It’s snowy here and when the snow flies so do emotions
, ski wax and goggles. Ski season has arrived and with it comes many hours spent bundling and unbundling bodies. Also, most notably, with it comes our annual conversations about the reasonability of cyber-stalking storms and wishing we could teleport to Utah for the weekend.
It’s a huge part of our lives. I love it and my man loves it more. I wrote about a personal subject in this week’s mama digs. See, snow and Andy’s corresponding sport of choice are his religion. And, while I sincerely love him for his winter weather passion, sometimes I want to move to Hawaii so we can avoid the winter weather passion. Andy always reads what I write about him and I was a bit nervous this week because it’s all about him. And, he read it and said we needed to talk. I thought shit, he’s not into it but he told me to take out a section where I bragged about some of his skiing badassness (yeah, he is super sexy modest) and he said, “Jackson rarely gets five feet in one storm. You should change that to Snowbird.” Swear. 861 words about him and he noticed my meteorological error. Yeah, love him.
Read all about all of this in chasing storms
Also, for those who were busy brining turkeys, practicing touch football and fashioning napkin holders out of egg cartons, last week’s mama digs is all about what I think of social networking.
Read more on my life in snow…
hump day nuggets: little bits of the season in photos and words about the last week
This hump day falls on the one day between Ruby’s first birthday and Thanksgiving. And, really, I have just two nuggets today. The second nug, however, is a big ol’ nug.
:: Nugget #1: Everyone seems to have opinions about social media, myself included. I think that in a world that feels bigger and scarier than it did when I was a kid, my online community shines light on life’s authentic beauty, the same beauty that motivated me to have children. Read more in my mama digs column, my social network
:: Nugget #2: Ruby is one.
I was hanging with girlfriends the other day proclaiming my lament that the English language doesn’t have a word that I need on occasion. There’s blessed, lucky and fortunate. None these work for me. Heather immediately said thankful. At first I said no no that’s not quite right for what I want to convey… but then she said, All those other words happen to you. ‘Thankful’ puts the action in your hands. Yes. That’s it. That’s why I don’t like those other words. Those words say some other power or randomness sculpt my feelings and riches. But, thankful? Thankful says I own my feelings and define my riches.
I am thankful for Ruby Jane. My leapshin sweet potato pie rubes stinker chicken green bean rhubarb. Love her so.
One. It seems big. I know she’s small. But, One.
11.22.10, 11:10pmDear Ruby,
I got home not too long ago. I was sipping wine with best friends. We went to leave the cozy downtown confines and stepped outside and then right back inside because the snow and wind blurred our vision and inhibited our good byes.
Now I sit in my warm living room, understanding more than ever before why it is called a living room. One year ago right this minute, I felt a shift and a gush and knew I’d meet you soon. Andy thought it’d still be a week or so but I thought just maybe…
It wasn’t this blustery last year. Right now wind is audible even over our forced-air heat that hums as you, your sister and papa sleep. It’s 10 degrees outside and dropping like a stone to a creek bottom.
I remember sitting up staring at the birthing tub in my kitchen, staring at my belly wondering who you were. I couldn’t wait to hold you outside my body.
11.23.10, 8:23amDear Ruby,
A year ago Margot was at Laura’s house across the alley and the day was just overcoming night, barely brightening behind the curtains in my bedroom. Labor was fast and intense once the sun came up. I leaned against my bed holding your dad’s hands and stared into his eyes. He was so steady, he knew you’d wiggle out soon
11.24.10, 6:47pmDear Ruby,
A year ago I fell in love with you more quickly than I had thought I would when I imagined meeting you. We spent the first days of your life within a few feet of the place you were born. Our village visited our home and they all said you were beautiful.
Yesterday we rolled and laughed on our bed and I couldn’t stop thinking about how you were born on that same bed. I held you for the first time in the cool morning light on that bed.
We went to breakfast with friends at Ruby’s Café, a place I’ve never been but wanted to go since you were born. That afternoon you and Margot napped while Chelci and I rearranged furniture, spread paper and art supplies across the floor and cooked.
Read more on hump day nuggets: thankful…
When Margot was born, there were certain things I couldn’t wait for. I mean I loved the whole wee baby thing but I daydreamed about her toddling around the garden with me and I couldn’t wait to witness her uninhibited self-expression.
I love it: Margot visits her art table regularly throughout the day.
We lose that. I am not sure when but, eventually, we become self-conscious about making art. We start to compare our abilities to others, we decide we aren’t “good” at some things. We stop painting purple amoebas and calling it grass. We start making vertical green lines at the bottom of the page because that’s what grass looks like.
Art is really important in our home. We prioritize making it, looking at it and purchasing it. So, Andy and I really wanted our kids to have a dedicated creative space where they could have unguided art making experiences whenever they wanted. I don’t want to be a freaky parent all crazy obsessed with my kids being creative geniuses, I just want my kids to have fun exploring art (although, honestly, I do swell at how Margot talks about the museum
and how she recognizes the subtleties of different tones and knows how to mix her own black…).
Read more on making art with my kids…
hump day nuggets: little bits of the season in photos and words about the last weekFrom the moment fall begins exhaling deep-hued leaves, we eat soup more than we don’t. Before I can even think about what to have for dinner I have chopped an onion and tossed it into hot olive oil at the bottom of a pot.
I love soup in all it’s wonderful brothy, stewy, chunky, smooth variations. Trouble is I am married to a man who enjoys dinners that are served on a plate and involve cutting and using a fork. To him, soup is the prologue, not the climax.
Read more on hump day nuggets: soup, no soup…
It’s been nearly a year since I left my job at our local museum
to be home with my girls and stitch together writing and sewing to create income. I was nervous for the change, totally unsure. Also, really excited and pretty damn sure.
Sometimes I feel like my generation is plagued with too many good choices. I don’t mean to sound spoiled. It’s just that all these choices and ways to experience success makes many of my friends feel claustrophobic. I have a friend who rents a small house that she shares with a roommate, works very little and travels a lot. She wonders if she should ‘settle down.’ I have friends who are rooted deep with kids in school, home and work who wonder if they should sell everything, pack up the family and save sea turtles in Costa Rica.
Married or not, kids or not, lifetime career or waitress/ski bum, homebody or world traveler…there are a lot of great, meaningful options for women and WOW am I grateful to the first and second generation feminists for that. One life contains many chapters. For a good bit I was burdened by I wonder if I would better serve the world if I ________. Now I am driven by a different spin on those thoughts: How can I best serve the world from where I stand right this minute? knowing I am always moving.
I just had this wildly creative, productive weekend in my studio. I know everyone can understand this other-wordly, whole-body possession. I had ideas and I had problems with simultaneous solutions. Thankfully, I am married to an artist and he totally gets it. Saturday morning I was hovering over our pancakes, my eyes sparkling with the need to make stuff and Andy said, babe, go. I’ve got the girls.
Last weekend, I wrote three essays, sewed on Margot’s quilt that was intended for her second birthday but will now be a third birthday gift, ironed out the kinks in some new clothing designs, worked on a few concepts for my upcoming exhibit and cooked great meals. It was pieced together in and around cutting snowflakes with Margot, errands, replanting the garlic my chickens dug up and flung all over the garden, reading books, installing a new handrail and other chilly weekend activity.
What I am saying is that it wasn’t consecutive hours of me and my laptop, sewing machine and sketch book. It was, however, even better. It was an entire weekend of being home with my family while the snow blew in. It was me slipping into the studio when I could, sometimes for 10 minutes and sometimes for two hours.
SO. Have you done all your holiday shopping? Perhaps some dig attire would suit the loved ones in your life? I have lots of new stuff and love to do custom orders. Click here to buy my stuff
. All purchases from now through December will receive a complimentary set of my edible postcards
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