idontbelieveingrammar

I drive a boat about as well as I drive a car. Which is not saying much. As much time as I’ve spent on a boat you think I’d be able to dock a Carnival Cruise ship, however, there is a pretty big difference in being a passenger and being the captain. And I love the wind blowing through my hair, to park at the island or bounce along behind it holding on for dear life while someone pulls my tube into the wake. My arms ache for days afterwards but I will trade the ache easily for the ten minutes of feeling like I am still a teenager. However, these attempts in the captain's seat usually are more comedy than success.  This weekend I even almost managed to sink a kayak...(which is a funny story for another day). My dad just bought a new boat and I tried to pay a little more attention than I had in the past. This time when offered, I made sure to take a turn at the wheel even though I’d much rather be lounging across the seat watching my kids laugh and get splashed by ...

The other day before I left for work I gave my daughter’s loose tooth a little wiggle. A few minutes after settling into my chair, turning on my computer while waiting for my email to upload, I heard my phone ding. I looked down and there was a picture with my daughter with a gap between her bottom teeth. I made a mental note to make sure I got some cash on the way home. And caught myself confused at what I was feeling. Excited for her but also sad. I wrote off the bitter part of the bittersweet as feeling that I had missed it even though I knew it had more to do with her growing up than me missing out. I couldn’t wait for my son’s first tooth to finally fall out. It seemed to take forever and took all my patience not to yank it out too soon.  It  finally happened when I hadn’t been there either. In the car with his dad on their way to NASA while I stayed behind hoping his little sister would nap so I could get back to the beach. I was nothing but ecstatic when getting th...

(I posted this a little over 3 years ago....and today is baby day for one of the toughest girls I know. Again.) For almost a month every July they were mine. A few dozen 15-16 year old girls. They came from some of the best neighborhoods and private schools to group homes and everything in between. And somehow, magically, the guards and labels and cars and boyfriends and social status didn’t seem to make it very far past those slamming double screen doors. And it only took a few nights on those hard bunks hearing each other snore and cry and fart and giggle for everyone to start getting real. And no one put on their make up in the morning. Hair air dried or immediately went up into a ponytail and it was one big community closet. And during the day we swam, fished, crafted, walked up a lot of hills and stole ice from the ice machines. After lunch they read the newest Harry Potter books on their bunks and passed around the latest Seventeen magazine. Or shaved their legs wi...

He gently turned the pegs to tune his guitar in the other room while we polished off our desserts and glasses of wine. We laughed like old friends even though I barely knew some of these girls. We made plans for roller derbies and 80s dance clubs that may or may not pan out. We rinsed our plates off into the sink and headed into the living room bringing our glasses with us. We settled into couches and extra chairs or even onto the floor. Kids flung open doors to get to the trampoline. Dogs wove in and out of our feet. Glasses were refilled and this guy at the front of the room began to sing. Soulfully. With his eyes closed and knees moving to the rhythm. I have seen pictures of house concerts on blogs. But they always seemed pretty hip and things that only people in Nashville or at least younger than me seemed to do. As he sang his opening song I thought of crowded college coffee shops with bands singing on "stage" while we sipped our expresso shakes and tried t...

Yesterday was a beautiful day. The sun was out. it wasn’t too hot. All day I kept thinking that I should get out and run. Or at least walk the dog. soak up some of that sun. But the only reason I got off my couch was to go get ice cream. I was moody. and tired. and melancholy for no reason whatsoever. The day before had been wonderful.  A day of good food, family adventure and friends over . And I knew that Sunday was Easter. My most favorite holiday.  But i still struggled to get in the spirit. Lent passed me by.  I gave something up. Sort of because I kept cheating. I listened to some sermons. I read a little. But I did not feel ready. I pushed my cart through the narrow aisles of the grocery store that day. I hadn’t even made a list but i know that cooking can settle my soul in the same ways that running and writing can. Maybe I just needed to chop and simmer. I tossed things in my cart while something about resurrection kept running th...

throw back thursday. in other words....a recycled post... This is from this exact Holy Thursday about 4 years ago. This morning I left my house at 6:11. About 20 minutes earlier than usual ( ridiculous time to go to work I know, but that is a topic for another blog post). And I pulled into my church parking lot. An almost empty church parking lot. I read in my church bulletin last week that they chapel would be open from 6-8 am for anyone who wanted to take communion on this Holy Thursday. I love the act of communion and have been getting up early every day this week to observe Holy Week. And so I thought that this morning instead of sitting on my couch reading and quiet that maybe I should go to the chapel instead. But after I pulled in, I immediately thought about turning around and getting a coffee instead. I was a little uncomfortable about the idea of showing up at church at 6:27 am. And I didn’t know what to expect. If this would be weird. If I was supposed to say...

I was slurping a steamy bowl of pho while the friend across the table from me ranted. She went on me listed wrong after wrong that her family had done. She told me how she responded and the clever lines she had used. And I completely agreed with her inside, but I paused briefly from my soup while she stopped long enough for me to comment...and I am certain that she did not like what I had to say. I told her she was right on the money. She grinned, glad to have my support. But. And it was a really big but. That she could chose to be right OR she could chose relationship. Sometimes we do not get to have both. She kept talking. Justifying her response. And her actions. And I just slurped my soup and listened Only to tell her it doesn't matter. She has to choose which is more important, being right and letting everyone know it or mending the relationship. I haven't talked to her recently. But I think she chose being right. And sometimes that is the necessary choice. ...