Wine and the Written Word

This is one of those nights that confirms I made the right decision when I vowed not to make any major changes in the first year of having four children. My hormones are trying to square dance inside of me while my (im)patience tries to scrub the floor. And that fickle thing called hope is nowhere in sight.

I've got a glass of questionably old wine and the idea that I should be writing in my journal instead of typing on my laptop. There is a lot to be said for wine and the written word. Why, if I had the time, I'd sink myself into a bubble bath too. Sounds good in theory, right? But the water gets so cold, and I'm afraid I'll spill the wine or the bath on the paper.

I think I've got a case of the Mondays. And that's ok.

I had a teacher in high school that was incredibly quotable. He was grumpy and opinionated, and he favored students of one sex over the other. I was always up for a fight with him, but I respected him as well. The quote coming back to me tonight: "It won't be long until you want jingle bells; you gotta have jingle bells." It was about depression and coming out of it--somehow finding that thing to save you from yourself.

And so maybe that bath isn't a bad idea. Maybe that stroke of cursive "y" on fine paper with a roller-gel pen is what I need. If I'm really true to myself, I'll do the bare minimum and get to bed. I was up and up and up nursing a baby and smoothing back Lily's hair as her pneumonia cough haunted her slumber. This valley is very likely the result of the fact that I'm very tired and have been for a very long time.

A friend at work who has been feeling oppressed for many months was decidedly hopeful today. I saw her champion smile for the first time in a long time, and it made me smile too. I told her I'd borrow that smile and that hope, if she'd share them with me, and she agreed.

So tonight I borrow. I sip the wine and practice the written word. And tomorrow will be better. Because I'm blessed. And because, no matter the flood, hope floats.

Decompression

One of the funniest things I've seen all weekend: Shrek and his mini-me mowing the lawn

I'm trying to decompress tonight. I'm not sure if my cyclical mental crash was due or if I just got really exhausted with financial worry, but I fell under the wagon this weekend. I'm crawling out. Reaching hand over hand on the wheel spokes. Coming back up.

Things I like: doctors who are open on Sundays, the gorgeous, crispy fall weather, and brand spanking new family photos hung around the house. Things I don't like: empty checking accounts, babies falling off beds, the power of football in dictating my weekends.

My brood is well, my heart unscathed. I'm cautiously optimistic about my week. I'm counting my blessings and snuggling a sick, sweet baby.

I don't have a lot to say, but I wanted to say this: I still believe I'm right where I'm supposed to be, and I still feel as though I'm on the brink of something wonderful.

Come with me?

Light a Candle

Image courtesy of freefoto.com.

Bad things happen to good people. You don't have to look very far these days to know this. This past weekend, in particular, was a reminder of that truth. The world watched as coverage of the earthquake, the tsunami and, now, the nuclear disasters in Japan, unfolded. Tucked in my warm house, with all my chicks in the nest, plentiful clean water, too much food and not a care in the world about how I'd make it through the next days, I watched, too.

I watched much of it while browsing the Internet, checking my Facebook account and posting on this very blog. I started Googling my memories of the tsunami in Thailand and Sri Lanka, thinking I remembered hearing Nate Berkus, of Oprah Winfrey Show fame, lost his partner in that disaster. My memory served me right. I was wrong, though, in thinking it happened a couple of years ago. It actually took place in 2004. How quickly we forget when our own lives aren't affected.

I was blessed to stumble upon something Nate Berkus actually wrote in the year after the loss of his partner. While all of it was well-written and enlightening, a couple of lines really struck me. Though he didn't feel he'd ever move on from his grief, a good friend of his gave him a basket of beautiful candles for his birthday and told him, "You can light a candle or curse the darkness." In his words, "We lit the candles."

This amazing quote came in handy for me on Saturday when I comforted a wonderful friend after the unexpected and tragic loss of one of her relatives.

We've all been there. In the fresh face of disaster, of that terrible thing you can't believe happened or is happening, it's hard to imagine that life will go on. There's no tomorrow, next week, next year. It's all about getting through this hour and the next hour and the one after that.

As bystanders, it's hard to know what to do to help. We can pray and donate money to aid those in Japan, we can lend a shoulder and an ear to friends and family suffering their own catastrophes here at home. And we can trust our guts, be quiet and listen to know just what is needed and what might help.

I once had a close relative in prison to whom I wrote letters on a weekly or biweekly basis. How do you start a letter to someone in prison? "How are you?" is kind of a dumb question. What I learned worked, at least in our case, was "How are you today?" Because, to someone in crisis, it's actually a very tender and thoughtful question. It acknowledges and allows for the roller coaster lows and highs we all experience, but especially in times of trouble.

And so, for Japan and for dear friends mourning one of their own, tonight, I light a candle. I invite you to do the same.

NYE10

The kids are snug at Mammaw Donna's.

I have debated and debated, and finally, armed with caffeine from a hazelnut Keurig K-Cup and the gorgeous new necklace Shrek gave me for Christmas, I'm GOING!

I'm off to celebrate the New Year, or at least stay as long as I can.

All of you: BE SAFE. May 2011 bring blessings upon blessings with a bit of fortune thrown in as well!

Love to you, my readers,

EJ

Missing Lake Tweet

A Lake Tweet shot with no lake in sight.

Well, I'm exhausted from Jambo and running around this week. The kids are too. Daddy is almost done with four 12's at work. We're all missing Lake Tweet, but with the heat and the tiredness, it just might wait.

The weather just isn't letting up at all, but I have a feeling that summer is wrapping up. I think it's just a post-Jambo thing. And it's also my state-of-mind. I'm ready to be lazy, pregnant and cozy in my house, I think. I'm thinking cool nights, hooded sweatshirts, crisp leaves and whip-cream-topped hot cocoa. (You can send the hate mail now, summer lovers.)

But I'm not too serious. I'm just preparing for fall. I'm not totally done with summer yet, but maybe a weekend break is what this momma needs. And a glass of Beringer white zinfandel, but that's neither here nor there.

The headaches are twice daily, at least. A couple more weeks, and I'll kiss this first trimester goodbye! I'm hoping for renewed vigor. Hope floats, you know. It just won't drown in my sea of life.

Night, dudes. Out.