Day 22: Windblown

We attended a birthday party for a friend today. After days and days of freezing cold weather, it was a beautiful, sunny, wintry-Florida day at the park with temps in the upper 60's and a good breeze blowing. In fact, it was just enough breeze to prevent the birthday candle from staying lit. I was impressed with the 3-year-old birthday girl's patience.

Day 21: Gingerbread party

I hosted a cookie decorating party today for my friends (who also happen to be my neighbors, lucky me!). Lest any of you be tempted to think I've gone Martha on you, allow me to explain just how easy this was. Karis and Elise helped make the gingerbread men, then I filled some muffin tins with candy, threw a red-checkered tablecloth on the dining room table, draped a Santa hat over each chair for wearing, and we all had a festive party.

I originally saw the idea for a gingerbread house-decorating party in a magazine, but since all of the kids in attendance were four and under, I opted for a 'pre-baked gingerbread men decorating party'. It was a hit and oh-so-much-fun to watch the kids decorate the cookies. Each had a hard time getting past the deliciousness of the frosting, stopping often to lick their spoons and cookies. But once the adults demonstrated that the frosting made an excellent adhesive for the candy, they were off to the races, loading their cookies with as much candy as possible. The party was casual, fun, and something we'll definitely make a habit of.

Day 20: Concentric

:: With as much as Karis loves and plays with her Russian nesting dolls, I'm surprised the littlest doll still remains. I was sure we'd lose her by now, especially considering where I discovered the nativity set hiding the other day: tucked in a bag, inside of a purse, behind the t.v. cabinet. It was a lucky discovery on my part, and, of course, neither Karis nor her friend had any idea how it got there.

:: I've missed a few days in the DPP this year. It's unusual for me to do so, but it gives me so much admiration for those bloggers who manage to login and publish every day.

:: I published another article for synconation today. I'm enjoying the writing projects trickling in here and there, but I'm also feeling stretched thin. I forever juggle my desire to write within the limits of my precious duty as a mother. I know which one is more important, but I can't help but dream of a time to come when I can have a little bit of structured writing time mixed in with all of my mommy-ness. Karis is going to start VPK in the fall, and I can't help but want to call it something like "free babysitting where she also learns" or "my future writing time". Then again, we're seriously considering expanding our family soon, so....the juggling act will likely continue.

Day 17: Ruby red

Day 16: Play

While Karis napped this afternoon, I took advantage of the beautiful moments alone to play with Karis' Christmas presents one last time before I wrap them up. Apparently, it's become a bit of a tradition to play with her gifts before gifting them to her.

I'm thrilled with the gifts we're giving her this year. Among my favorites are a chest full of dolls from the 70's from her Aunt Megan's childhood collection, complete with outfits, shoes, and hangers. She's going to love dressing her new/old 'big girl' dolls.

I'm also loving the Melissa and Doug Fold 'n Go Barn I scored at a garage sale for $0.25. It was missing the animals that originally came with it, but the 'Farm Animals Bucket' from Target for $10 was just the perfect size. The third present worth noting but not pictured here is a puppet stand. While they currently sell for $70 elsewhere, I was so lucky to find it at Tuesday Morning for $30. Given the flare for drama and storytelling that Matt and I are prone to, I figure any and all children born into our home will love and use this gift in the years to come.

And I'm not going to lie. Karis will have to fight Matt and I to use it on Christmas morning.

Day 15: Downtown view

Karis and her friend Samuel looking out the 3rd floor art room windows at the the Main Street Library.

Day 14: Nativity

I first photographed our nativity set last year. We purchased this set a few years ago at a fair trade store in Chattanooga that has, sadly enough, shut it's doors to the public. I liked this nativity set particularly because of it's durability and kid-friendliness. I'm all for a fancy, off-limits nativity scene to be enjoyed from a distance. But I wanted this one to be accessible to Karis and her friends so that they could reenact the story of Jesus' birth. I was excited to walk in this morning and find Karis doing just that. She had lined up all the characters in a circle around baby Jesus. The image struck me as familiar, and I realized she was telling the story according to the pictures in the Jesus Storybook Bible, Jesus encircled by all the other characters.

I was glad to see the nativity set being used in the hands-on way I had hoped it would be. But I also learned that Karis has some of her Biblical facts mixed up. Joseph was banished to a basket all by himself because his eyes were closed (the artist's rendering), and she explained he was being punished for not looking at baby Jesus. She also told me one of the wise men was a leper (!). And, in the end, she said the scene was missing something. She ran off into her room for a few seconds, returned to the table with a new toy, and then continued to role play with the characters--Mary, Joseph, an angel, three wise men, the barn animals, baby Jesus, and one Fisher-Price alligator. That's my little Florida girl.

Day 13: Holiday baking

Am I the only one that cuts up my sticks of butter so that they will come to room temperature more quickly since I have, yet again, forgotten to take them out of the fridge ahead of time? Oh c'mon, nobody else?

Day 12: Mother-daughter date

We went to see cousin Evie perform in the Nutcracker last night. It was a splendid evening, complete with rare, "special occasion" items such as a velvety, faux-fur-around-the-neck dress (for Karis) and eyeliner (for me). Fancy, indeed.

Day 11: Bethlehem and mayhem

We took Karis to see a local live nativity production with some friends last night. It's a highly anticipated event in our town, and the turn out is in the tens of thousands, requiring rented parking lots, Disney-esque lines, bus rides from lot to location, and general people-herding. Nevertheless, we braved the crowds to get our first taste of Bethlehem reenacted in the 21st century, according to a local Presbyterian church.

My favorite part, by far, was hearing myself and the other mothers attempt to explain to the children what we were doing. The conversation sounded something like this:

Mothers: We're going to see Jesus, children!

Children: Yay, we're going to see Jesus!

Mothers: Well, he isn't going to be real....no, the baby will be real, of course, but he isn't Jesus...um, because Jesus WAS real...but he lived a long time ago. The baby is just acting like Jesus. Pretending, you know. Uh...Like a reenactment. Yeah, a reenactment like the ones that some people do of the Civil War. (sigh) Have you heard of the Civil War, children?

At this point, the fathers fired us stepped in and took over the discussion.

Day 10: The rat pack

A princess, a ballerina, a dalmatian puppy, and wonder woman.
 

Day 9: A new 'do

Day 8: Wolfgang Puck in my fireplace

Matt and I woke up this morning and before we even rolled out of bed, we heard the power shut down in the whole house. It's freezing cold here in North Florida, and Matt and I both knew it could be a cold day for me and Karis if we didn't get moving on a fire in the fireplace. So Matt the Protector headed out, gathered wood, and built us a nice blaze where Karis and I stayed put for the better part of an hour, getting up only to kiss Matt goodbye as he headed out to work.

Soon thereafter I became quite overcome with my desire for coffee. I figured if I could just find a way to heat up water in the fire then I could make a nice french press of coffee. I was further motivated to try by the thought of sharing a cup with our neighbor, Mema. So I rustled up a small pan from the kitchen, filled it with water, and placed it gently on a sturdy log in the fire.

The water seemed to be heating up quite nicely and surprisingly quickly when I noticed that bits of ash would periodically fly up from the embers and slowly fall into the water. Call me crazy, but I figured I could strain them out when I was done. But just as things were just about to reach the boiling point, the heat in the house kicked back on. Feeling a little disappointed but like it was the safe thing to do, I backed the pan out of the fire and poured the water (which smelled like a smokey barbecue joint) down the drain.

My hour-long suffering from cold and no coffee reminded me, once again, how hard life must have been before electricity. I'm quite sure life was consumed by the basics, i.e. keeping oneself fed, warm, clothed, etc. In the end, I still made that French Press of coffee...with water heated in my electric kettle. Ah, sweet, modern-day, 'no ash in my water' electricity.

Day 6: This must be love

The other night Matt asked me to make a salad that he had tried at a party a few weeks ago. And when I say he "asked" me I mean he purchased the ingredients, set them on the counter, and kindly requested we dine on it the very next evening. In other words, he was dead serious about eating it again.

Now, I'm a reasonable woman with a deep and abiding love for the man I married, but I realized just how deep and abiding that love really is as I stirred together the ingredients for watergate salad. The ingredient list reads: cool whip, marshmallows, canned crushed pineapple, walnuts, and instant pistachio pudding mix (!).

As I stirred it all together, ribbons of light green pistachio pudding slowly mixed with the cool whip fluff, creating a subtle minty green substance so airy and light that I can only describe it as other-worldly. It's the stuff I imagine martians enjoy for a late night snack.

This was when I learned "salad" is a forgiving term, requiring absolutely nothing fresh in it in order to go by that name. This was when Karis ate and loved marshmallows for the first time. This was also when I knew how much I love Matt. And, as much as I hate to admit it, this was when I discovered I rather like watergate salad. There, I said it.

***In other news, I had two articles published today. One is over at State of the Re:Union. It's a follow up interview with Operation New Hope, a Jacksonville organization that was originally featured in our pilot episode. 

Secondly, I've started writing for a new music blog Synconation. I'm excited to be a part of a passionate group of writers, each covering our own musical interests. I'll be covering the genres of foreign music and folk music for children. In my first piece, I reminisce about my childhood and introduce audiences to the soulful sounds of the Cape Verdean singer Cesaria Evora. Check out the article here.***

Day 5: Tangelo time

Day 4: Daddy-daughter date

A date to see the Radio City Rockettes.

And, yes, I was totally jealous.

Day 3: The "birthday" aisle

Day 2: Domestic

D is for December Photo Project

It's December Photo Project time of year again, and I'm ready for another month of daily photo posts. Many thanks to Rebecca for hosting again. I always enjoy the challenge of taking photos everyday and sharing them online.

For my first photo, I couldn't help but post this photo I took tonight of Karis playing with her windup ladybug toy on the kitchen floor. It reminded me of another photo I took for last year's DPP. Turns out, on the first of December last year, I posted a very similar photo of Karis playing on the kitchen floor. So fun! Enjoy the daily window into our lives, readers.

Special

Thanksgiving was a wonderful celebration this year. My whole family (siblings and parents) were together for the first time in a LONG time. Erica and I cooked the feast in Jenny's beautiful kitchen throughout the day Thursday. There was something almost sportlike about quietly cooking side-by-side with somebody else who loves cooking as much as I do. Meanwhile the cousins chased each other and the dog round and round the dining room, pretending to be mice and puppies and giggling the whole time. The uncles talked and laughed and aired out the house of smoke when the turkey took a minor tumble in the oven (!).

I was so thankful when the meal turned out fantastic. We served a moist, brined turkey, baked mac and cheese, mashed potatoes and gravy, sauteed mustard greens with crispy bacon, roasted cauliflower with dates and pine nuts, candied sweet potato casserole, sweet potato biscuits, spinach salad, and the obligatory but always delicious cranberry sauce. I consider myself very much a rookie in the holiday feast preparation department, so it was quite rewarding that this one turned out so well.

The rest of the weekend was spent laughing with my siblings, enjoying how we are all so different and unique in our own ways. I slept very little on the trip, my insomnia rearing its nasty little head, reinforcing the sad fact that I'm not as great a traveler as I once was.

I arrived home last night to Matt (who wasn't able to travel with us) and a blazing fire in the fireplace. I had secretly hoped on my drive home that he would have a fire going. I kissed him straight away, thankful that he knows me so well. I woke up this morning at 11 am to another warm fire (double swoon!) and Matt applying temporary tattoos to the hand of my giddy daughter. I arrived just in time to stop him from applying a couple of snowflakes to her neck. It would be creepy, I informed him.

We got dressed and headed out for brunch with the Sunday morning church crowd. We each ordered our own breakfast and then ordered pecan pancakes with maple syrup to share, an essential stop on the breakfast tour. The next stop was the Christmas tree tent where we picked out a goodly-sized fraser fir, loaded it up, and listened to our sleepy, over-stimulated-by-holiday-festivities daughter whine the whole way home. A prompt nap was gifted to her upon arriving home. Matt and I followed suit.

We have a family date to put up the tree tonight, lug the plastic Christmas bins out of the storage room, deck the tree, place the stockings on the mantle, and enjoy some holiday music.

Today is not like other days. Most are filled with the mundane obligations of keeping life afloat, with hurried schedules, house chores, work commitments, bickering, and little time for big milestone celebrations. And while there is so much beauty in those ordinary type of days, I'm so thankful for special days like today. Days where we stop and celebrate and feast and have fun. I know I need the ordinary, but I also really need the special. Like...I need them deep, deep down in my soul. Somehow they speak of the joy of living and the reality that we are, after all, only human.

Photo: The church folk around us waiting to be seated for brunch.

Early

Play

 

 

 

 

 

The one that didn't get away

Two images haunt me. They are images that I wished I had taken photos of when I was standing there thinking to myself, "I really should take a picture of this." But, for various reasons, I didn't. What's ironic is that in both situations, I had my camera with me, and yet I still didn't take the shot. And now those images haunt me.

The first one occurred a few months ago. I was driving in my neighborhood, and I drove past a bench on the corner of Main Street, with a woman was sitting in it. She looked tired. Haggard, really. She was wearing dark pants and a black jacket with one bright orange stripe across her shoulders. What stood out to me was the vivid orange color contrasted against her dark clothes and the taupe-colored building behind her. I was also drawn to the weariness in her face and body language. I couldn't help but wonder a little bit about what her life was like.

I was sitting at a stop light, a few yards away from her when I saw her, and I vividly remember arguing with myself about whether or not to pick up my camera and shoot. My compassion for her weariness won out (as well as my pride in not looking like a wierd-o), knowing that me and my camera taking her photo without permission would probably be unwelcome, at best. I didn't shoot.

The second image I wish I had recorded was one I saw last week. I drove by a church with signs for a fall festival taking place that day. People were beginning to file in for the festivities. As I drove past the church, I noticed the prayer garden which is a year-round ministry of the church. It centers around a life-size stone replica of  Jesus' empty tomb, the door rolled back to celebrate His resurrection. Benches have been placed nearby for people who wish to sit, pray, and reflect on Jesus life and death.

On this particular day, as I drove past, I saw in the field behind the tranquil, reverent prayer garden....(said in a big, male announcer voice)...TWO GIANT MONSTER TRUCKS, crashing down on a row of beat-up cars--the main event of the festival.

Yes, that's right. Christ's tomb in front of a monster truck rally. I still kick myself for not turning my car around to photograph that one.

So, with these missed opportunities fresh in my mind, I was driving Karis to trick or treat at her Great-Grandmother's house a couple of days ago. I turned down her street, and noticed, just before her apartment complex, a large field with overgrown weeds. It was five o'clock, and the magic hour of golden sun was beating down on the tops of the weeds, making the area look like Sting's "fields of gold"...or Bates' "amber waves of grain". Upon seeing it, my brain immediately began lighting up with great photo ops of Karis in her costume, the gorgeous back light, and fun, overgrown background.

So I did what any sensible parent on the road would do. I looked in my rear-view mirror, braked (safely), did a U-turn, parked in the grass, and prevented myself from regretting another missed photography moment.

Morning dance

As the sun rose this morning, I walked by Karis room and spied her dancing with all her favorite stuffed animals, each in turn. I ran and got my camera to capture the moment. (I think everyone could see that coming.) I've been in a bit of a creative slump lately, and I'm ever so grateful for these beautiful, candid moments in my day.

I miss narrative writing, but I have been so busy with life lately that I often don't have the energy left by nap time or bedtime to sit down and be disciplined enough to write. No, those quiet moments are reserved for pre-recorded episodes of Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations, a few good books, and a dwindling bag of Ghiardelli 60% cacao chocolate chips, stashed high in my cupboard to avoid easy reach. I easily reach.

I recently heard somewhere, someplace, by someone with good thoughts (busyness induced memory loss?) that the job of a writer is to create art out of almost any subject. In other words, I can and should strive write (and photograph) creatively and artistically, no matter what the subject. I take comfort in this whenever I fear I might be becoming a one-note song, only blogging about my child or parenting.

I love the relationship between photography and writing in my life. When I write, I'm inspired to photograph, and, similarly, when I take a pleasing picture, I'm often spurred on to write. So, when I'm too tired and undisciplined to sit down and create written stories, I turn to picture stories, hoping for some inspiration.

The most readily available subject these days is, of course, my child. Children are wonderfully unselfconscious and uninhibited in their actions. Karis is no different. She is a walking and breathing story, acting out what's going on in her little mind, not caring who is watching nor posing for the camera. I find it refreshing to photograph her, so I often point my camera in her direction. And usually, just like this morning, it provides just the right creative nudge needed to get me writing again.