Twenty-Five

A few (many) years ago....when I was twenty-five, I lived in an apartment in Seattle. It was a one bedroom, where, for the first time in my life, I lived by myself, with my cat, Eddie. At first that apartment felt strange and spacious and sort of decadent, since I had only lived with groups of others up until that point: a family of seven, a dorm, college and post college houses and apartments full of friends. I paid affordable rent for digs that had a view of Lake Union, the Space Needle and Queen Ann Hill. From my large window I watched morning light, sunsets, a famous lighting storm that I think the Seattle Times still sells photos from and lighted Christmas ships pass by throughout the holiday season. The building was in a neighborhood right in the city and had an actual asphalt parking lot where I could park my car. I started my job at the hospital at 7 and made it home by 4, which left plenty of time for an afternoon walk around Greenlake or to Pete's Market to see what sounded good for dinner.

At that point in my life, my sister and one or two other friends met up nearly every weekend for Breakfast at Julia's Fourteen Carrot Cafe which I could walk to. Their Tahitian Toast with a side of fresh fruit and yogurt was, and still is, one of my very favorite breakfast food memories of all times. For awhile, on Thursday evenings, my sister and one of these same friends took turns making dinner, after which we would tune in to the latest episodes of Family Ties, The Cosby Show and Cheers......one of the very best TV lineups of all times. 

At twenty-five I took the occasional weekend trip, understood I had never met someone like Marc before (we had been dating for about a year and a half at that point) and dreamt of going back to school. I enjoyed my friendships, loved to cook, walked for exercise, read and made things. I chopped enormous salads topped with cottage cheese, shredded cheddar, raisins and crushed saltines many nights for my dinner. I drove into downtown Seattle to shop and look and dream. I loved all kinds of music but had a special passion for classical. I knew I loved the out-of-doors, writing and taking pictures, and had a sense of adventure. I liked where my life was and where it was going. I didn't know exactly what the future held, but didn't really feel the need to either.

At twenty-five I didn't know that within the next five years I would be married, move all the way across the country and then back again, or have twin boys. I didn't know I'd have a husband who would give me flowers the day before our anniversary (which is, by the way today!) so that I could enjoy them the entire day of, or that another baby boy would come along. That I would explore my political views, quit a paying job to stay home and raise kids or exchange a vibrant city for the suburbs. 

About a week ago, my older boys turned twenty-five and I am (blank) years over twice their age. I think they live in a more complicated world than I did at that age.....but perhaps my parents felt the same way about me and their other children.  The one thing I do know is that certain themes have carried on throughout my life: my interests, what I value and the purposeful ways I spend my time. I can look back and see a similar pattern in my boys; activities each of them showed an interest in from an early age and the ways those have translated into how they currently choose to spend their time and energy. 

Have they noticed this pattern? I'm not sure and I don't really want to point it out....just to encourage them to pursue whatever it is that they're interested in. I want them to have the same sense of discovery about their own lives that I did and still do about mine.

Holiday Dream

Last night I had one of those dreams. You know the one: Where you wake up engulfed in panic because you arrived late to a test or slept through a job interview. Nearly everyone I know has experienced a version of this dream at one time or another. 

My own personal twist on this nighttime theme of missing-out-on-something-important was that I showed up on time but forgot to bring my camera. In this scenario I was at a photo workshop, riding along merrily with a few others toward the location of our shoot. I remember being happy and chatty and looking out at the passing scenery, excited for all of its potential...... but as we piled out of the car and onto a rocky beach near sunset, I realized I had forgotten my gear. As everyone else, carrying cameras and tripods and backpacks with lenses in them, raced toward a variety of shooting possibilities, I stayed behind to dig through the trunk and circle 'round the vehicle in order to scan its seats thoroughly just one more time. 

Nope. I had arrived without a camera, I was away from home, and the hotel we were staying at was miles away. In this dream I wasn't the driver of the group of photographers, but a passenger, and I remember thinking that I couldn't very well ask him or her to drive me back to collect it. There would be no use, because by the time we both returned, all of that glorious evening light bathing the sand and rocks and driftwood and shore life would have disappeared. While normally I check and double check to make sure I have every piece of equipment I might need for a shoot, apparently I was so distracted by the fun and conversation of the people around me that I had neglected to bring any of it. To focus on the one necessary thing.

In the next scene......because, you know, my dreams have scenes......I was sitting back on a log watching the others in their excitement, wondering how to creatively stretch the limits of the Instagram app on my cell phone. 

~~~~~

So 'What is going on in your life, Margaret?' you might ask? Well.....a lot. Wonderful things, but a lot. And I'm theorizing maybe too-much-at-once, because...... I had that dream last night. 

We are inching closer to the Holidays......what am I saying? The holidays are HERE. 
Meanwhile, the remodel on the main floor of our house is inching along. I will not complain (not one bit) but I've been without use of a kitchen since October 29th. And without my favorite writing, gift wrapping, photo editing, and gazing-out-the-window-into-the-backyard table. The table where I set my baked goods on racks to cool, work on Christmas projects and the one which, I think, prompts me to write a few lines on this blog. (See, I knew I could fit in a great excuse for skipping out on a post for last week!) The Holidays are......errr......HERE, not one cookie has been baked and I'm feeling a bit stressed and behind and wondering if I will be be able to pull it all together by the time two of our boys return home from afar. Or at the very least by Dec 25th.

Amidst all of this sort of chaos, I do, every day, know and understand that I have much to be thankful for. Here is a list I made last year: Thankful . It still applies. I'm going to re-read it now as a good reminder to myself. Then I will take a few deep breathes and try to slow down and compartmentalize and do what I want/need to get done. I will visualize and dream about it all coming together.....or at the very least appreciate each moment as I move forward.

Wishing you a Wonderful Week ahead!

XO. 

Warmly, Margaret

Parenting

When stepping back for a moment to review the past many years of parenting (25), certain themes emerge. If I was forced at this moment, to come up with a short list of what I hope to have taught our boys, this is what immediately comes to mind: 

Be brave. Look forward. Attempt to see the 'big picture'. Value education and life long learning. Know that it's better to have zero good friends for a couple of months than to have ones that aren't right for you right now. It's your life, there are twenty-four hours in a day and you get to choose how to spend them. Have compassion....always. Trust your own ability to make a decision.

I realize this list could and should be (and really is) much longer..........but I said a 'short' one and the above is what surfaced during the few minutes I sat with my morning cup of coffee. I know that I'm speaking as just one member of a parenting partnership here......no doubt that if Marc were writing this he would have his own thoughts and additions.  I also know that each item could be the topic of an entire set of essays, but I'll save that for possible future posts.

I didn't step through the door of parenthood knowing how to be one, let alone a 'good' one. I'm pretty sure no parent ever has. Relying on well written books, friends and a spouse who share similar values, and an amazing set of parents of my own has helped immensely, but it's largely a 'learn as you go' venture, don't you think? Or maybe I should say adventure, which the dictionary defines as excitement, thrill, risk, uncertainty and precariousness......an apt description of many parts of the parenting journey. 

I will say that I have learned as much or more about how to be a parent from each of my boys as I did from any of the above resources. They taught me how to parent them; showed me that they are unique individuals and needed me to raise them as such. If somehow I didn't get it right the first time, they would be certain to circle back around to help me understand again......and again and again just to be sure I did. So as they leave this house, and then come back and leave again, most times for parts and experiences unknown, I can only hope that we've all taught each other what we need to know. That we keep sturdy, cohesive, respectful, strong and loving ties wherever any of us ends up.

This week one of our boys began a new job and showed us the view of downtown Seattle he can see from his desk. One bought a one-way ticket to New York and trusts he will have found a place to live by the time his plane lands. (I believe he will.) The third left to go camping and hiking in a national park (where I happen to know there are bears) without telling us just which part of this enormous park he planned to be in. He saw wildlife and waterfalls and rocky cliffs. He visited a glacier. He and his friends stuck their heads into an aqua lake floating enormous chunks of ice. They all gave us a call or sent us texts or showed us pictures. They each continue to sculpt their futures by recognizing desires and passions, and then using those to formulate words that turn into actions. They trust themselves and their decision making. I am so proud of them for this.

There have been moments in the past couple of years when I prematurely thought the parenting part was just about finished; that since the five of us are now all adults, much of the job is done. But now, especially now, I know that it's not. Even at my age......even at the stage of life that I'm at...... I continue to look toward my own parents: For sage advice. For the value of their lives experiences. For sturdy and strong ties.

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead.

Warmly, Margaret

Courage / Inspiration

The other day I came across a post somewhere that stated simply: Creativity Takes Courage.

I've had some time to think about this and what those three words have meant in my world. They bring to mind, in fact, exactly how I felt the day before I left for my first photography workshop a few years ago. How I had worried to a friend that I shouldn't be doing this. Even though I had signed up, made air, rental car and hotel reservations, I seriously considered calling it off.

I would be traveling by myself to a small town I'd never been to before, meeting up with people I didn't know and was unfamiliar with the terrain I'd be navigating in my rental. I recognized that I wanted to learn, but was fairly intimidated by the fact that the extent of my photographic skills at the time were that I could find a scene through the viewfinder and push the shutter......but little else. There were buttons and wheels and menus on my camera and I didn't know what many of them were used for. What I knew about my computer, photo editing programs, light and composition was just as sparse. Marc nearly had to push me out the door on the morning I left...... and did some talking, if I remember correctly, to encourage me to get me on that plane. (On the plus side I had my cell phone just in case I decided to turn around and come home.)

I was well aware that I was stepping out of my comfort zone and it had been years since I'd been brave enough to do that. During the entire trip there and all of the first evening in this little town, I asked myself 'why'. The answer was, of course, that I REALLY DID want to do this. I wanted to know more, and fortunately, even though I was nervous, my gut kept reminding me of this. As true as it was that I was near tears before I left, it is also true that I had been near tears weeks earlier as I viewed a slide show the photographer I was meeting up with had on his website. His images were beautiful and moving and I wanted to learn to make some of my own. I REALLY DID want to do this!! Thank goodness that the part of me that jumped in with both feet won out over the part of me that tried to hold myself back.

I returned a different person, confident that I possessed the courage to listen to my gut, try something out and follow a passion. To listen to my 'real self' and move forward. This workshop was just the first step of many, and since then I've been tuned in to others that have taken steps of their own: Brave friends, family members and acquaintances who recognize that they possess certain interests or talents and have had the courage to trust the process of exploring them. They have gone back to school, opened businesses, created web sites, taken time off, started bands, become yoga instructors, written and recorded songs, moved, changed jobs, changed careers and.......they all inspire me.

Wishing you a wonderful week with some great inspiration along the way!

Warmly, Margaret

The Sweet Spot

Was it this (blasted) office project that has got me to thinking more about what my future plans will or should entail? I've been avoiding cleaning out and organizing it for a few years now, and then all of a sudden it was THE day to begin. I knew the task would be long and challenging. I knew that in facing all of that 'stuff' I would be called upon to make decisions. What stays? What goes? What holds value? What is no longer useful?

I've gotten rid of old files and created new ones. I have shredded reams of bank statements, insurance forms, receipts and records. Tossed out user manuals, out dated Christmas card lists and blurred photos. The recycling bin (which is the size of an enormous garbage can) is mostly full this week because of my efforts.

And I have finally dug into The Sweet Spot: That tender place I had been unwilling to touch for years that held homework projects, awards, schedules, team rosters, cards and small bits of paper written or drawn upon by three pair of young hands. Now that I've spent time with it, I know with crystal clarity why I rushed by so quickly, eyes averted, each day. It was something I didn't want to deal with and so pretended it wasn't even there. In the meantime it had grown like a mis-managed rhododendron; thick leaves and sturdy branches strewn about on top of one another representing years that have passed and boys that have grown.  A marriage matured, family threads interwoven and unique memories. Roots that run healthy and deep.

I didn't want to revisit that pile for what I did not want to see: Time.

In turning over what had settled comfortably into that spot, I've come across grade school collages, college essays, poems, drawings, sports programs, acknowledgments, certificates, newspaper articles and notes. One of my favorites was a piece of paper with tape stuck to it shouting "MOM CAN WE GO TO THE LIBRARY TODAY?" scrawled in a nine-year-old hand. There were comments on a first grade report card (one of which was 'quite a talker') that accurately describe a certain son as the adult he is today. A collection of photos show another, book in hand, in a rocking chair, in a beach chair, by the fire, by a pool, at home, on vacation......you name it. Photos of him, of course, are still likely to be snapped with the book he is currently reading found somewhere within the frame. There is a photo of an exhausted three year old, sitting up to the dinner table, head fallen back, mouth open, eyes closed......asleep in front of a plate of lasagna and garlic bread. The same kid who, this many years later, would still never desert a good plate of food.

And so it goes. The Sweet Spot has not disappeared but has been sifted through, divided up and saved. Its unruliness neatly portioned off for each son, waiting for the right occasion to be passed on.

It's time for a change. Time to take stock. Time to wrap up a couple of projects and stamp them FINISHED. Time to ramp up and plan to put a couple of new ideas in motion. In other words, in my world, its time to shake things up a bit. Cleaning out the office.....revisiting those years that hung out in the pile in the corner reminded me of this......and I think that's a good thing every so often. 

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead!

Margaret 

Dedicated Space

Natural light. Uncluttered surfaces. Clean lines. Neutral gray. Blank walls. A dedicated space. Minimal distractions. This is the workspace I dream about.

I'm in need of a place to work and create that doesn't affect other people. Where their needs don't affect what I'm attempting to distill onto the computer screen or on paper. There are times when Marc hesitates to come downstairs if he thinks I'm in the middle of something at my spot at the kitchen table. He doesn't want to interrupt. I've asked people to turn down the TV or watch it in their room. They trip over my computer cord. I move my 'stuff' from the kitchen table then back again depending on mealtime. I've been known to write in the downstairs bathroom in order to have a little quiet, think clearly and complete a thought. 

Not fair to them. Not fair to me.

So I'm setting out to transform the tiny office upstairs. When the room was built for the former owners of this house, it apparently worked well for them and their home business, but it doesn't work at all well for me.

For one thing it's PINK. I've occasionally been described as a 'girly' girl and for a very long time my favorite color was pink. The other day, in fact, I returned home with a bright pink rain jacket to wear when I walk and was so very OK about that. Wearing it makes me feel happy and energetic......so I have nothing at all against PINK. But surround me with muted PINK cabinets and walls, PINK wall to wall counter top and a PINK toned vinyl floor and I become nothing but sleepy and distracted. Colors on my computer screen are skewed by light bouncing off the surfaces. Writing seems nearly impossible because......well......I'm surrounded by this set up. Ever since I discovered how well the natural light and backyard view from the kitchen table work for me, I've been planted there in the main center of our home, thinking that was just fine....until I realized it wasn't. 

First I've got to sift through what has found it's way into this office space. Placing things in there began with all good intentions. Important papers were kept in labeled file folders. Photo albums, baby books, journals, computer discs, owners manuals and supplies lived neatly inside cupboards. And then slowly I guess, because I don't remember ever consciously DECIDING to use the room for this....it became a place to put things that I either didn't want to deal with at the moment, or didn't have time to deal with at the moment. At some point I began to avoid opening the door......unless of course I needed to stash something I planned to get to later. Once I found my perch with the nature-view-downstairs-in-the-light, the little upstairs office became stuck in kind of a time warp. And there is the slightest chance that in the last few months, so have I. Until I saw possibility. Then I began to dig in.  

At this point there are piles in the upstairs hallway on either side of the office door. Meaningful piles. Small manageable piles that make this clean out easier to deal with. Whatever happens to be saved from the shredder, the recycling bin or the donation truck is put away for real someplace else in the house. And rather than allowing myself to become overwhelmed by this (very large and involved) task,  I can see how each pile represents an opportunity I've taken during the past few years to hang out with one of my kids, invest in some fun or to take time for some other important responsibility.

Just a few minutes of sifting through paper, photographs and books each day, that's all I'm asking of myself. It should take another week or two, and after that I'm going to give someone a call to find out what it would take to remove the cabinets, counter top and floor. If I can afford it I'll make the window larger in order to have the backyard view I love so much. I'm planning to replace the lighting, find a neutral shade of paint and put a functional desk in there. One of my sons showed me how I could add a few extra feet of workspace by eliminating the linen closet on the other side of the wall. He also helped me visualize a whole new work flow.

Really......this isn't going to be as difficult as I thought.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend!

Warmly, Margaret

A Few Things:

Evening light on a vineyard in Sonoma Valley. The wild mustard is in bloom.

A few tidbits from a busy week:

*I learned how to make rack of lamb. Lamb is something I love to order in restaurants, but for some reason have never made at home until recently. I checked out several ways to cook it, thinking it must be complicated because it tastes so good....until I found this recipe from the New York Times. Simple. It's what we're having tonight.

*I watched two movies this week that I'll recommend: Midnight In Paris and The Big Year. Both are fun, entertaining and have beautiful scenery. They had great messages and stories that made me think. (Anyone who knows me knows that I don't watch dark, violent or super-suspenseful movies.) Each of them are about pursuing something you love and finding balance in your life while you do it. I'll say no more.......

*A group of friends and I are working our way up to walking 13 miles......a half marathon. Yesterday we walked over five miles in a freezing snowstorm, then sipped coffee afterwards, dripping-wet and cold, at a nearby Starbucks. We stuck it out and didn't call our morning walk off due to the frigid weather (I really wanted to.....). I was proud of us (me)!

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead.

Warmly, Margaret

Five Things

A few years ago I returned home after having been away for about two and a half weeks and decided to take stock of my life. The trip in and of itself wasn't out of the ordinary...nothing that was extremely rare or that hadn't been done before or written about and photographed many times over. But its overall experiences were new and different to me, so much so that when I returned home I felt both compelled and encouraged to view my life in a different way. It gave me the perspective that perhaps I needed, which was significant because at the time I really had no idea that I needed it. It was a particularly life changing trip.

Had I been in a rut? Maybe. But not an unhappy one. What I realized after taking a look at myself from across a vast ocean, amidst ancient art, architecture and ruins, amidst different food and different cultures and religion, was that I wasn't necessarily paying enough attention to......myself. The inspiration of my surroundings for those couple of weeks, the structures and ideas that had outlasted ages, those that withstood the test of many centuries, called into question how it was that I was choosing to spend my time. 

I recognized things I used to dream about, ways in which I at one time envisioned myself, things that I saw myself becoming when I was much younger and way more idealistic. During years of growing and changing, and years of the busy-ness of life, many of those things had faded into the background. What I found was that although they had faded......they had not disappeared. They were still around, folded firmly into and not out of my life. Their strands of color, light and flavor still prodded and poked. Apparently, even though I had ignored them, they weren't ignoring me.

(To be clear, time spent with family and those whom I love dearly has never been at issue. It goes with out too much mention what my priorities are in that area.)

When I returned from those travels I made a list that answered the question, "if I could choose five areas that I personally want to focus on, what would they be?". I'm pretty sure that the title scrawled at the top stated simply, "Five Things". They weren't just the five ways I most wanted to spend my time but the five ways I most needed to. It took about five seconds to jot them down.

A mid life crisis? I don't think so. Coagulating fears of an impending empty nest? Maybe. But I think it was more like an awakening. It's been over four years now since I made that list and for some reason I remember the exact date: January 4th, 2008.  I allowed myself a five year plan in order to explore and see where time spent on these things would lead. I just finished year four. In about eleven months.......I'll fill you in.

Wishing you a very lovely weekend and week ahead.

Warmly, Margaret

The above photos were taken at the Ballard Farmer's Market. www.DELUXE-FOODS.COM
Why did I include them in this post? Because I am impressed with the jam maker's decision to do what it appears she was meant to do....make jam, create flavors and sell it!

Year One

I'm kind of big on anniversaries, those reoccurring dates that serve as both reminder and motivator.  I take advantage of the framework they create to make plans, resolutions and decisions. Use them as markers to look back at where I've been and see what direction I'm headed. When certain numbers show up on the calendar, I'm tempted to take a deep breath and turn in a circle with eyes wide open in order to view with greater clarity where I stand at that very moment. I want to pause and figure out how it is that I ended up on this exact piece of ground.

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of my first post on this blog.  I'd been considering beginning one for quite a few months before that. By the time I punched Publish Post for the first time, I had already spent time outlining and figuring out my font, format and header. I had thought a lot about why I wanted to do it. Why it would be good for me. What I wanted it to focus on and be about. What I wanted to focus on and be about. 

In the very beginning I was nervous. None of my family, friends or acquaintances had blogs at that point......that I knew of anyway.  And of course, I wanted to let them know what I was up to, because......well......I wanted at least a few readers, followers and viewers. I wanted at least a little bit of feedback. Even though I'm comfortable with being an independent thinker, feedback really does help. There is always risk in putting oneself out there and I knew I ran the risk of making a fool of myself to varying degrees. Realizing that those I know and care about might not 'get' or understand whatever it was I planned to 'put out there' made me queasy, and for a few days pages I had already written stayed safely put, safely private, locked inside my computer. In the end, I followed my heart, my passion and my gut, and pushed that darn button.

I have to say now......a year out......that publishing This Friendly Village has been a great discipline. I have learned a lot. I've become quicker with the decision making, the thought process, the pictures and the posting.  I think I've become a better writer and photographer.  I have become more brave. 

The transition from one stage of my life (parenting) to another (an empty nest) was made easier when I gave myself permission to share. By committing to photographing, documenting and posting while exploring a few things I'm passionate about, I've been able to define what more I might do with my time......now that there is more time. To see, as I chose topics and subjects, what rose to the top. Should I have been doing this all along the way during the past 24 years? Maybe. I am definitely aware of how much I would have loved it if certain aspects of the Internet had been around when our boys were much younger. (Not to date myself...but I didn't discover blogs until a couple years ago.)

I've spent some time wondering if I have used my time in this space in the way I hoped I would. Did I find new things out about myself? Confirm what I have already known? Have I discovered new interests and met new people? Learned more about my relationship with my camera, keyboard and computer? With those I know and love? There have been a few dead ends for sure, but overall, the answer is 'yes'. And now that I've completed my first year, I'm looking  forward to the next.......few. It's made a difference in my life. I hope that in some small way it has made a difference in yours too, for we are all in whatever it is we're in.....together.

Warmly, Margaret

About Giving and Receiving

Giving and receiving gifts, to me, is not about quantity or expense.  It is about time and thoughtfulness and appreciation. It is about looking for and finding.  About saying 'it makes me very happy to know that you have this'.

More than one special person let me know, "I had a lot of fun picking out your gift this year." This sentiment was a gift in and of itself ......knowing that someone enjoyed the process! Hearing it reminded me once again how much I, too, enjoy the giving. The connections that deepen with each choice made, wrapped and presented.

I appreciate that my parents know that ice cream and chocolate in pretty dishes makes us happy.  The cookbook, the finished novel, the homemade wine, the box of handpicked micro brews, the indoor garden planted in a dish that were presented to us. The cards that hold photographs and stories and sentiments. The gifts of homemade candy, jam or snacks left at our door. The thoughtfulness of something chosen to make a portion of each day easier......sweeter. Something that helps to get me where I want to go. That says 'join in' or 'this made me think of you.'

At this time of year, I'm so very thankful for the people in my life. The ones that bring warmth or comfort or a sense of excitement through the door, in the mail, over the Internet or on the phone. Those that understand what I might want, need or dream about. I'm thankful for those willing to share some of themselves and what they dream about.  Those I'm just getting to know and who make the effort in return.

As the New Year approaches, wishing you a wonderful week ahead!

With warmth and appreciation,

Margaret

Thoughtful

Peter brought this gift to me when he returned home from London a few weeks ago, a No. 1 Pocket Kodak Junior, circa 1910(ish).  After a long drive, he walked in the front door with it, as well as a beautifully illustrated print of human internal organs for Marc. Although we had taken care of his dog while he was out of town, he did not mention that the gifts were in any way related to this. He simply gave them to us and shared the stories of how he had come across each one. He had found items he knew we would each enjoy.

He was right. The young man pays attention and his thoughtfulness does not go unnoticed. This trait is something I truly appreciate about him. It's a pretty good deal......being his mom. 

Last time we were in Missoula, the three of us, Peter, Marc and I, spent some time looking at a collection of 130 Ansel Adams prints at the Missoula Art Museum. The exhibit was inspiring, beautiful, educational and thought provoking......and it's what I wrote about this week for Make It Missoula. To take a look, Click Here.

Hope you have a lovely fall weekend!

Warmly,

Margaret

Still Me

This past year I've spent some time catching up with a couple of good friends. The three of us studied at the same university, moved to the same city afterward and eventually shared a house for a period of time. We saw each other through jobs, job changes, new cars and boyfriends, and went on a couple of vacations together. We each got married, had children and eventually two of us moved out of the city where we had participated in each others lives on such a regular basis. We've managed to see each other occasionally during the past few years, but it all depended on schedules......and rarely included the three of us in the same place at the same time.

About a year ago......at the request of one of the women, we met up for another vacation. No husbands, no kids, just the three of us for a week in a condo on an island. I have to say that for as much as we had all kept up via cards and Christmas letters and the occasional phone call, email or visit, I was just a little nervous to spend an entire week in the same space after twenty-something years. What if we were different? What if they had changed? What if I had changed and the friendships that worked well for me in my twenties no longer did? But I went.

We clicked quickly back into easy conversation. After reminding one another about some old stories and then working through the details of our own personal new stories, we moved on.......to having fun together where we are now. Since then, we've met up for a couple of short stints, the most recent being last Saturday.

Reconnecting has caused me to give some thought to my twenty-something year old self. The 'me' in my post college years when I was truly on my own, making choices and decisions about how to spend my time and who to spend it with. Learning to identify my skills and interests, and to prioritize the use of what limited resources I had. 

And what I found was this: I am still basically the same person, still prioritizing the same things. Choosing friends and who I spend my time with for the same reasons; spending hours in ways I find meaningful. I still have a pet that is a wonderful companion (although back then it was a big orange tabby) and think that belonging to a family is a pretty good deal. Still love to cook up a good pasta dish. Write down my thoughts. Carry a camera. Still enjoy spending an afternoon reading or baking or knitting. Walking is still my favorite exercise; Fall my favorite season......although I might just say that about each season as it comes along.

Looking back at the threads that have run so consistently through my life......I find it comforting. They are my roots and structure and foundation. Although there have been years when I could not give them as much time or attention as I may have wanted, I have not let them go. They are 'me'.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend!

Warmly,

Margaret

October

This afternoon Marc, Patrick and I will head downtown, grab a bite to eat and then take in a professional soccer game. This is something that those two, Marc and Patrick, usually do together along with a couple of their friends, but this time I'm coming along. The two of them (and Peter) grew up playing soccer, have an understanding of the game and all of its nuances that I do not, and share a tight bond regarding it.  Marc coached our older boys team for seven years, all the way through high school.  Although I can't participate in many (most) of their conversations about this sport, I enjoy them. I am happy that this is one of the ways they know each other well; something that they've been able to do together over the course of the years.

As soon as the game is over the three of us will head to the airport where Pat will catch a red-eye flight to a new city, a new job and a new chapter in his life. He is taking a chance, planting himself somewhere unexpected and staying open to see where it leads.  When we come home Marc and I will begin a new chapter in our lives as well. Another one. Looking back, that is what our relationship, marriaige and family have been all about. Beginnings and transitions. Endings that are melded into different beginnings. There is always something new, something that is over and a whole bunch of real life in between.

As I think about his send off, I know that my hopes are the same as those of most parents: that we have done an 'OK' job. That we have taught him what he needs to know. Prepared him for most situations. Helped him out enough, but not too much. That he leaves loaded with love and confidence and the knowledge that he has people he can call on whenever he needs to, for whatever reason he needs to. That he understands the power and strength of love and family.

Wishng you and yours a wonderful week!

Warmly, Margaret

A New Place To Visit

I started this blog for a number of reasons, an important one being that I planned to use it as a way to explore my recently emptied nest. To figure out how, after years of very purposefully raising three children, I would reposition myself. To find what life had waiting and where it would lead. To invite anyone who was interested to come along, because traveling with good company is always better.

When my youngest left for college a year ago, I faced into a new era that seemed to have many more hours in a day.  Although I wasn't exactly sure what to do with them, I had some ideas, got brave, took some chances. 

Still......as it happened, as each boy took the next step toward becoming an independent and self-sufficient adult, it came as somewhat of a surprise. A little bit of a shock because the years did seem to fly by so fast. Each time I watch them leave it is with a combination of love, pride and hope for their future. There is also tinge of loss on my part. I know I'm not unique. I will miss them. Every parent must feel this way.

This week one of our sons accepted his first post-college job. Next Tuesday he will move to a city in the Midwest and then live, at least for awhile, far away from where he grew up. So different from the past few years of college, when he lived four and a half hours away and in the same university town that I did for a few years. When I could count on him coming home for long weekends or summer and holiday breaks.

After so many years, it is simply habit to imagine the daily lives and routines of all of my boys; what they might be doing, thinking, feeling. What they pass in the daily to and fro. The view outside their window. It's a bit disorienting, then, to enter this phase that I'm not so familiar with. It is exciting......normal......the natural next step......necessary......OK......but for me, disorienting.

Although I will miss having him close and having our visits predictable, this is and should be, only about him. He is looking forward and that alone makes me feel very happy. And I am looking forward, too.

And...... we will have a new place to visit.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend!

Warmly,
Margaret

Date Night

I went on a date Saturday night. I mean...... a real date. 5 PM found me dressed in a swingy black get-up paired with jewelry and make-up applied with care. My hair was fresh out of hot-rollers. I wore heels and carried my good purse.

We were seated for dinner, table reserved. Ordered cocktails and wine, three courses and coffee. Our meal finished up with just enough time to walk the couple blocks to Benaroya Hall and find our seats, but we were left with precious little time for people watching. Indulgent, but a favorite part of any event.

This concert was my birthday present: Tickets for the opening night of the Seattle Symphony season and the inaugural concert of its new music director. The program, my date, the event......was fun, funny, inspiring, energetic, dreamy and thought provoking. Marc somehow knew that I was starved for this very evening. This very experience.

We don't attend the symphony often enough and don't always spring for box seats ......but on this night, he did. For me. For my gift. We got settled, listened to the musicians tune their instruments and looked forward to this maestro's interpretation of the program. We watched gleaming brass and angled bows. Anticipated the pulse and movement of the percussion section. It was mesmerizing. The next couple of hours would surely transport me to another space; to that meditative place of being immersed in the moment and far away from the necessary but niggling tasks of the day to day.

He made an effort, my perfect date......the one who gave me a perfect view surrounded by perfect acoustics for my birthday. After years together....he knows me well. Which is why its possible that he only pretended not to hear me when I leaned over and whispered, " Not sure why, but I just thought about the Muppets." 

A quizzical look. A furrowed brow.

"The Muppet's," I whispered louder behind my hand. "You know...the puppets?"

I motioned. I chuckled and smiled.

"The two that sit up in their theater box and heckle?"

He shook his head, motioned a shush with his index finger, then refused to look at me. He knows. It's happened before: an unfortunate case of giggles in an inappropriate situation, most likely inherited from my mom. One look and it could be all over.

Do you remember, Statler and Waldorf, the elderly gentlemen that appeared in nearly every episode of The Muppet Show? The tuxedo clad, grey and balding chaps who were chock full of themselves and their opinions? They thoroughly enjoyed the sport of berating each performer and cracking each other up with their pomposity and put downs. I have no idea why they crossed my mind. There was no one I saw that looked like either of them......almost no one.  Not one person I noticed that appeared stuffy or uppity or critical. In fact the atmosphere in the house was relaxed and energetic and lively. Seattle is especially known for it's casual and notably un-stuffy demeanor and attitude, so this was no reflection on the feel inside the performance hall. It's just that, I have a certain sense of humor and this is what I thought of at this particular moment.

I willed it not to happen and it didn't. By the time the program began the potential to giggle had passed. I was in a good place seated next to the one I love. Experiencing music and its power to tell a story; to record history and emotion. Thankful to be in the presence of talent, creativity and excellence. Of years of hard work, dedication, passion and love for one's craft.

The new music director was the master of the evening and of the audience. He radiated charm and individuality and a liveliness that some may not consider when they think about the symphony. But it was there.....accessible and fun. And I was there. In my seat, smiling and lost for a couple of dreamy hours.

Wishing you a wonderful week!
Margaret

Proud, Happy

At this moment I am a weepy-proud mess. A big sap, tearing up and not getting anything at all accomplished. I am proud and happy. I just think some days are like this.

Change and moving on has been the subject of many conversations this week. The content of a lot of reading. Parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents and friends that I know, they're all watching the yearly tide of young people moving away from them. It's on to the first day of preschool, kindergarten, elementary, middle, high school or college. The current flows toward new friends, new experiences, new jobs, new ideas, new challenges. Whether in baby steps or giant steps, they walk, run, ride, drive, fly and dream their way toward what their future holds. And hopefully the rest of us will remember just how important this process is. How important it is to be there for them......not to choose the dream, but to support it.

Yesterday a friend's facebook status mentioned that her oldest was moving to a different city in a different state to begin a new job. College and graduate school are finished and her child is taking the logical, and in this economy, sought after next step for any graduate. In somewhere around 140 characters she expressed the weight and multitude of her conflicting emotions: love, pride, happiness, sadness, confidence, trust and surely, relief.

So all of this......this is what turned me into that weepy-proud mess I just mentioned. My kids have dreams. And as much as I would love to just make them all work out......it's neither my job nor my place. But standing behind them in support as they take the necessary steps......that is.

I guess I've become very aware of all the work they've done so far. They've plodded along and it's led them places, some of which I can attach names to and some that only they know. I am just so very proud.

And you know what else? Becoming aware of what they have done/are doing/will do has encouraged me to take renewed notice of my own dreams and where I'm going. I've plodded along and have taken necessary steps as well, both baby and giant ones. And they've led me to some places I can attach names to and to some that only something larger than myself knows for sure. I am just so very happy.

Hope you have a wonderful weekend,
Margaret

**Peter is in London for the next month with the very talented musician David Boone as he works to produce his next album. I hope you'll click on this link to find out more about this songwriter/musician and what's happening in London!

***Ahhhh......I couldn't help coming back to add this link I just came across. It's about Finding Time.....bits and chunks of it that you can use to make some of your dreams, thoughts and passions a reality. It's also by Anne Lamott...one of my very favorite writers. Love her real, always tell it like it is style.

On Writing....On Blogging

I decided to begin a blog for a few different reasons but mainly to use as vehicle during a time of transition. I wanted to find out what would surface and figure out which way to go. I hoped it would teach me important things about myself, my changing role, goals and priorities. At the same time I devoted more hours putting pen to paper and writing. It all fits together.

This is what I've found so far:

** I enjoy the process of recording the day to day twice a week on this blog and the direct interaction that comes with it. It is casual and spontaneous and has a different feel than writing an essay or short story.

**I enjoy finding photographs to accompany each post. Whether they fit the topic directly or rather obliquely....they make sense to me.

**Hardly anyone puts pen to paper anymore....more like fingers to keys to LCD screen. However it happens, collections of words still appear. Marc gave me a red Moleskin notebook a couple months ago so I would have a place to jot down thoughts and ideas. And I do......so there is my pen to paper. 

** Outside of this blog, personal essays and short pieces of fiction are where I've landed for awhile.  I like the challenge of saying something within the confines of an assigned word count. The way it makes me distill a piece to the bones; a contrast to how wordy I am in live conversation.

 **I'm pretty sure I could tell the most embarrassing tales about my boys here on this space and would never hear back about it. So very tempting........but of course I won't. 

**Some days I don't have a clue what I'm going to say. The steam of a shower, a long walk or baking usually helps. I'm without an oven at the moment. It's been tough without cookies.

**Spending time doing something I truly enjoy has been a great way to move through life's changes. They're inevitable, right?

Hope there is something you enjoy spending time doing as well!

XO
Margaret

Father's Day

This close to Father's Day, it's hard not to spend time thinking about the first time I told Marc he was going to be a dad. The first time both of us realized we were going to be parents. We both hoped it would happen but assumed it would take awhile. It didn't.

About a year after we were married he was assigned to work in a clinic in Spokane for six weeks. No big deal. My parents live there so I would drive across the state for a short visit with all of them at the half way point. After a few servings of pot roast at my parents dinner table the first night, my mom made a comment. I was really hungry for some reason.... and for red meat, which wasn't necessarily normal for me. It struck me as a little strange when I thought about it on the drive home, but I might have just missed her cooking. A couple additional symptoms prompted me to do a pregnancy test within the week. I was pretty sure I felt different.

When I made the call to Spokane it took nearly a minute for Marc to respond, but in a good way. In a 'suprised-it-happened-so fast-that-I'm-speechless' way. Our life would change, but then it had several times already. It changed in a big way when we met, when he started medical school, when we got married. In the years leading up to that we had both gone though change separately....college, graduation, new jobs, a few moves. We were used to it, welcomed it and realized we had little control over much of it. The stuff of life. Neither of us are the type that needs the future to be too planned out or perfect. When we attempted to map out the best time to start a family, we could think of reasons, financial and otherwise, to put it off until much later.......but we really wanted it to happen sooner if at all possible. So with little money, a lot of trust and big plans we jumped in. We weren't impulsive....simply realistic. Why wait?

Even though we didn't have anything tangible to show for it.....no morning sickness, no ultrasound picture, no baby bump.....we were parents. Physical evidence would come soon enough, but I'd listened to the heartbeat, seen the pregnancy test, made the phone calls. 

Every moment of the past many years of parenthood has illuminated places inside of us that we weren't even aware existed. We've found strength  and humor and creativity. Patience and unconditional love. We learned to trust ourselves and the process. To trust our boys to make the right decisions; to learn from their mistakes. It doesn't mean that those things weren't difficult sometimes. They were, but the difficulties stretched us all. It makes me laugh when I describe our parenting experience this way. The phrase that comes to mind is  "but our kids would beg to differ."  And they do. They're our kids. We're their parents. I'm not sure they will see the big picture until they have some of their own.....but I hope that someday they make big plans, are not afraid of change, trust the experience and jump in. It's been amazing.

Happy Father's Day!