Fishing for It All

Instead of doing Saturday morning chores, wouldn't it be better if I posted pictures from our fishing trip last weekend? Adventure comes with thanks to fabulous friends, Ed and Mary, who are such interesting people about whom I could say so much.

Aside from Middle Eastern food, well actually most any kind of food, I will mention another of our many common interests -- the Mexican artist Frida Kahlo. You see Mary is a painter and when I toured her studio I was delighted to see evidence of Frida. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised because if anyone has any kind of feeling at all, Frida is a likely icon.

It seems that most people I chat with here in Des Moines are artists or musicians. Serious ones with studios and bands, multiple bands. Writers too. Would like to meet more of them. All around just a lot of really fascinating folks here.

For example there's a guy at church who plays in a renouned blues band and I am dropping hints to Bob like crazy on what a nice surprise birthday outting that would be.

While at LWR HQ in Baltimore a couple days ago a colleague mentioned that she was recently in Des Moines for a wedding. Don't tell me, I already know. I said. It was an artist or musician. Indeed, it was. The groom is the manager for the band, the Nadas, who I hear all the time on the radio. They're big.

After a day at the lake, Ed and Mary took us to a pizza place where Bob and I ate one of our best pies ever. Half meat lovers, half margarita. Perfect.

Got me to thinking how truly amazing it would be to be, say, the woman who wrote the Harry Potter series. Or the woman who wrote the Twilight series. I mean, those ladies have 100 tickets to paradise and all they have to do is write. All day. Everyday. Evidently, it's possible.

OK, I promise now I will get back to household duties and the even greater drudgery of pushing on the kids to do their part. Bribery tool for today: Halloween costumes after chores. Dorothy and Storm Trooper are the going ideas.

Thanks so much for coming over, friends. I wish you all a lovely fall weekend.

With love, T

Meet Edward

This is what is now framed and on our upstairs hallway wall.

Isn't it amazing?

And amazing that both Amanda and I, 12 and 46, find Edward amazing.

Jonas Brothers are now very passe' around here with many thanks to Edward. They are just too, non-mysterious and non-intense. Plus, they really don't need your blood so what's the point?

Anyway, this poster is one of the birthday gifts from Amanda's school friends. And I have to say that I am impressed all around.

Edward is a character from that book series, Twilight, that she totally read, and I just started. Remember this is the series that starts off with this statement:

When life offers you a dream so far beyond expectations,
it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

Not sure I agree with that but it's worth thinking about. Anyway, gotta go. Thanks SO MUCH for coming over.

With love, T

The book Amanda is forcing me to read

When life offers you a dream so far beyond expectations,
it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

P. 1, preface, "Twilight" by Stephanie Meyers

Gotta go. Love, T

Livin On a Prayer

I'm trying out this new blogable music feature that I learned from Jeni from Campus, who I really should write to because I lifted it off her blog without even telling her. It goes with my new category "Charmer Insomniatic." You know, what you do when you can't sleep. One thing you can do is watch the biography of Jon Bon Jovi and be very thankful that you were awake during that program.

Listen free by clicking the top of the left bar.

Jeni blogs about Livin on a Prayer much better than me which makes sense because she's the true music buff who politely thinks I am quaint because I still believe that the Dave Matthews Band is the best band ever. Anywho, it was very nice to see two sisters from Luther Seminary on the official campus blog writing roster -- Jeni and Margaret. I notice that Margaret has blogged on my beautiful ex-sanctuary, the Luther Seminary Community Garden.

Next category: how to attempt to be a productive mother.

Cheers! T

Talking for an Hour

In explaining to Bob the reason I could not be a full time yoga instructor, he was relieved that we didn't have to sell the house afterall. And even after all this he doesn't believe that I no longer have throat capacity to talk for a straight hour, as yoga instructors must do. (Except for hot silent yoga which I've never done.)

Maybe Amanda is destined to teach yoga. For that matter Aidan too. When I got home last night after being gone for a week they both talked my ears off, simultaneously. Followed me to bed and everything. Had to "find" Aidan under the sheets. Really hard to not recognize the mysterious lump in the outline of a little boy. Had to promise to read Amanda's new favorite book, Twilight. Had to make pancakes this morning. Had to mediate high-pitched arguments about how chores would be allocated. Had to negotiate lack-o-play date possibilities for Aidan. Had to decide on a movie with Amanda.

I'm so glad my kiddies miss me!!!! xoxoxox

And I would be even gladder if I could figure out a way to get to a yoga class.

Cheers, T

This Suburban Life

A strange thing I've noticed since moving to the 'burbs is how acceptable it is to be alone with a man your own house under the guise of home maintenance. Even though Bob and I both work equally full time, for some reason it seems that I am the one who ends up hosting the house consultant guys.

Whenever such a man knocks on the door, my first thought is why in the world would I ever invite this strange man into my home? And then I remember that I'm the one who made the appointment. I must invite him in. Due to the nature of the visit it doesn't work to politely chat in the living room reception area. I must escort this strange man to the most private areas of the house.

the furniture delivery guy
the washer delivery guy
the home warranty inspection guy
the vent duct guy
the furnace guy
the wet carpet guy

I've already told you about the pool guys, Mr. Cigarette, Mr. Toothless, and Mr. Potbelly. And to be fair, Bob hosted the air conditioner guy and the furnace guy's wife, who actually installed our new furnace.

So today it was the recycling guy, Mr. Curious. Thankfully, the recycling is actually picked up at the end of our driveway so there was no pressure to acceptably invite Mr. Curious into the house. Our recycling had piled up and the green bin was overflowing. Amanda was herculean in transporting that thing down the end of the driveway.

Anyway, I decided that I wanted to see exactly how Mr. Curious handles the pick up and if he would just spill over a huge mess that we would need to clean up; given the fact of our overflowing green bin.

And so I spied on him out the window.

I'm pleased to report that he did a great job of carefully separating all of our disposables. But here's the thing. Because I was spying on him through the front window, I noticed that after Mr. Curious finished our job he looked at our house. Twice. Oh my goodness, what must he think of us? They drink a lot of milk. They are sloppy people. They have many parties. They should mow their lawn. How could such a nice house produce so much trash?

And then I'm wondering why I care what Mr. Curious thinks of us.

And then I'm thinking that there is something appealing about being a sanitation worker. A part of me could easily don coveralls and gloves and just have at it. Single handedly sort my whole portion of the city. It's that same part of me that would enjoy being a letter carrier. Go for a really long walk everyday and get paid for it. I wonder what our mailman thinks of us.

Throughout history the role of women has been in the private domain; the role of men in the public. And yet Bob and I think that everything would be much better if it were reversed. Women taking care of world affairs. Men taking care of the home. Generally speaking of course. Give us ten years or so and that's how it will be in this family.

I think I've read one too many John Steinbeck novels.

Gotta go. Thanks for coming over!

Cheers, T

Summer of My Content

I am reading John Steinbeck's "Winter of Our Discontent," the first time in ages that I've indulged in fiction. It's glorious. There are so many good one liners that I really ought to be underlining along the way. Here are a few that come to mind:

No one wants advise, only corroboration.

I don't believe in ghosts but I've seen them.

. . .something about how you can't be insulted if you're secure and content

. . .another one about how to "incline" and the power of inclining others

. . .the secret of psychotherapy

. . .morality deconstructed

. . .Good Friday Services as consenting to public execution

OK, I promise to go back with my yellow highlighter and get them straight up. There's a bunch of 'em and they're really good.

In the parking ramps of hospitals are a lot of things. You may remember that last year I kept bumping into my Turkish surgeon (Dr. Sanan, photo). Of course I remembered him very well and yet he just walked by me, off to another neck slicing or something else routine I'm sure. Once Bob came across him in the lobby and almost asked if he would please wait because I was coming; thinking that if we chatted it would be the end of my obsession. Time dulls most obsessions. Reality spoils more obsessions. (Hey, I got some up on Steinbeck.)

Today I was thinking how cool it is to enter a hospital and report to the nuclear medicine department. Doesn't that sound impressive? That's where the thyroid testing is done and it's time for my annual body scan. Fortunately, everything is in my favor.

Yet back in the parking ramp there are rows and rows of spots that say "reserved for cancer patients." Yesterday empty; today all full of ordinary sedans, mini vans, and SUVs dented and all. Tuesday must be chemo day. I said a prayer for the ordinary chemo patients. (I'm not a chemo patient, just to be clear. I'm being monitored for the easy cancer, slow moving thyroid.) Later I learned that another dear friend from seminary has been diagnosed with breast cancer. So I said a prayer for Kathryn O-O too.

Anywho, Amanda has a visiting friend from St. Paul here this week. A lovely young girl of whom I am doing my very utmost to not be jealous because she finished sixth grade in Spanish and now goes onto Jr. High Spanish Immersion program in the amazing public school district of St. Paul. Algebra in Spanish. Western Civ in Spanish. Physical Ed in Spanish. Art in Spanish. OK, alright I'll stop. The girls don't speak a lick of Español between eachother. It's so ho hum. They are way too involved in the Jonas Brothers and web searching multi-colored "skinny jeans." Evidently, slightly flaired pants are now out of style. FYI.

Bob is teaching a Stephens Ministry class at church. Aidan is demolishing a city via his new alter ego, the Hulk. I think it's time for home happy hour and maybe more good quotes from John Steinbeck, who won his nobel prize the year I was born.

Thanks SO MUCH for coming over!!

With love, T