a net for catching days

art house.

2011-04-29T11:35:00.012-05:00

I'm a miserable blogger these days, but today i feel compelled to offer an update for my two or three faithful readers. it's now almost May, and time for that pitiful Christmas elf to move down the page a bit. at some point, i'm going to work on an overhaul of this blog, i think. it feels like a new start has been looming for awhile now. something about springtime maybe.

Most of the writing i've done the past few months has gone to the Art House America blog, where my friend Jenni is the editor. yesterday, i had a new piece published--my observations on living in the South. A much better reason to visit, though, are the two other new essays in this week's edition.

In Food as Gift, my longtime friend Christine wrote about the community farm-store she and her husband run in a Dallas neighborhood. Our little town of Kingston Springs recently started a Saturday morning market as well, with local growers bringing baskets of lettuce, radishes, and other fresh produce to sell. One of my favorite things about traveling to Paris was the beautiful open air markets in the Rue Cler area where we stayed. There's something about finding a bit of soil still clinging to the roots of my vegetables that I find oddly reassuring.

Alice, another dear friend, shared an essay on creativity and community that socked me in the heart. While I am someone who creates instinctively, whether through art or writing or photography, there are definitely times when I think, 'what am i really creating that means anything?' sometimes it feels like i do it more as an outlet, some sort of therapeutic, self-serving expression, than for the sake of truly pursuing beauty. So that's when I set it aside for awhile.

Alice expressed my feelings so well when she wrote:

What she said that day gave me freedom and permission to look into the eyes of a friend and see a painting in progress, to be surprised by the melodies of memories triggered at perfect moments, to tease out the poetic rhythms of any given day. I began to realize that while many of my friends make art with guitars or paintbrushes, my preferred medium is the fabric of human relationships: making lasting connections between people and seeking to illuminate the image of God that each person bears.

So often lately, I am struck by how much of a 'painting in progress' I truly am. Most of the time I just want to hurry the process along, to force myself into a completed work, free of all the messy layers underneath. And lately, out of sheer need, it feels, I am much more drawn to the relationship kind of making than I am to creating art. At least for the moment, the memory-making seems so much more vital, the forging of friendships a lot more important.

the day after Christmas

2010-12-27T10:32:00.019-06:00

i haven't been able to post this entry until the day after the day after Christmas, and that is because the day after Christmas was spent somewhat leisurely and far from my computer. we awoke to a living room covered with stacks of toys, books, and empty stockings strewn all about, then made our way to the kitchen for scrambled eggs with a side of leftover stuffing, and the biggest mug of coffee we could find.

i surveyed the wilting garland on the staircase, droopy and scattering its needles, then tried to make some sense of the chaos before me. everything seemed to be leaning. a rumpled sprig of mistletoe hung over my head. weeble wobbles swayed between my feet next to a wisecracking spiderman doll. i persuaded Eli not to eat his entire chocolate Santa in one sitting, enticing him instead with half a dismembered gingerbread man and a dinner roll with butter before he headed out to play in the snow. he was clutching his new friend, Teddy, ("a sweet little bear, but not a real one because that would scare me"---as described in his letter to Santa Claus).

jeremy spent a good chunk of the morning pulling apart the broken dishwasher, while i hunted around for appropriate-sized batteries, folded laundry, and stole quick glimpses of my fabulous new cookbook--Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights, until Eli appeared at the back door with an ear-to-ear grin and presented me with a gift...a large chunk of snow encasing a petrified assortment of leaves, grass, and more than probably, chicken poop.

(page from sophie dahl's cookbook.)

we spent the afternoon with some dear friends who are like family to us, gathered around their table for Sunday lunch. it was nice to be amidst a larger group since we'd had our Christmas dinner as a family the previous night. it had been just the four of us, our dining table, and an enormous spread to give thanks over. jeremy and I roasted our first turkey together, carefully basting and poking at it every few minutes. while we cooked we munched on the stinkiest round of melting Camembert, spooned onto crackers with a dollop of fig jam. we caramelized shallots to mix with Brussels sprouts then sprinkled them with bacon and shreds of sundried tomato. we mashed butter and cream into potatoes, tossed a salad, then poured a glass of wine for me and a winter ale for the turkey-carver. for dessert, a buche de noel complete with a tiny, sugar-sculpted mushroom dusted in cocoa.

one of the joys of being home this Christmas season has been creating our own family traditions, like chocolate-filled croissants for breakfast and the buche de noel for dessert. and yes, while most roads do tend to lead to chocolate in this house, we managed a few traditions that did not involve eating. we adorned each window of our house with a wreath, watched The Polar Express ninety-nine times, and painted glass ornaments for the tree in our entry hall. Eli and i made reindeer food from glitter and rolled oats shaken in a brown paper sack, then flung it out across the lawn. of course there's also been cookie-baking and trying out French chicken dishes in our new enameled dutch oven, a gift from Jeremy's parents. both of these required liberal quantities of butter.

as i navigated through the heap of gifts yesterday---Eli's pile of lincoln logs, Millie's ride-on ladybug, the beautiful quilt my mom and i gave to Jeremy (i chose the fabrics, she did all the cutting, sewing, and crocheting), and the breathtaking work of art that my husband commissioned for me from our friend evie coates, i was struck by all we've been given. more than just the material things, as wonderful and lovely as they are, i was reminded that we are steeped in blessing so much deeper. how amazing to have this cozy home where we can sit and watch snow through the windows while listening to the church bells on Main Street chime the tune to "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem." it's a place where we can pile up together on a cold December night to read the Christmas story to our children, knowing that it's beginning to hold real meaning for them.

(artwork by evie coates.)

i have heard a few other people say this recently, and i am finding it to be true. there is a new kind of wonder that comes at Christmastime when you have children, and it's found in two equal parts. there's the joy that comes from seeing their faces light up with excitement--a beautiful, childlike kind of faith. and there's also a rediscovery--a way that observing your children plunks you back into the magic you felt when you were a child. suddenly, i had all of these detailed memories of my own footed pajamas and listening for reindeer hooves, snuggled down with my sister in her canopy bed.

this Christmas morning, i woke up at 6:30 to hear Eli whispering excitedly to the little stuffed animals in his bedroom. i tiptoed in and told him to go look out his window. when he saw the snow covering the driveway and treetops, he literally gasped in amazement. All four of us creeping down the darkened staircase in our pajamas a few minutes later, i re-lived that glorious Christmas morning feeling of giddiness and hope along with Eli. it's a feeling i wish would stick around when the day after Christmas comes, and the day after that, and the day after that. i've decided that even if it's only once a year, i'll take it and hold onto it for as long as i can, knowing that next December is just around the corner.

happy girl.

2010-11-08T21:50:00.003-06:00

i could wait until i have time to download all of the party photos, the ones of Millie smashing into cake for the first time and smiling through a ring of purple icing. i could wait until i have time to properly describe it---how in the midst of joy, i also felt a little bit sad thinking of all the months that have gone by and how so many of them seem blurry. i could wait. but i also know that i don't get much time on my computer these days, and that isn't a complaint. it's because i am busy watching Millie grow new teeth (the top two have a huge gap between them that delights me every time she smiles). Or I'm busy searching for pajamas that are not only clean, but aren't stretched at the neck and shoulders where she's outgrowing them. I am occupied with watching Eli hop around the kitchen like a frog in front of his sister's high chair because of how she squeals with genuine laughter every time he ribbits. And then she scatters Cheerios across the floor and peeks over the edge of her tray to see where they possibly could have gone. I ask myself the same thing about the past 365 days.

so I won't wait because before I know it, six more months will have passed and she'll be walking and pulling things from shelves, and then i really won't have time to write it all down. for now, before I forget, i'll just post this photo. My friend Keely took it yesterday of Millie, the birthday girl. I love how happy she looks, just crawling across the floor in her tutu without a care in the world.

tomato art fest, part 2

2010-08-14T14:50:00.006-05:00

well, we didn't last long at the festival this morning. millie, in her butterfly sun bonnet, heated up like a little toaster oven ten minutes into the event. it was just too miserably hot to be outside, so we said hello to a couple of friends, swept through the art gallery, and hastily headed for the car.

i decided to go ahead and post the full views of my three art pieces here, now that the official "tomato art show" has happened. but just in case you missed it, the exhibit will be on display at the gallery for another month or so, i believe. i saw a lot of really unique work this year: felted pieces, some very detailed pen & ink, beautiful work by elizabeth foster whose paintings i admire, and lots of great pieces featuring animals and vegetables intermingled. so much talent in Nashville; i'm so inspired living here.

{click to enlarge}...

tomato study

{acrylic & paper on wood}

8X8

vine no. 4

{paper & string; acrylic on wood}

8X8

farm to table

{paper, ink, acrylic on wood}

16X16

tomato art fest

2010-08-13T14:04:00.008-05:00

everyone in nashville is grumbling about the weather. it's a sweltering August in our normally milder city, so i'm observing the seven foot tall sunflowers from inside, through an upstairs window with a view of the garden. their big yellow faces are bent, offering an umbrella of shade to the bountiful tomato plants, all tangled and bursting with red, yellow, and green fruit, some of them splitting open.

a few weeks ago, i plucked real-life inspiration from my husband's vegetable and herb beds by photographing the tomato plants in varying stages of ripeness. i used the images to create three pieces for this year's Tomato Art Festival.

if you are around the east part of town this Saturday (tomorrow!), take a peek inside the Art & Invention Gallery for a robust display of tomato-inspired creativity. we'll be swinging through for an hour or so in the morning and hope to see some friends and fellow tomato-lovers.

Maybe tomorrow.

2010-08-12T15:04:00.007-05:00

One day, i feel sure, there will be a season when:

-i will no longer need coffee at two in the afternoon.

-we will invite our friends over for dinner again. more than twice a year.

-the tile around my toilet bowls will be clean.

-it won't take me three weeks to return a phone call.

-beds will be made.

-all Cheerios will disappear from crevices, cushions, backpacks, floorboards, rugs, and the inside of my shirt.

[hence, potentially, the ants will all go back outside.]

-i could maybe own a white sofa.

-we might finish a ~~conversation~~ sentence without uttering the words, "just a minute."

-we might finish a conversation.

-the car won't be filled with various twigs (used for killing lions, just in case i happen to see one on the way to the store).

-i will have forgotten the perfect 3:1 ratio of water to apple juice.

-the living room will contain more pieces of furniture than pieces of batman.

THIS is definitely not that season. but i also feel sure that once this crazy, so so so tiring, sometimes overwhelming season ends, i will miss a very many things about it.

birthday.

2010-07-28T10:31:00.006-05:00

thirty seven began very well, over paper plates of oozy crepes with a dear friend. we broke at least four plastic forks cutting into them, while digging deeply into conversation that left me a little weepy, in a good way.

i spent the afternoon with my husband, splitting tasty sandwiches and sucking down basil lemonade through a straw. we talked uninterrupted, something we seldom get to do. he even helped me shop. and then we came home to the two sweet, sticky little imps---eager to show off helicopters made with boxes, crayons, folded paper and broken twigs, and eager to be hugged.

there was cake. and dinner out of Julia's cookbook after the kids' bedtime, something ridiculously rich with cream and port wine and tiny bits of onion that we soaked up with torn pieces of sourdough bread. we drank the french red wine we used to drink when we were dating, and decided neither of us like it very much anymore.

the day, all in all, could be described as rich. rich with indulgent food and drink. rich with meaning and conversations about real things, even sad things, but true ones. and rich with family: these three people who i love so dearly that it leaves my chest knotted most of the time.

i finished the day, listening to my husband softly snoring on the bed, an empty cake plate next to him, while i scrolled through photographs. last week, we had these family portraits taken at our house, and i couldn't believe how well this amazing photographer captured our lives. looking at them from this angle, outside in, made me fall in love with our house again. sometimes living here, all we see are the shabby places, but she somehow made the dust and chipped paint so beautiful.

looking into my children's faces, with their big, inquisitive eyes, i feel sure that this is going to be a year filled with good, messy and important moments to reflect on when i turn thirty eight.

On a Good Day.

2010-06-17T15:17:00.007-05:00

i love that my life includes:

-a firefly named Fred "sleeping" in a jar on the kitchen counter.

-gathering up handfuls of basil from the garden, little hands to help squeeze lemons and sprinkle pine nuts, and teaching my son to embrace his Italian-ness with a big plate of pesto fettuccine.

-a sweet baby girl smiling straight into my face the moment I open my eyes.

-dear friends who understand and don't judge when there's a messy house, a toddler tantrum, a scattered conversation that's interrupted by requests for more cheese and fixing broken helicopters.

-a record player softly buzzing and a pile of my dad's old albums.

-funny-looking chickens that trot around the yard like their feathers are on fire and remind me not to be so serious.

-amazing coffee.

-a million ideas of things to create.

-mail that isn't a bill.

-sips of wine on the porch swing with my husband at sunset. (the very best ending to any kind of day).

this country life.

2010-04-23T16:54:00.000-05:00

or so we call it.

i guess it's not really as 'country' as it could be. we have our own coffee shop and i can be at the nearest Target in less than twenty minutes. but this time of year, with winter now melted away, i start to remember exactly why it is that we chose to exchange our former city dwelling for this, a slightly slower pace of life.

it's mid-day on a friday and we're out on the porch. Eli, with a ketchup-smudged face and fingernails gritty from digging, is imagining his dump truck and fire engine are en route to Dickson (the next town over) to pick up some supplies. he personifies the word 'boy' and mimics jeremy whenever possible. Millie and I just sit on the swing where it's shady and observe.

i'd like to say we moved out here solely for our children so that they could grow up close to nature--playing in creeks, running barefoot through the grass, listening to the whistle of the train that rattles the plates on our dining room wall. all of those things are true; we do love the idea of being close to fishing ponds and a river to canoe. we like that there are more trees than buildings and very few police sirens. but in all honesty, we did this for ourselves as much as our kids.

i don't really bake, but the idea of making lots and lots of pies in summertime appeals to me. maybe this will be the summer, i've been thinking lately. as i've mentioned before, jeremy has always considered himself an old soul. he likes wandering around dusty bookstores, planting things, working with his hands. so this home, tattered and torn up as it may be in places, really suits us both.

also, now we have chickens. this Easter, we adopted six little peeps from a nearby farm and are building them a mansion in the corner of the yard. their names are Freida (aka Fred), Agnes, Penny, Lolly, Daisy, and Mr. Belvedere. yes, they are all hens.

so sure, there are still days when we itch for a little more noise and better restaurants. we miss our friends being down the street. sometimes we think back to our old house and our old garden and frown at the numerous (though dwindling) projects still before us. but then one of us will stop and remind the other of all the progress we've made. i'll point out some bit of trim that jeremy installed, and he'll remind me of our beautiful, cozy master bathroom that we worked on together.

here in our little patch of country, and not just in a literal sense, the grass is slowly but surely becoming greener all the time.

this was today.

2010-02-16T19:42:00.013-06:00

i confess: sometimes Eli spends more of his day with a floppy-shoed mouse and the man in the big yellow hat than is good for him. try as i might to juggle it all in perfect balance, there are just those days when, let's face it, a family really needs clean socks and the sheets changed and two week old lasagna removed from the fridge. so i have to do what i have to do to make it all go.

and then there are days, like today, that are a closer picture of what i strive for. a better balance of time. i am not sure how it happens, really. i mean, i feel like i come into each day with the same amount of hours and as much determination as the day before. yet some days feel like flops, and others i'm actually able to shower, use my toothbrush before noon, kiss the boo-boos, fold the laundry, answer countless questions beginning with "why" and still have energy at the end of the day to make a decent dinner and clean up the kitchen.

this morning began like most---feed Millie, find coffee.

and then, and i write it down here mostly just as proof to myself that these days are indeed possible, i:

made banana pancakes. got dressed, actually put some make-up on, AND deodorant, AND brushed my teeth, AND plucked a few stray eyebrows. got the little people dressed. washed a pile of baby clothes. put together an alphabet train puzzle with Eli and sang the ABC song every time we added a piece (so, um, twenty-six times). gave Millie a bath and put the yummy-smelling baby oil on her. fixed broken train tracks. made turkey melts while holding Millie. talked about life and cars and gardening and snow and chickens and schedules and vacation and kids with Jeremy over lunch. watched Millie smile while Jeremy sang to her. read a book involving a drum. figured out a way to make a drum EXACTLY like it out of a plastic container, some string, some tape, and two dulcimer hammers. taught Eli "Yankee Doodle" and "Deep in the Heart of Texas". took a quick coffee break while rocking Millie and watching a show about how see-saws work. noted parallels between life and see-saw. tried to help Eli build a see-saw EXACTLY like it out of a piece of wood, a plastic tractor, and a pair of headphones. (did not succeed). rocked Millie some more. added some ingredients to Sunday's leftover beef bourguignon to make a pretty fantastic pasta sauce. ate at the dining room table like real people. with a vase of flowers even. cleaned up. kissed Jeremy goodbye as he left for tuesday night work. made aprons into super hero capes for Eli and me. saved the planet forty-two times by running around the house and making super hero noises. baked brownies. let Eli lick the spatula and didn't freak out about salmonella. built a fort. tucked Eli into the fort and scratched his back until he fell asleep.

of course, in between, there was also lots of diapers and spit-up and crying and consoling and cheddar cheese goldfish mashed into the living room rug.

days like these are good. they may be fewer than i'd like and tomorrow i might not be wearing a clean shirt, but what's so wrong with a teeter-totter rhythm to things? true, some evenings i look back on the hours of the day and feel that i accomplished nothing. i beat myself up a lot. i think this is normal though, and it keeps me clinging to the truth that I am loved regardless, and that my children are going to be okay.

i also don't post here as much as i used to. i want to, because writing is a good outlet for me and i miss it when i stay away too long. but on days like today there's not a moment to write, and on those bad days, i'd feel much too guilty stopping to write a blog entry about how my three year old is in the other room watching television. but i think i still need this place sometimes, to stop and remember things. to take notice of them because they are small but important. like it or not, these days are flying by me (Eli just turned 3) and though I might be a super hero with clumsy legs wearing an apron on my back and brownie mix in my hair, i know i need to try my best to catch them.

Just like George.

2010-01-13T16:03:00.005-06:00

The house is quiet for a change. baby millie and i are home while jeremy and eli are out buying the necessities: coffee and diapers. pretty soon i'll hear them rolling up the gravel drive. from this second story room where i sit, the baby asleep on my lap, i'll be able to hear eli talking as they tromp, lugging a jumbo box of pampers across the dry patch of winter grass to the back door. he'll have chocolate crumbs on his face from the cookies i sent in a bag for him to eat on the journey. and he'll run into the house and begin calling for me to come down so he can tell me all about his day at "hool" and ask me how my life is. though he's amazingly articulate (and really does frequently inquire: "mom, how's your life?" in the most sincerest of tones) he can't quite master the "sk" sound. so for the time being, school is hool, squirrel is hurl, and scratch is hatch. i recently read that two and three year olds talk so much because they enjoy the sound of their own voices. this definitely seems true in eli's case. he keeps us very much amused with statement-questions like:

"mommy, can i have some chocolate chips because i'm curious and i want some."

"because i'm curious" is his answer and his reason for just about everything these days.

My millie, dear, dear girl, sleeps six to eight hours a night while i slumber ever so gratefully nearby. and if i may boast for a minute---she's absolutely beautiful, sweet, happy, cuddly, and a little on the plump side. jeremy and i are the only ones who seem to think she's chubby, probably because eli was so un-chubby by baby standards. it's fun to have cheeks to kiss and soft little leg folds to navigate the diaper around. she's up to almost nine pounds now and still has a full head of dark brown hair. she often wrinkles her forehead as if concerned, smiles crookedly, and makes it known that she adores her daddy and big brother more than anyone else in the world.

this week i went to my monthly mom's group and came away with a bit of truth i've been trying to work my heart around. it's the reality that my children are not my own, but God's. as Scotty Smith, the pastor who spoke, reminded us, we do not own our children. they are borrowed; we are stewards of them, here to help and shape and guide them for a time until they go out into the world. mine are so small that i'm tempted to push the idea of them leaving out of my mind for at least the next decade. but in the past few days, i've found that in moments of exhaustion, exasperation, confusion, and worry (mostly over eli because he's trying to earn his toddler badge and working hard at wearing our patience into a thin remnant of what it once was) this idea has actually been comforting. somehow, oddly, there's encouragement in knowing that i've been entrusted with these little creatures, but they are not mine to keep forever.

and now, the curious one has arrived home. his footsteps are approaching the bottom of the stairs and soon he'll get tired of waiting and make the climb to look for me himself.

he has just now found me, presented me with a dinosaur sticker as a gift, and asked me sweetly, "mom, how was your day?" definitely time to close the laptop.

a reluctant Santa.

2009-12-22T19:49:00.002-06:00

millie.

2009-12-22T13:27:00.009-06:00

Our sweet daughter was born on november 7th, weighing 5 lbs 15 oz. She arrived almost three weeks early due to some complications, so we are extra thankful that God's hand was upon her, bringing her to us safely.

We named her Emily Harper Casella, and are calling her "Millie."

Emily is a name I've always loved and was the first name that came to my mind for a daughter, even before Eli was born. Jeremy chose the nickname Millie, which means gentle strength. Harper literally means harp player which neither of us is, but it's a literary name (Harper Lee) and is obviously musical, so it reflects two things important to us both.

Eli is adjusting pretty well to his baby sister, all things considered. Of course, it doesn't hurt that Christmas presents arrive in the mail for him almost daily, and the house has been stocked with cookies and chocolate since before Thanksgiving. It's quite possible he believes Millie is responsible, so his affection for her might lessen once our diet returns to normal.

We're celebrating the holiday at home this year, cuddling our new baby, enjoying Eli's frequent U2 performances on the coffee table, cooking old family recipes, and watching lots of movies. We're carving out our own traditions; finding simple ways to celebrate new life and far too many blessings to count.

jeremy & millie meet.
[photo by my dear friend keely scott]

eli & millie meet.

first week home.

eli performs "beautiful day".

millie at five weeks.

new season.

2009-10-23T10:46:00.016-05:00

the clock is ticking. my belly button has lost all its subtlety. i can no longer put on my own socks. something tells me that very soon we will be a family of four.

here i am, in full-blown nesting mode, lamenting our lack of matching coffee cups and wishing i could paint the hardwood floors a glossy white. i'm navigating a tightrope between needing everything to be immaculate, and throwing my hands in the air, letting it all go in favor of a nap and chocolate cookies.

these are challenging days, i'll admit. we've seen as much of the airport as our own driveway these past few months, with all of jeremy's departures and arrivals. almost every thursday evening on cue, i pull out the ironing board and press the same three to four shirts for his tired black suitcase while he packs up CDs in the office. this weekend he's in ireland drinking boatloads of tea (and probably some Guinness) in between performances. i am secretly hoping he'll bring me back a scarf, but i'd be equally happy with a gigantic hug and time alone to take a bath.

meanwhile, i attempt to gather a moment of composure while Eli pouts in the time-out chair. we've entered each morning with at least one crying fit before coffee, and then another when it's time to get dressed. more erupt throughout the day for various reasons, like my limiting him to just one cupcake and not allowing him to drive the car. yesterday, i kept him from climbing on the bathroom counter to investigate the blades of his father's beard-trimmer so he pulled my hair and growled at me. he misses his daddy and is growing impatient with this routine of saying hello and saying goodbye. i try to be patient, consistent, and firm, while also understanding and sympathetic of his two-year-old perspective on life and its cruelties. plus, he's adorable, so that helps his case dramatically.

lately, i'm barely keeping up. i've slacked on everything from thank you notes to projects to mopping the kitchen floor. these days, in moments, feel unbearably exhausting. sometimes i wish i was a chipmunk and could hibernate under the covers until it's time to give birth and all the swine flu has left the galaxy.

but then again, there's meaningful work to be done: like savoring the last precious moments of time with Eli before the baby comes to scoop up my attention. i'm also trying, with all i can muster, to be supportive of my road-weary husband who i know would rather be home if given the choice. he works harder than anyone i know, especially now. i would love to make him a fabulous roast chicken with rosemary and be cheerful and beautiful and slightly less reliant. lately, i'm doing well to pour jarred spaghetti sauce over soggy noodles. i am miserable with heartburn and achy legs and hair that needs combing. i know he deserves better (like U2 tickets), but i'm like the woman in that Suave commercial with everything in the world tugging at her until a bottle of shampoo comes along to put things right.

there's also doctor's appointments, finishing the nursery, sorting through old baby clothes in search of onesies that can be worn again. at some point, i'd really like to paint my toenails too, if only i could reach them.

despite all of this, every day we grow more and more excited for our baby girl's arrival. we've almost settled completely on her name, but we're not telling yet. i suspect that it suits her well. the bed in her room is covered with stacks of tiny clothes in every shade of pink: little bitty socks and hair bows and ruffled pastel pants all sitting in anxious wait.

Eli started preschool in September. he goes twice a week and loves it. of course, he insists on carrying his own backpack, even though it comes down to the back of his knees and makes him walk awkwardly and weavingly, like a hunchback who has had too much to drink.

obviously, i haven't had much time for art or writing. i did sell all three of my "tomato art" pieces this summer, much to my surprise. i had kind of forgotten they'd been at the gallery since august, until one day this month when a check arrived in the mail out of the blue. good encouragement for picking up a paintbrush again sometime this spring when the flowers come out and the baby, maybe, naps.

i would like to resume blogging with better consistency also. i think there will be more to say in the coming months when my brain becomes less foggy. for now, i splash cold water on my face throughout the afternoon, enjoy the breathtaking colors of autumn out our new living room windows, and hold on tight for this new season: for all the wonder, chaos, sleeplessness, and beauty it's bound to bring.

while the grass grows shorter

2009-08-20T12:19:00.015-05:00

today is yesterday. i am sitting on the front porch---the "swing porch" as Eli calls it. he is carrying a stick, marching around in rain boots despite a perfect blue sky to match his t-shirt. there's even a little breeze here in the shade this time of day (toward evening). on the swing, i can sit with a clear view of him as he pushes his toy lawn mower up and over long blades of late summer grass.

for amusement, i am wearing his straw cowboy hat with the sheriff badge on the front, pulled tight under my chin with a leather string and a smooth brown bead. my shirt, a st. patrick's day green and not exactly maternity, is pulled snug against a tummy that is serving double duty; currently, it's an incubator and a bookshelf.

the stack of books: Cold Tangerines (a birthday gift), The Time Traveler's Wife (a novel from the library), and a pocket-size decorating book called Old & New, is for later. they balance in wait of being opened, should Eli's lawn-cutting take as long as i suspect it will, considering his little legs and all the distractions of bug and rock and things to shake a stick at. and the fact that he's using a bubble mower.

the real mower hums from behind the house. Eli is back up on the porch with me now, plucking strands of lavender from the pots and pressing them to his small sweet nose. baby pumpkins spill across the ground just beneath us. we dumped our decaying halloween pumpkins there last november and forgot, until a month ago when twisty, thick mystery vines and curling leaves the size of dinner plates began to emerge. there are three yellow-orange globes nestled quietly in the grass among the chaos of sprawling green. they are growing just a little bit every day.

i am craving fall. i always seem to be eager for the next season a month before its arrival. i think i grow tired of too much sameness. this lawn has already been mowed too many times, the same precise pattern of long, neat rows until they weave around the sunflowers at the edge of a vegetable garden now wilted from august heat.

i don't have nearly the second trimester energy that i had last time, though my nesting instincts and desire to feather this place are just as strong. i attribute the lethargy to choppy sleep by night and chasing a busy, mess-making toddler by day, added to the full-time work of growing a baby.

our floors are badly in need of sweeping, but we are enjoying our last summer as three, and Eli is getting used to the idea of a baby as much as a two and a half year old can. he is sleeping in a slightly bigger bed now, occasionally foregoing diapers, and starting at a little school a couple of days a week. as for me, i am trying to relish the baby that's still left in him, not pressing him to grow too fast. he is small for his age, so that makes it easy. and he still likes lullabies at night and being hugged tight when he's scared. he still needs help figuring out which rain boot goes on which foot. and he still requires my hands to hold whenever walking down a lot of steps to mow the lawn another time before the end of summer.

tomato, tom-ah-toe

2009-07-26T15:43:00.011-05:00

hello.

obviously it's been a little while since i've had a chance to post. lately, most of my inspiration seems to be devoted to projects other than writing, but i am hoping to get back to more frequent blogging very soon.

i am very excited to have been asked to participate in East Nashville's annual Tomato Art Fest coming up in just a couple of weeks. yesterday, jeremy took eli fishing for the first time off our local pier, and i had a day to spend painting away in my studio. it had been so long since i put on some music and worked until my fingers were caked with glue and strands of my hair were dotted with paint.

this morning, i rushed over and dropped off my three pieces to meg at the gallery. it's always hard for me to be objective about my work, especially because Nashville is brimming with so many amazingly talented artists. from what i could glimpse inside the gallery today, this is going to be a really great tomato art show. i'm always a bit nervous to have my humble pieces hanging next to these amazingly intricate works, but it's still fun to contribute something and i'm mostly pleased with what i created.

[for now, i'll just give a peek at the details. after the art show, i will post the full images.]

growing and making.

2009-06-05T19:39:00.008-05:00

and pruning and harvesting. chopping and rinsing. sewing and adorning.

now in the second trimester, i'm feeling the need to nest. to create. well, i always feel the need to create, but now i finally have the energy for it again. as a result, i am either on the brink or in the midst of several projects in my wee spare time...

-one artwork commission that i'm really looking forward to digging into.

-a writing assignment

-early thoughts and jots for the Tomato Art Fest at Art & Invention Gallery later this summer.

-getting ready (almost) to launch a little something i've been dreaming about for awhile now.

-countless house details as we glimpse the end of this lengthy renovation tunnel. we're finally hanging the tinsel on the tree, so to speak, even if there are still some lopsided branches.

-planting. i potted a lavender garden on our upstairs deck, and on the ground below, jeremy's vegetable garden is flourishing. i'm amazed at the progress considering he grew a lot of the crops from seeds. tonight for dinner, i steamed our first pluckings: a big handful of green beans. the corn is almost as tall as Eli now, and in a matter of weeks we'll have bushels of tomatoes.

soon, i will return to post about our recent family vacations and to share more. but for now, here's a little look at how we're welcoming summer (mostly by eating) & learning more and more to enjoy the simple things in life.

Sit, Mama.

2009-05-10T17:22:00.003-05:00

we celebrated mother's day on saturday because of jeremy's work schedule, and because we are busily packing today for a trip to houston to visit my mom tomorrow. hooray!

this mother's day feels different for a few reasons. the living room is strewn with trains, pieces from a toy doctor kit, building blocks, and little plastic trucks. eli has grown into such a little boy, a busy, curious one, who without prompting will wrap his little arm around my neck as we sit on the sofa or pat the cushion next to him and say, "sit mama, sit." it is evident that his greatest sense of joy comes when the three of us are together as a family. i am fortunate to have such an involved husband who spends so much time with our son; there is always much togetherness.

so it is different because eli has grown and changed, become more of a boy with all of the grubbiness and diligence and energy the word implies. he has also become even more tender-hearted and sweet. he still loves to be rocked to sleep, switching shoulders every few minutes for variety. if one of us runs out to the store for a bit, he'll heartily pat us when we return, saying, "Home Dada! HOME!" just to reassure himself that we've come back and to make certain we know he's glad about it.

this year is also different because now we've got another baby on the way! it feels odd to wrap my mind around being a mother of two, but i can hardly wait for this next phase of adventure and a new little life to fill our home.

yesterday began with coffee, of course, in my favorite mug with the poppies that my mom gave to me a few years ago. eli shouted, "happy birthday mommy!" as i was escorted into the next room for sweet mother's day cards, a beautiful purple orchid, and a box of art supplies. my husband knows and loves me so well, it's humbling.

after a busy day of errands, lunch, and gardening, J made the best dinner for us. everything (except the spinach salad, which might have been the tastiest salad i've ever eaten----is food always that much better when someone else makes it? this must be one of the laws of gastronomy) was grilled with cowboy charcoal on our patio: marinated steak, cobs of corn with the husks in tact and slightly charred, a fat yellow onion, and mountain bread brushed with olive oil. so delicious and homemade and summery.

after dinner, as eli slept, we went out onto the front porch with small bowls of dulce de leche ice cream and sat on the swing, listening to the music filtering through the trees from main street. it was a clashing of bluegrass and something else coming from two neighboring "bars" but it sounded nice and went well with Haagen-Dazs.

the air outside was perfect too. we just breathed in and felt thankful and dreamed about our future rose garden. then the mosquitos came around and i heard eli calling from upstairs. i opened his door and in the bit of light spilling from the hallway i could see him standing there, hair rumpled, clutching all of his luggage: a stuffed lamb, his pillow, two blankets, and his sippy cup. "want sleep with mama now," he said.

well, maybe just this once. afterall, it was my birthday.

Umbrella.

2009-05-03T18:56:00.003-05:00

Being holed up inside the house like a termite for days upon days is never good for anyone, especially when you’re coming off a bad head cold and really need to see something (any thing) besides a box of tissues. But we’ve had endless rain since almost the precise moment I started to feel better. I am tempted, at this point, to take a cue from my friend Alison, bundle Eli up in his sunshine yellow rain slicker, shake his rubber boots free of slugs, and venture out in search of suitable puddles for sloshing. We may just do that this afternoon.

Until then we have windows, and as I look around out there, it’s almost as if I live in a slightly less quaint, less cobblestoned, Irish countryside. The fog is thick on the hills, a canopy over the verdant landscape popping out with every make of tree, frond, weed, and leaf imaginable. It’s almost like a rainforest, and I half expect to see a toucan or some sort of exotic monkey perched from above, instead of the wide-winged hawks that usually hover overhead when the sky is visible.

It would almost be dreary if it weren’t so beautiful, the contrast of thick milky mist and brand new twists of fresh green life springing forth.

Beauty aside, we are weary of being indoors, Eli with his train set on the coffee table, me with my shopping list as I scour the internet for intriguing recipes. While we long to go out, the ants are seeking refuge from the flood, squeezing in through narrow cracks around the kitchen windows and marching in diligent formation toward the breadbox.

My friend Katy wrote an entry about a rainy day, curled up in pajamas with a book and a perfect little snack. It reminded me that a day like this, even if it seems, at first, to be an annoying repeat of the past four you’ve had, can be full of sweetness and warmth if you know where to look.

Before Jeremy left for work today, I made us lunch. I thought we needed something semi-gourmet but comforting at the same time. A can of Campbell’s condensed tomato soup would hardly do, and we were down to the last heel of bread. I ventured out beyond the rainforest and returned home with ingredients for one of our favorite now-extinct sandwiches. We used to order it at JJ’s Market, back when we were dating, before the place was sold to less ambitious cooks. I replicated the recipe in our kitchen as best I could:

Slice a croissant lengthwise and open flat. Layer with very thinly-sliced green apple, narrow strips of rotisserie chicken (JJs got their chicken from a Japanese restaurant across the street so I had to make do), thin wedges of creamy havarti cheese (I was supposed to use Brie, but close enough), and a few squirts of grainy honey mustard. Place it under the broiler for a minute or two until the cheese is oozy, and wa-la! A perfect sandwich for a rainy day.

We ate at the small kitchen table while Eli nibbled on leftover apple wedges and bits of cheese since I’d already fed him lunch. The dog paced the floor, looking for remnants.

Once J had rolled down the gravel drive to go, the two of us waving to him as raindrops splashed our palms, it was time to flee for the covers. I filled Eli’s favorite sippy cup and piled a soft extra blanket in his crib. He didn’t protest naptime as much as usual, and I can hear him in there now, chirping away with his plush-filled friends, singing little songs. I love witnessing his imagination from beyond closed doors, where I can only hear him laughing to himself and to make-believe companions, conjuring simple stories and engaging his mind to wonder and believe in things far beyond what he can see. This is some sort of early practice in having a bit of faith, I think. It’s also the reason I’m okay with Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy and don’t get hung up on the notion that I’m telling my child a lie. I don’t know who I’d be today without having learned to hold tightly to the end of that string as my imagination pulled me every which way and beyond. [I had kind of a bookish, stringent phase in my faith years ago, and while the knowledge was good, helpful, even formative, I felt a little heart-deflated after awhile. It seemed less like love and more like geometry. And I was terrible at geometry.]

I digress.

I’m in my favorite rainy afternoon spot: our cozy grey half-done bedroom. I pulled a curtain to conceal the un-renovated portion and to make this feel more like a cocoon. On the bedside table, there’s a sample-size grapefruit and hyacinth candle that I won at Alice’s baby shower for coming in second in a game of Name That Tune. I haven’t burned it yet, but I leave the little tin lid off so the citrus-scented wax fills my quadrant of the room. Lately I’ve been finding it the best, most comforting smell in the world so I am hesitant to light the wick and send it burning into nothingness. This may sound odd, but actually, these days, I really cannot get enough of grapefruit in any form. I buy, at minimum, two fruits a week and slice them open in the morning, eagerly scooping out their bittersweet coral flesh with a demitasse spoon and drinking the yummy juice left in the rind. I must be Vitamin C deficient following the sinus cold.

It’s 4 pm now, and the prospect of him actually sleeping seems iffy. He’s chattering away contentedly and a bit softer though, so I might read awhile to see if he drifts off. Currently, I am reading two books at once, which for me is a never-do. One is a classic, kind of ragged and heartwarming and innocent. The other is scarcely a literary masterwork but it’s keeping me amused and maybe even mildly, if somewhat shallowly, inspired. Also, Nora Ephron is making a movie out of it (with Meryl Streep no less) so how awful can it be? Depending on my mood, I flip between the two books. For the past several days with all the rain, I’ve concentrated more on the latter; I can’t really take ragged and heartwarming when there are so many clouds surrounding my house.

As luck would have it, we’re being forced to get out of here soon, sickness/rain or not. It’s almost vacation time and I’m grateful. First, a trip to Texas for my mom’s dinners-to-knock-your-socks-off, and to pick up some of my father’s things. Which reminds me. During the ceaseless rain of Friday’s entirety, I took a long nap and had a sweet little dream that I was with my dad in his backyard. He looked good and healthy, and we just talked about nothing in particular except that I was glad he was alive and that the backyard looked really nice. Funny as it sounds, I love these dreams, simple as they are, because it’s the closest I can come (insert imagination) to spending time with him in real life.

I woke up kind of happy and sad mixed together. Eli had just woken up too, so I scooped him up and said, "I just had the nicest dream about your grandfather." He looked at me with his big brown sleepy eyes, and said, “Can we go see him now?” Being hazy from such a deep rest, I burst into sporadic tears, but not in a way that scared him. He just continued on talking about apple juice and trucks, and chirping affectionately at Gottie--his beloved stuffed lamb. I held him in my lap as tightly as I could and pushed my face into his soft brown hair that smelled ever so faintly of grapefruit.

Me and Cat.

2009-04-23T16:11:00.006-05:00

my sweet little boy & i have had the most miserable spring colds all week long. it is worse for him because he's not altogether skilled at nose-blowing and can't completely articulate what hurts. mostly, he's just been raiding the popsicles to get through it, while i have been pouting on both our behalves. one of my dearest friends gave birth to her daughter this week and i still haven't felt un-germy enough to go by for a visit; for me that has been the most frustrating part of the whole thing.

today i decided i at least needed to leave the house for a few minutes, if only to breathe some fresh air and change my mood. so with Eli napping in his bed, wearing the daddy-appointed combo of a royal blue mickey mouse t-shirt and burgundy sweat pants with a bulldog on the thigh, i headed out.

i decided to take Maude, my aunt's old VW bug. [i still can't get used to the idea that it's mine.] good Cat Stevens was already in the cassette player so i opened both of the smaller side windows, angled them at my face and zipped down the driveway.

there is truly nothing like that old car and some familiar tunes crackling from the speakers to bring me out of a funk and into a nostalgically happy place. i drove the curvy snake roads at a medium pace, scooting over to let faster cars pass so i could enjoy the scenery. the hills between here and White Bluff, the next town over, were edged with pink and white dogwoods arching out over the road.

for two minutes i felt like i was back in Palo Alto, on the winding California roads where this car spent most of its life and where i spent just enough of my childhood for it to feel like home in my memory. then a hint of some scent came through the windows and reminded me of how melting eskimo pies smelled at the neighborhood pool snack bar in Houston, where we sat on damp towels and let our shoulders bake in the sun, ice cream dripping down our arms. i made a circle and came back down Craggie Hope road, passing the entrance for Bethany Camp and then a yard with two shiny black horses eating afternoon grass.

my head felt a little less cotton-stuffed, at last, so i drove to Sonic for a small diet vanilla coke because who can beat their crunchy ice on a hot day when you have the sniffles? i thought about that Nanci Griffith song, the one about the five & dime. i puttered along behind a trailer hauling a backhoe, and knew that if Eli was with me he would have shouted, "mama, look! a digger!" with such excitement despite his stuffy nose. that made me miss him, so i almost turned back when i saw that the Sonic lot was packed with rows of cars and several dozen high school kids hanging out of the windows yelling to each other. but once you have a vanilla diet coke in your mind, especially with the special ice, it's hard to let it go, so i waited. it was rather toasty, sitting in Maude with no a/c and no wind to blow through the slanted windows. i turned down Cat Stevens so the kids wouldn't think i was listening to old people music. in retrospect, i should have turned it up.

ten minutes later, home again with a slightly clearer head and a better perspective. jeremy was waiting to take me out to the vegetable garden he planted yesterday. he grew tiny sprouted corn and green beans from seeds. we have tomato plants too, in several varieties, and i'm already thinking of oven-roasting a big salty pan of whatever we can't eat fresh or give away. want some?

spring is good, i've decided, even with a little annoying sickness. sometimes a quick change of scenery is all you need. the ranunculus i planted a few weekends ago have uncurled, bloomed, and multiplied. when my nephew jake was born, there were beds full of bright red and yellow ranunculus outside the hospital waiting room window. it was such a happy morning and i remember thinking those were the prettiest flowers i had ever seen. almost like poppies but with extra layers of beauty. i've been wanting them ever since.

april 6.

2009-04-06T15:38:00.012-05:00

today is my husband's birthday and he's away in new orleans, working for us, his family. he just called from the french quarter, one of his all-time favorite places, to say that he's not particularly enjoying himself because we aren't there with him.

in honor of jeremy's 33 years of life, i've compiled a list of things that make him so unique and lovable, and that always make me miss him when he's away.

1. he is a connoisseur of coffee and is fanatical about Peet's. he makes the coffee every night before bed so that all we have to do is flip it on in the morning.
2. he eats as much pasta as your average italian on a weekly basis, and especially likes spicy tomato sauce.
3. he keeps our monthly budget on a spreadsheet and has things figured to the dollar at the top of every month.
4. he possesses a large collection of bags--backpacks, small shoulder bags, mountain bags, computer bags, travel bags, bags to put inside of bags, bags.
5. he is handy with a hammer.
6. he loves to collect patches, even if they don't necessarily get sewn onto anything.
7. although he never wears it, he still has a very old, fairly oversized, faded jean jacket circa 1992(?) in our closet.
8. he loves being home and is a creature of habit.
9. he is a scholar of history and knows an astonishing amount of random but useful facts about almost any subject you might throw at him (much like a Jeopardy contestant). last night just before falling asleep, for example, he told me all about how thatched roofs are made and how they function when it rains.
10. he rarely watches any television except for news, but is an avid LOST follower and will restructure the day's events in order not to miss it.
11. his idea of a perfect day will always include a bookstore.
12. he also likes a good cup of irish or english tea.
13. he is one of the best fathers i have ever known.
14. he is not afraid to say he's sorry first in an argument, and often does, even if i'm the one more noticeably in the wrong.
15. when playing any board game involving words, he is more inclined to invent non-existent words just to amuse himself than to try to win the game.
16. he appreciates John Denver as much as I do, but prefers John Lennon or Johnny Cash.
17. he is a loyal friend and is not afraid to hug another guy or tell them he loves them. i've always admired this.
18. he is into trees.
19. he is not very good at keeping surprises because he can't hold it in for more than a few minutes. on the day of my 30th birthday SURPRISE party, he asked a friend right in front of me: "so are you coming to the um....shindig...tonight?" (thinking that would be subtle enough to keep me from catching on).
20. he almost always uses #2 pencils to write (ironic considering #18).
21. he has very nice teeth.
22. he wishes we had a yard full of chickens and a few goats.
23. he works much more than he rests and almost never asks for help.
24. he often reads the end of a book before he gets through chapter one.
25. he was raised in Pennsylvania but detests being cold.
26. on road trips, he usually tries to find a Bob Evans restaurant to stop and eat, even if he's by himself.
27. he always makes sure his family is taken care of before himself.
28. he almost always writes music before lyrics.
29. one of his most prized possessions is his vintage J-45 guitar.
30. he has been to Australia.
31. he always makes sure that the car is clean and has plenty of gas.
32. he thinks i am unusually short for a human, even though i'm 5'3".
33. he is my closest friend.

observations on a lawnmower.

2009-04-02T15:06:00.016-05:00

Our upstairs bedroom has become my favorite spot to sneak away in the afternoons. Especially afternoons like this one, when the clouds are hovering and the thunder is beginning to rumble. Our bedroom is a bit cave-like anyway, but it’s just the sort of room I’ve always wanted. The walls are silver-grey and angled. Our lofty iron bed is covered in white, and is high enough that if I stood atop the mattress, my head would almost skim the ceiling. (I wasn’t sure so I just tried it.) The old grey velvet sofa is for once not piled with laundry to be put away, so were it not for the tangled springs beneath the surface, it would be a perfect place to curl up and read. We have only one very low window draped with something sheer enough that I can see the sky darkening fast.

While Eli naps, I huddle here atop the covers, surrounded by a mound of pillows, and catch up on writing or steal a few pages of a book before he wakes and calls to me again. Last night, I started reading A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. My friend Melissa just finished it and it inspired me to dig out my unread copy. After a few days of sporadic excavating in piles of dusty books, I gave up and bought another copy for $3.60 at the used bookstore.

It seems very still right now, and eerily quiet. I think this is the literal calm before the storm they talk about. I like rain on days like this, when we’re all home and tucked in, Jeremy downstairs with a hot mug of afternoon coffee, working away in his office. The dog is terrified of storms and is nestled deep on his polka-dotted bed inches from his master’s feet.

Not thirty minutes ago, the whole group of us was outside in the backyard, swatting at bees and scraping grass clippings from our shoes against the pavement. With the entrance of spring, Jeremy has resumed lawn mowing, and for the first time, Eli has taken a special interest in this activity. He insists on watching the entire process, as his father weaves even lines up and down our acre lot. Two weeks ago, we bought him his own little toy lawnmower that blows bubbles while he pushes it. He proceeded to mow our entire lawn and our neighbor’s too.

Today, upon seeing Jeremy lace up his work boots in the kitchen, Eli put down his fork mid-bite, pushed his plate away and insisted it was time for him to mow the lawn also. So off they went, and then completed the bonding experience by clinking their cups of Gatorade together an hour later. I do love raising a little boy.

Lightning is flashing now and the thunder is definitely causing the dog to shake downstairs. I know this without seeing him. He is a boy too, but somewhat cowardly.

Watching the grass being mowed twice, simultaneously, (once with a blade, once with bubbles), I couldn't help but feel really proud of Eli for choosing such a great man to look up to. I know he's only two, and maybe at that age every little boy sees their father as the most fascinating person to ever walk the earth, but regardless, their mutual admiration is my very favorite thing to observe.

Every morning the two of them have a few minutes in the office listening to music (usually "Bono" or "Coldplay", at Eli's request). This morning, it resulted in coffee being spilled all over Jeremy's desk--and onto some expensive recording devices I don't know the names of. Eli said "Sorry, dada" without prompting, and offered a hug into the mix of flying dishtowels. In the evenings after I feed and bathe Eli, they watch fifteen minutes of a Disney movie together, bundled up on the couch while his hair dries.

I'm not sure how long this season of Jeremy working from home will last---though we've never known anything different---but I know there's something important and possibly rare about Eli having the chance to begin and end every single day knowing how much his daddy loves him. Even when the coffee spills.

*better point out in case my mother is reading, he's not as close to the street as it appears. there's a little hill, and then a ditch filled with leaves.

snapshot.

2009-03-27T13:11:00.004-05:00

yesterday, i bought a yellow sweater because i needed something sunny. no more brown. slowly, the redbuds and cherry trees around our town are springing forth with pink and white and there is grass again, just in the nick of time. phew.

eli is celebrating being two with a vengeance lately, testing our patience and persistence to follow through. he is a lovable little elf, but prone to hourly tantrums this week. the yellow sweater is helping.

today, i am loving this photo of my husband taken at our friends brannon & melissa's wedding last month. i hope he never stops playing music.

and i would like a lemon tree.

2009-03-24T17:02:00.005-05:00

this morning while stirring milk into our matching sea blue coffee mugs, jeremy spoke up and said rather rhetorically, "you know, what i would really love to have in the backyard is a goat."

i laughed a forceful laugh, one of those bursts from between closed lips that sounds like air escaping a balloon as it zigzags around the room. fortunately, i had not yet taken a sip of coffee or it would have spewed everywhere.

i don't know why i laughed actually. this is not the first time i have heard about this dream of goat-owning. i think i just wasn't expecting him to announce it right at that moment, as one of his first phrases of the day. we had just been talking about corn and onions, afterall.

an hour later, my husband was gone with his guitar and eli and I stood at the kitchen window watching friendly nathan as he tilled a thirty foot rectangle at the edge of our backyard. we're preparing it for a vegetable garden, our first true plantings at this new house. well, aside from a few pots of pansies and a rosemary bush.

our garden is what we miss most about the home we left behind. we had just barely seen the fledgling cherry trees start to blossom, and i had legitimately begun falling in love with the ~~blue atlas cedar~~ dawn redwood tree i'd been so reluctant to plant after learning that in winter it would resemble a fish skeleton.

here, we have plans to convert our storage shed into a workshop for jeremy, with a small potting shelf for me. the little ramshackle tobacco barn adjacent to it will become a chicken coop, and sometime this spring we'll order a box of baby chicks from McMurray Hatchery (hmm, or possibly elsewhere since their minimum order seems to be twenty-five. i believe we'll start with six.) i can't wait to wander out in the mornings to collect fresh brown eggs with eli, or to pluck some tomatoes and peppers for an omelette.

eventually to the yard, we'd like to add some river birch trees, a japanese maple just beyond jeremy's office window, a dogwood or two, and some hydrangeas. i have plans for a fragrant potted herb garden overtaking our upstairs deck with lavender, chamomile, russian sage, thyme, and lemon verbena. and maybe eventually we will adopt a goat, but what i would really love to grow is a lemon tree. i am not sure if tennessee has the right climate for it, but i'm hoping so. lemon trees remind me both of italy and northern california, my two favorite places besides home.

once when i rented, my neighbors, the pearsons, had the most amazing wild flower garden that ben had given to his wife elayne as a gift. the bumble bees were almost as big as the enormous sunflowers, and there were long tangles of pink and yellow and purple and white leaning over the fence, dropping pollen on the sidewalk. it was as much my dream garden as i think it was hers.

springtime is nearing and i have never been so eager for it, though i'm confident i feel this exact way at the close of every winter. as a welcome to the season, i made a little bit of new botanically-inspired art for the house. also, we have gorgeous hot pink roses blooming in the kitchen. eli's vocabulary now features phrases like "go outside" and "mama, i want lawn. mow." my breakfast included the ripest, reddest of strawberries, grown by someone named joe who clearly has a knack. while i drank lukewarm coffee, eli marched around the porch in green striped pajamas and converse sneakers, scooping up dirt because that's what boys do.

today's list has and will include a loaf of banana bread, a walk to the coffee shop to say hello, a quick spring cleaning, and a leafy salad with sesame dressing for lunch. there will also be bubble blowing, and a short trip into the yard to scope out the tilled portion and make some plans for what we'll grow. eli has already requested a few of his favorite (most-obvious) crops: chocolate, rice, and salsa. i'm still thinking of lemon trees, and maybe a few rows of corn.

[photo journals to follow below...]

after the thaw.

2009-03-24T16:44:00.004-05:00

portraits.

2009-03-24T16:32:00.004-05:00

{taken today while teaching eli to use my camera. i couldn't believe he actually held it himself, put his finger on the button, looked through the viewfinder and snapped away, then backed off to check his work in the display window! apparently he has seen it done a few times. a photographer in the making.}

photo by mama. age 35.

photo by eli henry. age 2.

the best friend. photo by eli.

self portrait. photo by us.

creating lately.

2009-03-24T16:28:00.005-05:00

for esther.

osage orange.

tulips.

(untitled.) butterflies for the living room.

loving the color grey.

2009-03-08T14:09:00.008-05:00

it just felt urgent that i type something, if only to see the little letters punching across the screen. i have this brain that spills over with too much of everything inside it. my friend christie calls this going fast--when you're trying to catch up with a racing mind, to lasso a single thought and make some sense of it. mostly, my going fast has to do with creating and with not being able to wade through my surplus of ideas. i have been pondering this notion lately: that i was created to create.

something beautiful. an adornment. or bigger: a life for my son; giving him moments. and much smaller: an aesthetically pleasing container in which to keep our toothbrushes.

every day i wake up and hope for another chance at something made. when too many days pass where all that i imagine overstuffs my head with no opportunity to come out, i am amazed at how lonely and frustrated i can feel. creating, in many ways, is like a big burst of oxygen to me.

this tension has always been there, probably. but only in the past couple of years has it become kind of sharp and inescapable.

i would never cut my ear off or anything that drastic, but there are real moments where i feel oddly tortured by my need to create. sometimes i feel like i've been wedged into a box that's way too small to house my body, and i'm pushing against it with my feet as hard as i can. but then, i'll steal just one single hour upstairs with paint brushes. or invent a new game to play with eli. or cook a new recipe. and suddenly, i have all sorts of room to stretch out again.

i've been reading. and thinking about this idea of my design. that God sees value in my creative self and that i've been wired for making. reminding myself of that truth helps me breathe a little easier, especially on the days when there's only laundry.

a job well done.

2009-02-24T11:00:00.003-06:00

yesterday, while unpacking the groceries, i asked Eli to be my helper and gave him two things to put away. first, a package of cotton balls which i asked him to take to the bathroom for me. when he returned moments later without the cotton balls, i figured he had found his way and handed him a four-pack of toilet paper to carry to the bathroom also.

after that, he went on to play in the living room while i put the rest of the groceries away in the kitchen. ten minutes later, i walked into the bathroom to find the cotton balls and toilet paper bobbing in the toilet.

he had put them away in the correct room, and in the most logical spot a two year old could think of i suppose. the fact that he is not yet potty trained, but managed to correlate the toilet paper to the toilet is surely indicative of a genius. just as i've suspected all along.

a house is just a house.

2009-02-17T10:25:00.020-06:00

it is merely walls and bricks and shingles stuck together, sometimes sturdily, sometimes not. i think of this house as a strong one, even though last week when a very windy rain came, water seeped in through the edges of both living room windows as if they were crying simultaneously. we've known those windows need replacing, so it was only mildly startling. and in all other ways, this house has held up well under the strain of all our poking and prodding the past year.

we've been doing things in here. living. making memories, which is what you do inside a house, and which is, i suppose, the thing that makes it become something more than just chipped wooden siding and leaky windows.

we celebrated eli's second birthday here on january 29th. many small friends filed in, one by one, and left two hours later with balloon strings clutched in their cupcakey fingers. it was chaotic playtime amidst a sea of juice boxes, as mothers tried to chat above the noise of toddlers gleefully crashing into one another. eli requested another "berfday" for many days afterward.

we also, at long last, began work on our master bathroom. for the past year, it's been a dusty shell of unpainted drywall, crammed with boxes and power tools all hidden behind a curtain. finally, we have shiny marble floors, creamy paint, and a toilet. the antique vanity is in place and awaiting plumbing. soon we'll unload the clawfoot tub from the backyard shed and lug it (not me, but some superhumans we'll recruit) up the deck stairs and into the house. my husband, through our renovation process, has become an impressive carpenter, and installed an alcove of beadboard to nestle the tub against.

other improvements have been made downstairs too: pantry and laundry doors, shelves for the guest bath. bit by bit, the details are making this a place that is uniquely ours.

over valentines weekend, j. played and sang at a wedding out of town, so on a whim, i decided to surprise him with a makeover for his studio/office. we had quickly thrown that room together upon moving in, so it's always felt a bit cluttered and uninspired to me. while he was gone, i made some artwork, replaced a cheap table with a new painted bookshelf, and cleaned things up a little. it feels warm and slightly european now, i think. kind of like an old library & an english pub mixed together.

my own studio, on the other hand, looks like a tornado blew through and scattered paint & paper everywhere. last month, i toiled away in that upstairs room and took part in an art show with some friends at a local church. andy and the andys (peterson, osenga, gullahorn) performed a concert and the lobby was filled with easels displayed with various paintings and photographs. i sold three pieces and received a lot of humbling encouragement from the friends & strangers who attended.

last night while talking to j., he pointed out that this house has really nurtured my creativity. i am not sure if a house can actually do that, but i will say that there's something about living here---maybe it's the scenery, or the quiet, or just having my hands in constant 'project-mode,' that has ignited my desire to create visual art. i still love to write, but my ideas have shifted now. i think it is partially due to having an actual space of my own where i can work.

this house, though just a house, is also a place that beckons guests. we've only had a few so far, mostly people passing through for a night or two, but i love having friends and family fill our home. this house makes me want to cook up big, nourishing meals and pull out extra bed linens.

we never know what the future holds or where we may end up down the road. our days in this house may be numbered to 50 or 5000, but for now it's a good home. little by little, we are holding up its walls as we remake it. and in return, it is doing the same for us.

scenes from a house:

1. eli turns two...

2. home is made...

3. art is made...

one through one hundred.

2009-01-13T11:15:00.004-06:00

taking a deep breath before diving in. there's a long swim ahead, a seemingly endless list. it's okay though. i like lists. i like accomplishing things and crossing them off. sometimes i even write something on the list that i have just completed, just so i can put a line through it and have a visual record.

i was talking to a friend yesterday about how the list will probably always be there. there really is no such thing as being caught up, because there's always something else to be done by the time you reach the bottom. i can't imagine a time when i'll sit down and think to myself, "i have just finished everything. there is absolutely nothing left to accomplish. what should i do now? hmm..."

my current list includes the not-so-thrilling tasks of laundry, cleaning, exercise, and organizing Eli's closet. it also includes working on pieces for an upcoming art show, making a gift for a friend's birthday, and writing thank you notes. my list is always a combination of creativity and maintenance, it seems. i don't mind either one and appreciate the balance.

of course, the list itself is squeezed in between time with my two-year-old and my husband, preparing dinner, and all the things that i don't put on the list because i won't forget to do them and they happen every day.

i know that simply (or not simply) being in relationships is more important than anything my lengthy list could demand of me. sometimes i forget that, or i merely get distracted by all it takes to keep life going. i think we all do. we move along just getting things done and suddenly realize we haven't had much connection with the people around us; we've been rushing past them for days. one of my goals this year is to be more cognizant of that, to focus more on friendships than i do on making sure the floor is swept.

between a conference with Dan Allender that we recently attended, and a mom's group yesterday where similar topics were reiterated, a i feel like i've been in Marriage College lately. most specifically, i'm learning about some differences between men and women that i had never contemplated before, and also realizing the importance of understanding my own story and how that plays into being a wife and mother. that's a process that can't really be dissected formulaically. it just takes walking through it and being more aware, i think, and less afraid.

so i suspect this will be a "thinking year," whatever that might mean. i'm curious to understand my husband better, and myself; to embrace my child in all that he's discovering; to dig into the deeper layers of my closest friends and some books i've been too intimated to crack open, a new place to write, and the elements it takes to make a home that i've been keeping in a closet. this is worthwhile work. i'm intrigued and eager to get started.

begin again.

2009-01-03T17:23:00.021-06:00

In my estimation, this new year is off to a pretty good start. I just put the first roast chicken of 2009 into the oven with garlic, lemon, and a stick of rosemary--the only non-brown plantlife on our porch. The chicken reminds me that we are settling back into a routine of familiar things. And we've seen many friends since returning from a holiday vacation in Pennsylvania that brought a very good end to 2008. At home, we've spent equal time resting and being productive. Aside from the general cleaning, laundry, food replenishing, and un-trimming the house of its tinsel, we also finally got around to decorating Eli's room with a gallery of prints I've had set aside. He still lets me rock him to sleep some nights (an indulgence I know won't last forever), and it's nice to have something to look at by the lamplight while he drools sweetly on my sleeve and drifts off...

We're only three days in and I'm optimistic, as I think back to days behind and look forward to plans for the three-hundred-and-sixty-two before me. It occurred to me, while sprinkling herbs on the chicken, the way that we measure our life in years and mark them as good, bad, difficult, or worth repeating. Jeremy, the history major, says this last year was one of his hardest, mainly owing to the physical and mental challenges of home-renovation, coupled with transitional changes for us as a family. For me, it was definitely transitional, but also filled with a great deal of joy and creativity. I've relished piecing together this home bit by bit, watching Eli grow into it as he simultaneously grows out of his size four shoes. I've painted a lot of walls and produced a lot of art which has been gratifying work. I've sold my first paintings and seen long-forgotten things through a toddler's eyes. (Also, I do not dislike change as much as my husband, and I know his labor this year was far more painstaking, so it's easier for me to regard the time as well spent.)

In some ways, they've all started to run together---the years---into a giant collage of events, some significant, others less so. There was the year I taught myself how to knit. The year we went to Europe. The year we had a baby. The year of the unfortunate eyebrows. The year we got all that snow and people abandoned their cars on the highway.

I know, as I glance at my life backward, that 2005 was my hardest year by far, and sometimes I feel too much altered by the experience of watching my father die up close. Many days I see myself still trying to get back to who I was before, or maybe it's forward; I'm not sure. But to be entirely candid--because possibly this is a year of being even more honest in my writing--I can pinpoint when it happened, on an afternoon that October while sitting alone in the driver's seat of my dad's truck in some Houston parking lot. I had just left the hospital for the day, couldn't bring myself to drive any farther, and knew in that moment that I would never be the same again. It was scary to witness a change like that so sharply, to know that you are being scarred deeply and permanently by such aching beauty with no way to escape it. It was the moment something inside me grew up for the better and that some selfishness was lost, but with it, any lingering innocence too.

When I created this blog just two months before, I had no idea what was coming. Instead, I was grieving the loss of a favorite city after the hurricane. Maybe not grieving. Weighing. I had called my dad to see what he thought about the whole tragic thing. A few weeks later, I was in the produce aisle squeezing avocados when he called me back with news that felt much like the blindsiding unknown of that earlier storm, only standing alone in the center of it.

It is funny the way that we mark our lives by years, and our years by adjectives of what they meant and how we feel looking back on them. I know that for some, 2009 is already a year of heartache and disappointment. I know that for me it is marked by a hope for continued recovery.

Little things are reminders of what is true. Like the chicken in the oven. Good friends who are not afraid to have a fight at your table because they trust you enough. Kids for your kids to grow up with and bake pretend cookies in a cardboard oven. Provision upon provision, in spite of doubt. Hard work and the fruit that comes of it. Memories, and the empty blank slate of a year that holds the promise of being filled, come what may.

a merry christmas...

2008-12-25T07:47:00.002-06:00

love,

jeremy, kierstin & eli

while the snow pretends to fall.

2008-12-16T16:31:00.008-06:00

the cold, grey-green wintry days have awakened small gusts of creativity in me. it's been good to sneak upstairs to my little studio during eli's rests, with favorite *christmas music on my ipod while i layer paper and paint upon canvas. the songs, and the season itself, have both found their way into this recent work. and my friends amy & katie at red tree coffee[shop] kindly offered them a temporary home on their walls.

*on the playlist:
baby it's cold outside (zooey deschanel)
christmas day (dido)
i heard the bells on christmas day (pedro the lion)
delig er jordan (kings of convenience)
just like christmas (low)

sold.

forest in winter.

winter window.

seeing santa.

2008-12-09T09:23:00.013-06:00

on Saturday morning, we took Eli to visit Santa Claus at the Kingston Springs firehouse. there was hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, and Santa held a bucket of candy canes which he doled out by the handful to every child in exchange for their list of wishes. while in line, Eli seemed excited as he watched the other children climb into Santa's lap one by one. i could tell he was anticipating his turn with intense curiosity about the man in the big red suit and polyester beard he would soon meet...

...only when the time came to plop down on the big guy's knee for a photo, fear set in (who could blame him?) and he started to cry. Santa, of course, made sure to look all Santa-y and composed for the picture, despite the meltdown taking place on his lap.

the instant that camera went click, Eli hopped down and made for the snack table where he grabbed two brownies--one in each fist--and headed over to check out the firetrucks (also big and red, but far less menacing).

afterward, we stopped by the coffee shop to visit our friends there, had another brownie (theirs were better), and went to buy our Christmas tree.

i have always dreamed of having an entry hall in which to put my Christmas tree on display, rather than cramming it in the corner of the living room. finally we do, and the tree looks really pretty as the center of attention when you walk through our front door.

we did our usual torture-the-pet-with-antlers photo by the tree that evening after hanging the final ornament. you can't see it, but Sam's crying (on the inside) about having his photo taken with Santa Claus too.

the mouse who liked cheese, and other tales.

2008-12-01T11:42:00.009-06:00

it's been too many days inside this house. between drizzly weather, eli's sickness, and the bit of it that i got after him, there have been few temptations to venture beyond the driveway. over the past ten days, we've watched that Babe the talking pig movie so many times that i half expect our own dog to start asking for his dinner in english.

last night after eli's bedtime, i finished a piece of artwork for my friend jenni and wrapped it up for today's mail. it incorporates the hymn, "Deck Thyself, My Soul, With Gladness". it took me awhile to interpret and convey all the imagery just right, and i almost gave up a few times. but as with most things, it was worth the labor and struggle to arrive at the beauty of the completed work. or at least, it looks beautiful to me, in large part because of the hymn lyrics, so we'll see what the gift's recipient thinks.

i also packed up a couple of jeremy's CDs to send to my long-lost college roommate Carol who i located via facebook recently. she is living in Germany with her husband and children, and i found curious enjoyment in writing the word Dusseldorf on the envelope with my sharpie marker. [it was probably the two little dots over the u. why don't we have cities with dots over the vowels in america?]

the slight flurry of snow that drifted down this morning as we awoke nudged me toward a real anticipation of Christmas & wintertime. our gift shopping has begun, and i plan to sneak away late this afternoon to check a few more things off the list. soon we'll bring home a tree to adorn the entry hall and pull out the two overflowing boxes of ornaments, lights, & handmade stockings. i am looking forward to seeing this house decorated for Christmas for the first time.

but first on the agenda is to get a handle on the little would-be "mouse" who seems to have taken up residence in our home lately. after his sickness subsided and he bounced free from chicken broth and pedialyte, eli discovered a luxury known as cream cheese. and he CANNOT STOP EATING IT. of course, as his parents we are monitoring his intake (though frankly, the fat is benefitting his 20 pound frame) but he requests it (no, demands it) morning, noon, and night. it goes something like this:

wake up. bundle up. come downstairs. pour coffee and fill sippy cup. turn to eli & offer a waffle or pancake from the freezer drawer.

"mama," he replies each time. "i-yant cheese."

then he turns and rushes over to the still-doorless pantry, pulls out the box of crackers (a.k.a delivery devices), reaches his tiny fist inside, produces one, and presents it to me expectantly. i spread it with cream cheese. he licks it off, rendering his nostrils and chin covered, then bites the cracker and reaches in the package for another while still chewing. this repeats throughout the duration of my second cup of coffee.

"i-yant cheese" has become the phrase most often uttered in our household for the past four days.

i am hoping for a thicker dusting of snow so that just maybe he'll put down his cracker long enough to bundle up in a new winter coat and head outside to play. i want to go too.

what a family is.

2008-11-28T10:38:00.006-06:00

the only things left to wash are a bundle of silver-plated flatware and a lonely gravy boat.

we spent thanksgiving with two and a half members of our nashville "family"...cason and katie and their soon-to-arrive baby boy came over for dinner. the cervenys peeked in as well on their way home from a nearby celebration with relatives. the cooleys brought delicious vegetable casserole and cranberry sorbet; i made my grandmother's stuffing and my own rosemary mashed potatoes.

we had much to be thankful for as we gathered around the table. our marriages and children, friendship and family, a bountiful feast before us.

last weekend, jeremy and i pulled together to help our son, sick with a stomach bug, and our little dog Sam, who got attacked by two large huskies behind our house. following all the ensuing commotion and piles of laundry, we spent yesterday watching the Macy's parade, then tidied up the house and prepared the Thanksgiving meal.

so this morning Eli and i are lounging a bit. i am reluctant to admit it (denial, perhaps) but i fear i may have caught his sickness. something in my stomach just does not feel quite right. i am hoping it is nothing more than the dish of leftover bread pudding i ate for breakfast, but i suspect otherwise.

still, i am thankful for good health, knowing that there are many without it. i am thankful for this sturdy, warm house with its view of squirrels running along the telephone line. i am thankful for my prudent, hard-working husband whose insistence that we not use credit cards has saved us greatly in this new economy. i am thankful for my quietly napping little boy who has energy again and can finally enjoy a chocolate chip waffle. for his tender heart and his love of cheese. for the way he whispers, "goggle, goggle" whenever we ask him what sound a turkey makes. and so much more.

Mangia!

2008-11-18T11:39:00.010-06:00

whenever the weather turns cold, we always wish to have something warm and good-smelling simmering on the stove. jeremy and i both come from italian families, so last week when the temperature dipped and we pulled out our sweaters, we also decided to pull out my great-grandmother's recipe for spaghetti sauce. her name was Zelmira Mencarini Della Maggiora and you can't get much more italian than that.

it took two stores to find the dried porcini mushrooms necessary for the slow-simmered recipe. i can't disclose the entire list of ingredients because then it wouldn't be a secret family recipe, but aside from the dried mushrooms, the juice of a lemon + its rind and a healthy pinch of allspice also went into the pot, along with handfuls of fresh herbs and a glass of dry red wine.

this is not your typical spaghetti sauce, at least not by american standards, and as jeremy and i twirled bites around our fork we relived a favorite meal from our trip to Florence. a little italian nonna (grandmother) surely stood behind the stove in that kitchen too.

jeremy's dad makes a similar-tasting sauce with a few variations from my family's recipe, but equally as authentic & delicious. i am hoping eli will grow up with an awareness of his italian heritage, and a memory of eating many family recipe spaghetti dinners, always prepared from scratch.

men in tents.

2008-11-11T21:15:00.005-06:00

veterans day was a usual kind of day for the most part. several walks with eli down the gravel drive to the mailbox before i remembered that there was no mail today. the two of us went to the Y, then had soup & special grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch (it was an overcast day) with chocolate squares for dessert. we set up eli's tepee from his great-aunt jeanne in the living room and he dragged in various supplies including but not limited to: the TV remote control, a blanket, two mini pumpkins, his keyboard, and a pair of my shoes.

after dinner and a good talk with jeremy, i crept upstairs to peek at the sleeping little boy who woke up only briefly, then settled back down onto soft layers of blankets. i watched him for awhile, turned off his lamp, quietly pulled the door closed, and went to find this photo of my dad from when he served in Vietnam. it's good to remember.

244.

2008-11-07T14:47:00.004-06:00

last evening we returned from a trip east and i was so happy to see nashville's face again. its traffic lights & busy gas stations, its two-horned building off in the distance...i would have hugged this city were my arms wide enough. we picked up italian take-out & a bottle of wine on our way home from the airport. i was asleep by 9:32.

today i ventured to opening day at trader joe's. eli got bagel samples, a balloon & a sticker for his t-shirt. i got kitchen soap, a bag of avocados, arugula, bananas, cheese, soup, pasta, and a loaf of tuscan bread. then home to make a salad & have coffee on the porch. so many leaves falling that i tried to calculate how long it will be before all the trees are empty.

and i keep looking at this photo in disbelief. my friend mandy sent it to me of halloween. i just keep staring at this little boy's face, knowing that he's mine but wondering who he is at the same time. he looks so grown up to me. today i taught him how to say shoe.

halloween.

2008-10-31T15:13:00.003-05:00

far from ireland...

2008-10-28T15:40:00.028-05:00

if you ever hear me second guess our decision to leave our former house with its view of the nashville skyline for the greener pastures of small town kingston springs, just remind me of what it's like here in the fall. oh my goodness. this might be the case in all of nashville really, probably all of tennessee, but i guess i didn't notice the beauty of autumn to this extent until i saw it from my current front porch. the field across the street is breathtaking, especially when the sunlight hits the trees a certain way.

i set out the pumpkins we got last weekend at the farm. a cold front has moved in so i didn't last very long on the swing, even with a coffee cup to warm my hands and two layers of sweater.

surprisingly, the time has moved fairly quickly since jeremy has been in ireland, so i haven't felt inclined to write like i thought i would. i've been missing him, but also happily distracted by my adventures with eli and a few quiet moments in between.

the week has included a marathon of asian eating for myself, as well as substantial amounts of chocolate. i may have mentioned that whenever my asian-food-disliking husband travels, i tend to consume some version of curry or stir-fry for nearly every dinner meal. most of them i prepare myself, but on friday night i fetched some take-out noodles from Pei Wei (and a thick bar of dark chocolate from whole foods), and headed to the cerveny's house to stay for the night. i owed them an evening of babysitting after j's & my recent date to City House before he left for his trip. (by the way, i highly recommend City House in Germantown for dinner...amazing authentic, rustic italian cuisine served in a sleek but intimate warehouse atmosphere. we had the best time.) after emmy & eli were asleep, i settled myself down under a wool throw in the cerveny's cozy new family room to read.

in the morning, charla, eli, and i headed out for breakfast and to explore east nashville for awhile. it's fun to see all the growth of our old neighborhood. new coffee shops, children's bookstore, a deli with a community garden out back. i miss many things about living there, but some i don't, so it was good to arrive back at home again that afternoon.

after dinner, i finished a painting. my inspiration came from a mural at anthropologie, but i ended up with a completely different design. i prefer it when inspiration leads me to create something original, rather than merely an adaptation of something i've already seen.

i decided to accessorize the painting with a frame i'd been saving for my studio upstairs; the living room needed it more. lately, i've been feeling like our living room looks way too pottery barn, so i've been searching for ways to inject some creativity and imperfection into the space. it's still a work in progress, of course.

i also hung a paper cutting i've been working on...it's layered with japanese rice paper and is just a free-flowing abstract design.

as for other adventures with eli (who now has a cold), we have visited the monkey's treehouse, eaten cookies, gone to the library, and purchased a few special toys to remind him of daddy: a child's keyboard and a toy power drill. [his two favorite things to do with jeremy are make music and work on the house. whenever anyone new enters our home, eli immediately rushes to some bit of trim around a doorway and pats it proudly to show what he and his dad did together. it's the sweetest thing.] i also let him pick out a wooden treasure box to paint, though we still need to take a walk in search of treasures to put inside.

meanwhile, jeremy has been having the time of his life in ireland and has been invited to come back again next year (with us!) he said it's beautiful and green and reminds him of Pennsylvania + sheep.

here in tennessee, we have our own little patches of leaf-covered green. i'll be happy for him to return to us tomorrow. we saved him some chocolate.

the day before...

2008-10-22T15:40:00.004-05:00

it was a sweet, rare morning of sleeping in until 9:25. eli had maneuvered his way into bed with us at 5:30, nestled close and squeezed my neck tight with his tiny arm. he breathed into my face and commandeered my pillow. jeremy took him downstairs for a blueberry waffle sometime after 8. i am stocking up on rest to prepare for the next six days while J is away. i am confident i will need the energy.

so with good, strong coffee in hand, i stole five quiet minutes on the front porch. a perfect fall breeze scattered leaves across the pavement and collected them in clumps on the grass. i spent a long time inhaling deeply as i listened to piano notes coming from inside. i pictured two bodies of differing sizes perched side by side on the piano bench... ten fingers gliding along the keys while the other ten waited in eager observation. i love peaceful mornings.

lest you think my life is too norman rockwell, i will tell you that i spent yesterday's naptime cleaning cat urine from inside of a guitar case. [not every moment is fresh air and pianos and porch swings.] actually, i ripped out the entire bottom lining, tossed away the horrifically-pungent foam, cut a new insert using a pattern, wrapped it in a faux sheepskin fabric from one of sam's old dog beds, and attempted to reattach it. i still have a few tweaks to make but the effort reminded me why our cat now permanently resides in Texas with my mother.

after breakfast, we went to the Y, dropped eli in the nursery, and spent thirty blissful minutes in the whirlpool talking without interruption. then it was off to run errands: mini bottles of shaving cream and shampoo for Ireland, new shoes for eli's growing feet, and a trip to the bank.

my brain is overflowing with creative ideas that exceed the house's empty wall space. i want jeremy to come home to an improved space with a few surprises. realistically, i will probably only have time for one painting at most. we'll be busy.

eli and i have plans for:

the monkey's treehouse. playtime with emmy. playtime with ellis. storytime. lunch outings. trips to the park. making a treasure box. seeing mommy's friends. a house concert. pumpkin carving. church on sunday. and hopefully brushing eli's teeth.

though i am envious of this time he'll have in Ireland, i know it will be good for jeremy to lounge in the pub with a frothy pint before him, break out his pipe, read a good book, and see the rolling countryside. granted, he'll be working most of the time, but i'm hoping he'll have some time to rest too.

tomorrow he leaves...

a day at the farm.

2008-10-21T16:05:00.000-05:00

photos from Gentry's Farm. Franklin, TN.

[more images here.]

a few scattered thoughts...

2008-10-17T15:58:00.005-05:00

i anticipate more blogging time when Jeremy heads to Ireland next week for six days. usually we spend our evenings together, eating dinner after Eli's tucked in bed, and then watching a movie or something on tv. during my lonesome evenings while he's away, i plan to work on house projects, art projects, spend time with friends, and document my week's events by blogging. the days will be filled with embracing autumn, Eli and me together. i can't wait for that... (though i do wish i was going to Ireland too!)

until then, there will be a full weekend following a full week.

jeremy's cousin jason visited us from florida this week, and we enjoyed showing him around our little town, scooting into Nashville for a trip to Crema, a bit of thrifting to stock up on wooly things for Jeremy's trip, and watching a good film called The Visitor.

the main character in the film reminded me a lot of my dad. something about the way he looked, his mannerisms, and his conservative plainness met with a kid-like curiosity and layer of humor just beneath the surface. jeremy saw my dad in him too without my saying so.

this led to a good little sob-session on jeremy's chest as we settled down for bed. he told me i could wipe my nose on his t-shirt if i wanted to. it felt good to remember, and to be sad and also laugh over some memories, quietly in the dark on tuesday.

wednesday marked three years to the day since i have seen my dad, and though it gets easier with each season, i also hate that the passing time takes him farther and farther away.

today i took Eli to the park and just enjoyed being with him. lately he is the most fun person in the world to be around. tonight some friends are coming for dinner. tomorrow afternoon we're taking a family outing to a pumpkin patch and might find some leaf-covered ground to crunch through. fall is our favorite time of year, hands down.

on sunday we'll go to Kentucky again for church. jeremy has been doing music for a new church plant since last january. we miss our church here in Nashville and seeing many of those friends, but we are really enjoying being a part of this new church for the moment, and it's great to see how Jeremy's gifts are being used. the pastor also asked me to help dream up some aesthetic ideas since we are currently borrowing space in another church's bare little fellowship hall. i hope to lend some of my creative input where i can.

monday, we'll sneak away for a date night. our nights out have been less consistent lately, so when we have them i always have these grand notions of romantic dinners in quiet corners with wine and elegant plating. but at Margot Cafe for our anniversary last month, we almost fell asleep in our little plates of amuse bouche. [we suspect we might be getting old without realizing it.] this time, i suggested we just do something fun...so we're going to try a restaurant that's a little more lively. still with good food & conversation, of course. we're considering City House in Germantown, or Mad Donna's in our old neighborhood.

well readers, the chicken is soaking in its poaching bath, so before it gets too tough to shred, i better go make these enchiladas for our dinner guests.

enjoy your weekend. may there be good friends involved, and good leaf-crunching too.

harvest.

2008-10-08T11:24:00.001-05:00

black & white night

2008-10-07T09:55:00.009-05:00

Our friend Billy turned 40 29 this past weekend and his wife Charla threw him an amazing party at a best-loved spot in town, Crema. it was such a fun night to celebrate one of our favorite people.

a gathering of friends, an italian feast, good wine, and the richest chocolate cake lit up like a july 4th sky. after dinner, Billy's friends took turns paying tribute to his songwriting talent by each performing one of his songs. it was a back and forth of laughter and beauty. also, everyone wore black, except for the guest of honor.

such a memorable evening that made us thankful for the richness of friendships...

andy & jeremy admiring matthew's iphone.

b & c

jeremy playing "heaven knows"

jeremy & kevin

toast

the gifts

osengas

???

kevin mann, justin rosolino, mandy mann

charla, jeremy, billy, moi

what the day holds.

2008-10-03T09:45:00.001-05:00

i awoke to big squeezes and hugs from little arms today. Eli's soft cheeks were cold from this brisk fall air that has seeped into our house through century old crevices. he tugged at me to come downstairs, but socks for both of us were needed first.

the house is still and quiet this morning; it feels like a cozy blanket. i hear the faintest chirps from an upstairs bedroom as Eli attempts his morning rest. sam the dog softly snores on his pale green blanket. it sounds like a motor humming in the far far distance.

there is sunlight everywhere beyond two big picture windows. the view is deceptive, appearing more like the last days of summer than the entrance of autumn. on our walk yesterday, we noticed patches of crumpled orange leaves on the ground. others spiraled downward as we walked among the trees.

i have yet to form a plan for today. fridays always feel like nebulous days to me...moving toward the limitless freedom of saturday. i feel like baking something. definitely a walk to the park is in order. croissants with strawberry jam. dragging out the first lightweight sweater of the season. and a birthday party tonight.

these quiet minutes are being broken up by louder calls from overhead so i'll go up and fetch my little sock-footed monkey now. there's some sort of adventure awaiting us i'm sure. we have to go and find it.

eli's good thursday.

2008-10-02T14:46:00.004-05:00

(click to read...)

fall morning.

2008-09-30T13:11:00.000-05:00

the scene:

2008-09-29T22:15:00.008-05:00

jeremy in his man-chair, feet socked & propped, computer in lap.

me on the sofa (piled high with folded laundry stacks), feet upon the coffee table, computer in lap.

both of us have broken space-bars thanks to ten bitty fingers lured toward anything with buttons. mm, lured toward anything.

clothes dryer buzzes in the kitchen, two glasses of slowly-melting ice, a perfect seventy-four degrees in the living room without a/c...

eli sleeps upstairs. he did not nap today because we were out. somehow we spent the entire morning planning for the month ahead, then ventured out (all three) to stock up on bulk sizes of pesto sauce, chicken, olive oil, and magnolia-scented laundry soap. eli, seated happily in the cart, ate his way from aisle to aisle, munching on teriyaki meatball samples and tiny wedges of pb&j "uncrustables", all while gripping a fluffy tiger halloween costume he'd grabbed from a table.

next, to the regular grocery for produce, milk and bread. same list as usual except this time a handful of speckled red plums and a tough-skinned butternut squash made it into the cart. i am eager for a fall menu.

tonight we went down the street for a birthday party hosted by our friends who own the coffee shop. they live in a great grey bungalow with a sprawling front porch strung with lights and cozied up by benches and chairs draped with old quilts. around an open pit fire, we roasted hot dogs on long branches that had been carved into pointed skewers. i was so wishing i had needed long-sleeves. we left just as the marshmallows were being passed around. eli was entering that overly-tired point of delirium where he starts running energetically from place to place.

it is good to be with friends in this little town, to be reminded that we have them here.

rarely are we lonely, but we can tend toward being homebodies if we're not careful. especially now that we have a comfy man-chair, cool-weather days approaching, and a stockpile of gourmet pesto.

garden sale...

2008-09-24T12:06:00.005-05:00

just dropping in to share some exciting news in my little creative life. i went by art & invention gallery today to pick up my paintings at the close of the Tomato Art Show, and it turns out i sold another one! two out of the three pieces i created have gone to new homes. i am so curious who bought them, and so appreciative.

my feeling over this second sale is slightly bittersweet because tomato garden was Jeremy's and my favorite of the series and we were thinking of hanging it in our house. it's not one that can be recreated because i used original pages from an antique gardening book, but i am thankful someone out there will (hopefully) get some enjoyment from it.

i am definitely encouraged to continue my art work and to spend Eli's nap times painting away in my new upstairs studio.

the shape of things...

2008-09-23T14:43:00.017-05:00

{updated. decided to add a few more 'afters' of the kitchen/dining room.}

i'll admit, i am not always a patient person. being a mother has helped me to learn more about the all-important fruits of the spirit, but it's still a struggle sometimes.

as i see it, there are two kinds of patience. there's the patience to maintain an even temperament, to not become frustrated when your toddler refuses to wear a diaper or decides to test his screaming octaves in the middle of Target. and there's patience that involves the art of waiting (i.e. delayed gratification). i think being a mom has helped me in both areas, because both kinds of patience have become more and more necessary. i've become accustomed to waiting to take a shower until the afternoon, for instance, or waiting to do housework until after Eli goes to sleep so we have more time to play.

probably the biggest test of both mine and jeremy's patience this past year has involved our house renovation. it has required both kinds of patience in equal measure, and i think we'd agree has strengthened our relationship rather than strained it. for the latter, i am immensely thankful, as i've heard the stories of how remodeling a house can really deconstruct a marriage. along the way, i've tried to remind my husband (who is doing the bulk of the labor) of all the progress we've made and encourage him with a vision for what things will become. there are days when a simple project like trimming a closet will make us so happy, and times when all we can see is what's left in front of us.

i have been putting off posting before and after photos, because we still aren't really in a place of total completion with any room of the house. some rooms only need a few dabs of paint and a doorknob, while others have a long way to go. still, i was hoping to do more of an "unveiling" like on my favorite design blogs. but as i said, i'm not always patient and i'm ready to share some more of the progress. i'm including a few of the before photos (which reflect the house as we first found it with the previous owner's belongings.) eventually i'll post a more parallel before/after comparison of each and every room, but for now, this will have to do...

kitchen before:

...and details of kitchen after:

i realize that a potted basil plant isn't really indicative of renovation progress, but it's a sign that things are brighter now:

i love having open shelving:

schoolhouse fixture:

covering a large fusebox:

living room before:

details of living room after:

jeremy's man-chair that i picked out for him. it's a recliner. he loves it:

light fixture replaced a ceiling fan:

dining room before:

details of dining room after:

sitting room (off master bedroom) before:

sitting room still in progress:

this sofa will move to the sitting room once it's finished:

art studio before:

art studio after:

future inspiration board:

a bed for guests:

i might paint the bed eventually...

supply cabinet (needs to be repainted):

waiting to be hung:

[i have to add this little confession, because i think it's funny. in the photo of the leather chair, there were a few clumps of dust as well as several dried kidney beans (eli likes to sort them), & possibly a bug underneath the chair. i noticed them while taking the photo on my knees. i decided it would be faster (and easier) to photoshop them out rather than to sweep.]

to be continued...

a day with thomas//an evening with jeremy

2008-09-19T11:46:00.009-05:00

i've begun to notice autumn's approach and i couldn't be more eager to welcome it. i eased into the past few days on the front porch swing, listening to the sounds of morning. out here beyond the city, those sounds are really calming, especially when my other senses are waking up to the aroma of good strong coffee, the feel of a breeze against my cheeks, and the sight of five large maple trees still with all their green (but not for long).

jeremy and i were talking last night about how we feel like we're always waiting for the transitional phases in our life to end, for the seasons of change to stop or slow down so that we can just exist for awhile. we came to the realization that we'll probably be waiting forever, because change is just a part of life. we will always be experiencing joy over a birth, grief over a death, a new job, an old house [in need of restoration], or some other unseen part of our story we've yet to arrive upon. and whether the changes be good or less than ideal, we decided we need to just rest in the moments while we're in them---to welcome them even.

a recent moment that our family really enjoyed was the day that Thomas the Tank Engine came to town. we bought tickets for september 6th, and headed to the train station for a 25 minute ride along the tracks.

eli loved looking out the window at the passing scenery and sitting in a big seat all by himself. but what he loved more than anything was playing with the little flip-up ashtrays on the arms of the seats; those fascinated him to no end!

he also had fun inside the petting zoo, hugging and feeding the baby goats.

yesterday marked our four-year anniversary. time has flown, and we had much to reflect on and celebrate. we left eli with friends for a sleepover while we went to Margot Cafe for an amazing three-course dinner.

at Margot.

we had planned on a walk downtown, seeing a movie, taking advantage of our lack of responsibility for a night...but at 9:15 we looked at each other and confirmed exhaustion so we headed home. i guess our pre-date afternoon of chasing eli at the park wore us out.

it was still a good day, and this morning we had a quiet (though quick) breakfast at Red Tree Coffee down the hill. then i rushed over to pick up eli who was having a wonderful time in his godparents' kitchen and didn't seem to want to leave. he greeted me with a huge hug and a happy, sticky face. i missed him so much and he was only away from us for 15 hours. and while i realize i'm saying this at a quarter 'til noon after two cups of coffee, i would never trade being awakened at 6 am by my chirping little boy for endless quiet mornings of sleeping undisturbed.

gallery.

2008-08-17T15:29:00.014-05:00

finally grabbing a spare moment to post the full views of the three art pieces I created for Nashville's recent Tomato Art Festival. i was so happy when we walked in the gallery that Saturday and found that all three of my pieces were hanging together in the front room.

then, we walked by and noticed a red dot on one of the tags, which meant it had been purchased. i was stunned to have sold my first piece of artwork ever. it inspires me to continue creating as i have the time. there are still several weeks left in the show too...it runs until the end of September.

but the absolute best part of the experience, without a doubt, was the moment we first walked into the crowded gallery. Jeremy was ahead of me while I pushed Eli's stroller, and he spotted my art immediately. when we got closer and saw that one had sold, i looked at Jeremy and saw that he had actual tears of pride in his eyes. for a moment i think he understood how i felt when he completed his last album, Recovery, and so many people responded to it. Of course, that album required many more tireless hours than my three small canvases, but there's something we understand about each other, in part because we're both artists. it's gratifying to find such a mutual passion within your spouse.

so, now here's the art (click images to enlarge):

No. 1 - ledger #4

ledger #4 {closeup}

No. 2 - tomato garden (SOLD!)

tomato garden {closeup}

No. 3 - picnic
(SOLD!)

picnic {closeup}

the end.

little boy blue.

2008-08-10T10:28:00.012-05:00

i love this photo that my mom took of Eli when she was in Nashville. he looks like such a little boy, no longer a baby. i am thankful that he's growing and changing and i love watching his personality evolve, though i do wish it would slow down just an ounce.

we've had a lot of quality family time this weekend...

on friday, Eli and i had an outing to Dickson and on the way home stopped at Field of Dreams park in White Bluff where we explored the swings and slides and Eli chased birds around a planted Christmas tree until his cheeks turned flush.

yesterday, the three of us ventured out for the Tomato Festival which was a lot of fun. great to see so many friends and be in our old neighborhood for a few hours.

jeremy & billy pushing eli & emmy along fatherland street

eli & emmy

in front of the art gallery

last night, the Cervenys came over for dinner. i made braised short ribs and they brought pie.

today we are just taking it easy before the new week begins. i'm on to my next work project, writing a biography for andrew peterson for his new album, Resurrection Letters Vol. II. i'll be squeezing that in during eli's naps and after he goes to bed at night. during the day we have plans to swim with friends, visit the splash pad at the park, and hopefully go to story time mid-week. my art studio is beginning to take shape too, so finally i'll have a creative space to work. i hope to launch an online store one day soon.

these days are busy, but they are good.

tomato art fest (updated)

2008-08-06T22:46:00.004-05:00

[after an accidental blogging break, i'm going to cram two posts into one day just so i can get up to date.]

i am excited to share that i'll have ~~three~~ one or two [just got notice that there were so many contributors and a lot of large work this year that they've had to edit and can only display 1-2 paintings per artist.] pieces of artwork at the Art & Invention Gallery for this year's annual Tomato Art Fest in east nashville. red tree coffee was the first place that ever agreed to actually display my art, so i was thrilled when Meg at Art & Invention asked me to be a part of this year's show. my tomato-themed work will be there this weekend, so if you're in Nashville, stop by and see the collection. i peeked in today and there's some amazing work hanging in the gallery. mine may end up on a low nail in a back corner of the smallest room, but i still feel honored nonetheless.

the tomato fest is also fun for other reasons, including great people-watching, lots of artisans selling their wares, face-painting for kids, and area restaurants offering tomato-inspired dishes for the day. last time we went i was pregnant with eli, so it will be fun to attend this year with him in tow.

hope to see you there.

and here's the tiniest glimpse at what i made for the show. i'll post the full views after this weekend, along with some other projects around the house.

eli's baptism.

2008-08-06T22:07:00.006-05:00

for various reasons, it has taken us eighteen months to schedule eli's baptism. we wanted to do it sooner, but it just finally happened this past weekend. we had a memorable time with family & friends. my mom and stepdad arrived on thursday, so my mom and i had lots of time to shop, cook, and visit. jeremy's brother josh flew in on sunday. to celebrate the day, my mom and i made a big spaghetti lunch with my italian great-grandmother's family recipe sauce. and of course there were cupcakes.

at church that evening, eli was in a...let's say spirited mood from all the sugar and attention of the afternoon, so he was extremely wiggly during the baptism. once the water was put on his head he stopped squirming long enough to say "wa-wa" and pointed at the bowl, desperately hoping to play in it. he looked sweet in his white linen outfit and we felt so proud to be his parents.

at home we took some photos and ate my mom's homemade pizza (it was an italian-themed day) and eli got to stay up extra late feeding uncle josh's pizza to the dog and hiding underneath the dining table.

with uncle josh

with nonnie & opa

standing on the air vent

lunch with family & the browns

at home on the porch

end of day.

2008-07-22T18:54:00.008-05:00

i stepped out into the slight mugginess of evening. the air wasn't particularly sticky, but not breezy either. it was just sort of there. that's kind of how i felt too as i sat on the porch swing and looked out over the field where between trees the sun was turning a shade of golden pink that's hard to describe. cars were starting to round the corner at Hillman Street and pull up onto the edge of the grass to park.

i was taking a break to clear my head but it didn't do much good. lately--mainly today--we're a little overwhelmed. i think we (our family) has taken on more than we can handle comfortably for the moment. whether or not we're those kind of people who can easily tackle a home renovation is yet to be determined. well, i think the easily part has definitely been determined. still our house is slowly taking shape, and our lives too as a result. but it's just difficult to rest sometimes [i mean that more in the internal sense.] or maybe we're not meant to rest as much as i think we are. i believe God set aside one day a week, come to think of it.

sometimes i feel like when i'm trying to do so many things, i don't do any of them very well at all. it doesn't help that i'm a perfectionist either. i far too quickly feel that i've failed.

so i sat on the porch and watched the (mostly) older men file out of cars and greet one another before heading into the small white building directly across from our neighbors who have a mint green kitchen. the building belongs to the methodist church which sits just beyond a group of trees and a clearing, and they use it for different outreach meetings such as a weekly food pantry. it occurred to me that Tuesdays at 7 o'clock are AA meetings [i think.] mmm, probably not helpful that i was sitting on my porch not thirty feet away sipping a half-glass of wine. so i went inside.

...and here i am. eli is asleep and we had some sweet moments today. he very much enjoyed my iPod and listened to Sixpence and the Bees for quite awhile, strutting around the house. he helped me sweep and put away rolling suitcases (he pulled, i lifted). he ate well and is learning to feed himself with a spoon. we read two books (Goodnight Sweet Pig and another one about a duck.) he rested on my shoulder and drifted to the nighttime portion of Slugs and Bugs and Lullabies as we rocked in the big brown chair. and for a moment, i think i might have rested too.

sneak peeks

2008-07-22T09:30:00.007-05:00

i'm hunkered down in the house these days, working on a couple of projects: one large, one small.

i'll reveal more once there are completed pieces to show but for now i'm keeping them a secret. here are a few little hints...

i'm also on to my next bit of summer reading: Love In The Time of Cholera...

plus tending to the life and times of this little person...

and approaching thirty-five in a few days which feels just crazy & unbelievable to me. but not necessarily in a bad way.

sweet little thing(s).

2008-07-13T15:36:00.011-05:00

we've learned not to grumble when jeremy leaves town...usually it's only for a few days at a time (could be worse), and we keep our schedule filled with outings and errands and coloring books. sometimes i actually do strangely better when i'm solo parenting. not because my husband isn't a tremendous help when he's home (he is), but i think there's a mental shift that happens whenever he takes a trip. perhaps by sheer necessity, i spring into power-mom mode and am fueled by a subconscious sense that i have no choice but to handle things on my own. and so i do: happily and quite resiliently at first. but by about hour three of day four, we both start to get a bit whiny, eli and me. he starts muttering da-da between tears, and i start checking the clock every twenty minutes.

it also doesn't help that he's not feeling well. he had a fever yesterday and has been horribly tantrum-prone today, so i think we'll be staying home from church this evening. i am actually really wishing we could go (there will be adults there!) but i can tell he's on the brink of something, whether sickness or an emotional meltdown is yet to be determined. currently he's napping after falling asleep during a time-out which he earned by hitting me because i wouldn't let him pluck the letters from my keyboard one by one (my spacebar is already askew). mean mean mommy.

today aside, the weekend has been productive and fun for both in varying degrees. our child-centered activities have included playing in the tee-pee with twelve stuffed pets. a trip to the indoor playground at McDonald's because it was too scorching hot outside for the park. bubbles. coloring pictures of Thomas the train. fun with fly swatters. eating chocolate pudding. reading a new story-book that came in the mail. and talking on the phone with daddy.

now i'm doing laundry upon laundry and brewing afternoon coffee for one. my mother-in-law recently enlightened me to the power of Oxiclean. it's good stuff.

on friday, we stopped by two antique stores which Eli is beginning to detest less. I found some trinkets for $5. this is becoming my favorite time-passer when j is out of town: hunting for a small collection of desirable objects for around $5. some might call it junk, but i have a vision for all of it. i don't buy things unless i'm inspired when i see them. last time i acquired this & this.

this time, i found:

a crocheted apron which i might make into a pillow.

three doilies for which i have plans.

a small dish for my wall-display of plates.

this cute embroidered wrap for my silverplate spoon collection.

and a tin petty cash box to hold art pencils.

all for five dollars, and in THIS economy! Oxiclean was helpful in bringing two of them back to life.

in other news, we have gnats! an entire army of them and apparently they keep making babies behind the cereal boxes. we've set out saucers of vinegar and have caught at least eighty of them since tuesday, but just when i think we're down to the last three or four, a new litter hatches and they begin swarming again. i must say, few things are more annoying than a kitchen full of gnats, and isn't "gnat" just the perfect name to describe them? yes, i think so too.

drink your breakfast.

2008-07-12T15:50:00.007-05:00

i guess it's a little late to be trying to sculpt myself into shape for bathing suit season, especially since i've already been to the beach, but i have felt inspired to get a bit more healthy lately. mostly, i'm hoping to keep up with my energetic eighteen month old. many days, to be honest, i find myself already exhausted by noon.

breakfast is part of my problem. i know it's the most important meal of the day, and considering my need of a nap by lunchtime, i can understand why. but i just never really feel that hungry in the morning. i know part of it is that i'm filling up on coffee (a necessity), and part of it is that i hit the ground running with Eli first thing, so by the time i've fed him breakfast and chased him around the house for awhile, i forget about feeding myself. my friend lisa mentioned a healthy drink she's been making at home to start her day so i decided to try it out this weekend.

one small banana, five strawberries, two handfuls of fresh spinach, and a splash of unsweetened apple juice into the blender.

true, it came out the color of grass clippings, but it actually tasted delicious and i will admit i felt a bit more energized throughout the morning. and being able to drink my breakfast quickly is definitely a bonus. i had a piece of string cheese afterward just to get some protein in my system too.

jeremy has been out of town this weekend so i made a tasty dinner for myself after putting Eli to bed that evening: salmon filet brushed with my favorite sauce: veri veri teriyaki, along with a side of oven-roasted asparagus tossed in olive oil, and a sweet potato. i felt a little guilty eating so well with my husband out of town, knowing he was probably grabbing some pizza or a burrito. i'll probably make it again for him this week.

tonight i'm going to pick up a little brown rice sushi and stir-fry some vegetables in the same teriyaki sauce. it's good to eat well, knowing that i'm getting the nutrients i need to be a better mom for my son. i don't imagine he'll be slowing down any time soon, so i had better learn how to keep up.

home revisited.

2008-07-09T10:32:00.007-05:00

we've been in and out of town vacationing this summer, and it's been good to take some downtime after a winter spent hammering away on our house. now that we've taken a little time to rest, we'll be picking up tools again this month to resume work on trim, doors, a new master bath, my still-to-be-painted art room, and then finally hanging photos and artwork on the walls. i've been so eager for this final step. a home just isn't a home without things on the walls, in my opinion. as much as i love our paint colors, the bare spaces lack warmth. i have plans to display a black and white collection of photographs in the entry hall, my large ledger collage in the living room, and some other pieces i've got bookmarked on my laptop to buy from etsy and other shops. hopefully by august, most of the final details will be completed and i can reveal some before and after photos. at the moment, most of what i have are before and during, so i'm waiting for the finished views. mostly i'm looking forward to my creative space...it will definitely be the most colorful, feminine area of the house, with shades of blue and green and teensy bits of pink. our master bath is second on my list of anticipated rooms...currently it's just dull grey drywall and lots of dust but soon will be washed in a coat of golden saffron with creamy white accents including an antique vanity, clawfoot tub, and a heavy old wooden mirror framed in chippy paint the color of vanilla frosting.

americana.

2008-06-30T10:02:00.013-05:00

this weekend's slight summer rain and the one forthcoming brought the most perfectly cool breeze to our morning walk. we crept along, noticing new details. next door, an awkward tree with five tangled arms sprouted cartoonish tufts of leaves. we strolled along...

counting as we went...

following the blaring train whistle which momentarily deafened our ears...

past the fire station, uniforms hanging in wait...flags swaying...

and ducked through my absolute favorite piece of kingston springs. this canopy of trees: a moss-covered subway station filled with an eager wind and blinding circles of light swirling in holes overhead...

ladies in lace-hemmed dresses danced along the edge of the road...

with echoes of kids bouncing basketballs on thick pavement. eli's love of swings...

and home again.

summer senses.

2008-06-29T19:22:00.011-05:00

dinner is bubbling on the stove. i am eating mexican food for the second night in a row. last night, jeremy and i went to a birthday party catered by Nashville staple Baja Burrito. we enjoyed conversation with some rarely-seen friends in a beautiful backyard on a balmy summer evening. an unseen bullfrog croaked in a pond at the edge of a small gazebo draped with white sheeting. we guzzled cold beer and munched on chips, and saved room for a slice of melt-in-your-mouth cake which i ate with my fingers because the forks had run out. after four days of solo parenting, i really needed a night out with the hub. it was good to laugh, connect with old friends, and get better acquainted with some new ones.

tonight jeremy has ventured just beyond the state's edge for some work in Bowling Green, Kentucky. two friends stopped by this afternoon for a blink-long visit, after which i fed Eli his dinner of miniature meatballs, mac-n-cheese, avocado slices, sweet peas with butter, and in an attempt to pack some extra pounds on his slim frame, bananas smeared with Nutella for dessert. he ate well, then rinsed his chocolate-covered fingers in the bathtub, filling plastic cups with warm water. he requested two story-books and nestled down for bed.

i took a small goblet of Smoking Loon Shiraz to the front porch and settled down on the old wooden swing against a pillow. After swatting myself free of a few invasive wasps darting past our potted rosemary toward my head, i took in the sounds. distant dog yelps, tweetery cardinals nesting in our Rose of Sharon bush, a train chugging by, rustling wind in the trees. these are the moments when i miss the city least. i glanced toward two front yards trimmed with white picket fencing and ahead toward the last embers of sunlight glistening against a swing set across the road.

then into the kitchen for chicken tacos with home-blended seasoning, fresh avocado and sweet grape tomatoes. Bob Costas murmured on TV from the Olympic swimming trials. for some odd reason i find the sounds of the Olympics comforting...the buzz of the crowd, the hypnotic voices of commentators, a lingering sense of triumph.

now, an annoying fly keeps whizzing past my head. we seem to have an abundance of flies in-house these days; i swat at them with kitchen towels. Ants too, little stingless ones marching in line across the oily wooden countertops. we smoosh at them with our fingertips and wish them away.

the house is mostly quiet now...just awaiting the sound of car tires rolling up the gravel drive against the moonlight. all is well.

jumbled.

2008-06-27T10:15:00.009-05:00

i accidentally made the bed just now. i hadn't intended to but i was wandering around the room deep in thought and before i could stop myself i was tossing the last of the pillows into place. it was similar to those moments when you're driving along and suddenly you find yourself descending your exit and having no recollection whatsoever of the past five miles that led you there.

but i finished The Great Gatsby last night so i suppose there was no real reason to leave the bed unmade all day. i enjoyed the book a lot and have a faint remembrance of having read it (or sections of it) sometime in school. jeremy said he read it in seventh grade which sort of amazes me because it's a bit mature in content for a twelve year old i think. then again, maybe not. as much or more than i enjoyed the actual story, i really loved the vividness of the writing. it inspired me, perhaps more than Franny and Zooey did...and actually i can say that i dug into it a bit more too. i think i resonate with romance sometimes more than i do with art, though i kind of believe they are one and the same.

yesterday Eli and I ventured out into the baking sun for a trip to the small town just beyond the next even smaller town. [on the way home we passed a sign in the edge of a yard that read: "Goat Crossing." Who even knew that such a sign existed?] While we browsed a few little shops, Eli in his bright orange umbrella stroller, a plastic baggie sat on the car's front seat with a remnant of cheddar cheese leftover from his mid-journey snack. when we returned to the car, the cheese had melted inside the bag into flat gooey blobs as if pressed inside a grilled cheese sandwich. I remembered a line from Gatsby in which he described the heat of the day as broiling.

we had just been grabbing an iced drink inside a coffee shop where Eli had proceeded to chirp and squak like various zoo animals and happily scream "dadadada!!" at the top of his little lungs for no apparent reason. while rushing out to avoid the stares, we paused for a moment to listen to three men intermittently sipping iced tea and playing guitars and harmonicas. the youngest was singing lines from that Moldy Peaches song at the end of Juno (which I've also seen re-created in a commercial for some vacation destination called Atlantis.) Eli was mesmerized for a solid five minutes and it was the quietest I'd heard him all afternoon.

for just over six dollars total i picked up ten little printer's stamps, and this flower picture which i placed upstairs on the top landing next to my favorite red chair.

tonight i am making a curry dish for my friend Lisa who is coming over for a visit. and because i dragged Eli around to places unappealing to active little boys all day yesterday, i promised him that today is a day just for HIM...so after he wakes up we're off to find the playground and that much-anticipated ice cream cone or two.

1...2...3...go.

2008-06-26T10:35:00.010-05:00

not much time to write...so much to do.

the naptime clock just started so i have an hour, maybe two. first task is to straighten up...an empty milk carton, spaghetti strainer, wooden spoon, green plastic pail, all strewn about the living room rug. i am glancing sideways at artistic scribbles of ink on the sofa cushion to my right. lucky for the hands that penned it, we've been planning to buy new furniture next month.

this morning we've been to the coffee shop and library. this afternoon we'll have an outing or two if the rain holds off. in between, i need to ~~organize closets~~ (our present house focus), find a babysitter, ~~water the poor hydrangea~~, ~~finish eating breakfast~~ banana bread and cucumber water, ~~take vitamins~~, ~~quick shower~~, ~~grocery list~~, and possibly ~~sneak in a chapter of my current reading:~~ The Great Gatsby, upon a disheveled bed that will most likely remain that way for the next two days.

j is in Indiana for work. the air outside is hot and we miss him. seems like a good day for an ice cream cone...let's add that to the list.

the elements of rest.

2008-06-22T10:55:00.012-05:00

this morning jeremy made a declaration. in fact, he began the declaration by saying, "i am making a declaration."

it was this: "today let's do nothing. i just want to read."

as a plan, this works well because we go to church in the evening. we actually slept in until ten (a rarity) and now eli and j are puttering in the office while a blueberry-orange loaf puffs up in the oven and the dog sniffs the rug for remnants of eli's pancakes.

i finished franny and zooey (loved it!) and am now moving on to The Great Gatsby AND The Screwtape Letters at the same time. well, look at me: TWO books at once! we happen to have two copies by Lewis so we're going to read that one together and discuss.

i then made a declaration of my own. because church begins at five o'clock, i want to start making a big brunch or lunch on Sundays...whatever i was planning for dinner will move to the afternoon. i think this tradition will keep us from jotting mid-sermon notes on our bulletins to each other about the desperation of our hunger. today i will attempt salmon pasta with leeks and broccoli (a recipe from nonchalant mom), spinach salad, and sourdough bread. yum.

{update: just finished lunch. salmon pasta = deeeelish! a must try. super healthy and super easy & we added a squirt of lemon to bump up the flavors...jeremy helped cook. the only flaw, i think we failed to clean the leek thoroughly so there was a smidgen of grit. but we still ate our bowls clean.}

a little lunch and a little reading seems like the perfect way to complete a restful weekend hanging around our beloved Cheatham County. we never imagined we'd be uttering "beloved" and "Cheatham" in the same breath, but we've really grown to love it here. on friday, jeremy played a set at the local coffeehouse as part of their *free* Friday evening summer concert series. there was a great turn-out from the neighborhood and some friends from nashville came by too. there was red-velvet cake, great music, and eli truly appeared stunned with pride at seeing his daddy on "stage."

yesterday found us as serious sugar-gluttons. first, mochas and muffins (oh, and a chocolate brownie.) next stop, Gigi's Cupcakes for delicious sweet confections swirled sky-high with decadent frosting. last night we dragged our fat selves to the nearby Broadway Drive-In (for Get Smart) with our friends from the coffeehouse. Eli loved staying up late two nights in a row (hence the sleeping in until ten), and rolling around on a thick palette of quilts under the open hatchback of our Subaru. I had not been to a Drive-In movie since about age 10, but it may just have revolutionized our movie-loving lives because it eliminates the necessity for a sitter. and there's something so fun and all-American about a drive-in movie.

the perfectly cooled summer air and an aroma of greasy-grilled cheeseburgers from the concession stand flowed through our open car windows and we lounged on pillows, eli curled up between us wearing only a diaper and t-shirt, his damp hair stuck to the side of his face while he slept.

put down that sandwich!

2008-06-19T10:50:00.005-05:00

so there i was at my local Kroger grocery store, buying some innocent sandwich meat from the deli counter. maybe i'm the only one, but i've always assumed that buying lunch meat from the deli-counter as opposed to pre-packaged stuff in the lunch meat aisle meant i was getting something "fresh" or at least "fresher" for my family.

always with one eye on the dollar and one eye on health (or so i thought), i requested 1/3 pound of low-sodium turkey breast from Boars Head, 1/3 pound of baby swiss, and 1/4 pound of Private Selection (store-brand) smoked ham because it was on sale. the man behind the counter who was taking my order happened to be wearing a Boars Head outfit (shirt and matching cap) so I think it's safe to assume he represents them somehow and therefore has a bias, but still, his response caught me by surprise:

"do you realize that you just asked for low-sodium turkey and then a brand of ham that has four times as much sodium?"

he then proceeded to tell me that the store brand of lunch meats are actually not 100% meat. In fact, in order to be approved, they only have to contain 60% actual meat (and some of that "meat" can come in the form of lips, organs, and hooves!) while the other 40% is comprised of various fillers, gelatins, high sodium chicken broth, and other meat by-products.

before he handed me my Boars Head turkey & ham (which he claimed were both taken from actual cuts of meat rather than pieces of meat pressed together to form a ham shape), he said, "you should look up 'processed lunch meat' on the internet sometime."

and so i did. truly, i don't think i will be eating processed lunch meat (Boars Head included), hot dogs and the like again, or feeding them to my family after what i just observed. most of these processed meats are filled with cancer-causing sodium nitrates and other dangerous chemicals.

according to a USA Today article i found:

"...forget eating bacon, sausage and lunchmeat. No amount is considered completely safe, according to the analysis from the American Institute for Cancer Research and the World Cancer Research Fund. •Every 1.7 ounces of processed meat consumed a day increases the risk of colorectal cancer by 21%."

perhaps this is common knowledge to most and i have been cluelessly living under a salami sandwich all these years but i really had no idea. sure, i've heard people say: "do you know what's actually in a hot dog?" but i preferred to remain blissfully ignorant with my ball park frank and squeezy bottle of ketchup. one in each fist.

i will let you do the research for yourself. there's a lot of it out there...most of it is both disturbing and exceedingly gross. i always struggle with what to make for lunch, which is why turkey and cheese sandwiches ends up on the menu at least twice a week. but i think i can be more creative now that i know the facts...

http://www.thriftymamas.com/2008/05/14/nitrates_in_lunch_meat_cause_cancer/

(*warning: stomach-turning images) http://www.naturalnews.com/phototour_mystery_meat_1.html

http://www.naturalnews.com/011148.html

http://nutritiouseatingandliving.blogspot.com/2007/11/is-lunch-meat-on-your-menu-to-be.html

summer reading list.

2008-06-18T14:47:00.004-05:00

given my current pace of reading, i am not at all confident this list won't take me until Summer 2012 to complete, but the fact that i am making a list at all means there is progress.

at least, i am all but 50-some pages through Franny and Zooey and have even had a lot of distractions since beginning it.

following are my aspirations:

-The Member of the Wedding
-The Screwtape Letters
-The Principles of Uncertainty
-The Complete Stories of Flannery O'Connor
-~~The Great Gatsby~~
-The Wolf at the Table: A Memoir of My Father
-The Thirteenth Tale
-Julie & Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously

books to finish:
-~~Franny and Zooey~~
-Eat, Pray, Love
-The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

father+son.

2008-06-15T22:58:00.003-05:00

tuesday, i think.

2008-06-03T13:36:00.007-05:00

i wouldn't consider myself a reader, per se. i mean, i would like to consider myself one, but i can't if being honest.

i'm a writer. jeremy's a reader. he does write some too and i have been known to read things, but in general, i'm better at grammar and his is the name scrawled inside most of our books.

i've heard it said that in order to be a good writer, one must read. i don't disagree with that assertion and feel certain that were i to read more than i do, my writing would flourish with a bigger arsenal of words and more interesting characters.

the problem is, i am one of those people who has to re-read a sentence five times in order for it to sink in. i am not dyslexic and always did well in English...in fact, I'm a good reader when reading aloud. it's more the issue of the information gluing itself to my brain that hinders me.

jeremy, on the other hand, cannot keep from buying books and soaking each page up like bread into butter. he also speed-reads and has a habit, in the spirit of Harry, of reading the last page of a book while still on chapter one. i do not understand.

for me, i think it's two things actually. first, i am intimidated by books because i know it's going to take me forever to read them so i hesitate to even begin. for example, my sister bought me a book for Christmas last year. it was all wrapped up with a five-pack of Burt's Bees lip balm tins and it scared me to death. it might as well have been a dictionary, this book as thick and horrifically daunting as a five-pound steak. she said it was great; i have yet to crack the binding.

the other is that my imagination wanders. that's what keeps me from absorbing anything until the third or fourth reading of a sentence. sure, once i get going and am immersed in a story, i can fly along. but it's the getting going that's a challenge. i'll start to read and before i've even finished a paragraph, i find myself thinking about which pillows would look best on our bed, or how much i love the marvellous shade on my little reading lamp, or how proud i am to be holding an actual book in my hands even if just for ceremony.

last night i decided to try something new. a short book. something light and compact and uncruel. i chose Franny and Zooey from the shelf in j's office. i've heard it's good, i like the title, and it's tiny. incidentally, i was reminded of it upon introduction to the music duo She & Him, featuring Zooey Deschanel (named after Salinger's Zooey) who starred in Almost Famous and Elf. and incidentally inside of an incidentally, that movie (the one featuring Will Farrell in tights) was the first occasion for me to see my husband (then-boyfriend) cry. In a movie about Santa Claus. How could I not marry him?

so while it took me three attempts and several minutes to push past the first two sentences of Franny and Zooey, once i did, i kept going. i'm a third of the way through(!) and really enjoying it. and who knows? maybe it will even seep into my writing somehow.

peas in a pod.

2008-05-28T20:26:00.010-05:00

first, the little kid slept in until TEN o'clock which never happens. he was in the sweetest mood all day too, even without a nap. needless to say, it was a happy mommy wednesday.

second, we got long-overdue family haircuts today at green pea salon. well, the grown-ups did [i've been trimming eli's myself.] so while erika cut my hair, jeremy and eli roamed to the bookstore & post office. during j's turn, eli and i browsed a nearby antique store where i saw many things but successfully held onto both my wallet and my squirmy boy eager to get down and touch expensive china with all the love inside him.

next, we three headed over to Crema, a newish coffee spot downtown. jeremy had been there a few times and raved about the mochas. i found myself back in italy upon the first sip. truly, it was the best mocha i have had in these united states and i'm not exaggerating an ounce. eli bounced between us, sampling fistfuls of my zucchini nut muffin and j's fluffy raisin scone. eli exudes the most happiness, we've noticed, when all three of us are together. he held each of our hands in his own tiny ones and walked along blissfully; we lifted him over puddles swinging him up into the air.

tonight i made an indian feast compliments of Whole Foods: chicken tikka masala, Tasty Bite jodhpur lentils (not so tasty...too much cumin), and wedges of whole grain naan brushed with olive oil.

and now, a little fun with photo booth to capture our new haircuts (in reverse) while they still have that fresh-from-the-barber-chair vavoom:

full.

2008-05-27T22:31:00.005-05:00

[look Keely, it's queen anne's lace!]

today was nice. lots of activity. jeremy began painting the stairs: which inspired us to clean, which motivated us to want to work on more projects, which encouraged us that one day soon our house will feel "finished."

just maybe.

while he painted spindles wearing old blue converse high-tops i didn't know he owned, Eli and I headed into town where we met my friend Danielle and her son Ellis for storytime at the downtown library. very much fun. Eli attempted to storm the stage a couple of times, especially once he caught a glimpse of a guitar up there. but mostly he paid attention to the theatrics (including a bit of juggling, some tap-dancing, fiddle-playing, songs about colors, and yes, a story was read too), and all the while he and Ellis stuffed their happy little faces with a kid-snack buffet of graham crackers, cheerios, Nilla wafers, and cheese goldfish.

after the story, we took our lunch to the courtyard and sat under a magnolia tree; then let the boys fast-walk around near the big fountain. i brought lunch from home but bought a macaroon from the Provence bakery attached to the library. come to find out, Eli is not such a fan of coconut.

he napped the whole way home, and I listened and sang along to Katie Herzig's Apple Tree CD, which is my favorite music of the moment.

this evening, some friends came over for dinner and it was good to have our home filled with three babies and six adults and lots of food and conversation...

[eli's first scribbles, after taste-testing the chalk]

now the dishwasher is swishing and glugging and we're stuffed and sleepy...

...so goodnight.

pretty modern things.

2008-05-23T22:16:00.010-05:00

normally when it comes to design, i'm mostly a vintage girl. i love scouring flea markets, the look of old fabrics, and furniture with character: the more scuffed up the better. i like things with a story.

lately though, i've been appreciating the clean lines and anti-shabby details of modern-mixed-with-retro in certain household products.

take my brand new iron for example. yes, i am blogging about an iron. yes, i am actually excited about an iron. but how could i not be? it's glimmery and pink and pretty! and it presses out wrinkles too.

and here's the new garlic press i bought last week (our old one broke):

a great label for a great dish soap:

then there were the flowers i found in the yard. usually i gravitate toward daisies & skinny strands of wild weeds...but i found this big hunk of a thing growing in our front lawn, and the modern-look of it, a flower (at least i think it's a flower), appealed to me. especially resting in a darkly-glazed pottery vase made by an artist friend.

aisle 5.

2008-05-23T15:30:00.005-05:00

so i'm (mostly) off cashews now and have moved on to sugar snap peas. i just gobbled up an entire eight ounce bag of them. i guess if you're going to binge on something, sugar snap peas are hardly the worst thing.

i am solo this weekend while J is in Atlanta working. that means more sweet time alone with Eli who is taking a late nap after our errands this afternoon. he manages to amuse people wherever we go, particularly at the grocery store. in the produce aisle, he points enthusiastically to watermelons, cantaloupes, oranges...anything roundish actually...and says, "ball! ball!" over and over again. he has also never met a stranger, which scares me just a little bit. he will strike up a "conversation" with anyone he can see from his perch inside the shopping cart.

i picked up a magazine and some ingredients for tonight's dinner: teriyaki-udon noodles with chicken, broccolini and....shoot, i ate the snap peas.

[update: substituted grape tomatoes for the hastily-consumed sugar snaps and also grated in some fresh ginger. + two potstickers from the freezer as a side-snack. waaay better & fresher than take-out. mmmm...]

i always eat asian food while J is away. it's part of my ritual, whether i get take-out or make something myself. he is not the biggest fan of asian food so i rarely make it when he's home. together we eat mostly italian, sometimes mexican (which i finally grew to love when i was pregnant and have never looked back), a fair amount of indian, and lately lots of meats on the grill.

i haven't had much to blog about lately...we're kind of just cruising along, enjoying the spring weather, preparing to plant a garden and finish house projects as the summer progresses.

after Eli wakes up we'll head out for our second walk of the day, ~~this one to Burns Park so he can play a little while~~ when we headed out for our walk it was four-ba-jillion-degrees outside, so our walk turned out to be a spin around the block with a stop for iced coffee, a quick push on the swing, and home with flushed faces...

art for sale.

2008-05-13T11:23:00.010-05:00

...with this new house, one of my goals is to decorate mostly with handmade or reclaimed items, whether pulled from antique shops, the flea market, Etsy, or my own imagination. so far, we have little on our walls, but i have managed to acquire just a few artistic pieces [am trying to follow the motto of owning only things that are truly beautiful or useful...]

my ever-so-kind friend Jenni sent this Alyssa Ettinger porcelain milk bottle as a housewarming gift. i love it! her knitware pottery items are incredible as well.

i had to snap up this Julia Rothman pillow for Eli's bedroom before it sold out at Urban Outfitters. the bright green fabric and Dr. Seussian design make me happy and add a bit of "art" to his space.

also went by red tree coffee yesterday to take a few photos of my own artwork that is on display there:

close-up of poppy

close-up of ledger #2: lemons

ledger #1: good pie

ledger #3: little red wagon

and finally...

no, my husband is not art for sale, [though he is quite easy on the eyes, don't you think?] but he does have his own masterpiece for sale in the form of an album. unfortunately, with all of our house renovating and chasing after a one-year-old, i feel like Recovery's release didn't get all the celebration it deserved. i am really so proud of him for such an accomplished work of art and am hoping that at some point we can have a belated CD release party to honor his creative genius.

what i am.

2008-05-11T16:47:00.007-05:00

the day began early at six-thirty. eli beckoned me from his room across the hall with elf-like chatter and the occasional "ma-ma?" thrown in for added enticement. he is the sweetest little person in the morning, bright-eyed from the get-g0, always with an ear to ear smile.

j prepared coffee, then brought in sweet cards, the loveliest "motherhood" necklace from Blue Poppy, chocolate (of course!), and tickets to the art museum for the three of us. sometimes i still can't wrap my mind around the fact that i'm a mother...especially on days like today when it's being celebrated and i'm included.

M-O-T-H-E-R...it's so official and grown-up-seeming; it requires knowing things that only mothers know. i'm still learning, but i am blessed with a gracious husband and a tender-hearted little boy who never seems to notice my imperfection. with every hug, he squeezes just as tightly as the one before.

we had brunch at Marche', then a quick walk in the blustery wind, and tomorrow we'll see Renoir at The Frist. we came home to a jar of wildflowers on the kitchen table that we picked while on a family drive yesterday afternoon. [i'll take a plain glass jar of roadside blooms over a dozen perfect roses any day.]

mother's day is all about honoring mothers, and i'm definitely thankful for mine (i inherited her creative genes, for which i'm grateful.) i'm also reminded of all the things i love about being a mother to my child. today, more than i thought about being recognized in my role, i found myself pondering the many glorious facets of my son, and all the joy i have in being his mom...

...like how sweetly he says "mama" in a particular voice he reserves for that word alone.

how he says "toot-toot" when the train goes by, just because he knows it makes us laugh.

his still-tiny fingers that clutch mine when i reach back from the front seat of the car to reassure him... or to hand him a Goldfish cracker. which he reaches up and takes from me. which still amazes me, every single time.

the way he hugs every stuffed animal or real live dog & cat with equal affection.

how much he adores taking a bath, playing piano with his daddy, and balls of string.

his independence, even already...wanting to walk by himself instead of being carried or holding a grown-up hand, and trying to keep up with bigger kids, always watching them carefully so he can follow.

his curiosity about everything: be it bug, flower, rock, toothbrush, fondue pot, or box of oatmeal.

how he rests his head on my shoulder every night at seven and lets me rock him to sleep. this is my absolute favorite moment of any day, without question. no matter what kind of day i've had, how many times i've reached under the sofa to retrieve a puzzle piece, or how many frustrated little tears i've wiped away from his cheeks, it's the moment when all i think about is how fortunate i am to be this amazing little person's mother, for always.

coffee for me, coffee for you.

2008-05-11T16:13:00.018-05:00

when we first moved to kingston springs, we were hopeful but tentative. upon touring the little downtown area a block from our house, we said, "if only there was a coffee shop..."

it's not so much that we're that addicted to coffee [lately i cannot keep from consuming mounds upon mounds of cashews, however...] besides, we brew plenty of coffee at home. it's more the idea of being able to get out of the house to grab a latte when we want to, and the experience of smelling the earthy-chocolaty-spice of rich coffee beans filling the air.

fortunately, we didn't have to wait long for our wish to come true. on saturday, red tree coffee had its grand opening on our little main street. we strolled over at 10 o'clock for the ribbon cutting and a delicious iced beverage with a hint of hazelnut.

the owners are two sisters, Amy & Katie (and their husbands)--- really great people we're enjoying getting to know. Eli has quickly made himself at home at the shop and even picks up a broom sometimes, or dashes back into the kitchen to sneak a tasty gingersnap from Amy who bakes them fresh.

we love red tree coffee for its sweet, eclectic atmosphere filled with flea market chairs and dainty chandeliers. i'm fond of both the vintage charm, and the cranberry-orange scones. the coffee (from local roaster Portland Brew) is excellent too. if you find yourself in the neighborhood, it's definitely worth a stop.

the owners have also graciously allowed me to display some of my art pieces for sale. i've always hoped to find a place willing to spare some wall space, so it's exciting for me. i created five pieces to start: part collage, part painting, part pen-and-ink...

[four & twenty]

i'm not really sure if people around here buy much art (especially from coffeehouse walls) but if nothing else, it's fun to walk into my new favorite place and see a little something there that I created.

Found jotted among an old stack of papers...

2008-05-01T19:37:00.003-05:00

In all our wanderings, the watchful glance of the Eternal Watcher is evermore fixed upon us--we never roam beyond the Shepherd's eye.

In our sorrows, He observes us incessantly and not a pain escapes Him.

In our toils, He marks all our weariness and writes in His book all the struggles of His faithful ones.

The watchful eye of the Lord encompasses us in all our paths and penetrates the innermost regions of our being.

~Charles Spurgeon

swings & bugs & things.

2008-04-27T11:52:00.011-05:00

we did cross a few "adventures" off of our list this weekend. definitely a sweet time with my little boy who is one of my all-time favorite friends to spend time with. the other day, he picked his first "flower" just for me...[crouched down, plucked it from the grass, and held it up to me. it's the beautiful, spriggy one on the far left:]

i am discovering more and more just how truly and zealously he is A BOY...ceaseless energy, boundless curiosity, and a newfound fascination with rocks:

it used to be the swings. for a week or two in his life, nothing else seemed to matter but plopping down into that blue bucket seat and whizzing through the air. he'd wake up and the first word uttered would invariably be "Wheeee!" which was his way of saying, "swings before breakfast, please."

some days a few moments on the porch swing would suffice, but other days we'd find him, tiny feet perched on the low window ledge, nose & hands pressed to the glass, staring longingly at the swing-set (which we borrow on occasion) directly across the street in the yard of the Methodist Church. "Wheee! Wheee!" he'd be saying softly to himself. what mother on earth could possibly resist? ...so off to the swings we'd go, again.

suddenly & without notice though, his swing-enchantment has been replaced with an interest in these: jumping on crunchy leaves, inspecting rocks, poking around in the dirt, spying on ants, and other generally boyish activities. so that is how most of our Saturday was spent.

in the neighbor's yard, we found this old tree stump:

then we tromped up and down the sidewalk for awhile:

other than that, i hung this menu board in the kitchen (temporarily) to cover the unsightly (and huge) fuse-box next to the window:

and made up a recipe for a tasty bean salad to eat with last night's salmon:

salad:
1 can northern or cannellini beans (drained and rinsed)
1.5 cups shelled edamame
2-3 roma tomatoes, finely chopped
2-3 scallions, sliced
1 jar artichoke hearts, finely chopped
a few dashes each of sea salt and cayenne pepper
a few ribbons of fresh basil (3 leaves)

(would have added if i'd had: a fresh ear of corn, de-cobbed; and some crumbled goat cheese)

dressing:
1 part wine vinegar + 2 parts olive oil (enough to fill a baby food jar about half-way)
1 tsp grainy mustard
3 dashes balsamic vinegar
s & p

two.

2008-04-26T11:59:00.004-05:00

the sun is out now and j is almost to st. louis.

i tried this photograph enhancement trick suggested by my friend keely. here is my favorite semi-recent photo of j&me...

[photo by josh casella. photo treatment by someone in japan. ]

deja vu

2008-04-26T08:10:00.019-05:00

wasn't i just here? sitting by the window, this time in my big yellow chair. it's raining again. birds are twittering; eli babbles and murmurs upstairs. j is on the road...driving down a highway in a rented PT Cruiser the color of Smurfs with a thermos of coffee and a bottle of RC Cola.

thankfully, he is only gone until tomorrow evening...this is a quick trip, but a lot of driving for him, three cities in thirty-six hours.

we woke up early to see him off, had a prayer & a family-hug in the kitchen, and waved goodbye from the back porch as he rolled down the gravel drive. eli had been Da-da-da-ing all morning long, as if he knew he'd better stock up for the weekend.

e and i shared [my first attempt at making] a frittata for breakfast. how i managed to get to the age of thirty-four without making a frittata until today is a bit surprising...my mom is all about the frittata.

i am bittersweet about these times when jeremy travels. i miss being a family of three at home together, but i also love my time alone with little e. the two of us taking care of each other and having our own special adventures, like trying new egg dishes and getting lost in story-books.

this weekend's activities will include:

-trip to the market. (i don't actually call it the market in real life...i call it the grocery store, but i like the word market better...makes me feel like i should have a basket on my head and a baby in a papoose, carrying a hand-knit sweater to trade for a chicken. incidentally, jeremy wants chickens for our backyard. as. in. coop.)

-gather & prep for next weekend's city-wide yard sale (hooray for de-cluttering! go feng shui!)

-to the park for swinging. a walk with the stroller (when the rain stops.)

-pop into new coffeehouse-in-progress on Main Street to see how it's coming along.

-set up e's teepee and drag in all the stuffed animals we can find.

-bake blueberry scones for j's return home.