Yesterday afternoon, Haven, Zoe and I went for a walk around the neighborhood with our neighbor Laura and her baby Everett (Haven is four weeks older than Everett). I'd been struggling with a headache earlier in the day and was craving a nice long nap (which I wasn't afforded by Mis Haven), but the walk seemed to help clear my head and perk me up. Laura was great company - it's nice to have another new mom nearby so we can talk shop. It also serves to reassure me that what I'm going through is quite normal.
As we were coming back toward home, there was a wonderful sweet scent in the air. We looked around and I spotted a citrus tree that was starting to blossom in the yard we had just passed. Oh, I love the smell of citrus trees in the springtime! Trees are starting to flower and blossom - there's a stick tree (meaning, a tree that has no leaves) near our apartment where the blossoms are just beginning to emerge. A few small round buds, a few white flowers - it will be full and beautiful soon. I love springtime in Los Angeles!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Just call me Lightning
Does anyone remember those things called Rollerblades? I do. My brother had them at our 1990 Johnson Family Reunion and I remember what a novelty they were, how new, and how cool he was zipping around on those weird rollerskates that looked like iceskates but didn't require ice. That was nearly twenty years ago.
I had rollerblades in high school. I loved them because they used the same motion as cross-country skiing, a motion that makes me a feel a bit like I'm flying. I'm sure I was a sight to see when I was out rollerblading - skinny bow-legged legs anchored by big bulky black shoes with wheels, and most likely a bulky baggy sweatshirt to balance out the whole ensemble (bulk-twigs-bulk). Oh, and wrist guards. My friend Marchell insisted that I wear wrist guards, lest I fall and break my wrists. I wore them faithfully, as I'm pretty sure she told me a gory story about someone snapping their wrists.
My favorite rollerblading story is from my church youth group days and involves a slow afternoon, a large hill, and some rollerblades. Our youth group had taken a trip up north to Duluth, a small city on the shores of Lake Superior, to perform a week of Vacation Bible School for a very small church perched on the top of a lovely green hill just outside of town. Duluth, unlike the rest of the state of Minnesota, is in fact hilly and we, at the end of our stimulating puppet-laden day, were waiting to head back to our cabins for the night, loitering around the Big Red Van while a few people finished up at the church. This is when Tim had the brilliant idea to rollerblade down the large hill. Why not? There was time to kill and there were brakes on the rollerblades. Christy and Rachel decided to join in and the rest of us, well, we watched. What would be the harm in cruising down a large hill, down a street that ran perpendicular to the highway? And so they were off. We watched as they laughed and shouted to one another, speeding along the ashpalt, sparks beginning to fly from the back of their rollerblades, their brakes wearing out. Rachel, with laughter in her voice, peeled off to the ditch first. Tim continued about half way down the hill before realizing that, with upcoming traffic, his best bet would be to crash in the ditch as well. But Christy, well, she saw the cross-traffic on the highway and, admittedly, panicked a bit. She was flying down the hill, trying to determine the best way to stop and rather than seeing the soft green blanket of grass to either her left or her right, she instigated a crash-landing right there in the middle of the street, on the rather unforgiving asphalt. In the end, Christy was okay - a leg full of road rash, indeed, but no major injuries. And she had a pretty kickass story to tell, as she was the only one who made it most of the way down the hill.
For this reason, however, I prefer flat surfaces, or brakes, or skis and a bank of snow.
And tonight, I broke out the old rollerblades, the big bulky black ones that say 'Lightning' on the back, and took the dog out for a (reluctant) run around the neighborhood. It felt good to glide again (though I had a hard time convincing Zoe how exhilirating it was). I didn't have my wrist guards (sorry Marchell!) and I'm sure I was still a spectacle - big rollerblades, tiny jeans that I can't yet quite fit back into, big grey sweatshirt from college, and a dog that drags her heels. Yes! Just call me Lightning.
I had rollerblades in high school. I loved them because they used the same motion as cross-country skiing, a motion that makes me a feel a bit like I'm flying. I'm sure I was a sight to see when I was out rollerblading - skinny bow-legged legs anchored by big bulky black shoes with wheels, and most likely a bulky baggy sweatshirt to balance out the whole ensemble (bulk-twigs-bulk). Oh, and wrist guards. My friend Marchell insisted that I wear wrist guards, lest I fall and break my wrists. I wore them faithfully, as I'm pretty sure she told me a gory story about someone snapping their wrists.
My favorite rollerblading story is from my church youth group days and involves a slow afternoon, a large hill, and some rollerblades. Our youth group had taken a trip up north to Duluth, a small city on the shores of Lake Superior, to perform a week of Vacation Bible School for a very small church perched on the top of a lovely green hill just outside of town. Duluth, unlike the rest of the state of Minnesota, is in fact hilly and we, at the end of our stimulating puppet-laden day, were waiting to head back to our cabins for the night, loitering around the Big Red Van while a few people finished up at the church. This is when Tim had the brilliant idea to rollerblade down the large hill. Why not? There was time to kill and there were brakes on the rollerblades. Christy and Rachel decided to join in and the rest of us, well, we watched. What would be the harm in cruising down a large hill, down a street that ran perpendicular to the highway? And so they were off. We watched as they laughed and shouted to one another, speeding along the ashpalt, sparks beginning to fly from the back of their rollerblades, their brakes wearing out. Rachel, with laughter in her voice, peeled off to the ditch first. Tim continued about half way down the hill before realizing that, with upcoming traffic, his best bet would be to crash in the ditch as well. But Christy, well, she saw the cross-traffic on the highway and, admittedly, panicked a bit. She was flying down the hill, trying to determine the best way to stop and rather than seeing the soft green blanket of grass to either her left or her right, she instigated a crash-landing right there in the middle of the street, on the rather unforgiving asphalt. In the end, Christy was okay - a leg full of road rash, indeed, but no major injuries. And she had a pretty kickass story to tell, as she was the only one who made it most of the way down the hill.
For this reason, however, I prefer flat surfaces, or brakes, or skis and a bank of snow.
And tonight, I broke out the old rollerblades, the big bulky black ones that say 'Lightning' on the back, and took the dog out for a (reluctant) run around the neighborhood. It felt good to glide again (though I had a hard time convincing Zoe how exhilirating it was). I didn't have my wrist guards (sorry Marchell!) and I'm sure I was still a spectacle - big rollerblades, tiny jeans that I can't yet quite fit back into, big grey sweatshirt from college, and a dog that drags her heels. Yes! Just call me Lightning.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
This might show up on trivial pursuit one day
This is from the little facebook ditty that everyone and their cousin is filling out on facebook. But I like my list, so I'm posting it here as well.
1. I love to iron clothes. I find it very satisfying to smooth out the wrinkles.
2. I have a Newfoundland dog named Zoe, who I think is the best. She's big and gentle and has starred in a (homemade) music video.
3. One of my dreams is to raise Newfoundlands, though I think it would require involvement in the dog show circuit, which I don't really want to do. I basically want to live somewhere a little more rural and have a pack of Newfies. We will have to invest in a turbo-vacuum and super-mop if this dream ever comes true. I'm also not sure if anyone would ever come visit us.
4. I think Warren is a great name for a big dog. It happens to be my father-in-law's name, so I think that idea is out.
5. Despite his lifelong goal to make me cry, and despite the fact that we are SO VERY different from one another, I think my brother likes me.
6. I like my brother.
7. I like my sister, too, which I think is evidenced by my lifelong habit of copying everything she does - the same glasses, the same instrument in band, the same cross-country ski team, and even, just like she did, delivering my firstborn child a month and a half early during the third week of August.
8. When I think of things of beauty, I think of playing the oboe, or cross-country skiing on a beautiful, quiet winter day.
9. Winter is one of my favorite seasons. I think there is something so magnificent about witnessing a snowfall.
10. March is my favorite month in Los Angeles - the hills are green, flowers and trees in bloom, the sky is clear, and the air is warm. It's really lovely.
11. March is my least favorite month in Minnesota. It's cold and gray and cold and gray and soggy. And gray. And cold.
12. And, in case you haven't noticed, I love weather. I attribute this to a) growing up in Minnesota, where the local news weather forecasts are like mini-lessons in meteorology (I know the difference between a bow echo and hook echo on a radar map) and b) growing up in a household where catching the forecast from all three local broadcasts was a sport.
13. I've lived in California for seven and a half years, and while it's kind of growing on me, I still consider Minnesota home.
14. Things I like about southern California: avocados, In-n-Out Burger, Trader Joe's, the fact that it's flip-flop weather most of the year.
15. While I consider Minnesota home, I'm convinced that my soul lives in Oregon.
16. I love Oregon.
17. When I'm overwhelmed, or melancholy, or need some space, I long to be near the ocean and to watch and listen to the waves.
18. In high school, my mom let me paint my bedroom whatever color I wanted, as long as it matched the red mini-blinds and red throw rugs. I painted it mediterranean blue filled with very colorful fish and painted the trim work - all of it! - red and yellow and blue. I wasn't smoking anything when I did this.
19. I just realized that my grandmother's kitchen was once painted orange and then later seafoam green. Perhaps bright colored rooms are part of my heritage.
20. I find dreams fascinating.
21. I like personality profiles. I'm an ENFJ (Myers-Briggs), NF (Kiersey Temperament Sorter), Four (Enneagram), and my strengths are Input, Empathy, Harmony, Intellection, and Adaptability (Strengths Finder).
22. I once thought about being a veterinarian. I also thought about being a feminist theologian. And an English teacher. And a homeopath. And a doula. And a pastor.
23. Two years ago at the Minnesota State Fair, I watched a cow give birth. It was one of the most powerful and amazing things I've ever seen.
24. I love the Minnesota State Fair.
25. This past summer, I gave birth to Haven. It was one of the most powerful and amazing experiences of my life.
26. I love Haven.
1. I love to iron clothes. I find it very satisfying to smooth out the wrinkles.
2. I have a Newfoundland dog named Zoe, who I think is the best. She's big and gentle and has starred in a (homemade) music video.
3. One of my dreams is to raise Newfoundlands, though I think it would require involvement in the dog show circuit, which I don't really want to do. I basically want to live somewhere a little more rural and have a pack of Newfies. We will have to invest in a turbo-vacuum and super-mop if this dream ever comes true. I'm also not sure if anyone would ever come visit us.
4. I think Warren is a great name for a big dog. It happens to be my father-in-law's name, so I think that idea is out.
5. Despite his lifelong goal to make me cry, and despite the fact that we are SO VERY different from one another, I think my brother likes me.
6. I like my brother.
7. I like my sister, too, which I think is evidenced by my lifelong habit of copying everything she does - the same glasses, the same instrument in band, the same cross-country ski team, and even, just like she did, delivering my firstborn child a month and a half early during the third week of August.
8. When I think of things of beauty, I think of playing the oboe, or cross-country skiing on a beautiful, quiet winter day.
9. Winter is one of my favorite seasons. I think there is something so magnificent about witnessing a snowfall.
10. March is my favorite month in Los Angeles - the hills are green, flowers and trees in bloom, the sky is clear, and the air is warm. It's really lovely.
11. March is my least favorite month in Minnesota. It's cold and gray and cold and gray and soggy. And gray. And cold.
12. And, in case you haven't noticed, I love weather. I attribute this to a) growing up in Minnesota, where the local news weather forecasts are like mini-lessons in meteorology (I know the difference between a bow echo and hook echo on a radar map) and b) growing up in a household where catching the forecast from all three local broadcasts was a sport.
13. I've lived in California for seven and a half years, and while it's kind of growing on me, I still consider Minnesota home.
14. Things I like about southern California: avocados, In-n-Out Burger, Trader Joe's, the fact that it's flip-flop weather most of the year.
15. While I consider Minnesota home, I'm convinced that my soul lives in Oregon.
16. I love Oregon.
17. When I'm overwhelmed, or melancholy, or need some space, I long to be near the ocean and to watch and listen to the waves.
18. In high school, my mom let me paint my bedroom whatever color I wanted, as long as it matched the red mini-blinds and red throw rugs. I painted it mediterranean blue filled with very colorful fish and painted the trim work - all of it! - red and yellow and blue. I wasn't smoking anything when I did this.
19. I just realized that my grandmother's kitchen was once painted orange and then later seafoam green. Perhaps bright colored rooms are part of my heritage.
20. I find dreams fascinating.
21. I like personality profiles. I'm an ENFJ (Myers-Briggs), NF (Kiersey Temperament Sorter), Four (Enneagram), and my strengths are Input, Empathy, Harmony, Intellection, and Adaptability (Strengths Finder).
22. I once thought about being a veterinarian. I also thought about being a feminist theologian. And an English teacher. And a homeopath. And a doula. And a pastor.
23. Two years ago at the Minnesota State Fair, I watched a cow give birth. It was one of the most powerful and amazing things I've ever seen.
24. I love the Minnesota State Fair.
25. This past summer, I gave birth to Haven. It was one of the most powerful and amazing experiences of my life.
26. I love Haven.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Accomplishments of the week
1. Eating salad everyday for lunch for the second week in a row. Miraculous.
2. Mopping the floors for the first time in, oh, 8-12 months. I don't really remember. And it may not sound like a big deal but when you live with a hairy, slobbery dog that can carry upwards of 15 pounds of dirt in her fur at any given time, the floors they get dirty. This week I've been walking around in white socks, marveling at their cleanliness.
3. Keeping my shit together. Aaron's out of town this week and it's just been me and Haven and I've done REALLY WELL. Everyone is alive and kicking, well-fed and in clean clothes. Mostly. I'm rather proud of myself for flying solo. 4 months ago I think I would have had a panic attack at the prospect of me and a baby alone for a whole week but so far so good.
2. Mopping the floors for the first time in, oh, 8-12 months. I don't really remember. And it may not sound like a big deal but when you live with a hairy, slobbery dog that can carry upwards of 15 pounds of dirt in her fur at any given time, the floors they get dirty. This week I've been walking around in white socks, marveling at their cleanliness.
3. Keeping my shit together. Aaron's out of town this week and it's just been me and Haven and I've done REALLY WELL. Everyone is alive and kicking, well-fed and in clean clothes. Mostly. I'm rather proud of myself for flying solo. 4 months ago I think I would have had a panic attack at the prospect of me and a baby alone for a whole week but so far so good.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Accomplishment for the Week
Eating salad. And not just once, but at least 3 times this week. We can credit my healthy eating habits to my foresight: Sunday evening I cut up some carrots, cut up some green peppers and put them in little containers and placed them in the fridge next to the bag o'salad. Voila! Salad in 30 seconds or less!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
A Bowl Empty
This evening, as the sun was setting on a rather warm day, Haven, Zoe and I went for a walk around the neighborhood. It was a perfectly pleasant walk - light but not bright, warm but not hot, easy but not slow. I've been nursing the dull end (hopefully) of a headache all day and it was nice to finally make our way outside for some air and leg stretching. It was just enough.
This summer I came home from the contemplative retreat with a ceramic pinch pot called a beggar bowl. I can't quite as eloquently describe the purpose of the bowl as my friend Sarah can, but it has something to do with holding the emptiness of the bowl, as a beggar, and trusting that god will fill your bowl with just enough for the day. Since Haven's arrival, I've held this bowl often and usually my prayer, along the lines of Anne Lamott's please please please prayer, is something of a 'just enough.' When Haven was in the NICU, the just enough came in the form of being able to hold her, having a great nurse on duty, enjoying a night with relatively few alarms, or producing milk. Today, it came in the form of a pleasant walk. This past week, it was all the wonderful people who have watched Haven while I've been back at work.
Last week I was going to blog about my three day tension headache on the eve of my return back to work, but the headache went away and I did my best to let the tension rest. But as much as I try to keep my mind from it, I'm like a moth to the flame and seem rather consumed with trying to figure out what to do with my life, with our lives as a family. Sometimes, which is really all the time, I wish for clarity. And sometimes, which is often, I wish even for an inkling, just some hint of what to do, what I'm called to, what is calling me, what is the best decision. Even last spring, when I was trying to sort out the midwife/doctor/homebirth/hospitalbirth questions, I had a sense that I knew what I wanted, that I just needed to listen. But, for some reason, I don't have that sense now - I feel blocked, or as if there is nothing to hear for all of the straining I may do.
And so the bowl. I think it is time to hold my beggar bowl once again and ask for just enough. And if you are of the bowl holding persuasion, or are a praying type, maybe you too could ask for just enough on my behalf. Or some clarity. Or even a faint whisper in my ear.
Haven is awake.
This summer I came home from the contemplative retreat with a ceramic pinch pot called a beggar bowl. I can't quite as eloquently describe the purpose of the bowl as my friend Sarah can, but it has something to do with holding the emptiness of the bowl, as a beggar, and trusting that god will fill your bowl with just enough for the day. Since Haven's arrival, I've held this bowl often and usually my prayer, along the lines of Anne Lamott's please please please prayer, is something of a 'just enough.' When Haven was in the NICU, the just enough came in the form of being able to hold her, having a great nurse on duty, enjoying a night with relatively few alarms, or producing milk. Today, it came in the form of a pleasant walk. This past week, it was all the wonderful people who have watched Haven while I've been back at work.
Last week I was going to blog about my three day tension headache on the eve of my return back to work, but the headache went away and I did my best to let the tension rest. But as much as I try to keep my mind from it, I'm like a moth to the flame and seem rather consumed with trying to figure out what to do with my life, with our lives as a family. Sometimes, which is really all the time, I wish for clarity. And sometimes, which is often, I wish even for an inkling, just some hint of what to do, what I'm called to, what is calling me, what is the best decision. Even last spring, when I was trying to sort out the midwife/doctor/homebirth/hospitalbirth questions, I had a sense that I knew what I wanted, that I just needed to listen. But, for some reason, I don't have that sense now - I feel blocked, or as if there is nothing to hear for all of the straining I may do.
And so the bowl. I think it is time to hold my beggar bowl once again and ask for just enough. And if you are of the bowl holding persuasion, or are a praying type, maybe you too could ask for just enough on my behalf. Or some clarity. Or even a faint whisper in my ear.
Haven is awake.
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