Still Hanging Out Upstairs

Blanket Collection
Chilhuly Garden and Glass

I'm still hanging out here upstairs in the house. The kitchen remodel is plugging along. Plodding forward a full two months after I thought I would be moving our furniture back in (I know........). I am now more realistically referring to this project as the 'downstairs remodel' due to some flooring and millwork that were included. 

Right up front I should tell you that I am so very happy with the couple of guys measuring, sawing, hammering and finishing away down there. I can't say enough about their honesty, work ethic, communication, attention to detail and excellent craftsmanship. But certain things appear to be beyond the control of those spending their days here....and well, during the past week this has become more than obvious: Door/window millwork lumber was returned for the second time because the entire order arrived wrong yet again. The fire door to the garage was for some reason drilled for a different deadbolt than the one that was brought directly to the door store when the order was placed.....just so that type of thing would NOT happen.  Hardware was back ordered. Certain phone calls weren't returned promptly. In the on going saga of our front door lock (you didn't know there was one did you?) we were locked out of our house Friday evening.

And my dog died. I had a week last week....

Normally this might call for diving into a pan of warm homemade brownies while snuggled under my favorite blanket in front of the television, a cold glass of milk at the ready. Since most of my baking equipment is still packed away in the garage......I turned to the next best comfort food: Pasta. 

I began thinking about the way my mom loves macaroni best (and often mentions it!)...... warmed together with canned chopped tomatoes and their juice...... and started out to buy the ingredients for this simple dish. Somehow, my recent passion for kale got in the way......and then my craving for Beecher's Cheese. A can of  cannellini beans made their way into my cart, and well.....this is what I came up with. It was honestly so good, simple and comforting that I made it twice.

~~~~~

Tomat0, Kale and Cheese Pasta

2 14.5 oz cans of chopped tomatoes with their juice
2 cloves minced garlic
1/2 lb kale, washed, de-stemmed, de-ribbed, rolled up and cut into ribbons
2 tsp dried basil (although I think fresh would have been wonderful)
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp salt
freshly ground pepper to taste
3/4 lb of conchiglia pasta (kind of a cross between a fat macaroni and a shell     
  shape....other similar shapes will do!)
1 can cannellini beans (Italian white beans), rinsed and drained
2 or more cups shredded Beecher's cheese

Place tomatoes and their juice, along with the minced garlic, chopped kale, basil oregano, salt and pepper into a large sauté pan or saucepan. Simmer 5-10 minutes until the kale has softened to your liking. Then add the beans.

Meanwhile, cook the pasta to just al dente. Save out a couple cups of the cooking water, then drain the rest from the pasta. Gently toss pasta thoroughly with the tomato/kale/bean mixture in its pan. Add about a cup of the shredded cheese and gently fold until the cheese melts into the hot tomato mixture, there is kale sticking to the sides of the pasta and some of the white beans are lodged into the ends. If you feel the need (and depending on the consistency of sauce you enjoy with your pasta), add some of the reserved pasta cooking water to the pan. Correct the salt and pepper seasonings.

Sprinkle the remaining cup or more of cheese on top and dig in while it's warm.

Makes 4-6 generous servings.

**Marc thought another can of beans would have been nice, but I thought it turned out perfect this way. Your decision!

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead!

Warmly, Margaret

~~~~~

PS. Have you  noticed that I haven't necessarily been sticking to a regular day for my posts. The first year it was EVERY Tuesday and Friday without fail. Then as life changed, I changed......to every Wednesday. Which sort of shifted toward Thursday. Which then became the occasional skipped week of posting. 

One thing I know about this process is that both writing and photography are important to me. So important that if I'm rushed or hurried or simply uninspired and don't feel I can put something 'out there' that I'm happy with, that I'd rather put it off until I can. It's such a great discipline to post once a week with regularity, but on the off chance that I don't show up, please do continue to check back in. Or join me through Blogger. Or sign up to receive an email with each new post. And by all means...please feel free to leave comments. I LOVE hearing from you!

Logan

I met him in a Target parking lot and fell in love in an instant. 

He wasn’t the first puppy I had looked at, but the right one. Just a few months prior, at a breeders suggestion, I was allowed to bring a pup home from her litter for a trial run. Pedro. He was absolutely adorable. Everything one might want in a Golden Retriever pup, except that after our allotted four hours, I knew the timing wasn’t right. The connection wasn’t there. I returned him to the breeder with thanks and an explanation. I had not a doubt that he belonged with another family.

I wanted another pup and knew it would happen at some point in the future but was OK with putting the idea on the back burner for awhile. And then, after stopping in at a friends house one February day I was greeted at the door by her, an eight week old, red-haired Golden Retriever babe in her arms. I oohed and ahhhed and petted and cuddled ......loosing track of the fact that she was even standing there. When I mentioned that a new member of our family was something I’d considered for awhile, she followed up with the information that she thought one of her pups litter mates was still available. Did I want the phone number? It couldn’t hurt to check it out.

I knew how I had felt holding her pup, but wasn’t completely sure I was ready to bring another living, breathing, shedding and un-trained being into our home, which was why I mentioned to Marc that I meant to simply ‘take a look’.  The breeder offered to meet me at a location closer to my home since she would be out that way anyway. 

The Target parking lot.

Round body. Soft red coat. Black marble eyes. Gentle demeanor. Without question or hesitation I transferred him from her arms to mine where his nose settled into the hollow of my neck and his warmth settled into my chest. With barely a word the deal was sealed. As it turned out, he had been returned to his breeder after spending three days with a couple who knew he wasn’t the dog for them (thank you). But I didn't have a doubt. This dog belonged in our family. With that first nuzzle I knew he had a place alongside me, Marc, our three boys, a dog and a cat. And I knew his name: Logan after one of our favorite places on earth, Logan’s Pass in Glacier National Park.

~~~~~

Seven years later his symptoms came on quickly. In retrospect maybe they had been there for a month or so, but it wasn't so unusual for him to throw his food up after gobbling it down all too fast, occasionally skip a meal or to sleep the day away. He was a dog after all. I took him in one day, when after giving him a pat on his way out the back door, I was shocked to feel the bony protrusions of  his scapula. A split second glance registered the outline of vertebrae down the center of his back. Afterward, he declined my offer of cheese. This is a creature that hung out with me almost all day, every day, and in just a few minutes I noticed that he, all of a sudden, looked and acted uncharacteristically different. Like a different dog.

A couple of visits to our regular vet, then an ultrasound at a specialty clinic showed the grim prognosis. The cancer, by the time it was discovered (most probably histiocytic sarcoma) had spread throughout his GI tract and other internal organs. An aggressive bully, insensitive and out for its own gain, it robbed him of 10 pounds, his ability to ingest food or water and stole most of his energy except for an occasional tail wag. 

In the face of bad news I can be logical. Stoic. Able to take the next step forward in order to move through the motions of whatever needs to be done. I was able to ask questions, listen to their answers, take notes, make phone calls, talk to my husband and our sons. I relayed information and knew that the rest of his family was in agreement: whatever we chose to do had to be all about Logan and not one bit about us. He was a loving, loyal, gentle, appreciative, generous and happy creature. Not one of us wanted to prolong his life in the face of pain or suffering. The decision, when the time came, was simple, easy and made painful sense. It was time......and before either of us voiced it, Marc and I had been seated quietly together, independently thinking the same thing. So at 9-something PM on a Sunday night, he was loaded onto a rug in the backseat of our car for the last time.

~~~~~

On this day it is difficult to realize that I will no longer hear a groan as he changes position in his sleep. No wet panting in my face when it’s time for me to ‘GET UP!’ No eager offer (from him) of a morning game of chase around the coffee table. There will be no sound of tail thumping before I even make it ‘round a corner or into a room. No cheering him on right around 7 PM each evening in his frantic search to find a sock he can present to Marc at the front door.  No bits of kibble strategically placed under the kitchen table for who-knows-what doggie reason. 

I have a washer full sheets and a blanket that made him comfortable during his last few days. His bed lays empty at the foot of mine. I miss him deeply and with my whole being. There will be routines to undo; moments I will need to correct in order to remind myself that my anticipation at seeing him is no longer useful.

And I have spent brief moments...... vacillating........wondering...... ‘Did we let him go too soon?’ ‘Allow him to suffer a couple of days too long?’ Sometime ago I remember hearing or reading or being told that the best day to put a pet down is the day before you think you need to.

We did the right thing.

And he is making a bunch of souls very happy in Heaven right now. I am sure of it. Smiling, running, chasing, protecting, patrolling and announcing his presence. Laughing (because research shows that dogs do laugh) and twirling ‘round and ‘round, chasing his tail, in his signature happy-dance move.

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead. XO Margaret

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

Cool. - Empty Nest Repost #8

I have to admit I've wondered ever since I wrote a certain piece a few months ago, if I'd have occasion to refer to it again. The opportunity to say, "Yes......that happened. I hoped it would.....and it did." Well, tomorrow evening it will. Tomorrow evening Marc and I are heading into Seattle to hang out with a couple of our boys at a concert. They WANT to go with us. The only difference between tomorrow's concert and what I originally wrote about is that we'll be seeing someone current and not from our......you know......and oh, I-can-hardly-say-this-because-it-makes-me-feel-sort-of-oldish-and-uncool, but......our 'era'. 

I've had warnings that 'It will be loud, Mom........and long', but except for the fact I'll be missing the one of ours that now lives in New York......I don't care. It'll be cool.

Click here to read the original post:  Cool.

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead.

Warmly, 

Margaret

Fun Stuff

Recently, I opened an email from the instructors of a workshop I'll be attending next month. It will be several days of shooting photos on the Oregon Coast for which I am hugely excited: The light playing off of sand and sea. The thought of capturing quiet, moody scenes; of telling a story in tones of blue and tan. Of instructing my camera to record the monochromatic drama of a foggy morning on the shore or the noisy colors of a seaside town.

All of the above make my heart beat just a bit faster, so when I saw that the subject line of this email read 'fun stuff', I thought 'Yep, it will be.....Can't wait". I scrolled through the message and found that there were a couple of assignments for participants to turn in beforehand. Cool! I love assignments. Love learning. 

The first one asked that we return a collection of 25 or so favorite images we had taken so they would be able to consider ways to work individually with each of us before we all meet up in Oregon. They wanted to find out what kinds of images we like to shoot and be able to identify themes within our work. Sounds good. I was pretty sure I could come up with these and set about placing a few, that to my eyes anyway, were "good" into a desktop file. Turns out, this was a bit more difficult than I thought it would be: 

'I really love this one.....but what will they think? This image speaks to me, but have I made it clear why? I put a lot of thought into this photograph.....but will they understand what it meant to me? Are any of these even......GOOD'??

The second assignment asked the opposite: The request was for a collection of 'misses'; in other words, images we've taken that for whatever reason simply didn't work out. Whaaatt?? My first thought was to politely shoot back a response letting them know I don't normally show people those. That if it was more difficult than I thought it would be to pull together some of my more decent images to show, then sharing any misses might be kind of too personal and embarrassing and.......Oh Geez.....cringe-worthy.

Of course, the reason for this second assignment is that there is just as much to be learned from figuring out what doesn't work as in finding out what does. That pin-pointing the reasons for a miss can translate into more successful and productive time behind the lens. This is perfectly logical. It makes perfect sense. As part of the workshop these two professionals were offering to look at my work from all angles and give me a few pointers so that I might become a better photographer. But still, it meant showing a couple of people who I aspire to be like just a little.......who maybe in some small way I would like to impress with my skills.......some of my worst artistic choices in the form of digital disasters. Why couldn't they simply want look at work I think is good (or even OK) and take it from there?

Years ago, the first time I had a piece of writing critiqued by an entire classroom full of writers, I was a such a nervous wreck I could hardly pay attention to the discussion. After class I quietly collected a manila envelope containing the 30 or so copies of my story marked up with my classmates comments and suggestions, took it home and stuck it, unopened, inside the cupboard above my desk. And even though I had participated with honest effort in this exercise by reading, reviewing and writing constructive criticism and comments on the stories of the others in the class, it still took me a month or more to open it up and read my own. And when I did, I learned a whole lot.

After a couple of days I concluded (correctly) that hesitating to participate in this way made me somewhat of a hypocrite. Me.......the person who constantly encourages my kids and anyone else who will listen to scoot out of their own personal comfort zone and make the time and effort to pursue whatever it is they're most interested in........was having a difficult time thinking about doing just that. It made me feel uncomfortable......vulnerable......like I would be choosing to expose my soft underbelly, and I was reacting like a big chicken. And yet I know it's a necessary part of the process. An important part of the journey.

I think that sometimes in my hurry to learn, my rush to get where I want to be, I am tempted to hop, skip and jump over the small steps. Fortunately, I've been able to figure out that as unsettling as those steps may be, it is even more precarious and difficult to travel backward in order to figure out what I may have missed. I've learned that following a passion (at the risk of utilizing a very overworked phrase) isn't always about becoming GOOD, or even aspiring to BE GOOD, at what ever said passion might be. And it's not AT ALL about being validated, and CERTAINLY SHOULDN'T have anything to do with expecting praise. The truth is that in doing something you enjoy over and over again, one cannot help but become better at it. And in photography the rewards are this: With repetition and in paying close attention to results (whether they be awe-inspiring or astoundingly miserable) one inches ever closer to expressing the thoughts, stories and pictures created in ones imagination within the confines of a visible image.

So I twitched, grumbled and cringed my way through a recent catalog of photographs, stopping to pay attention only to the ones previously deemed worthy of the desktop trashcan. I decided which unfortunate clicks of the shutter I should include in the file labeled Assignment #2 and sent them off, together with Assignment #1.

I don't particularly love to look at my failures and showing them to anyone else is something I like even less. But it makes a difference, and giving them due attention is just as important in the growth process as enjoying the feeling I get with something that 'worked'.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend! I'm going berry picking tomorrow!

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

13.1

I've always loved to walk out of doors. It is a low stress activity. It releases any tension I may be carrying around. It is fresh air and discovery. It is purposeful movement and unexpected moments. It encourages both acute observation and becoming lost in thought at the same time. The repetitive motion puts my world in perspective. It is good for me. 


Throughout my twenties, I took long walks around Greenlake in Seattle several times a week. With my earphones on and my Walkman (it was the 80's) tuned to the classical station, I made my way around the 3 mile path (often more than once) and watched it change with the seasons. At the time I worked in  a hospital lab......a fairly precise and uncreative way to spend 8-10 hours a day......but on the path around the lake, bird calls, breezes and a multitude of instruments provided background music that highlighted the movement and drama of nature.


At some point, as they say, 'life happened'. My walks became fewer and farther in-between, and since I no longer lived close enough, were rarely around the lake. Now and again I've picked it back up, but other responsibilities regularly began to take precedence over the time I used to give myself.  Sometimes I have stopped for weeks or months or ended up walking only when I was either out of town or on vacation. 


This fall a few friends and I decided to meet up twice a week to walk. We had the same goals in mind:  fresh air, exercise,  friendship,  fun. I love that I've made a commitment to show up, not only for myself but for the others as well, and that we spend time out of doors rain or shine. One of the women is a realtor, which translates into the fact that she knows just about every steep hill in the area. We push and/or wait for each other. We encourage and support each other. 


Early on we set a goal of walking the Seattle Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon together and on Saturday we did it.  Although we had planned to keep a somewhat slower pace than normal......for some reason no one did. In fact, I think we all walked faster! We strode past shops, the Public Market, sports stadiums, industrial areas, neighborhoods, schools and parks. We walked into and out of two tunnels, across a couple of over-passes and along the shore of Lake Washington. It was a beautiful and priceless opportunity to view our city in a way we never have before. And......although it had been pouring rain for the couple days previously......and although rain was predicted to fall on that day......the sun came out and there was not a drop that fell on us during the entire 13.1 miles.


3 hours and 37 minutes, and lots of encouragement from bands and bystanders later, we crossed the finish line together. I've been outside walking several times this week. I have my sites set on next year.


Wishing you a wonderful week ahead.


Warmly, Margaret

Something to Think About

A short post today that includes a couple of quotes to ponder. I don't know who to attribute them to (if you do please let me know!), but I'm thankful to have run across them. They both gave me something to think about. I find that it is important for me to remember that, really.....not much comes easy. And I'm pretty well convinced that 90% of achieving most things is defining our dreams and then simply making sure to show up. I would be interested to hear your thoughts.

"Reality is a product of our dreams, decisions and actions."

~~~~~~

"The most reliable way to predict the future is to create it."

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead.

Warmly, Margaret

Treats

I went to a dinner the other night and found that little ribbon wrapped boxes were nestled right above each place setting. I could only assume they were chocolates and because I'm such a fan, was kind of excited to think it looked like the perfect amount to enjoy, one at a time, during the next few days. I was tempted to take a look, intending to save them all for later....... and then noticed a sticker keeping the box closed:

FOR PLANTING NOT FOR SNACKING!

Turns out this was a box of four 'Garden Bon Bons': Beautifully crafted clumps of seeds, organic compost and clay presented as truffles.....each one shaped and dusted with natural pesticides such as coffee, pepper and cinnamon. An enclosed card said that when they are placed on top of soil and watered, each one will sprout Italian Large Leaf Basil, Chives, Italian Parsley or Winter Thyme. Tomorrow they'll go into a couple of pots on a sunny part of our patio.

What a genius idea......So creative and unexpected! I really didn't need the chocolates.....but I'm sure glad I brought my glasses that night, which prevented me from popping one of those delectable looking balls of seed, compost and clay right into my mouth!

Wishing you a wonderfully warm and sunny week,

Margaret

PS: The Rocky Mountain School of Photography appreciated my last few blog posts and created a link to them from their own blog, Paper Airplanes. So thankful for the kind words about me, too!  You can take a look at it here. 

Focusing

One of the things I love about making photographs is that two or ten or twenty of us can come upon the exact same scene and yet choose something completely different on which to focus.  This is just one of the ideas that was reinforced last week during the photography workshop I attended. One of the most important ideas I brought home with me.

Depending on the day, our group of  fifteen participants (plus two instructors) shot at one or two different locations. We were encouraged to take our time and walk around a bit in order to check out the surroundings. To slow down and think before composing our shots. To become aware of relationships within the frame and the play of existing light. To change our perspective by placing ourselves in a variety of positions in relation to what we wanted to shoot. It's amazing how differently you will view a subject simply by taking a step to the right or to the left. By moving either in front of or behind it. By changing your lens, tilting your camera one way or the other, or moving yourself up or down. 

Most importantly, we were encouraged to ask ourselves: Why do I want to take this photograph? What about this particular scene am I attracted to? How can I arrange each element in order to communicate this?

Upon arrival, a few of the shoot locations appeared chaotic and busy and full. I'm thinking that they may have been chosen specifically for these reasons! On those days, the challenge for me at least, was to find simplicity amidst all of this. To sift through the many competing stories I saw in order to  find the one (or two or three) that meant something to me. To figure out which story it was I wanted to tell......and why. 

It wasn't easy. I can quickly become overwhelmed by too much stuff. By too many options. Additionally, some locations were naturally more attractive to me than others. I had to learn to pick and choose and pare down. To remove what might detract and cause confusion in order to highlight what worked.

This business of taking pictures......it's a lot like real life.

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead.

Warmly, Margaret

Discovery

Hello from Missoula, Montana. This is Day 5 of a six day photography workshop at the Rocky Mountain School of Photography and I am practically buzzing with all I've learned. What a great experience this week has been so far.

I have been pushed in ways I had not yet imagined...which is, I guess the beauty of putting ones self 'out there'.  The pay off of paying attention to an urge. A dream. An intuition. Of listening to what makes you happy. Of taking a risk.

The truth is that doing what makes you happy, I have found many times over, isn't necessarily easy. The fact that there are angst inducing decisions involved....that there are times I am forced to stretch and grow and see things differently....tempts me to allow my life to remain, every day, 'as is'.  The past few days I have been busy and tired and missing my home. I've gone to sleep late,  jumped out of bed early the next morning and needed an extra cup of coffee in order to make it thorough the following afternoon. I have entered a room full of strangers and made an effort to get to know them all. I've carried heavy equipment for blocks, been caught out in rain, wind, sleet and snow for hours and managed not to fall into a rushing creek.

Has it been worth it? A definitive 'Yes'! Every single moment! I have learned to see subtleties that one week ago I may not have noticed, improved my technical skills, scrawled pages of notes and asked a lot of myself creatively. I've explored options on my camera's menu I have not used before and discovered further all the places this camera of mine can take me. I have had wonderful conversations with wonderful people. Been challenged to see and compose and shoot in new and different ways. I have defined what I'm capable of...... and realized I'm capable of even more than that. I've settled comfortably into what previously seemed...... uncomfortable.

I have fallen into bed happy each night. Challenged and fulfilled and encouraged and wanting more and more and more of this. And feeling, most importantly, that the pursuit of continually learning and improving my photographic skills is the absolute right path for me to be on.

Wishing you a wonderful week of your own kinds of discoveries!

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

This Week

This is the email I sent to my mom at 10:09 PM last night:

Hello,

Oh my goodness I have just realized what time it is....and I have missed posting
on my blog for only the second time in 15 months. I guess having the boys home
and helping them out has caught up with me. I will do it tomorrow.

On a funny note: yesterday I went on a long walk with my walking group. 5.6
miles, up and down so many hills. I was very tired when we stopped at Starbucks
for coffee.....so much so that I didn't even realize I had gone into the men's
bathroom until I was quite a few steps back out. I even wondered why the seat was up, which should have
been a good solid clue.  In fact, as I was exiting I saw a woman coming out of the other bathroom
.......(which at the time I could only assume was the men's, of course, not knowing that I
had just come out of it) and I kind of judged her for not being able to wait. At
some point I put two and two together.

Goodnight,

Love, Marg

~~~~~

I fill my mom in on certain incidents like this partly because she raised five children and I know she can relate, and partly because I know she will laugh with me. Thank goodness.

Now that the boys are gone, I keep myself busy. I've paid attention to prioritizing the ways I want to spend my time and taken advantage of the amount of time that I now have. The past couple of weeks have served as a reminder of just how busy being a mom can be. And just how different the 'busy' is depending whether the boys are home or not.

At this point in my empty nest I've developed a regular routine. Certain days mean certain things. College breaks and vacations are on the calendar and mentally and otherwise prepared for well in advance. For some reason (even though I knew about them somewhat in advance) the hospital visits, doctors appointments and meal prep of the last couple of weeks threw me.

And there you have it: This is the only explanation I can come up with about why I inadvertently missed my Wednesday post or why I would have unknowingly chosen the men's room.

Wishing you a wonderful week and weekend ahead!

Warmly, Margaret

Drama

One of the reasons we ended up in the California wine country last week was that Marc had a work/educational meeting that he needed to attend. It was three days long, before and after which we took some time for ourselves. Only one of the meals we ate was a work-type dinner and this took place in the barrel room of a winery.

While Marc chatted away with colleagues, I spent time taking evening photographs around the grounds which were set high on a hill and allowed for a circumference of beautiful views. (And of course...there I was crouched low with my camera for the best shots in my dress clothes......) After a few tastes of champagne, we were ushered downstairs to a room illuminated with candles, overhead lanterns and colored stage lights. Dinner and our dinner companions were wonderful......but the best surprise was that we were treated to a few numbers from The Phantom Of The Opera on the small stage that was set up. It was lovely, haunting and eerily beautiful in this darkened room that smelled of wine and wood.

I'm not afraid to admit I enjoy a little drama now and then.

Wishing you a wonderful week!

Warmly, Margaret

Making Sure

It's funny how parenting goes. The more years that pass, the more often I realize that I am digging deeper into it, instead of nearing its end point.  Its not something I will 'finsh' just because my boys are no longer at home.  And thank goodness.....
 
I still have meaningful, helpful and instructive conversations with both of my parents. Sometimes it is an incident that they recall and recount. Sometimes its when I tell them some small thing and one or both of them relates something similar that happened during their marriage or in my family growing up. Welcome advice often comes my way beginning with, 'Did you know that" or "I remember when......"

My boys are 24 and 19 and I still wonder if I've taught them enough.......if they know all they need to know. Have I sent them away with all the necessary information?

Yesterday I watched the day drift from morning sun into grey and windy sheets of rain. At one point I turned on my computer, barely paying attention to the red banner that blared across the top of the page declaring "Breaking News". I thought I would catch up with it later until I realized the alert was about severe weather......including deadly tornadoes passing through Indiana. I've made sure that my boys were instructed about a lot of things, but there was never any need here in the Pacific Northwest, to be sure that they knew what to do in the event of a tornado. So I made the phone call to the one who has lived for less than a half a year in Indiana. Just to be sure.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend.

Warmly, Margaret