this moment

Joining Soulemama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

Wishing you a weekend full of grace and goodness!

weekending {a wee bit late}

I know, I know, it is Thursday night. Well past the weekend, and on the eve of the next.  But some weekends beg to be shared, no matter how many days later.

Last weekend was one of those weekends.  Days filled to overflowing with goodness and loveliness and emotion that reminds us what it means to care deeply and feel connected to others.

As has happened during a handful of moments since our move, a feeling takes hold.  Like a breath, a rustle, a warmth that makes this new house feel more like our home, not the place that is still filled with boxes and large splotches of sample paints on the walls (ahem.)  That feeling of home came to me strongly Friday evening as I spent my first real spell at the sewing machine.  I could see the boys playing outside, the smell of Honey's homemade pizza came from the kitchen where Lovey was dancing along to the Friday-evening music.  And I felt it.  Home.  In a way not yet felt here, knowing that home is a feeling gathered over time and intricately layered upon our lives, sometimes so quietly we are unaware.

This time I was aware.  Feeling it deep in my gut, rising, threatening tears.  I stood watching my daughter dance.  And marveled.  Marveled.  Marveled.

Saturday brought more marveling, and humbled amazement of people.  Their courage, bravery, moxy.  Characteristics I value and hope to possess.

My oldest sister Michele began running two years ago at the age of 45.  And on Saturday, at the age of 47, ran her first marathon.  In the face of recent knee pain, and the discovery of being seriously iron deficient, and with her final weeks of training being not quite what she had hoped because of these.  She ran a marathon.  26.2 miles.

I waited for her near mile 21, and as I saw her round the bend in the distance, I ran toward her.   I hadn't planned to, but something inside was compelled to go toward her, her courage, her bravery, her moxy.  I ran toward her, yelling and clapping and cheering her on.  Her slow and steady, not pain-free, pace.

I even ran along side her for a short distance, giving what felt like meager little support compared to her amazing strength.  She had just come up a very long steep hill, and was smiling despite the discomfort.  Smiling!

For the next several miles two of her daughters ran portions with her.  And my sister Danielle -- who had earlier run the half-marathon -- met up with Michele and ran the last two miles with her.  Ran what would be the most grueling two miles of the day, but she did it to help her big sister reach the finish line.

Look at these beautiful women.  Smiling after 26.2 and 13.1 15.1 miles!

I spent my childhood looking up to my big sisters.  How lucky I am, at 42, to still be looking up to them.  Amazing, beautiful women.

And then there is this.

Sunday, Sunday!

It was spent with the dearest of friends, Jennifer, Gina, and Annie, whose talents and passions and ideas and energy are making gladsome 2013 into a weekend that will be simply amazing.  A. MAZ. ING.

We spent (mostly uninterrupted) time together planning and preparing, and some good 'ol scheming too.  There was laughter, lots of laughter.  From us, and from the gathering of just some of our collective kids.

Being together was a balm.  A familiar warmth.  A heaping of nourishment. An overflowing of gratitude.  A gentle reminder of the ways our connectedness makes this life wonderful.

As was the weekend.

this moment {and last chance to win...}

Joining Soulemama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

Wishing you a weekend full of grace and goodness!

Today is the last day to comment on this post for the chance to receive special mail!

listening

Some mornings there is a moment when the day tells you what to do.

A whisper.  Persistent and clear.  When you leave the dishes undone in the kitchen and slip on the quickest clothes and go.  When you abandon any plans that had been on your list or in your mind.

You follow the whisper, a quiet roar.

Yesterday was one of those mornings.  I heard the whisper, simple and profound.  "Go pick grapes" it said.

So we took a trip (somehow perfectly timed between school bus pick ups and pre-school drop offs)  to a local farm.  A vineyard overflowing with concord grapes.  Where little hands can reach.  Where a toddler can squish and drop grapes by the fistful and it is fine.  Where you can run up and down the rows and still gather 15 pounds of goodness in a short time.

The weather, cool and damp.  Boot weather.

The smell of the grapes, intoxicating, always and forever taking me back in time to my great-grandmother's house where these same grapes grew in her city lot.  I've gotten better at spitting out those pesky seeds since those days as a little girl in her yard.

It was quiet, save for an occasional breeze and exclamations of discovering humantic (Lovey's own word for humongous and gigantic) bunches.  The whisper sighing in soft relief for my having listened.

And me, grateful I did.

this moment {sharing}

Joining Soulemama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

Wishing you a weekend full of grace and goodness!

postcards {the real kind}

I found these little treasures at an estate sale in our neighborhood.  Delightful, don't you think?

I wanted to buy the entire shoe box-full, but instead had to settle for the handful that I found most intriguing.  Intrigued by the pictures, by the colors, intrigued by the descriptions on the back.  Who knew the New Jersey Turnpike had such enticing entrance and exit ramps for easy traffic flow?  Postcard worthy I say.

And Club 31.  Easily one of my favorites, with that just-so kitchen gleaming in its pink floor glory.

Several of the postcards fold open to reveal an entire accordion of pictures inside, giving the recipient more than just one little glimpse of the destination.  Fabulous!

All of these post cards are blank, so they seem to have been purchased as souvenirs.  A lifetime of travels to many different places, stored in a shoe box.  I wonder about those trips and the travelers.  What was experienced that can't be shown in a post card.  I wonder if those travelers ever took out that shoe box and traveled in time and memory back to those countless places.  I wonder.

As I look at, and especially touch, these little gems I hope that post cards as we know them don't disappear.  That they don't become artifacts of history, found only at flea markets and the Smithsonian.  I hope that even in this day of tweeting your current location and sending an Instagram picture to a gazillion followers that there is still room for postcards.  To smell the scent of hand-delivered mail and to feel the texture of a postcard that has, itself, made a trip.  A trip from there to here.


:: I want to mail one of the special accordion postcards to a lucky reader.  Leave a comment for your chance to receive it! ::

this moment {42}

Joining Soulemama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

Wishing you a weekend full of grace and goodness!

bikes and rocks and sticks and dirt

Summer left last night, taking with her the hottest of hot of the last two days, and leaving for us the warm of early fall.  Oh beautiful fall warm.  Along with a rain that I imagined was whispering to each green leaf upon which it landed "alright, it is time now, you may turn."

We spent this morning outside.  In the rain.  With bikes and rocks and chalk and balls and sticks and dirt.  Any sort of goodness that could be discovered.

As the day unfolded got wetter and muddier -- despite the boots and raincoats.  We didn't notice, or didn't care, for the fabulousness of it all.

around here {or, my life with Pal}

It's true, I spend my days following Pal around.  Pal whom we call Squirmy because, well, he has a history.  If I've spent a few minutes doing something else, it inevitably is followed by a look around to discover which drawer, bin, or closet he has been tearing apart.  Seriously.  In the amount of time it has taken me to type these past few sentences he has pulled out the broom and dustpan, gotten a computer cord from the desk and ransacked the drawer of wooden spoons.  Add in a kitchen stool he has easily mastered and I am in heaps of trouble!

This morning after getting two kids onto two different buses at two different bus stops I stood in the front yard for a few minutes and breathed the lovely oxygen given to us by our trees.  Sound silly?  We had some lovely trees in our old neighborhood, but as I looked skyward I wondered if I could ever, will ever, tire of these majestic trees that surround our new house and new neighborhood.  Granted, we haven't gone through the fall leaf raking season yet...

I am lamenting a broken camera lens.  My beloved Nikon VR 18-200.  I am squarely blaming the lens on the mostly blurry, less than inspiring photos of late.  It has suffered a couple bumps on the ground.  Squirmy again.  I couldn't get to him fast enough when his grabby hands were in motion.  Silly me for not storing it in a locked safe on the roof. 

We've had some birthday celebrating around here.  It has been sweet and touching and incredible.  Family and dear friends have been filling this space to the brim with love.  There have been cakes and singing and some can't-beat-it-coolest-real-gumball-machine-presents.  Nevermind that I am finding chewed gum in interesting places.  This kid will remember growing up with a real gumball machine.  I enjoyed a night out with Honey.  A walk in town, sushi, an uninterrupted adult conversation. 

I have been thinking about parenting a bit.  Thinking in a struggling sort of way.  I realize that I need to repair some of the difficulty of the summer and allow compassion to rise again to the forefront of my relationships with my children.  Hard stuff to look at my friends.  But I am looking.  And buoyed by the beautiful artwork my sisters gave me for my birthday.   Glad to have read this post too.

Also in the coolest birthday present department, Honey bought me a Peace Pole for my birthday.  A Peace Pole!  It will arrive later this fall, and plans are underway for a peace gathering.  So it seems the birthday goodness will continue.  Munchkin in providing gumballs for all.

Speaking of goodness and plans and fall.  gladsome planning is well underway.  Oh the great things that are coming together for this year!  Some wonderful women are sharing their talents: Gina and Amy and Annie.  There is still time to register at the early-bird price!

Squirmy has just walked into the room carrying pliers and scissors.  True.

I've been enjoying Twitter.  I resisted it for a long time, but have come to quite enjoy it.  After all, the pace of things right now make it easier to read and write in 140 character increments.  If you want, you can follow me @bcomingclaudine.  It will be like hanging around in my head all day.  Wait, maybe you don't want to be there.  Anyway, I will welcome the company if you do.

Squirmy has just walked into the room carrying a different pair of scissors.  Really?

I've given myself permission to not feel settled on paint colors or decorating or where to hang pictures for the next 12 months.  Instead I've been flipping through the best library books:  Young House Love and Happy Home.  There, I feel better with the stacks of boxes that are in our future family room.

I hear Squirmy talking to Siri on my phone.  He contacts her a couple times a day.  She often responds.  I think they might be in a relationship.  The vacuum cleaner doesn't know.

So, as my oldest has taken to saying, I better Peace Out.