Daisy's home!

Daisy is home and all is right with the world.  Not that anything was wrong, but when Daisy is away things are different.

The house is quieter.

There is more hot water for showers.

The computer is more accessible.

The kitchen is less chaotic.

The pile of shoes by the front door is greatly diminished.

There is no softball glove in the middle of the living room floor.

And all my sweaters are right where I left them.

 As nice as that might sound, it's just not right.  I guess I've just gotten used to the noise and the clutter and the craziness.  I guess I've just gotten used to Daisy.

give us this day

The other day, I received an email about a woman who had suffered unspeakable tragedy.  What followed was an outpouring of cyber prayers--"Lord, draw near to her," "Help her to see your hand," "Teach her to trust in you"--all of which were beautiful and appropriate to the situation.  But as I stared at the screen, all I could think was, "Lord, get her through this day.  Help her to get out of bed in the morning and to put one foot in front of the other.  Help her to eat; to breathe; to be."

Sometimes, when life throws us a curve ball (as it seems to be doing a lot lately) we jump right to the grandiose, the hoped-for end result--"Lord, help me to find a job," "Teach me to trust you in these difficult times," "Grant me a sense of purpose and meaning in this nothingness"--when, what we really should be praying for is today.  "Give us this day, Lord, our daily bread."

Help me, God, to put my feet on the floor in the morning.

Help me to see making my kids' lunches as a blessing and not a curse.

Open my eyes Lord to the beauty of your creation as I run.

Grant me wisdom and patience as I make my way through the grocery store.

Remind me to smile and look people in the eye.

Give me this day.

chalk drawings on the driveway

One sure sign of spring for me are the chalk drawings that seem to sprout on my driveway around the time the daffodils and hyacinth come into bloom.

I love chalk drawings on the driveway.  There is something so festive, so fun and playful about them.  Once, when we were living in the city, Amelia and I drew chalk flowers and hearts on the sidewalk in front of a friend's apartment to celebrate her birthday.  The next day, my friend called and explained that she had not seen the drawings the day before because it was dark when she got home.  "But, when I went out this morning and saw them there," she said, "I was so happy I nearly skipped all the way to the subway."

Fortunately, my children have not yet outgrown drawing on the driveway, although they seem to have less time for it than they did in the past.  So I am thinking of putting a bucket of chalk out by the mailbox and inviting the up-and-coming chalk artists in my neighborhood to have at it.  But why stop there?  If you know anyone who is looking to release their inner child, or at least feel a few years younger, tell them to stop on by.  I've got plenty of chalk and there's always room on the driveway for one more artist.

gremlins (who needs 'em)!

I am really starting to believe in gremlins, those pesky creatures that try to foil your good mood by taking your stuff: a single sock from the dryer, keys, a favorite earring,  my glasses (these they are kind enough to return eventually although they never manage to put them back in the place I remember leaving them).


Lately, it seems, the gremlins have been hard at work around my house, taking everything from permission slips, to music books  to sports equipment (really, gremlins, I ask you, what good is a chewed up mouth guard to you?).  At times such as these, in moments of sheer desperation, I have been known to shake my fist at the gremlins (who, I believe, live in the floor) and shout things like "give it back," and "it's not yours."  But, being gremlins, they don't seem to listen.  Nor do they seem interested in the peace offerings I have made: the ping-pong table in the basement; the bracelets that are in a gigantic knot it my jewelry box; the socks with holes in them.

So, I am off this morning to look for a lost necklace, a missing tooth and my glasses.  Hopefully, the gremlins have grown tired of these things--and of spoiling this beautiful day--and will take my up on my offer of a pair of mismatched socks, an assortment of old keys, and a humble apology for ever doubting their existence.

casserole and cereal season

The crack of the bats at Fenway can only mean one thing in my neck of the woods: the start of the spring sports season.

I like to call this the Casserole and Cereal Season. That's because, on a good day, I will have a casserole ready to go in the oven once all the craziness stops.  Most days, however, my kids will eat cold cereal out of a Ziploc bag as we hustle from one activity to the next wondering why I look forward to this season every year.

good friday

I like this quote from Buechner (okay, I like just about everything Buechner writes).

"To repent is to come to your senses.  It is not so much something you do as something that happens.  True repentance spends less time looking at the past and saying 'I'm sorry,' than to the future and saying, 'Wow!'" -Frederick Buechner.

an agendaless day

It was snowing this morning and I did not feel like putting on boots and a heavy jacket.  So, I drove Lilly to the bus stop.  In flip-flops.  And I left the engine idling so I could blow hot air onto my cold feet.

When I came home, I put my p.j.s back on to do yoga (now you know why I don't go to a gym).

As sure of myself as I am, I opted for the most intense workout available.  How hard could anything be that you do on a cushion on the floor, I reasoned.  About five minutes into the fifty-minute program, I found myself following "Patty," the girl doing the "modified" routine--you know, the one they put in there for doofuses like me.

After twenty minutes or so, the phone rang.  It was Mark.  He wanted to know if I would like to go to the circus on Mother's Day.  There was a joke in there somewhere but I was too whipped to find it.  So I said, "No, thank you," and hung up the phone. 

Standing in the kitchen, I decided it was as good a time as any to eat breakfast: one egg, poached, a piece of toast and a banana, which I ate because I couldn't wait for the egg.  Fortunately, I was done in time to catch the end of the workout, the part where they lay on the floor and "feel the burn."  I was happy to see that Patty, my guide, was doing the same thing everyone else was.  And I was happy I had a cushion on the hard floor.

Next, I went upstairs and took a shower, not so much because I needed to but because I wanted to.

From there, I set off for the grocery store.  Since it was raining and practically lunch time, I decided to go to the one that gives free samples.  Once, when three-year-old Daisy was shopping with Mark, she said, "you know what's good about samples?  They're right here, they're free, and sometimes they're tasty."  My sentiments exactly.

At the check-out, I realized I had forgotten my bags.  But I remembered to smile at the cashier.  Sometimes I wonder, in the grand scheme of things, which will have a greater impact on our world.  I would like to think it's the latter, mainly because I am always forgetting my bags!

Back home again, I unloaded my groceries, paid a few bills (including an overdue parking ticket), checked my email (none) and poured myself a cup of tea.  Then I waited for the kids to get home and for the rest of my day to begin.