Just a Bill

I have a post that is sitting in 'drafts'. It's waiting to be published, like so many others, biding its time. But this post keeps popping up from my sub-conscience. It tries to get my attention again and again. It keeps reminding me of itself in conversations I have with friends. In conversations with family. In conversations with myself. Mostly in conversations with myself. But it has to wait, along with the others, because I am staunchly opposed to posting it right now.

And I have live-out-loud boys, a thoughtful-if-tromping husband who stretches my thoughts to the larger world, a house which drives me to distraction, and a Welsh puppy who noses my elbow and licks my toes.

So .. not yet, shouty post. I am adamant. Despite the fact that it is the reason I have not posted these many months. I am adamant. You will become an actual post one day. Until then, I leave you with this:

Today's conundrum: Am I waiting in vain for that vendor to call-back?

Future conundrum: Will the local NBC all-weather, all-the-time channel ever change its music?

Thanks for perusing; see you again soon.  tIOx

Liszt and Lisitsa

Again, not me. But I have done 'La Campanella'. This performance of 'El Contrabandista' by Lisitsa is inspiring - and as near to perfection as I can imagine.

Reminiscing

While this video is not of me, it has me reminiscing. I think back to the days when this piece consumed my hours at the piano. Good days. Long hours. A happy piece and, below, an exciting performance.

Enjoy.   tIO x



Video via Youtube; property of pianist Natalie Erlich.

Hearing

It's not every day that you sit down with your child and hear yourself coming back to you. Not your words of praise or admonishment. Not your 'catch phrases', humorous anecdotes, or words of wisdom. Not those typical queries and exchanges of travelling through a lifetime. This is something different.

Usually you hear tales of woe and wonder as seen through their eyes. You hear about how life isn't fair. You hear about how they don't get to do things 'everyone else' gets to do. You hear pleadings and ploys, and frustrations and facts. And laughter.

But then. Then you hear them say something that they've brought up from the deep dark. Something that they approach you with hesitantly, not wishing to cause offense. Something they are very serious about. They search your face for pre-approval. And you hear those words that you once thought but didn't dare utter. From thoughts so remote, from a soul on a quest.

And you sit. Stunned. Because you realise two things:
1. Possibly he's mentioned it because he came from you and it's embedded somewhere deep in his genes.
2. He said it. You never did, but he did. Just now. To you.

And you think perhaps you're doing something right after all.


Today's conundrum: When double-checking fails, is triple-checking warranted the next time? And if triple-checking fails, then what?
Future conundrum: Who will buy this wonderful morning?


Thanks for perusing this blog. See you again soon.  tIO x

We Are Not Alone

I've come to realise just what a unique position I was in.

My husband travelled for his job, leaving every week before the sun rose on Monday morning and returning usually after midnight on Friday. For nine years, I was 'home alone' for four days each week, and then on Fridays from 7am-7pm while he was in the office. I was alone on birthdays - but thankfully not on birth days. I was alone on holidays. I was alone on anniversaries. And, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary - including my own upbringing, for most of those nine years I thought everyone lived like this.

I thought everyone was vigilant and wakeful at night. Everyone with children, at least. I thought everyone was scheduled and structured and spent their time always on, always busy, unable to relax. I thought everyone kept calm and carried on.

And I knew lots of people had it worse than I did. So I didn't complain. Not overtly. Outgoing introverts seek other outlets.

I busied myself, as you do, with the goings-on of my children. With the forced friendships of 'Mommy-and-Me' classes at the pool. With the friends who hadn't abandoned us when we left the city for the suburbs. With overseeing the maintenance of a first house. With scheduling visits and roadtrips and long walks and meals. And in all of this scheduling, I lost myself. Literally. I lost the ability to see clearly the situation I lived in. The incessant busyness of cleaning and decluttering and surfing the web, and sourcing and researching and volunteering built a wall between my life and 'the rest of the world.'

And so I became a bystander. Where once I had carried giant balloons in festival parades for the World Cup, I was now carrying Red Robin balloons tethered to Vera Bradley bags. Where I once had hopped a plane to Seattle 'just because', I was now drinking 'Pete's Blend' on a bench surrounded by prairie grass. Gloriously, I had turned my life into a role I longed to play but with a script I couldn't read. And I seemed, like a voyeur, to be watching it all happen from the cheap seats.

I remember the day I first thought: "I did this to survive." It was five months after my younger son was born and I was planning the daily 'afternoon outing'. Recalling both the freedom of my own youth and the memories of long days spent in offices with windows that wouldn't open, I wanted my children to spend as much time outdoors as possible regardless the weather. As I was planning where to go on that bitterly cold day, my best friend phoned to cancel her plans to join us. Her oldest was sick the day before and it was travelling through the family at breakneck speed. I made plans with her to get food and drink on her table that night when she said something that threw me: "I keep thinking that I just have to make it until 6pm and then he'll be home and I can relax."

I have no idea how many times she'd uttered this phrase previously. A dozen times? Perhaps a hundred times. But it was like reading a verse or hearing a song that you've heard so many times before and only now really understanding what it means. She only had hours to wait until she could relax. She only had hours. I had days. It was just Tuesday, after all. I had days. Days before I felt like I might be able to relax. Days, actually just a precious 48 hours, that would be chewed up and spit out and then Monday would come again. And then I would have more days. And I realised that not everyone lived like this.

I went through the afternoon focused on getting the meal prepared for her. I piled the children in the station wagon and drove the 30 minutes to her house. After setting the table, getting the oven prepped, and cleaning up what messes I could, I made the reverse trip with both the rush hour traffic and the realization that I was in a new place emotionally closing in on me. Later that night, when the boys had been lovingly sanitized from our trip into that familiar but infected home, I sat on my sofa in front of 'Location, Location, Location' on the DVR and sobbed.

I didn't answer the phone when my husband called that night. I listened to the voice mail he'd left with a numbness spreading through me. I remember ringing him back, cognizant of the distance in both my heart and my voice. I remember thinking how unfair I was being. How removed. How cold. He told me I was. And I remember thinking "I did this to survive. I did it to survive being alone and what it feels like to be alone. I am alone and I don't want to be. You made me be alone."

We are made to be in relationships. We are not made to be alone. That we have to or that we believe that it's OK if we are is a lie. No one earns points for being alone in a world that is full of harmonies and dissonances and complements and contrasts.

Two years ago, I asked to not be alone anymore. He said, "I never meant for you to feel alone. Because you never seemed like you were."



Today's conundrum:
If we pay to have something installed 'within 48 hours', are weekends included in that 48-hour window?

Future conundrum:
Do fish really gotta swim and birds really gotta fly?

Thanks for perusing the blog. Speak again soon.   tIO x

Something Has to be Said

I've been fighting with Gossip for awhile now. We are not on speaking terms at the moment - and for good reason. It's maligned my friends and family, torn groups of once happy people apart, and fanned the flames of individual insecurities creating firestorms and leaving swathes of destruction in its path.


Gossip says it serves a purpose, that it can actually be 'productive' and 'helpful.' I say 'balderdash.' But then, Gossip does tend to talk a lot of nonsense. Often we don't notice just what nonsense it is until it's too late. And when we do, by then it's moved on to a new topic and we're left feeling lost and perturbed and a little bit scared. We chase after it then (which is what it expects), trying to catch up and get back to where we were in the conversation, back to whatever we've lost in the translation. But Gossip loves to keep us guessing. That's how it works. Will it come back to us - either to include us or to make us the center of its attention? After all of this bait-and-switch hither-and-yon will-you-or-won't-you, I've grown tired of Gossip. I asked it to leave.


It just doesn't take the hint though, does it? It won't go away politely when asked, and has a terrible habit of showing up at just the wrong time. Sometimes it lulls you into a false sense of security, believing that it's not too bad and that hanging around for the occasional perk-me-up is fine really. Sometimes it simply changes clothes in an attempt to disguise itself as something else less innocuous. Or worse - important.


Then there are the times when you think you've out-run it and banished it altogether. That it's taken up shop in other circles - ones that you don't move in or care about or touch. But then you hear something about someone that you used to know or know someone who knows that someone, and, just like that, Gossip is back.


Now what? Do you stand farther out on the sidelines this time, back turned defiantly, determined to let Gossip walk right past? To not say a word and ignore the unbearable lightness and laughter beaming happily from Gossip? Do you wait to see what will happen? To whom it will happen? What Gossip will wear when it does happen? If it has on that Tom Ford lipstick you love?


The sidelines might feel safer, but you can never go too far to get away from Gossip. My advice: do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly. And keep up the fight. Gossip gets tired just like the rest of us.




Today's conundrum:
Have we been able to sufficiently prove that every snowflake is unique? That no two are alike?

Future conundrum:
With all of the leaks and 'makings-of', will the SuperBowl Ferris be a hit? Or will VW reign supreme again this year?


Thanks for stopping by blogger on a snowy evening. See you again soon.
tIO x

Happy 2012!

Fireworks at the stroke of midnight, London, 1 January 2012
via the Telegraph

Thanks for perusing and following along in 2011.
Here's to health, wealth, wisdom, and hope in 2012.


tIO x

Presents Possible: 2011

I am posting this two days before Christmas again this year precisely because I am an optimist. So there.

That's correct; 'Tatler'. $104/year

My favorite WA film. $20 via amazon

Not yet available in the US. Waiting in the gift closet.

Cath Kidston Oilcloth Cross body. $75 at cathkidstonusa.com

This one's been on the wish list for several years. It's time, Santa.

Perennial favorite. $40 at kiehls.com

Now hurry down the chimney, Santa Baby.

Hope you all have a lovely Christmas.
tIO x

...just because it's June - June - June!

A good way to begin the month, I think. It's always made me happy:


Have a wonderful month, lovelies.
Thanks for perusing; see you soon.
tIO x

Fiskars to the rescue! (again)

We are on our way to make this purchase:

$199 of push mower heaven. Getting green. (And getting in some strength training and cardio, too.)

Thanks for perusing; blog you again soon.   tIO x 

MC Escher

I'll be seeing this today:

and hopefully this as well:

Akron Art Museum

Thanks for perusing this blog.  tIOx

Checking it Twice

To be honest, I've already received my Christmas gift this year: a Kindle. I love it. Truly. But that doesn't prohibit me making a list. *grins widely* And so, in no particular order of preference, I present the 2010 list of 'Presents Possible':

Jigsaw 'Butter Leather Trench'

Sterling gemstone band by JujuBySarah on Etsy
With citrine and peridot, please.

Biscuiteers Book of Iced Biscuits

And perhaps some Christmas biscuits from Biscuiteers as well.

(Thought I'd throw this in for good measure:
I'm still searching for a leather sectional Chesterfield - fyi. Red leather, please.)

Hallmark ornament: 1940 Ford pickup

Blerg.

I've tried to not love it. But I do.

Adore her. (And I may have already purchased this.)

Sing it with me...

This should surprise no one; I ask for it every year.

Vintage NARS: 'Full Metal Jacket'

So, Mr C, aka darling husband... If you are so inclined, I will be most grateful. And thank you again for my wonderful Kindle. xx

Happy Christmas, dear blogfriends.   tIO x

Dressember

'Dressember' comes but once a year, and I'll be posting about it here. What is 'Dressember', you ask? Here is the official description:

December 1st marks the beginning of 'Dressember' - the challenge for women (or the adventurous male) everywhere to shake up their wardrobe and try ditching the jeans and t-shirts.

We're aiming to wear dresses as often as possible: don't worry if it's not practical in the day, you can go for a skirt/top combo if needed. Or have fun and dress up in the evening in that cocktail dress you never get to wear!

There are no rules, it's all about stretching your wardrobe boundaries, trying something different, and having fun, so just jump on in :-)


Sounds like fun, right? If you would like to participate, please visit the Dressember Facebook page. And please let me know too; we can take on the challenge together!

Thanks for perusing; blog you again soon!  tIO x
PS: If you need inspiration, dive into Eleanor Estes' wonderful book 'the Hundred Dresses'. It was a favorite from my childhood; I read it dozens of times.

The Advent Book

As you might have guessed from this post, we celebrate Advent. I love looking for a new Advent calendar each year and may, in fact, have several waiting in the wings for future use or to give to friends. But our favorite way to observe Advent is with this wonderful book:

The authors, Jack and Kathy Stockman, have created a gorgeous way to celebrate the Christmas story. Truly appropriate for the coffee-table, 'the Advent Book' contains original illustrations by Jack and features 25 doors which open to reveal a picture and segment of the Christmas story. It's told chronologically, beginning with Gabriel's revelation to Mary and ending with Jesus' birth. 'The Advent Book' has become a tradition in our house with our boys taking turns reading even and odd pages. (Amazingly, they seem to remember from year-to-year who read which pages last year and switch accordingly.)

  

 

Some screencaps from the Advent Book site

If you are interested in ordering, click through here to shop the Stockmans 'Celebrations and Traditions' site.

Hope you have a happy, healthy holiday season - and enjoy this 'most wonderful time of the year!'

Thanks for perusing; blog you again soon!  tIO x

PS: If you do buy the book and have little ones, I suggest playing the 'hidden animal hunt'. On each page, Jack has 'hidden' an animal - some easy to spot, others not so.

More Patience

I'm doing some remodelling of the blog right now. Seems like each week, a widget gets updated (or rewritten), pics and videos are lost, or I find a lovely new blog to add to the blogroll. However, I am nothing if not regularly striving to be organized. So this time, instead of plonking down with a book and silently fretting about it, I am doing something. It may take some time and might include using posterous. Or not. We'll see.

Regardless, like every thing else, this blog is a work in progress. I'm even thinking of posting some 'before-after' photos of our house, which has undergone (and continues to undergo) a transformation from its previous owners. During our house hunt, I described it to my husband as 'well-cared for' and having 'good bones', but in need of 'a decorating overhaul' as it's decor resembled a Marriott from the 1980s. The early 1980s. Alright for some (clearly); just not our style. And what a boring world this would be if we all liked the same things, eh?

Here's a tease:

the Master Bedroom 'before'

Meanwhile, please excuse the mess. And thanks for perusing; blog you again soon!  tIO x

Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving Turkey, Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade 2007 (Getty Images)

"O Lord, we thank Thee for this food,

For every blessing, every good.

For earthly sustenance and love

Bestowed on us from heaven above.

Be present at our table, Lord.

Be here and everywhere adored.

Thy children bless and grant that we

May feast in paradise with Thee."

Happy Thanksgiving

Waiting Patiently

Patience is something I have been advised never to pray for. (And that suggestion comes from someone who also never uses the word 'never' or ends a sentence with a preposition.) Alas, some of us are not naturally inclined toward it and therefore have to either pray for patience or acquire it through osmosis.

I prefer to 'practice' patience. Currently, I am practicing with this:

It arrived in my mailbox today. However, I am waiting until the day after Thanksgiving, aka 11 more days, to plaster it to the glass side door. Of course, I then will practice additional patience, aka 5 days after that, to begin hanging the 'ornaments'. *sighs*

Wherever did I find such a clever thing? The lovely ladies of Willow Creek Signs created it! After 'Wonderful Graffiti' - my online, go-to wall decal shop - closed earlier this year, I'd been looking for its replacement. Unsurprisingly, I ventured onto Etsy. As ever, I am glad I did.

For this 'Advent Calendar' design, they offer four styles of trees:

And for all of their wall decals, they have literally dozens of colors from which to choose! I do like choices.

Oh, look!  *checks clock*  It's Tuesday already! 10 more days...

Thanks for perusing this blog; blog you again soon!   tIO x

More designs from Willow Creek Signs:

   

No Matter Where You Go...

...there you are. Words to live by.

Smooth Operator

"No need to ask." It's Sade: poetry wrapped in dulcet tones and red/hot/blue jazz. Her words carried me through humid summers and frigid winters in my youth. Listening again, I realise there was depth and truth in them that I could not have known then. But I hear it now and it's wonderful. Like a favorite book I've picked-up to read again and found that I'd skipped whole chapters.

In the interim, I have grown older (certainly) and wiser (thankfully). And I have lived. True, I may not have been to Somalia; but in my own way I have collected pearls by the side of the road. I have cherished the day. I have felt like the king of sorrows, experienced the sweetest taboo, and been implored to hang on to my love. And all-the-while wondering how I was going to make a living. It may sound all heart-break and loneliness, but I hear hope and courage. Optimism. With undertones of soundness of spirit. Perhaps I naturally inject a bit more humor into things, but still...  My heart warms when I hear that first song again:


Good Tuesday, blogfriends. Thanks for perusing this blog; blog you again soon.   tIO x

PS: Could I leave Sade alone without Spandau Ballet? No. My girlish memories forbid it.

That's Just Super: the tale of a sofa

You may have the impression that I like sport. And I do. But I've decided that I like the inherent camaraderie, the inveterate optimism of a potential 'win', infinitely better. Therefore then, I think nearly anything can be envisioned as 'a sport'.

Like shopping for fabric, for instance. I am a fabric hound, with bins stacked in closets and swatches tucked into my wallet. I have two bolts of linen for window treatments for a house by the sea I do not yet (and may never) own. And recently I have been considering a 5-hour drive to Baltimore, Maryland simply due to the lovely 'Pigtown Design' and her amazing find there, DeBois Textiles. When it comes to searching for something I actually need - clothing, wall hooks, eyeglasses, etc, I tend to have a clear vision of what fills that need and seek it out until it's been found. I dig-in for the 'hunt' and am nothing if not tenacious. Consider the fabric in my blog banner, for example...

It was 29 December 2000. My husband and I were both first-time home-owners and first-time parents. Our 'college/apartment furniture' had weathered many moves and storms - from Ohio to Virginia to Illinois to New York and back again. One evening, after putting our son to bed, my husband noted: "We have a proper living room now. It's time for some 'grown-up' stuff." I was instructed to hit the Toms-Price store the next day to see what I could find. I didn't have carte blanche, but our tastes being so similar, I knew it would be a productive afternoon. It was. I found this:


with a split cushion and four pillows (my husband is not a fan of the tightback). I took some snaps with my camera, and headed home - along with 14 memo samples - for the approval. The sofa was a hit, but I had made the error of providing my husband with too many fabric choices. Kindly, he asked me to narrow the field. I already had, of course; but I made another effort, and within the hour I had it down to four. We went back and forth for two days and, on New Year's Eve, finally made this choice:

Gleefully, I returned to the shop on New Year's Day, memos and checkbook in hand. Then, the other shoe fell: the fabric had been discontinued by the furniture company on 31 December 2000 - literally the day before. The sales associate and I double-checked codes and information; she phoned the manufacturer and consulted the shop owner. Nothing could be done; I would have to choose a different cover. We didn't have a firm 'second choice' so I rang my husband to get his input . Did he want to revisit the samples I brought home before? Did he want a different color direction? Fewer stripes? More pheasants? Wisely, he suggested we sleep on it. "Surely, the manufacturer will have a bolt lying around somewhere" and we could convince them - on a regular working day during normal business hours - to seek it out and cover our sofa with it. We made the request the next day. One week passed. No bolt had surfaced, nor was one likely to. My husband, who travelled every week, became distanced from the conflict and left the decision squarely in my hands. His goal was less about fabric now and more about having a sofa by Easter.

And so I took to the internet. The sales associate provided me with the discontinued sample and I phoned every contact I had remotely connected to "the trade" to no avail. Desperate, I called England and an amazing thing happened: Sanderson, the fabric manufacturer, couldn't assist me directly but suggested I email Discount Fabric and Wallpaper for help. My email to them had a response within 24 hours: they could get my fabric (directly from the manufacturer) and it would be shipped (for surprisingly little cost) within the week. I was stunned. Our fabric arrived from England by mid-January, the local shop shipped it to North Carolina with the COM order the following day, and our little sofa was perched in our living room by St Patrick's Day.

The moral: Don't stop believing. And if you can't find the fabric you want, there's always more fabric.
Thanks for perusing this blog; blog you again soon!   tIO x