Late Night Jam Session
Image
5
Tag Archives: mylife
On Online Friendships
The first blog I ever read back in 2004 was Quiet Life.
Donna’s writing was a joy and encouragement.
She’s been called a “spirit-gardener.”
It turns out, Donna was born September 27th.
I was born in the same year on September 28th.
We grew up two towns away from each other.
We are both part of a family of seven kids.
We both lost parents at a young age.
I read Quiet Life daily for several months.
One day, I was compelled to respond to something she wrote.
It was SO scary.
Me? Comment on someone’s blog?
And she didn’t know me?
What would she think????
Donna has the gift of the right word for the right time.
Time and time again.
Donna has another gift, she does.
She is a friendship broker.
Her comment section (QLCS for short) has
introduced me to several friends who are dear to my heart.
I’ve met two in real life.
There are more on my list to meet.
Donna gives her readers something else:
she shares her family.
We all, in some way, believe Katie is our daughter too.
We love Donna’s kids.
Donna has five sisters; we know them by name,
and consider ourselves honorary Glyman girls.
I’m always learning from Donna’s example:
Keep it short.
Ask questions.
Find appropriate quotes.
Be interested in others.
Take photos.
So on this trip to Chicago, a pocket of time opened up,
time enough for a short visit at a halfway point.
We met at Chipotle’s and talked.
And talked. And talked.
It was sweet.
Ah, Donna.
Love you. Mean it!
~ happy sigh ~
Day of Rest
Every year our close-knit community of faith meets at a cabin near Imnaha, Oregon.
It’s a day of rest.
It’s a day of rest.
We worship, talk, eat, sing, play, and…rest!
These are my people.
These are my people.
This is what my eyes saw today.
A fawn, a flower, a salmon, a discontinued outhouse.
Not pictured: a golden eagle hitchhiking on the side of the road.
We stopped to offer a lift, but he took off on his own.
Not pictured: a golden eagle hitchhiking on the side of the road.
We stopped to offer a lift, but he took off on his own.
Cliff-jumping into the river or catching some winks: good times!
Wedding Journal for July
I love weddings, I do.
Where else do you get to fling flowers up in the air? There is something glorious about a celebration, dressing up, taking vows, sharing food, taking pictures. In the casualization (made that word up!) of our culture we find ourselves with very little ceremony in our lives. Besides it’s jolly good fun! It takes a lot of work, but the rewards are wonderful.
Last week’s wedding was unique for us: my husband was the officiant! The groom has been our friend since 1981 and he wanted the person tying the knot to be personally connected.
Have you seen a Unity Sand ceremony? The bride and groom pour their sand into a common vessel, a visual representation of oneness of the couple.
Blessings, our friends, on your marriage.
It Is a Privilege
I called my cousin Rebecca when her husband died of cancer. Her quiet words, spoken ten years ago, are barnacled to my soul: It was a privilege to be his wife.
That’s exactly how I feel after 32 years of marriage. It is, it was, it continues to be a privilege to be his wife. Happy Anniversary, my love!
So Far, SO GOOD
When my new doctor entered the exam room, she caught me in the act of writing in my journal. In her lovely Southern drawl, she peppered me with questions, one of which was “Have you published?”
“No…um…but I blog?” was my lame answer.
“Really?” with the inflection going down, she made it sound like she really! was interested. “What do you blog about?”
The answer, my friend, was most definitely not….appliances.
A stove is a banal topic, I grant you. Ho. Hum. But, when 1982 was the last time one has purchased a new major appliance it’s a big deal! And I’m happy to tell you I love my new gas stove. I love the crackling sound when you first turn a burner on, I love the flame that bursts forth, I love the control of fine-tuning the size of the flame, I love to sauté, I love to braise, I love to bake, I love to cook.
Instead of four elements, I now have five burners. Instead of three rack placements in the oven, I now have five. I. have. a. warming. oven. (Never mind that I don’t know what to do with it yet.) Color me happy!
And the best thing about this exchange? Since our friend came and took the old (non-self cleaning) stove for scrap metal, I didn’t have to clean it! Booyah!
Close to Home
An evening picnic at Ladd Marsh.
(Hey Danny: Curt saw a bittern)
A pair of Sandhill Cranes with a little one.
Turkey, pheasant, geese, ducks, blackbirds, elk, deer.
Gyros sandwich for him; gyros salad for me.
Lovely.
(Hey Danny: Curt saw a bittern)
A pair of Sandhill Cranes with a little one.
Turkey, pheasant, geese, ducks, blackbirds, elk, deer.
Gyros sandwich for him; gyros salad for me.
Lovely.
Our First Dance Date
We didn’t know what to expect, except that we came to dance. After watching the grace of two couples swing-dancing at a wedding reception, I suggested dancing classes to my husband. This is an idea we have never once entertained in 32 years together. Curt investigated the “dance class” scene in our small town, got the scoop and surprised me with a date to learn English country dance.
Not exactly a class, it was a cross-generation gathering of folks who simply like to dance on Tuesday evenings. Whole families showed up from little ones on up to Grandmas. Most folks wore casual jeans; some girls wore skirts. No breeches or empire waists. Eyes bright with a patina of good cheer welcomed us.
The first thing our teacher did was split us up –with apologies–and paired us with experienced dancers. We made our hands dance, tapping on our thighs to grasp the rhythm. The feet followed as we learned sides, back to back, circular hey, a few more steps and suddenly we were doing the dances you see in Jane Austen movies. With the music! It wasn’t weird; it was fun.
It turns out Tuesday Evening Folk Dancing rotates Irish Set, International/Balkan, New England Contra and English Country dancing. Thoughts:
• Tempo changes things. We did the same dance to the same music but one CD was very jiggish and the other CD was joggish, if you understand joggish to mean slow and deliberate. I thought the slower one was more intense, with potential for undercurrent. When you are jigging you don’t have time to wink at your beloved in passing.
• Eye contact: Ay-Yi-Yi! Our teacher emphasized how important eye contact was in English country dance. Whew! There is something intimidating about holding eye contact, because, I think, eye contact is intimate. I couldn’t do it. [Remember, I wasn’t dancing with my husband.] It made me realize how very seldom we sustain eye contact in everyday life.
• I never thought of elegant as a masculine adjective. But there were a few young men–and they weren’t wispy by any means–for whom no other word would be adequate. I felt my posture improving around them.
• Being/feeling a fool is good for the soul. Amidst all our striving for excellence it is a relief to be totally incompetent. Laughter is a happy detoxification.
• Ahem. These folk are not overweight. I want to hang out with them, learn from them.
• The Way We Dance
• Eye contact: Ay-Yi-Yi! Our teacher emphasized how important eye contact was in English country dance. Whew! There is something intimidating about holding eye contact, because, I think, eye contact is intimate. I couldn’t do it. [Remember, I wasn’t dancing with my husband.] It made me realize how very seldom we sustain eye contact in everyday life.
• I never thought of elegant as a masculine adjective. But there were a few young men–and they weren’t wispy by any means–for whom no other word would be adequate. I felt my posture improving around them.
• Being/feeling a fool is good for the soul. Amidst all our striving for excellence it is a relief to be totally incompetent. Laughter is a happy detoxification.
• Ahem. These folk are not overweight. I want to hang out with them, learn from them.
• The Way We Dance
Wedding Journal
I love a good wedding. Our dear Jackie married Zack; it was a day of soaring highlights, re-connections and robust celebration . Zack and Jackie, ahem!, met in my Shurley Grammar class. They spent another year with me studying Shakespeare. Here is a journal of my reflections.
:: The attendants were all related to the bride and groom. There were more guys than gals, so the procession included the seating of the mothers and grandmothers. It was wonderful to have all the close family included in the official beginning of the wedding.
:: You know music is important to me. The entire family/wedding party came down the aisle to Non Nobis Domine (Not to us, O Lord, but to Your Name give the glory) from Henry V. If you listen to the link, the bride made her entrance around 2:35 where the orchestral fanfare builds. I watched–through a cataract of tears–my people (son, daughter-in-law, grandsons, dear friends) process past me. I will never listen to Non Nobis again without thinking of a radiant bride smiling at the man she loves.
:: Black Chocolate Wranglers. There are benefits to marrying a cowboy.
:: It was a large wedding, ~ 500 guests. The bride’s family emptied their barn and made it suitable for a celebration. (look at the picture below…coming out of my husband’s ear is a chandelier made out of wagon wheels) Family and friends pitched in to set up, decorate, cook food, iron tablecloths, pull weeds, serge fabric, and park cars. It was such a joy to be able to help a family who are normally the helpers.
Papa (Curt) and Preston
:: My role in this wedding was to bribe our exhausted grandson to be quiet with M & Ms. My husband coached my attempts in a whisper. Not so fast! Give him another one. Wait a little longer. See if he wants water. He’s going to throw up, he’s had so many. After we got him in a sugar coma, he fell asleep on Papa’s shoulder in two seconds. Yay! We achieved our goal.
:: Generational blessing. Every decade in life was represented in the room full of guests. Grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles: extended family were abundant. Babies, babies everywhere! There were easily thirty pregnant moms and fifty babes in arms. Have I said what a blessing it is to be part of a community that loves and values children?
People and realms of every tongue
dwell on his love with sweetest song;
and infant voices shall proclaim
their early blessings on his name.
dwell on his love with sweetest song;
and infant voices shall proclaim
their early blessings on his name.
:: I glanced to the back and saw Carson, Johann, and Jamie standing–bouncing, rocking–with babes in arms and Leah next to them standing with her arms resting on her pregnant belly. All these kids were in my classes. They spent endless hours playing flashlight tag, snowboarding, eating pizza and talking about life. Now they live hundreds of miles apart. A sob of gratitude bubbled up. Look at them!
:: My son’s toast to the bride and groom, paraphrased: “Let’s go back twelve years to my mom’s grammar class. That was when you and me met Jackie and Jessie (you and I, I correct him from the audience…500 people roar). You didn’t care much about Shakespeare, but taking my mom’s class meant more time around Jackie the following year. After that you both went in different directions, but eventually two couples got married from that class. So Mom, you thought you were teaching us Shakespeare, but in fact you were doing premarital counseling! …
My Journey into Birding
I have less than two weeks in which to become an avid birdwatcher.
I’m taking a trip with my husband, my brother and his wife (Dan and ‘La Bella’).
We’re planning on spending a few days at Malheur National Wildlife Refuge.
Over 320 species of birds. The Pacific Flyway.
Three members of our party are experts in birds.
Ornithological gluttons.
Me. I’m a word bird.
Did you know that avid comes from the Latin avere, to desire, crave?
And avian comes from the Latin avis, bird?
LBJ.
That’s my favorite bird identification.
Little Brown Job.
I’m getting a crash course in optics.
Call it Binocular 101.
In theory, I can distinguish
between a raven and a crow.
It’s gonna be a hoot.
We’re going to spot birds we’ve never before seen.
I’m going to tap into the enthusiasm around me.
It’s good, I remind myself, to feel inadequate.
I’m looking for a Sora Rail.
And a Yellowthroat.
I’ll bring some books along.
We’ll take some hikes.
We are bringing the old Pentax K1000 out of retirement.
My brother Dan, who, if he didn’t sing opera, could make
a lovely living as a professional photographer, (Exhibit A below)
will have a big lens.
Already I can’t wait to see his pictures.
Oh, yeah!
A Living Pencil 