Magic of Ordinary Days

I've been watching the Hallmark channel. A lot. It seems to be one of the few places left on TV where I can find generally clean shows. (I've had to delete even a few Hallmark movies because of questionable activities.) One of the shows had the above title and the movie was, "Meh," good at times, boring at others but didn't leave me filled with a sense of, "Why did I just waste 1.5 hours of my life that I'll never get back?!"

The point - the movie title, combined with Kari's comment here, combined with an article I read once somewhere on the internet (meaning no link) about how as a SAHM, every time my children say, "Mom!" is the same as the bells at a monastery calling the monks to prayer or to life devoted to God all add up to the idea that it is in the ordinariness and monotony of days that I find the true brilliance and miracle of life.

Granted, beyond the general idea, I don't see it much.

While I've gotten to the point in my life that I've surrendered to the idea that there will always be more laundry to wash and that I need to buy food even though it just becomes poo, I still have a hard time finding joy and opportunity and miracles in the service.


I have an even harder time finding the humor in these moments.

But I was thinking that the exercise of trying to blog more of daily life instead of deep thoughts *might* (I have some skepticism here) lighten me up a bit and just *might* improve my writing skills.

To that end, may I just say that my 10yo made dinner last night? I had to drive some errands for the business so he got dinner started with a few instructions over the phone: rice in the rice cooker; canned green beans heated in the microwave; and chicken boiled in 1/2 c. of soy sauce and 1/2 c. of apple cider vinegar. Nothing fancy. Nothing gourmet. But I didn't have to lift a finger to make dinner.

Priceless.

It's A Different World

I've heard it again and again: today's world is a very different place, even from the world I grew up in only, ahem, a few short years ago.

This could not have been further underscored than it was today by this realization: my children only know Christopher Walken as the nice farmer from Sarah, Plain and Tall, and Dick Van Dyke as the evil night security guard in Night at the Museum.

Cake Boss

I love this show.

Every time I watch it, all I can think about is the family I married into and all the parallels: the control freak tendencies; the loud passion; the irritation with anyone who disagrees with them; the food! (and the fact that I'm not really allowed to cook for family events); and so forth. Every time I watch the Valastros, I think of my own, my more diluted but still very much Italian-American family and just laugh. Even better, they *totally* don't see the connection.

The down side? This show is so not good for my waist line! I had already had a bad, ahem, "rest" day. Then I watched the show and, since we didn't have any delectable cake with ganache and I didn't feel like making one. Or waiting. (Really, it was the waiting.) So, I ate ice cream. And ganache. And ginger thins. And chocolate. And then I stopped because it was getting out of control.

I still want cake.

Bad. bad. show.

I so want to visit Jersey just so I can have a canoli.

It's a sickness I tell you!

Writer's Block

I've been trying - without a whole lot of success - to post daily. I did well last week but not so much this week. Is it because, once I start writing, that urgency and *need* to post dies? Or is it, as I think, that my life is just too routine?

Do you really *want* to hear about my run yesterday? The storm? Volunteering at the Charter School and helping 30+ teenagers start a weaving project? (Because I can cut 18" of hemp string like nobody's business; and I did. 30+ times.) Perhaps how our insulation project is going? Pumpkin in chocolate brownies? Homemade granola bars? The frustration of trying to take advantage of a free photo book offer only to finish said photo book fifteen minutes after the offer expired? And losing sleep and  being tired *because* you were working on the *(#%$&^ photobook?

Any interest?

Yeah, me neither and I'm living it.

Alaskan Seasons

My mom used to say that she got married on the first day of fall.

She got married August 1.

I would argue with her every time she made the above statement that fall doesn't start until September 21st (or there abouts) and that I had a whole store full of calendars that would back me up.

My mother, of course, never wavered in her opinion.

This year, I was on the trail (running - because I'm sick like that now) and noticed, on August 1, that there were leaves on the ground.

Mom was so right.

The biggest question in my mind has been, "If fall starts August 1, when does winter start?" So I've been waiting and paying attention and, in my humble opinion, winter starts (at the latest!) on the autumnal equinox.

Why do I say latest? Because, once again in my humble opinion, winter is already here.

There is fresh snow on our tallest mountain peaks (which are all under 5,000 feet). We have our first nasty storm of the season hitting us right. now.

And....

our power just went off for the first time this winter.

Yup. I should start the cocoa and light the fire because winter is most definitely here.

Ramona and Beezus

First I have to preface this by saying that I am an emotional movie watcher.

The first movie I ever cried at was "The Little Mermaid;" not the Disney version but the real one where she turns into sea foam.

After that first event, it was a sob fest ever after. My little brother even once qualified that a movie had to be great because, "M cried."

I never thought how obnoxious it must be to watch a movie with such a sobber; I always agreed with my mom that my dad and brothers were just insensitive clods who had less emotion than a tea cup.

My daughter is teaching me their pain.

Yesterday we watched Ramona and Beezus and when the cat died, my daughter came up to me and fell into my side crying.

"It was so sad when the cat died."

My first thought was that she was faking but then I looked at her and her lashes were wet and there were real tears on her cheeks.

I took a deep breath and found my inner patience and said a silent prayer of gratitude to God for all the years my family put up (and continues to do so) with my tears and a prayer that they find more patience because I think our sobbing club just added a new member.

****update: yeah - I totally teared up at the end of the movie. Damn family shows.

Apologizing

Why is it apologizing makes me feel angry?

Supposedly when I apologize I should feel release and a weight off my back.

Instead, I'm feeling annoyed.

I screwed up. I acknowledge that. Which is what led to the apology in the first place.  DH asked specifically for some help and I completely ignored the request, justifying my decision by the fact that I was right and of course DH would make the same choice if he had all the facts, which I did, never, of course, bothering to actually have a conversation with him and ask him if I could alter the schedule or if he would change his mind.

So I apologized.

But as I was apologizing, DH would say things like, "This isn't the first time you've done this," and "If I had done this, you would be pissed."

He's right.

I completely acknowledge that.

But it doesn't irk me any less.

Grrrr....