Grateful Friday

Today I give thanks for...

My country. Yep, I'm going to say it because while it's not fashionable, it's true and whether you admit it or not...you know it, or most the world wouldn't want to come here. I've never shied away from acknowledging our flaws, but the people are not the problem. The politicians are. Red and blue and now commie red too. I'll save that narrative for another time. This weekend is for celebrating and that is what I intend to do.

 

My first morning view and a houseful of cats. All 4 are accounted for.

 

Crossing paths with a doe on our walk this morning and that we made it home just as the rain started.

 

 

A book that makes me excited to get up and to go to bed. Anne Patchett's characters are so full of grace.

 

Whipping up steak fajitas for dinner at 10 o'clock because that's when they come. Impromptu, but fresh and delicious and together.

 

Finally getting rid of the ridiculous chair and a half, which was always too big for our cozy family room and usually always empty because it's not practical for a gathering. We replaced it with two low profile chairs that make much more sense and are a better use of the space.

 

Room for two.

 

 Knowing who is boss. The cozy basket is the most coveted spot. The cave is second.

 

Summer things. Icy Arnold Palmer's, crisp grapes that pop when you bite into them, pop-up storms, hydrangeas as big as my head, Kopp's custard even for dinner, beer gardens for happy hour, farmer's markets, outdoor concerts, butterflies by day and fireflies after dark, pretty toes, no shoes, and freedom. 

 

 

Sometimes a Towel is Not Just a Towel

 

We've had the same set of bright striped beach towels for eighteen years. My mom bought everyone in the family their own signature color combo for our last annual family lake vacation. Her towel went mostly unused. She slept the better part of the week away. Her body was betraying her and I can only imagine the state of her spirit after being told days before that there was nothing more to do, but enjoy her final weeks. It was a missive we all found daunting, but we tried. We tried for Lily and Teddy who were 4 and 7 at the time. We tried for my mom who was equal parts stoic and scared as she was slipping away. We tried for our own self-preservation because life in those final, fragile weeks was a fever dream. One we hoped and prayed to wake up from. There would be no Thank God...that was just a dream though.

My memories of that week at Power's Lake are complicated. No shit! I just scrolled through the pics to find the image above and I don't trust our smiles we wore. I viscerally remember the unbearable pain behind them. The remnants of which are just one of the samskaras I own.

I held on to those towels because in some way I felt my mom was still with us. They were an homage to her and her beloved family lake vacays. But eventually they were misplaced or retired and only three remained. Today I decided it was time to order new beach towels, and I'm telling you it was not an easy decision.

I miss my mom but a towel is not going to change that. 

 

Mom's towel with one of the hats she wore to protect her bald head that week. 

The Glad Game

I almost cannot believe I didn't mention the weather in yesterday's post. Don't worry...back to regular programming. It's cat on a hot tin roof scorching. It's supposed to be. It's almost July. I'm not a heat seeker, but I'm going to Windmill Beach this weekend and Lake Michigan is still in the refreshing 50's so a little hot air is all good to tease the cold plunge swimming will be. I'm feeling extra patriotic this 250th birthday. And while we are still a baby nation, we should be mostly proud of what we have achieved in our infancy. We're on a precarious precipice without doubt, but this is not the time to cut down and divide...it's a time to celebrate, lift up and look ahead with a shared resolve to mend and grow. And to notice that we are better than this dumpster fire we can't seem to extinguish.

This morning when I opened the blind, I was greeted by the best sign of hope. Our resident bluebird was perched on the telephone wire seemingly looking right at me. I decided then and there that I was going to channel my inner Polyanna all day and maybe all week. I'm playing the Glad Game.

By the time I made it downstairs to make my mug of hot lemon water, which I have neglected lately for my new iced coffee obsession, the cranes were in the yard at their watering hole. They are the coolest creatures. The other day I went to put some seed down for them and they started to approach me from the middle of the yard. I was a couple feet from them, which was surreal. Mike and I laugh that we are are now those people who fuss over the birds in the yard.

It was a short day in the office for me. I'm not feeling work much this week. It's a good thing the rest of the world seems to share that sentiment. If it were up to me, there would be shut-downs the weeks of the 4th, Thanksgiving and Christmas through New Years. Luckily I have the flexibility now to make that happen, but for the better part of my working years, if the stock market was trading, I was working. Life is so much better now.

I came home early to snuggle Hazel and start Anne Patchet's new novel, Whistler. My parents brought it as a hostess gift on Father's Day and I have to say that a new book is my new favorite treat for having a party. I was in after just a couple pages. I'm going to have to show restraint so that I can bring it to the beach this weekend along with our new cabana towels, my sour cherry tart, and the ingredients for refreshing transfusions, my summer drink.

 

 

Answers

What brings me here? Nothing in particular and everything. Capisce? 

I was one of those English major geeks who decorated my mortar board with a literary quote. It was fitting because what I did not know thirty-five years ago was how often Zora Neale Hurston's words would give me comfort, pause, purpose. She wrote, "There are years that ask questions and years that answer." These words have stood the test of time.

Saturday I reunited with an old friend who was like a sister to me after what we agreed was a fifteen year hiatus. I wasn't apprehensive because I was sure that we'd pick up as if no time has passed. I didn't just know her. I understood her. She got me too...the good, the bad and the ugly. I had faith that that kind of knowing remains. I was right.

Over the past decade and a half, I thought about her now and then (usually when I was cooking) and had an idea of how she was from her cousin who I would see periodically. I often thought, I should reach out, but I didn't. I didn't until a couple months ago when I saw something on Instagram and decided it was silly to be living on the periphery. I'm grateful I got over my ego. Ego was never a thing with us so why was I making it a thing? It was time to stop asking but, what if and just act. This past weekend...my question was answered.

That's the real beauty of this well done middle spot I'm in. Time is a commodity and knowing this and also finally myself, well...what can I say...I'm answering questions with a clarity and certainty that was elusive when I was younger and definitely not wiser. 

The other beauty of age is that instead of ruing and regretting the lost time, I'm jazzed we reconnected and buoyed by the fact I think we'll not pick up where we left off, but anew.

Something tells me this is going to be a year of answers because I'm ready for and open to them. That's a good place to be.

Grateful Friday

Today I give thanks for... 

A short week of work and a beautiful week of windows open weather.

 

Lily made it through her first week...only 4 days...of work. She already got a holiday, a bonus and a paycheck. 

A full house of girls getting ready for Don Toliver tonight.

A Tuesday night date for pizza and a movie with my guys. Obsession did not disappoint. 

Lily planned, shopped for and made dinner for us this week just because she wanted to. She made a mean chimichurri sauce for her steak and potatoes. 

A girl's day last Saturday. We saw And Juliet and then had an early tapas dinner. The performance had amazing energy. I literally smiled through the show. Meryl and I loved. The grandmas liked it. 

 

Dinner on the patio, cold sangria, hot potatas bravas, juicy barbacoa tacos and churros y choocolate.

 

Project Hail Mary. We rented and very much enjoyed this sweet little movie last night. Not to mention Ryan Gossling is a class act. Eva Mendes too. They are committed to raising their daughters out of the media spotlight. 

A couple new skirts. This is going to be the summer of the skirt for me.

 

A new cat tree from our neighbor. Her furbaby was not a fan. Hazel and Gus are loving it never mind that our living room looks like a cat cafe. Anything for the kit kats.

  

 

My very own patio cranes. 

 

Grateful Friday

Today I give thanks for...

Lily is home and...drum roll please...she's unpacked! She's happy to be home after a month on the move. She's been spending lots of time with Michael, but they hung out with us old folks last Saturday night. We made homemade pizzas at her request followed by Wizard and wine. That's my favorite kind of night.

 

The cranes have been hanging in our yard all week. If they stay much longer, I'm getting them a kiddie pool. We all love watching them.

 

 

 

Buds.

 

Blooms.

 

Reading with my book buddies after work and before bed.

 

 

The first juicy watermelon of the season.

Our Arizona trip is booked for November.

When crossword puzzles are a family affair.

A friend is on the road to recovery after major surgery.

A delivery of July 4th swag. Seems like a good year to go a little overboard with red, white and blue.

Gus fancies himself an outdoor cat. Except now he's a relentless beggar when we leave him in the house.

 

 

 

  

New patio furniture and happy hour with Brashley.

  

Eric Church's commencement address to the UNC class of 2026.

This sweet little lady taking her afternoon snooze.

 

 

What is True?

 Do the things in your story really happen?

 Isn't that the question when it comes to life? 

Did this really happen to me?

~Lidia Yuknavitch  

I got home yesterday right before the skies opened up and the rain came down. That was the perfect invitation to lay down and pick up my book. The Chronology of Water is as heavy as the sodden air, and I'm okay with that. I like an afternoon storm and a broody read especially together. Memory is at the center of this memoir...the things we remember, the unreliability of our memories, the hold they have on us and the way we can harness their power. And then, of course, there is the whole discussion about what does it matter how or what exactly happened if it makes us feel a certain way.

This is the kind of story that must be taken in small doses. It's raw and painful, and provocative. I closed my eyes after a while and confronted a far away memory I know is incomplete. It's a pivotal part of who I am so many years later. Some missing parts came to me. These pieces brought with them a welcome wave of peace even as I still have holes. We are the sum of so many parts plenty unknown to us. We take what we can get.

I often ask myself what do I know to be absolutely true. This is an existential question that is worth exploring but almost impossible to answer...at least for me. Truth is absolute and so little in this life is unadulterated, pure, outright.