Every word counts

I love these six-word memoirs, and I love the legendary story about Hemingway that started the trend. The story goes like this: Hemingway was challenged to write a short story in just six words.

This is what he wrote: For sale: Baby shoes, never worn.

I’m no Hemingway, but since the game is making the rounds and Niksmom tagged me, I’ll give it a try. Here’s mine:

Lost, found—more than I expected.

I’m supposed to tag six, but you know how I feel about that. If you’re tempted, why not leave yours in the comments…

 

In case you were wondering, too

Delilah is wondering a thing or two about me. And though I hardly ever participate in these funny internet games anymore, yesterday’s quirky facts put me in a bit of a navel-gazing mood. This one’s made the rounds, so again, I’m not going to tap you on the shoulder and holler, “You’re it!” If you want to play along, please do. Meanwhile, I give you five things:

Five things found in my bag:

1. a handy dandy iPhone (which is so much more than 5 things in 1)
2. a wallet
3. keys
4. sunglasses
5. Burt’s Bees tinted lip balm

Five favorite things in my room:

1. my bed
2. a framed tissue paper rainbow made by my son in kindergarten
3. three windows that look out over the trees
4. a small Lalique vase with two lovebirds in flight
5. a cedar chest my father-in-law made for me by hand

Five things I have always wanted to do:

1. write a book
2. stop worrying
3. own a sailboat
4. be very skinny
5. go to India

Five things I am currently into:

1. writing a book
2. worrying
3. Roseanne Cash
4. painted fingernails (sorry Jordan…I changed my mind)
5. photography

And since the fifth category is to tag five people and I’m not going to do that, I’ll leave you with five lovely photos:

 

Because I do not have the heart…

…to blog about this morning’s IEP meeting, except to say that it was not warm and fuzzy, but we did, in the end, get the services we were hoping for. Because I do not have the heart to process this ungodly process or to fathom how I ended the school day in a weepy sisterly embrace with my son’s classroom teacher in front of about 75 other parents and their kids, I will leave you, instead, to ponder this:

I have been asked to reveal six unspectacular quirks about myself by the lovely Sustenance Scout. You can read about her quirky self here, and the rules of the game here. I will likely break those rules by breaking the tag—if you want to play along, by all means join in. I’m just not going to tap you on the shoulder and say, “You’re it!”

1. I love light, fun, chick-flick movies (Princess Brides and Runaway Brides and Pretty Women) but I do not love chick-lit. I like my books to weigh me down and break my heart.
2. I have to push the shopping cart. I cannot shop, cannot think, cannot process what I need unless I am pushing the cart.
3. I am a huge fan of opera music, but I have never been to an opera.
4. I do not like it when the shoes match the bag.
5. I am afraid of train and subway platforms. And though I used to make a big show of standing too close to the edge, I have since come to realize that standing on the edge of anything is a bad idea.
6. I am never quirky—not even in a good or bad way—according to my husband.

 

Ordinary things

Words of wisdom

are so simple

Just look for them

in ordinary things

~The Tao Te Ching: A Zen Poet’s View, by D.R. Streeter

Today marks a year of blogging for me. And it seems somehow appropriate that this first year ended with a real life blogging encounter—not a virtual one. I was lucky enough to spend much of Saturday hanging out in the West Village with Jordan and Kyra.

It was a beautiful day. Blue sky. Warm. Trees topped with pink and green, shadows of white. Spring flowers and vines spilling out of window boxes. The gates to all the pocket parks open wide. I love the Village. NYU. Bleecker Street. The West 4th Street subway stop. There was chemistry in the air. Sparks flying as the conversation turned from beauty treatments to RDI to who does (and doesn’t) do the dishes at home. There is almost no way I have not known these women before.

I don’t know what my expectations were when I started blogging. I do know that I never expected to be so smitten. I’ve met kind and generous people. Shared some amazing stories. Taken comfort in the fact that none of us are alone—unless we truly want to be. I’m a little older, a little wiser, and a whole lot brighter. I’ve learned to appreciate ordinary things and tiny victories and, with the help of so many, how to puzzle out a new approach when the old one fails.

As Kyra rushed off to grab a cab, Jordan and I meandered around Washington Square Park (which is closed for renovations) and then back to the subway—the day winding down, pulling us in opposite directions. Kyra’s taxi took her uptown, Jordan took a train back to Brooklyn, and I was headed home.

Three ordinary friends on an ordinary day coming together, then separating. Finding each other in a truly extraordinary way.

me, Kyra and Jordan

 

Nothing much, but a few good posts

I know in some ways it is ridiculous that I post almost every day. But it’s become part of my routine. I can’t seem to get on with the other writing, the WIP, until I’ve posted. This—the blogging—is like a warm up. The way a runner stretches before a run, blogging stretches my mind, gets the creative juices flowing. One feeds the other in ways I can’t fully explain. It leads me to my voice.

That’s not to say, however, that I always have something to blog about. Take today, for example. The one tidbit I am stuck on is the fact that our Tassimo suffered a breakdown and had to be shipped off to some repair center in Brooklyn yesterday. As a result, I am drinking something resembling hot coffee, but in no way is it even close to the luscious lattes that have warmed my spirit for all these months.

If it wasn’t so cold out, I would be tempted to move operations to this place, where a seat by the fire and a nice big latte or cappuccino would go a long way toward making me feel better.

Since I’m too lazy to bundle up and pack up, I’ll settle for a spot on the couch and a cup of tea. Meanwhile, I’ll leave you with a few good links. These posts spoke to me this week, for a variety of reasons.

• Rooster Calls. Okay, this isn’t a single post, but a new voice in the arena of special needs parenting. I have a feeling it’s a voice we’ll be hearing more of—and should be hearing more of—in the weeks and months to come.
• This Mom in Miami
  
• A moment of inspiration at Speak Softly
• Life lessons from Jennifer over at ParentDish
• Loving cupcakes and life at The Wonderwheel
• Taking on corporate responsibility at Good Job, Mama!
• And finally, good eats (all the time!!) over at Figs, lavender, and cheese. By the way, if you ever get in one of those “what’s for dinner” ruts, check out Cindy’s archives. This woman can cook.

Oh, and take a peek at the Library page. I’ve added some new books. If you like historical non-fiction, Revolutionary Mothers, the book chosen for my next book club meeting, looks like a good one. (I haven’t exactly started it yet. I’m kind of lost inside the story of Picturing Will. So far, it’s a fabulous read—thanks Vicki!)

 

Friends, indeed

The amazing Niksmom at Maternal Instincts has kindly awarded me this lovely blog award. It comes with no strings attached, save the directive to pay it forward. I love these awards, the ones that are nothing more than a quick shout out to another blogger—a way to say, hey, thanks for writing, for sharing, for being a virtual friend.

So, without further ado, I am going to pass this lovely image and the beautiful sentiments behind it to three women who help me keep it all in perspective. They’ve been with me from the start—their thoughts and encouragement were among the very first comments I received when I started this fabulous adventure.

Mom-nos, Vicki at Speak Softly, and Jennifer at Pinwheels—this one’s for you.