09:59:00.000-07:00

I realize not everyone is as smitten with Apple products as I am, but can I just share two new-to-me applications that make my day a little happier?

1. Garage Band. So entertaining for children and adults alike--even those of us who lost whatever musical talent they had somewhere along the road of life.

Did I ever tell you about the time I moved across the country to a new school in the 5th grade and was required during my very first week to compose a song and perform it for my music teacher and my class of no friends (who-had-all-been-playing-musical-instruments-since-birth)? Here's the short version. I had no idea how to read music, play music, compose music, or even appreciate good music for that matter. But I was stubborn and shy. I went into the basement of our house, took a seat in my grandfather's old manual wheelchair (for some strange reason we used to use it for obstacle courses around the concrete basement, doing figure 8s around the metal poles), hit some keys on the ancient portable organ that was down there for some reason too, and then scratched some notes, willy nilly, on the music paper that had been provided.

Armed with my sheet music (and a good dose of horror), I arrived in music class the next day. I listened to student after student perform musical pieces of their own creation on pianos, flutes, violins, clarinets, and cellos. I bit my lip and bided my time. When it was my turn, I handed the sheet of marks-that-would-be-music to my teacher. Because I couldn't play (anything), she sat at the piano and attempted to play what I had created. Let's just say, it was like Frankenstein's Bride. I'm cringing to this day, but also laughing too. To her credit, she made it through and didn't say anything permanently scarring.

2. Flipboard. Maybe you already know about this, but I just made the discovery. This little free application allows you to browse the blogs you follow in beautiful, turn the page magazine style. You can also add facebook, twitter, instagram, etc. iPad = love.

Wednesday's Word -- Circumstance

2011-04-13T23:57:00.000-07:00

I actually can't believe I haven't dissected this word yet. Here are a few thoughts. The image at left may strike you as a bit beautiful mind-ish, but I'm not developing any grand conspiracy theories, rest assured. Oh so many years ago, my 6th grade social studies teacher, Mr. Grande, introduced our class to the art of "webbing," as he called it. A smallish, oldish man with a little mustache and lots of spunk, he would take his chalk, start with one word in the center of the blackboard enclosed in a vigorous circle, and we were off. Any words and ideas associated with that first word would be added to the web. Sometimes these webs would even, by necessity, jump and continue to blackboards on adjacent walls, because they could not be contained on one. I recall some mocking of the webbing, but I actually loved it.

"Circumstance" is "a condition or fact attending an event and having some bearing on it." Now that's vague and broad, isn't it? A "circumstance" is "a determining or modifying factor." Circumstance adds context. Circumstance provides the rest of the story. Circumstance is the sum of its parts, parts that are often "beyond willful control." The word comes (interestingly, like so many of my favorite words) from the Indo-European Root *sta, meaning to stand. "Circumstance" is literally "to stand around." (circum- meaning around + stance, meaning stand.)

I don't know about you, but that just fits. My circumstances often leave me stranded, standing around, waiting for a ride out of town.

Evil vs. Super Evil

2011-04-12T17:00:00.002-07:00

My 8-year-old loves presenting me with horrible choice scenarios of her own design. What would you choose:

1. offer one of your children up for adoption, or die?

2. eat a cat, or hug the stinkiest,slimiest person on the planet?

3. change a million poopy diapers, or run a thousand miles?

Where does she come up with these things? Today's choice made me laugh:

Would you rather be evil or super evil?

How to answer? I suppose I'd rather be just evil. Perhaps there's a better chance for reform?

Monday's Metaphor

2011-04-11T17:23:00.003-07:00

The Flower Fields
Carlsbad, California (April 2011)

Sometimes, you may find yourself out of sync with your surroundings. Might not be a bad thing.

Wordle Fun

2011-04-08T12:15:00.002-07:00

Oh the fun you can have with Wordle! You paste in text, and it creates a word cloud, sizing the words based on the number of times they appear in your text. I'll bet you can guess the poem I used for this Wordle. And there's the message, big and clear:

time.

Angry Birds As Metaphor

2011-04-07T11:04:00.002-07:00

You know I love a good metaphor. My kids are obsessed with Angry Birds these days, and I can't help but find it fitting. Especially in the evening when I'm trying to do dinner, baths, homework, and my own work (home and job) all at the same time, those angry birds are attacking. I'm not sure if that makes me a pig? I tend to think of myself more as the structure that is falling as the angry birds fly in with their strategic attacks.

Of course it would be much more proactive of me to see Angry Birds as a metaphor for attacking my day's to-do list, but I must admit that isn't the symbolism that occurred to me first . . . .

Instagram Fun

2011-04-06T13:39:00.000-07:00

Have you discovered Instagram yet? I did, and you should. Endless fun. Here's the view from my office during my "lunch break" (i.e., eat apple over computer keyboard and try not to drip).

Lucky Me

2011-04-06T13:13:00.000-07:00

I receive lots of these sorts of emails, and most of them are diverted by my spam filter. For some reason, this one made it through and made me smile.

How are you today? I'm Mr.Cheng Tian, I work with the Mevas Bank ", Hong Kong. I wish to make a transfer involving a huge amount of money worth $21,500,000.00 I do solicit for you assistance in effecting this transaction. I intend to give 40% of the total funds as compensation for your assistance. if interested, Please get back to me for more details.

40%?! Aren't I lucky? I could do some serious damage with $8.6 million. So much for this biglaw working stiff gig . . .

Pruning Hurts, But It Encourages Growth

2011-03-28T17:16:00.000-07:00

I have a black thumb. You can hold that truth to be self-evident. Because I lack nurturing skills, I have been ever-impressed with the desert plants here in this part of the country that will grow and thrive despite the circumstances.

Take the plant at left as Exhibit A. Nearly all the plants, bushes and trees here in Arizona were damaged by repeated frosts this winter. Now that the weather is warming, all these damaged plants have been pruned down to the ground. Nothing careful about it.

How amazing that this doesn't kill them. They grow right back, stronger and more vibrant than before. I did a bit of research on pruning, and here are a few interesting things. Pruning forces growth. New growth happens close to the pruning cut because dormant buds are stimulated by the cut. New growth generally results in several stems replacing the single one that was removed. Pruning permits you to choose the direction a plant's branches will grow. Thinning plants allows light and air to reach inner branches, and this prevents disease.

How's that for a metaphor? (I've pondered on related metaphors here and here.) I've been feeling much like a pruned bush of late. I'm just waiting for the new growth to sprout.

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-03-26T19:37:00.000-07:00

I can't deny that I do in fact like "putting a bird on it." Isn't this locket (and many others from Verabel, which is in fact located in Portland) beautiful?

These Morrocan Leather Poufs from Serena & Lily (well, if money were less of an object . . . . ).

Again with the birds. These Bird Melamine Plates from West Elm. (As we approach swimming season here in Arizona, I also am seriously eyeing some of West Elm's outdoor furniture but can't bring myself to pull the trigger.)

Was it beautiful in your neck of the woods today? We spent about 3 hours at the park and then went for frozen yogurt. Pretty perfect.

Ranunculus

2011-03-24T17:15:00.000-07:00

My favorite flower is the ranunculus (and it took me years to remember that name). All my efforts in past years to grow the bulbs have met with failure (but I have a black thumb, so that's not saying much).

I have planters overflowing with the plants right now, but I know they will be short-lived. If anyone knows of a convincing faux ranunculus bouquet, please let me know.

Next weekend, I'll be visiting The Flower Fields in Carlsbad, California. Have you ever been? Fields and fields of the blooms as far as the eye can see. It's been about 6 years since my last visit, and I can't wait to share the joy with my kids.

Wednesday's Word -- Diet

2011-03-23T17:46:00.000-07:00

Lose It!

Why is that when I stop exercising, I come to a COMPLETE halt? Why is it that when I make bad food choices, I go WHOLE HOG (well, not actually, because I'm a vegetarian after all)?

Well today I have the word "diet" on my mind because as much as I completely revolt against budgeting of any kind (whether dietary or financial), I'm not enjoying the extra few pounds that have crept up on me in the past few weeks. Note that I just finished a pack of peanut M&Ms while typing this. Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?

I don't mean to suggest that I have a weight problem, but I do have a go-to-extreme problem. And right now I am on the extreme end of the spectrum inhabited by people who blog while eating M&Ms and skip their morning runs for going on three weeks straight.

So here's the word.

Diet means "the usual food and drink of a person or animal." (In my case, peanut M&Ms, vegetarian sushi rolls, and cheetos.) It also means "to eat or drink according to a regulated system." (In my case, to stop eating all of the above, except the sushi rolls, drink a whole lot more water, and stop acting as the garbage disposal for my children's leftovers.) "Diet" actually comes from a root meaning "to live one's life." (In my case, I better get back to living my life according to the usual rules.)

When I was younger (before we had computers, or at least before we used them for anything other than playing Lemonade Stand and The Oregon Trail), I used to keep a journal of foods I ate (my own particular neuroses are outside the scope of this post . . . .). Now, technology lends all sorts of help. One little application that really works for me is Lose It! Have you tried that one? It helps you track your goals, food intake and exercise. I've never used it for anything more than losing a few pounds here or there post-baby (or post complete derailment of all that is healthy and good for my body), but I imagine it would be effective even for long-term weight loss. If you need a little kickstart and accountability, you might give it a try.

{P.S., While randomly and wistfully checking the FedEx package tracking for my iPad 2, I saw that it was actually (somehow!) to be delivered today. That gadget made good time from Anchorage! Well, I high-tailed home to be there to sign for it. Wow did it help motivate my 2nd grader to study for her math test on the way home from school (with an application called MathBoard). After I reclaim the thing from my three kids who are on 15 minute rotations ala the kitchen timer, I'll load up the Lose It app so I can stop the insanity.}

My iPad's Long Journey Home

2011-03-22T16:27:00.002-07:00

Just discovered why -- after ordering my iPad 2 at 1:03 a.m. on Friday, March 11, 2011 -- I still have no iPad. It was shipped from Shenzhen, China to Lantua Island, Hong Kong and then hung out there for quite some time. Perhaps it visited the Hong Kong Disneyland? Or perhaps it paid its respects to the Big Buddha on Ngong Ping Plateau? Well, given how long I have been waiting for this gadget to travel home to me, it doesn't feel like a small world, after all. Today, my iPad 2 arrived in Anchorage, Alaska and there it sits. I will just have to wait [im]patiently for a bit longer.

Turning Over a New Leaf

2011-03-21T16:25:00.006-07:00

My children and I had fun watching this barren tree in our backyard transform over the span of about a week. Wonderful!

Patience Is a Virtue [That I Lack]

2011-03-18T21:14:00.000-07:00

Playing School

2011-03-17T18:19:00.001-07:00

It's spring break around here. And what do my kids want to do for fun? Play school. Here's how it played out in our most recent session.

[TEACHER]: 8-year-old girl
[STUDENTS]: 6-year-old girl, 2-year-old boy, and their too-old mother
[PRINCIPAL]: the too-old mother

School day agenda

1. Story time (certain students receive warnings for bad behavior)
2. Nap time (liking this, complete with resting music, although one student left the school grounds without permission and another student was sent to the principal, with a note home to parent)
3. Science (teacher explains water cycle, including a song to help you remember how it works; youngest student expelled)
4. Health (teacher explains digestive system, with special emphasis on elimination; student playing hooky returns to class)
5. Art (teacher instructs on collage making but becomes so frustrated with all of her students that she resigns her position and anarchy reigns in the classroom)

Classic.

Today, my oldest decided to put a stop to her younger sister's copying ways and devised a "privacy folder" system for coloring and other art projects. Here's the younger sister's set up. No way she can possibly steal color schemes from older sister now! So there.

And I Shall [Not] Have Some Peace There

2011-03-16T15:49:00.001-07:00

Andre Jordan

I recently finished reading Margaret Roach's memoir And I Shall Have Some Peace There, trading in the fast lane for my own dirt road. I mean, how could I not read a book that takes its title from a Yeats poem and lets me peek inside the brain of an executive who walked away from her high-powered career to go live in the woods?

The style of writing is a bit too stream of consciousness for my taste, but I enjoyed the metaphors woven throughout -- the frogs that are "twice-born" (first an egg and then emerging from tadpole to frog), the snakes in her garden (a little Book of Genesis for you), and many others.

At the beginning of the book, she references a cartoon by Andre Jordan (she linked it on her gardening blog here) that I love. Beneath five white tree trunks are the words:

"I've decided to go and live in the woods (it's for the best)."

As you may know, I've long been enamored with the idea of ditching the trappings of my life and retreating to the woods. The problem is that if I did in fact go to the woods to live "deliberately," my children would still be asking me "what's for dinner" and demanding my fight mediation services every five minutes. I would not, in fact, "have some peace there." (I would not have it here or there. I would not have it anywhere.) Roach is not married and has no children. Yeats was likewise single and childless when he wrote this poem . . . .

I'll likely need to wait until I'm old and gray to "have some peace" here or there. And by that time, I'll be missing the lack of it.

Beware the Ides of March

2011-03-15T19:42:00.000-07:00

Vincenzo Camuccini, Mort de César, 1798

Well, given that it's March 15 today, this painting just feels right. If you're puzzling over the meaning of "ides" it really just means "middle." And why beware the ides of March and not the ides of May or June or January? Because this is the day (way back in 44 BC) that Julius Caesar heard the seer's fateful warning ("Beware the Ides of March!"), laughed about it, and then didn't live to tell. No, he was stabbed (23 times) to death in the Roman Senate by Brutus with the help of about 60 other conspirators. Not a good day.

What I love about the story (ala Shakespeare's telling) is that when the seer foretold that harm would come to Caesar not later than the Ides of March, Caesar joked, "Well, the Ides of March have come" (so there!), to which the seer replied: "Ay, they have come, but they are not gone."

Some days are like that. They can't be over fast enough.

Nifty Items I Was Eyeing and Couldn't Stop Myself from Buying

2011-03-04T17:34:00.002-07:00

{Because I lack the restraint to eye and never buy,

here is my periodic post of items that are making me happy.}

This faux rust cymbidium from Diane James Home. I ogled over the arrangements on the Diane James Home website for almost a year before I jumped on the opportunity to buy a couple of items with a generous discount code. Her flowers and plants are pricey, but shouldn't there be a cost-per-loving-look measure (like price-per-wear for shoes and clothes)? Just looking at this plant makes me happy, and that's really worth something.

Prints from the Nebulous Kingdom on etsy -- Girl at Poppies and Princess Mardarine.

Two Good Ideas

2011-03-04T13:38:00.000-07:00

Sabbath Manifesto

1. National Day of Unplugging (sundown tonight until sundown tomorrow). (discovered via Motherlode)

2. This online art class from Pineapple Paintbrush. The class doesn't actually start until Monday, but you could get a head start. Think what you could create with your children (or even on your own) while you're unplugged! (discovered via Bloom)

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-03-04T12:27:00.001-07:00

Hello -- the iPad 2 (available on Friday, March 11 at 5 p.m.). I've been waiting oh so patiently. The new magnetic covers look pretty cool too.

Speaking of my addiction to Apple products, I just got a new iPhone this month, and I'm thinking about a wooden cover like this to protect it (and make me happy when I hold it):

From electronic notebook to old school notebook. Don't these from Our Shop look like fun? (discovered via Design Sponge)

This sticky tape and this color-it-yourself poster (among other things) from summersville (discovered via Poppytalk).

The Aging of Grief

2011-03-02T12:06:00.001-07:00

I'm currently slogging through The Brothers Karamazov. Yes, I do mean slogging. It's not an easy read, but it does have moments of brilliance. This morning, this line made me stop and ponder for some time:

"It's a great mystery of human life,

that old grief passes gradually into quiet, tender joy."

I do think that's true. And miraculous. Even the sharpest of life's pains dull over time. Thank goodness for joy, and that sorrow is only a periodic visitor. But how "old" must the grief be before you can stop nurturing it like a sick child and kick it out of your house? That's what I want to know.

Speaking of books, aren't these book sculptures (what the artist, Brian Dettmer, calls "altered" books) clever? (discovered via Omnivoracious)

Lonely Crowd

2011-03-01T17:58:00.002-07:00

I was sorting through some old files and stumbled on a poem I wrote when I was about 16. Don't you love the dot matrix printout (with my hard copy edits to the original after printing)? It's not a particularly good poem, of course, but wow does it resurrect what I often felt in those days, growing up in a very Catholic school as an "other." I was the captain of the track team, and we started each and every track meet with a group chant of The Lord's Prayer given in a tight circle in the middle of the track. I pretended to know the words. This poem attempted to capture the long-ago feeling of isolation and loneliness that came with being "different," and the irony of creating that separation through a prayer intended to unite.

Those days are long past, but I still find myself preparing a face to meet the faces I meet. Don't we all?

Framing Ideas

2011-02-28T21:38:00.000-07:00

Moving to a new house has given me a fresh chance with blank walls to cover at my whim.

Idea #1: Here's an idea I've had in mind for some time but finally brought to fruition. Some time ago, I purchased some lovely Japanese postcards of tenugui designs. For a number of months, I couldn't bring myself to remove the postcards from the booklet they came in because they were too beautiful. (Seeing what the book is selling for now on Amazon, perhaps I shouldn't have defiled it by removing the postcards??) But the book is perforated with the intention that the cards be removed and enjoyed (or even mailed), after all.

Removed from the book, the postcards were perfect for framing. I chose a few different colors of frames in the same style, popped the postcards in and hung them in a tile formation on an entryway wall. They are currently making me happy. And when I want to mix things up, I can just change the selection of postcards in the frames.

You could use this idea with any type of postcard. Or you might try using images from a pattern book (these V&A Pattern books even include the patterns on cd, so you can print them) or even an old wallpaper sample book. I have some tree bomb Ferm Living wallpaper that I purchased for various crafts, and I even cut an 8x10 piece and framed it to hang on the wall. Looks great. Pretty much endless possibilities.

Idea #2: Here's another extremely easy (and inexpensive idea). Do your kids produce mass quantities of art work? Mine do. I've come across several great ideas for displaying their work, including:

Buying frames that can hold many pages at once, so you can stack, store and reorder.
Paint empty frames on the walls of your garage or laundry room, so you can pin up a rotating collection of artwork on walls that might otherwise be blank. (Can't recall where I saw this idea.)
Paint a wall with magnetic paint and hang art with magnets. I may just have to give this one a try.

Well, here's my own very lazy but satisfying idea. Buy yourself some colorful japanese washi tape (I like Happy Tape) and tape their artwork to the wall of a playroom or bedroom. I don't even worry about being neat about it. We just tape it up, stand back, and admire.

Happy Links

2011-02-26T11:29:00.001-07:00

A couple of things that made me smile this week.

This clip from Portlandia (discovered via The Man Repeller)

These very creative and funny photos of office wear made of office supplies (discovered via Jane Has a Job and Jeanie Jeanie). I like this outfit, although I'd need to wear a cami underneath the top :) The skirt strikes me as completely office appropriate.

Mailing envelope skirt paired with pencil eraser blouse
(creative work of New York photographer Ted Sabarese)

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-02-25T17:38:00.000-07:00

These book boxes from twine (discovered via Design Sponge)

Robins Egg Soaps from Cambria Cove.

This green jacket from Anthropologie.

Scrabble wall art like this (endless possibilities if you made tiles yourself . . .) (discovered via Say YES! to Hoboken)

Easter cookies like these from Sweet Tooth Cottage (that I could order and enjoy without getting sick while making and sampling the frosting and dough). (Discovered via The Celebration Shoppe)

Nifty Items I Was Eyeing and Couldn't Stop Myself from Buying

2011-02-24T22:23:00.000-07:00

Because I don't possess the self-restraint to eye and not buy, I thought it might be fun to give a glimpse of some of the nifty items I was eyeing and couldn't stop myself from buying. To start out, here are a few items that have made me very happy:

Rug tiles from Flor. I pretty much want to put Flor in every room of my house, but this is my only purchase thus far. Very pleased. I haven't even used the Flor dots (adhesive circles) to attach the tiles together yet because I keep deciding to rearrange the patterns. Thankfully, this isn't a high traffic area of my house, and the tiles have a grippy back that keeps them in place.

Yellow ruffle pillows from Sferra. I never get tired of the color, texture and luxury of these pillows. On more than one occasion, I've just stopped one of my kids in the nick of time from taking one outside for use in some fort or other with the plea "not the yellow pillows! Those are special to me."

Urchin bowl from elements clay studio. I'm using this one to hold earrings and hair clips, but I could see many uses. Soap dish in the bathroom? Paper clip holder in the office? Love the texture and look.

Wednesday's Word -- Color

2011-02-24T00:22:00.001-07:00

I happened across this quote from Van Gogh:

"There is no blue without yellow and without orange."

I like this. As you can see in many of Van Gogh's paintings, he appreciated that juxtaposing complementary colors (like blue and orange) makes each color pop and seem brighter than it would otherwise. Blue on its own isn't as blue as it could be if paired with orange or yellow, and vice versa.

Here's what he had to say about the technique: "To exaggerate the fairness of hair, I come even to orange tones, chromes and pale yellow . . . . I make a plain background of the richest, most intense blue that I can contrive, and by this simple combination of the bright head against the rich blue background, I get a mysterious effect, like a star in the depths of an azure sky."

He of course used this technique not just when painting hair, but nature too.

Taken as metaphor, "There is no blue without yellow and without orange" means (to me) that diversity is a beautiful thing. The true potential of one thing (or person) may not reveal itself until put up against its complement. Is your orange missing its blue? Maybe you already have the blue background you need for your own personal pop, or maybe you need to find it.

Ironically, the word "color" comes from an Indo European root (*kel-2) that means "to cover, conceal, save." In a true sense, color can be a cover. Paint the barn, paint the walls, paint your face. Color may hide what lies beneath.

But color may also reveal. On a technical level, color is the effect produced on the eye and its nerves by light waves of different wavelength or frequency. Light transmitted from an object to the eye stimulates the different color cones of the retina, thus making it possible to perceive various colors in the object.

Yes, color brings a thing to life. Makes me think of the original Wizard of Oz movie with the opening Kansas scenes in dreary hues of black and white, followed by colors that seem to burst from the screen once Dorothy reaches the Land of Oz.

Color can have that same effect on a smaller scale -- the food you eat, the clothes you wear, a pop of color in a room of your house. Color can indeed save. So go put something orange against an intense blue background and see what you see. It might just improve your outlook on the day.

Eating by the Color

2011-02-22T20:05:00.000-07:00

With color on my mind of late, I thought my kids would enjoy colored meals. I was right. They're all over it. Last night was our "yellow dinner" and tonight we tackled the "green dinner." Neither of these meals has involved anything gourmet (or meat, because we're vegetarian). I do very much want my kids to eat the food, and plus I'm too time-strapped to get ambitious.

The yellow dinner consisted of corn on the cob, pineapple, bananas, pasta shells and pineapple-ginger smoothies. My kids also had some veggie corndogs although they weren't strictly with the yellow theme. The green dinner menu offered pesto pasta, green apples, kiwi fruit, cucumbers, green olives, avocados, broccoli, green snack peas, green jello, pistachio pudding, and green machine smoothies (love that this smoothie sneaks in SPINACH among other very good things). Good stuff, and we had a blast with it.

What's up for the rest of the week? Orange, pink, purple, and red. Makes me remember an old song we used to sing in school: "red and yellow and pink and green, purple and orange and blue. I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow too."

Well, here's to getting your kids (and yourself) to eat fruits and vegetables!

Decorating by the Book

2011-02-21T16:38:00.002-07:00

From an Andy (husband of Kate) Spade
art exhibition at French boutique Colette

I have a scrap (among many others, some of which I have blogged about) on my bulletin board with this quote attributed to the Roman author Cicero:

"A room without books is like a body without a soul."

Amen.

We moved houses recently, and the move has given me the chance to sort through and organize the books I've accumulated over the years, both for myself and for my children. If you, like me, have children who will never keep the jackets on hardcover books in place and yet you can't bear to get rid of them so you have them stored in some closet, or shoved behind a bookcase or under some bed, you might like this idea as much as I do. Here are a couple of quick examples I may use in my little boy's room.

As an aside, I've found myself purchasing far fewer books in recent years, as many of my "reads" are actually listens (audiobooks). At my law firm, the law library keeps shrinking and shrinking as we rely increasingly on the electronic over the tome. But I will never stop loving the heft of a book in my hands and the turn of the pages on my fingers. Nor will I ever get tired of the look of books.

On a related idea, have you seen the artists who use pages from old books and even dictionaries as the canvas for their art?

Coloring by the Book

2011-02-20T16:13:00.001-07:00

Flickr

How do you organize your books? I have always organized by paperback and hardback and then book size. But lately, I've been noticing example after example of books organized by color.

Some of these are even stacked horizontally on the shelves, rather than with spines vertical. You can see many striking examples on Flickr's Rainbow of Books pool.

My first thought was "well, that's beautiful, but do you people actually read the books?" I'm still not sure, but I do like the look of it.

Flickr

Can you imagine if an entire bookstore or library were organized this way? That's exactly what the owner did at this San Francisco bookshop. Great for browsing, but what a hassle it would be to come in looking for a specific book!

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-02-18T17:38:00.001-07:00

I love this. I can't tell how much it costs from the artist's webpage, but according to Martha Stewart Living (March issue) it is $2500. Alas, I don't think so.

The table in this photo from the Flor catalog. I have no idea how to buy it or how much it would cost, but isn't the texture of it striking? Love all the colors and details in this photo, actually.

Birchbox. You get a selection of nifty beauty products (and a package to look forward to) each month.

Mission Impossible

2011-02-17T11:43:00.001-07:00

I'm working on a potentially brain-stupor-inducing training presentation for client employees and looking for ways to spice it up. As you know, I love a good metaphor more than just about anyone. How's this to introduce the potential perils of tricky settlement negotiations?

This clip originally comes from an old BBC documentary called Daylight Robbery (from the 1990s), but here it is being used by a beer company. Not sure what lager has to do with the squirrel's amazing abilities, but that's a beer commercial for you . . . .

Wednesday's Word -- Illusion

2011-02-16T23:43:00.000-07:00

I've been reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami and thinking about the word illusion. (Don't take this as a recommendation of the book . . . . Many parts are wonderfully metaphoric and creative, while other parts are worth skipping due to graphic descriptions that I can do without and still appreciate the tale . . . .)

Illusion comes from a root meaning to play or jest. It finds its origin in the Latin illudere, meaning to mock at. A client sent me this (almost hypnotic) optical illusion today, and it has me thinking about the reality that things are often not what they appear to be . . .

Stare Into the Circles and Take a Deep Breath

2011-02-15T14:00:00.002-07:00

I volunteered as the "art helper" in my kindergartener's art class yesterday. Because I needed to be at the school at 11:10, it didn't make sense to drive all the way downtown to my office. So I worked from home. Well, actually, I mostly sat in my home office at my desktop and pondered on the question of what else I could do with my life that would use my skill set and all the years I've invested in my career but allow me to live a more creative life.

With this on my mind, I walked into the art room and discovered that the class would be learning about a Kandinsky painting. Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944) is actually one of my favorite artists. I just like the look of his paintings. (I remember first being drawn to him when I stumbled upon a certain room at the Art Institute of Chicago many, many years ago that was displaying several of his paintings.) But I also really like him because he was a lawyer in Russia and used painting as a stress reliever. I am also a lawyer, am of Russian descent, and use art as a stress reliever.

I couldn't help but take this as something of a sign.

I'm currently reading/listening to a book that examines (among many other things) the idea of a person's self split into two -- through a traumatic event or other life experiences. In truth, none of us is just one person. We each have many faceted aspects that congolmerate to form the whole we call "self." That is certainly true for me. (You can't help but know this about me if you read this blog. Vocation/avocation. Two roads diverging. Dare to eat a peach?)

For now, I get my fix by carving out (a lot of) time (1) to read books that have nothing to do with my profession and (2) to make (a lot of) art with my kids. Abandoning all reason to take up residence as the permanent "art helper" at the elementary school is tempting on a certain level (I'm not trying to brag or anything, but the art teacher DID say I can come help every day if I want . . . .). But I somehow don't think that's the solution. I'll just have to settle for cameo art helper appearances for now.

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-02-11T20:15:00.001-07:00

Infinity mirror from CB2. I have some floor to ceiling bookshelves along a hallway wall, and wouldn't it be doubly fabulous to hang an immense mirror on the other side to give the feel of walking through a corridor of books? Yes, I think so too. If I actually do it, I'll post a photo.

Wall art for my little boy's room from Ferm Living (via All Modern).

These Stabilo pens are a great addition to the never-ending arts and crafts efforts around our house. Super fine and vivid. Great for adding detail to artwork with my kids.

Chewing on Happiness

2011-02-11T18:50:00.001-07:00

I recently discovered these Inside Out Carrot Cake Cookies at Trader Joe's, and they are bliss you can hold in your hand. Like a moon pie, but with cream cheese frosting on the inside and super moist carrot cake on the outside. Yes, they take me to a happy place. I think if someone hooked electrodes up to my brain while I am eating one of those cookies, my brain happiness indicators would be lit up like a Christmas tree.

Of course, the logical part of my brain knows that cookie ≠ happiness. But it helps. At least temporarily. The same goes for retail therapy, which (based on my own scientific studies) is even more effective than a cookie. Neither habit, of course, is any good for you. But I suppose you could do much worse than baked goods and UPS packages as far as vices go, right?

Speaking of happiness, isn't this a lovely idea?

Post Script: Here's a very similar idea from Martha Stewart for zucchini nut bread cookie sandwiches.

Wednesday's Word -- Valentine

2011-02-09T14:52:00.000-07:00

Comic Valentine from mid-19th Century:
"R Stands for rod, which can give a smart crack,
And ought to be used For a day on your back."

It's that time of year again -- the time when I spend countless hours on the challenging quest for valentines that my daughters will agree to give to both male and female classmates alike on the one hand (can't actually say anything about LOVE), and that won't cost me an arm and a leg or require me to participate in the over-commercialization of the day on the other.

{Did you know that "antivalentinism" is a word?! No, I didn't either. If you are either opposed to the consumerism that goes along with Valentines Day, or you don't appreciate being forced to express your love on a designated day, then you are an antivalentinist. I suppose I satisfy both of those criteria, although my main issue is disdain for mass-produced cards with popular cartoon characters on them. (As an aside, I may give Cinderella Ate My Daughter a read . . . .)}

The hard truth is that the kids just want the little chocolate candy you've taped to the card anyway. The rest ends up in the garbage. But despite holding this truth to be self-evident, I can't stop myself from undertaking massively time-sucking efforts to craft homemade valentines. The internet is a wonderful thing, and there are many great ideas out there. Here's what we did last year. And here's what we're doing this year. (I think the deep truth is that I do in fact very much enjoy artsy-crafty things and am frustrated with the lack of right-brained activity in my life . . . . :)

So, has your curious mind ever pondered on the origin of "Valentine"? As far as I can tell, most of what we know is just speculation and conjecture. Here are a few short bits.

Some say the day has its roots in an archaic Roman pastoral festival (Lupercalia) that was observed February 13 to 15. But the festival had nothing to do with romantic love or friendship. Rather it involved sacrifice of two goats and a dog and anointing of foreheads with sacrificial blood (wiped off the knife with wool soaked in milk). Sounds fun. I particularly like that the priests that have blood wiped on them are supposed to respond by smiling and laughing. Okay. Next up was a sacrificial feast with priests dressed in goatskins running around the walls of the city striking onlookers with thongs. Girls and young women would line up on the route to happily receive lashes in order to encourage fertility and ease the pains of childbirth. Put that on a Hallmark card!
Some say the day finds its origins in the story of St. Valentine, who was reportedly executed because he was a Christian and wouldn't convert to Roman paganism. Some even portray Valentine as a priest who was secretly performing marriages in violation of a law passed by Roman Emperor Claudius II (who supposedly thought unmarried men make better soldiers). Another tale adds that Valentine healed the blind daughter of his jailer and left her a note on the eve of his execution that was signed "From your Valentine."
The first recorded link between Valentine's Day and romantic love came from Chaucer who penned in a verse to honor a royal engagement: "For this was Saint Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate." I don't know, but isn't February still a bit cold for birds to be choosing mates (especially in England where Chaucer lived)?
It was many, many years before the modern day tradition of cards, candy and flowers. (Which I must observe has since evolved into this typical scene: I stop on the way home from work on February 14 to buy a few odd items at the local grocery store and witness a sad procession of men standing in the checkout line with flowers, chocolate and card in hand. Now what's the point in that I ask you?)
The romantic aspect of the celebration started with hand-written notes and then handwritten notes eventually gave way to mass-produced greeting cards. The gifts didn't come into the picture until the second half of the 20th century. The U.S. Greeting Card Association estimates that approximately 190 million valentines are sent each year in the U.S. And add to that an estimated 15 million e-valentines sent in 2010. Wow.

As for me, I don't plan on sacrificing any animals, nor on dressing in goatskin. I don't care to be flogged in an effort to increase my fertility. I will see if I can find any birds choosing their mates on February 14, but I'm skeptical. Nor do I intend to purchase any valentine day cards. That doesn't mean, however, that I'll abandon the valentine-day-crafting extravaganza that has taken over my dining room table. That's just good clean fun.

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-02-04T12:06:00.000-07:00

Book Book for the iPad. Oh yeah, I still need an iPad, but isn't this so great?

Have I told you how much I want to buy nearly everything in the West Elm catalog? Well, I do. These little soap dish trays are calling my name currently.

And these dessert plates.

Also love these artistic chocolates by MarieBelle (via Cambria Cove). But could I bring myself to actually eat them?

Wednesday's Word -- Blizzard

2011-02-02T20:31:00.000-07:00

It is at times such as these, that those of us in the valley of the sunstroke can feel good about our geographic choice for an abode.

As I walked across the plaza from my parking garage to my office building this morning, the chilled wind took my breath away, and I admit I actually thought for a minute that I needed a tunnel like they have for pedestrians in Minneapolis. And then I laughed at the thin-blooded-wimp I've become, and trudged on. (In my defense, it was actually in the 30s here in Phoenix this morning!) First item on my work agenda this morning was a telephone conference with participants calling in from a handful of cities across the country, including Chicago. They were calling in from their homes and could not even get out the front door. My parents in northeastern Ohio are also dealing with major snow and ice storm conditions. I was a bit in awe to find that there is already a Wikipedia entry for "Ground Hog Day Blizzard of 2011." It's already gone down in history, and the day isn't even over yet.

So, all of this has me thinking about the origin of the word "blizzard." The etymology of the word is uncertain, but some sources say it's an onomatopoeia, like other suggestive words blow, blast, blister, and bluster. Others have suggested that blizzard might be related to the French word blesser, meaning "to wound." That sounds about right to me! Others have suggested that the Blizzard family of Buckinghamshire, England (who migrated to the U.S.) gave their name to the massive storms we now call blizzards. Or blizzard might come from the English word "blizzer," which was once used to describe a knock-down fight (a "blizzard of blows"), a blaze, a shot, or choking. Again, that's fitting.

The word blizzard was first used to describe a massive snowstorm back in the 1860s, and now we use it all the time. As for me, I'll just ponder the word from the warmth of my desert existence.

Standing Sentinel

2011-01-31T21:51:00.000-07:00

This is what I see on my morning runs. Well, I actually see these white birds standing sentinel in the dark because I run in the wee hours, but this is a shot I took a bit later on a Saturday morning. Don't they look like they're waiting for something to happen? That's how I feel too, but with much less patience.

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-01-28T18:02:00.001-07:00

Ferm Living Pouf Pouf. Alas, I didn't react quickly enough, and these are all sold out (at least from huset).

Ferm Living Chalkboard Calendar from Fawn and Forest. (Okay, I've got a thing for Ferm Living and have for some time.)

Pretty much anything designed and created by element clay studio. Like these wall tiles.

Or these or these? You know how I love faux succulents, and I'm crazy about the texture of these.

Or these urchin bowls? Beautiful.

Wednesday's Word -- Brace

2011-01-26T13:44:00.004-07:00

Last night, my 2 1/2 year old knocked into my mouth with an unexpected but powerful embrace, and the impact did not rip a bloody gash in my lip or the inside of my mouth. That's right. I finally had my braces removed yesterday. What a relief to enjoy my child's exuberance without (as much) fear of injury! So today, I'm thinking about the word "brace."

Let's start with the verb. To "brace" is to steady, bind, or hold up another thing. Think of an ankle brace (or sharp metal harm-inflictors on my teeth . . .). It also means to prepare or position so as to be ready for impact or danger. To get ready; make preparations. To summon up strength and endurance. As in, "brace yourself"! (On a tangent, I remember my father often used to tell us kids to "get a grip on yourself." We thought it was quite amusing to respond by tightly gripping some body part like an arm or a leg with a hand. Oh, for the love of words!)

The noun "brace" has a number of interesting meanings. Of course, a "brace" is the device that performs the bracing. But "brace" is also the name of the punctuation symbol I usually call a curly bracket { }. Technically, you use that symbol to enclose lines of text or listed items that should be considered a unit. {Or, like me, you sometimes use them because they're prettier than parentheses.} I like the symbol even more, now that I know it's a brace intended to contain the pieces and parts that {left to their own devices} might go their separate ways. Braces are also suspenders (if you're British). And, although the meaning is now obsolete, a brace is a measurement of length representing a person's outstretched arms.

Down to the root, "brace" comes from Old French meaning "the two arms." How fitting that those curly "brace" brackets do in fact look like arms -- like an embrace. As you could probably guess, to "embrace" means to surround with one's arms.

And nothing holds you together better than the emBRACE of a toddler who loves you fiercely.

{Speaking of the love of words, have you read The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak? I'm reading it now and enjoying it quite a bit.}

100 Things

2011-01-24T22:55:00.000-07:00

Well, it's that time of year again. The day that time-strapped, weary procrastinators like myself stay up into the wee hours creating some item of apparel with 100 items of some sort or another affixed.

Yes, it's the 100th day of school tomorrow.

My kindergartener is supposed to attach 100 items to a painters hat (provided). I haven't heard word one about what my 2nd grader is supposed to be fabricating, and to tell you the truth, I can't bear to know at this late hour. She has assured me that she doesn't need 100 beads sewn to a shirt or 100 barrettes in her hair or any such thing. I'll just be holding my breath at parent pick up tomorrow in case I'm relying on bad information. You know it will be all my fault.

It's been quite the day. I've flown 4,000 miles (not kidding -- don't ask), and no, I did not abandon the practice of law for a flight attendant spot. At least the night is still relatively young. And I decided to glue and not sew this year. (WHAT was I thinking last year?)

On a completely different topic, doesn't this sound like a lovely idea? There's just something about receiving a package that brightens the day, you know? I arrived home road (air?) weary to find an anthropologie box on my doorstep tonight. That helped :)

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-01-21T21:34:00.001-07:00

La Mer, The Lip Balm. Amazing stuff. Sold out on La Mer's website, but you can still get it from some department stores (online and in store).

Wood block rug from West Elm (for indoor or outdoor use)

A modern chandelier like this one (not going to happen).

Have a good weekend!

How to Train Your 8-Year-Old Dragon [Child]

2011-01-21T21:06:00.000-07:00

Spent too many hours working on a mind-numbingly-complicated flowchart for a client. So naturally, I thought it would be a relief to waste some time creating this light-minded decision flowchart to address other pressing issues.

Wednesday's Word -- Resolution

2011-01-20T05:34:00.002-07:00

Do you make New Year's Resolutions? I typically am a big time resolutioner, but this year it seemed the most I could muster was the unimpressive likes of:

get out of bed
take care of kids
do job
keep it together

Not all that inspiring or resolutionary (if I can make that a word). But you do what you can. Sometimes that's more, and sometimes that's less.

Humor me while I share a few thoughts about the word "resolution. Resolution comes from the Latin resolutionem, which means the "process of reducing things into simpler form." Take the overwhelming whole and break it down into bite-size pieces. It comes from the stem of resolvere, meaning "loosen." So, now you know why a cleaner that claims to loosen and break down dirt might think to call itself "Resolve."

Given my sub-par cleaning skills, it probably won't surprise you to know that I'm a bit more interested in other meanings of the word. Resolution is also degree or sharpness of a computer-generated image (think pixels across and down your display screen). Resolutions give you clarity. Put all the pieces together and you get the picture.

But here's my favorite meaning. Resolution is the process in harmony whereby a dissonant (unstable) note or chord is followed by a consonant (stable) one. I don't know about you, but I could use more consonance and less dissonance in 2011. Here's to a resolutionary year.

I See the Moon, Up Over My Head. It's Full and It's Round and It Shines on My Bed.

2011-01-18T20:38:00.001-07:00

Anyone else see it today? I swooned over it twice. Once this morning at around 6 a.m. I was on my run and had no camera. And then again around 6 p.m. tonight at the park with my kids (with a camera). Made my day. Twice.

Time Out

2011-01-17T16:41:00.002-07:00

Van Gogh's Bedroom

Have you ever wished for illness or injury just serious enough that you could stay in bed for the day? This is shameful, but I have at times found myself daydreaming of incapacitation. I'll be walking across the plaza to my office and all of a sudden I imagine myself falling and inflicting some sort of temporary harm that would require strict bed rest for a week or so.

And then I count my blessings and press forward.

Yesterday, I woke up feeling so sick I honestly couldn't function. That pretty much never happens to me. I have to admit that I enjoyed it {at least slightly} despite my misery. Yes, I was a tad happy. My children brought their projects into my room and played and made messes all around me, while I did my best to contain my germs.

Do you ever just stay in bed? Or, like me, do you mostly just dream of the luxury?

Nifty Items I'm Eyeing and Would Like to Be Buying

2011-01-15T12:18:00.004-07:00

I haven't done one of these posts for quite some time, but that {unfortunately} doesn't mean I haven't been buying. Here are some items I've been eyeing lately.

1. These earrings (and rings and hairclips, etc.) from the Ciao Bella Boutique on etsy. So many cute choices, and my girls are now both begging to get their ears pierced. (Thanks to my sister Allison who sent me a pair for Christmas!)

2. Workout clothes from lululemon. So comfortable and flattering, I just want to stay in the clothes all day. (A client turned me on to these.)

3. Bond No. 9 perfume. The fact that the bottles are beautiful is just the icing on the cake. Some of my favorites: The Scent of Peace and Fire Island.

Giant Tales

2011-01-14T16:31:00.000-07:00

Do you remember The Book of Giant Stories by David Harrison? My oldest daughter recently brought it home from school as her library book, and it took me right back to my childhood. I loved this book, and you know what? It's still great.

I had to laugh at the reaction of my three children upon learning the "secret" at the end of the first story "The Little Boy's Secret." This is a spoiler, but you can handle it. The little boy has chicken pox and ends up sharing his "secret" with three big, ghastly giants he meets on the way from school to his home.

"Chicken pox?!" my kids exclaimed. "What are chicken pox?" "Gross," the 2 1/2 year old added. "Children, chicken pox are what we call an anachronism. Don't worry your pretty little heads. Modern science has spared you."

Worth a read!

Tiger Mom vs. Lamb Mom

2011-01-12T19:55:00.003-07:00

Found this and this pretty fascinating, given the struggles I already have with my three headstrong children (8, 6, and 2 1/2). The 8-year-old, in particular, tends to push me to my limit. I'm not proud to admit that last night (completely drained by the battle over homework) I actually resorted to telling her "you're never going to be successful in life if you spell tractor 'tracter'."

Who knows what actually works. To some extent, it gets back to the whole nuture vs. nature thing, don't you think? Some children will achieve because it's just IN them. I threaten to let my oldest sink or swim and deal with the consequences, but I don't have the guts to actually follow through on the threat. How about you?

On My Nightstand (or iPhone)

2011-01-08T01:47:00.005-07:00

My nightstand is stacked with books I am reading and books yet-to-be-read. And my iPhone is loaded with yet more books -- books that I listen to while running and commuting or just cleaning house. My husband often asks me how I can come home from a job that requires an intense amount of reading, and then pick up a book and read some more. Of course there is the reading we must do, and then there is READING. I fell in love with READING many, many years ago, and I can never get enough.

Here are a few words about one of the books I am reading currently: At Home: A Short History of Private Life, by Bill Bryson.

To start, I must admit that I read pretty much everything Bill Bryson writes. My first Bryson read was A Walk in the Woods, and I was hooked. At Home is his latest. That's not to say that Bryson's style will be up your alley, but it might be. I connect with the way he looks at life. He asks basic questions and then researches to find the answer. He is observant of the details in the world around him. In our family, my common refrain in response to my daughters' unendingingly creative questions is often "I don't know. Let's research it!" They often say to me (partly mocking, partly admiring): "Why are you so CURIOUS, Mom?" Well, I do have an inquiring mind. So does Bryson. He decided to write this book when he was sitting in his home in England (a former Church of England rectory built in the 19th century), and he realized he didn't know many basic things, like how the names of various rooms came to be used, why a fork has four tines, why salt and pepper are so important and a very long list of other oddities and curiosities. My kind of questions.

So Bryson works through the house, from room to room, examining details of every sort. In the dining room, he talks about the discovery of mahogany and the history of furniture. In the cellar, he looks at the history of building materials like iron, steel and stucco. In the study, he moves to mice, rats, bed bugs and other pests. And so on. Today's commute time was taken up in the study. Here's an excerpt (transcribed from my recorded book version) to give you an idea of why I enjoy him. He just has a way of saying things.

"The real life in your house is on a much smaller scale. Down at the realm of the very tiny, your house teems with life. It is a veritable rainforest for crawling, clambering things. Armies of tiny creatures patrol the boundless jungles of your carpet fibers, paraglide amid floating motes of dust, crawl across the bedsheets at night to graze upon the vast, delicious, gently heaving mountain of slumbering flesh that is you. These creatures exist in numbers you cannot comfortably imagine. Your bed alone, if it is averagely clean, averagely old, averagely dimensioned, and turned averagely often (which is to say almost never), is likely to be home to some two million tiny bed mites, too small to be seen with the naked eye, but unquestionably there. It has been calculated that if your pillow is six years old (which is the average age for a pillow), one-tenth of its weight will be made up of sloughed skin, living and dead mites, and mite dung . . . ."

And he goes on. (Doesn't that make you want to turn your mattress and go buy a new pillow? NOW?) In the same chapter, he gives more information about mice and rats than you might care to know, much of it fascinating, funny, and disturbing all at once. I was puzzling about these two facts today. He writes at one point about the astounding breeding rates of rats, saying that a male rat has sex up to 20 times a day. At another point, he talks about the laziness of rats, saying that they spend up to 20 hours a day asleep. That's a busy four hours, I suppose. He also offers that up to one-fourth of unexplained fires are thought to be caused by rats' ceaseless desire to gnaw wires. That, and many other odd facts.

In any event, if you love to dissect the world around you and ask WHY about just about everything, you may enjoy this latest Bryson journey as much as I am.

Wednesday's Word -- Cancer

2011-01-05T05:49:00.005-07:00

Photo by Danielle Hughson -- Flickr

"Is Enya music supposed to be calming?" I wondered, sitting stripped of all dignity, clothed in a one-size-fits-all robe in the waiting area at the imaging clinic. Perhaps so, but the Enya music was making me frantic.

One day, one night, one moment,

my dreams could be, tomorrow.

One step, one fall, one falter,

east or west, over earth or by ocean.

One way to be my journey,

this way could be my Book of Days.*

When you're waiting to find out whether lump = breast cancer, you don't need a reminder that you're standing at a crossroads. Not even from the soothing likes of Enya.

Have you ever wondered about the word "cancer"? It's such an unfortunately common word these days. According to the American Cancer Society, cancer is the second leading cause of death in the United States. Half of all men and one-third of all women in the U.S. will develop cancer during their lifetimes.

Did you know that the word "cancer" means crab? Maybe you knew that, because Cancer is one of the twelve constellations of the zodiac.**

Has it ever occurred to you to question why we use the same word to describe a ruthless disease and a crustacean crawling on the ocean floor? I suppose there is some desperate connection. As T.S. Eliot put it (indulge me my repeated references to this beloved poem),

"I should have been a pair of ragged claws / scuttling across the floors of silent seas."

I've always loved that line. Good pacing words, they are.

Turns out that long-ago Hippocrates (Greek physician and so-called father of medicine) used the Greek words carcinos and carcinoma for crab to describe tumors. "Cancer" is the Latin word for crab. It's said that Hippocrates thought the finger-like spreading projections from a cancer tumor looked like the shape of a crab. Of course Hippocrates also believed that cancer is caused by an excess of black bile in any given site of the body (out of balance with the other lovely fluids of blood, phlegm, and yellow bile). For the next 1400 years, people pretty much thought Hippocrates had it right.

The ancient Egyptians, who documented the earliest cases of cancer (back in around 1500 BC), believed cancer was caused by the Gods. The details were recorded on a papyrus, documenting eight cases of tumors occurring on the breast. I shuddered to read that these tumors were treated by cauterization -- which involved destroying the tissue with a hot instrument called "the fire drill." Gives new meaning to the need to get out NOW, doesn't it? All alarms ringing.

Thankfully, and after a tortured eternity of pondering my own far and away and book of days, I was called into another examination room, subjected to more humiliating examinations and tests (ironically performed with something the likes of Metallica in the background). Then a smiling Doctor Gupta, summoned as messenger, informed me that I do not in fact have breast cancer.

On the way home (after many long exhales and a short detour for some retail therapy), I found myself stuck for some time at an intersection. A fire truck, several police cars, and a half-dozen emergency workers had taken over, lights flashing off the glass fragments littering the asphalt. Metal crushed and folded in. Stretcher waiting for the unmoving body extracted from what used to be a car. For once, I wasn't even anxious or irritated by the traffic delay. I just sat and thought and wondered and counted my blessings. There are many ways to leave this life -- moving on to the floors of silent seas.

*Lyrics from Enya's Far and Away. I wonder is Enya referencing R. Chambers' 1869 The Book of Days, A Miscellany of Popular Antiquities? Who knows. The Book of Days has been described as a detailed description of key historical events, the life and times of people, both great and infamous, and long forgotten customs of cultures from every corner of the world.

**I like the tale about Cancer, from the Twelve Labors of Hercules. While Hercules was busy fighting the multi-headed Hydra monster, the goddess Hera (who hated her step-son Hercules) sent Cancer the crab to distract him. Cancer tried to kill Hercules, but Hercules kicked Cancer so hard that it was sent into the sky. I've witnessed what that crab can do to a person's life, and it does require something along the lines of a Herculean kick (along with a good dose of grace) to conquer it.

Sobs, Sniffles, and Smiles

2011-01-01T08:28:00.000-07:00

Each Christmas, I select and give a book to each of my children. It's my little way of emphasizing the importance of reading. I always tell them that the love of words and books has shaped my life in powerful ways. When I'm gone, I hope that is one of the memories they will have of me. This year, I gave one of my daughters an illustrated copy of The Gift of the Magi, by O. Henry (a much loved story). Some of the words are above the average reading level for children (or even adults of this day and age -- e.g., "the silent imputation of parsimony"), but my girls enjoy the story and illustrations very much.

Here's a line from the story that has stuck in my mind: "[L]ife is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating." I wonder, is that true? I suppose O'Henry means that our circumstances usually aren't on either end of the spectrum (either all sobs or all smiles), but rather somewhere in the middle (sniffles). I'd prefer to think that sniffles are not the middle ground status quo, but some stretches of life do feel that way.

A couple of days after Christmas, my oldest daughter asked me to take her to get her hair cut. I thought, "well, good," because I have been suggesting it for months and months. Turns out, she was inspired by Della in the story, who had her long lovely locks sheared off in exchange for $20, which she used to buy a gift for her dear husband, Jim (and you know the rest of the story). I thought the moral of the story my girls would take away was that gifts of love and pure sacrifice are the wisest of all. But it turns out that my daughter was just hoping she could get some payment in return for the hair cut off her own head . . .

Let's Have a Party

2010-12-28T16:05:00.000-07:00

The teachers stretched and formed the children into lines on a crisp October morning at Windsor Elementary. It was 1978, and it was my sixth birthday. The lines would not hold, forms morphing like cloud shapes in the sky. Assembly day, and we could hardly contain our excitement. It actually doesn't take much to enliven a group of elementary school-age children, as you may know. Our honored assembly speaker was a cookbook author, and none of us knew how to cook. But we didn't care. The assembly was a break in the routine, and that was enough. What's more, there would be a lottery, and one lucky child (among hundreds) would actually win a signed copy of the speaker's cookbook, "Let's Have a Party"!

The mass of children that would not stay lined floated towards the multi-purpose room like a storm cloud. For some reason that is entirely inexplicable to me now, I was praying. I was praying with all the fervent faith of a first grader that I would be the lucky child to win the lottery. It WAS my birthday after all, I bargained. I do not remember all I promised in return for God's grace on this particular request, but I'm sure I probably promised to be a better girl. Nor do I recall why in the world I cared to have the cookbook. At the age of six, I certainly wasn't planning many parties, let alone themed dinner party menus like those contained in the book (including the intriguing "For Lovers Only," "Ladies Lit Luncheon," and "Morning Reveille," among others).

But as you may be guessing, my prayer was answered, and my name was drawn. I won the cookbook. God existed. And I've never forgotten it. In all seriousness, the question is why? Why are some prayers answered and others (so much more important than cookbooks) not? Maybe you've wondered that yourself.

I recently had lunch with a dear friend, and we found ourselves on the topic of why oh why do such horrible things happen to good people? Senseless, inexplicable horrors. A friend's husband wakes up, has a massive heart attack, and dies -- in his mid-thirties. Another friend's marriage ends, a casualty of faithlessness. Yet another friend moves to another state to accept her dream job, only to be forcibly tied up and raped by an intruder just hours after moving into her new home. All of this (and more) happened just in the past few months. It's difficult to conjure up a palatable explanation.

My lunch companion lamented that she fears she's losing her faith -- that her prayers aren't heard. I don't have a good answer. I'd give back the cookbook in exchange for more important requests, if I could. But I keep praying and asked her to keep praying too.