Heights and Depths

The sun is shining beautifully this morning, which is quite nice of it considering that most mornings this week have started out overcast. Even when it burns off (and it has), there is something a little impertinent about a summer morning starting out grey.

My youngest niece is getting married tomorrow, to a handsome sailor. I have pledged to sing "O Promise Me". (It's a family joke). Except over the weekend my niece Jane Austen and I decided that she's going to sing with me and it's going to be a mashup of "O Promise Me" and "Endless Love". And believe me when I tell you that I wish we'd thought of that sooner because we really would have worked it up, complete with a dance number and it would have been FANTASTIC!

On the downside, my darling Kiki's momma is slipping away very fast. For the record, ovarian cancer is a very cruel and sucky condition and it should be outlawed. Immediately. I got to say my 'goodbyes' yesterday and now am just waiting. Waiting for the phone call. Waiting to help. Waiting. I learned a lot of important things yesterday, which I will maybe share another time. But one of the most profound was this: I have never before been at the bedside of someone who was actively dying. And it came to me with the most gentle clarity that death is preferable to dying. It was a gift and a luxury to have time to say 'goodbye' and 'I love you' and 'thank you for the gift of your daughter'. And I hope everyone who loves Sooz gets there in time to have that gift. But then my only hope is that she will go swiftly. There will be a huge void in the world with her gone and there will be a lot of pieces to pick up and all that. But her sticking around, suffering, is not right. At all.

As usual, any prayers/candles/naked pagan dances you have to offer would be very much appreciated.

It's not yet 7. Who needs another cup of coffee?



Update: Suzanne passed away on Saturday morning, July 24. I'd said a final 'goodbye' to her about an hour before. I'll need to write more on this later but right now am still processing all that has happened and what it means. Rest in peace, Sooz. You are deeply loved.

Questions I Ask Myself

Spring schedule started today, which means The Child has to be at school at 8am (rather than 8:30am), which means she has to catch the bus at 7:15am instead of 7:45am. Which means that she has to leave the house before I do. Which means she's on her way down to the bus and I'm still in my jammies drinking coffee. Why does this seem so completely delightful to me?

Well, That Was Just Delightful, Wasn't It?

We watched the entire proceedings in the family room of the house yesterday. There was cheering. There was standing when asked to stand, praying when asked to pray and singing when appropriate.

(Hello. Was Aretha's hat not Mag. Ni. Fi. Cent?)

After the deed was done, the tears dried, the tissues gathered up, I returned to the office to privately watch the moment that was next most significant...watching that helicopter lift off, removing W from the precincts of Washington. Because I admit that I'm still a little paranoid after 8 years. First, I was totally sure that Justice Roberts was bollocking the oath on purpose, so that later he could declare the whole thing invalid. (It wasn't until later that I learned that Barack was President at noon, with or without the oath, bobbled or not. Whew). Second, I didn't put it past Cheney & Co. to stage some last minute somethin'-somethin'. (Cheney being in a wheelchair invoked some serious Dr. Strangelove meets Mr. Potter oogies in me, btw).

But the helicopter lifted off, the Bushies were all gone and after the Native American sage burning ceremony followed by an exorcism and blessing with holy water everyone could breath again.

Btw, I loved both Michelle's outfits yesterday. She looked awesome. And of course, he did as well. Man, I'm sorry but having a good looking young couple in the White House again...that is just hot.

(Omigosh...last night we were watching CNN and there's a GOP pundit on Anderson's panel (I forget his name, the one with the mustache), who was talking about the appeal and energy that come with the youth of the Obamas and he said, "No disrespect to my fellow Republicans but what in the world made us think we could beat that guy with a 70 year old man?" Made me blow champagn-ya right out of my nose.)

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I stayed up very late last night and fell asleep on the couch except that I didn't sleep very well at all until just around the time I would normally wake up but then I remembered that it was Wednesday and The Child has late start and I thought, "well, then I can have a late start, too" so I didn't get up until 7. Only now I have to scramble because, you know, I still have to go to work.

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It was sooooooooooooooo nice to have MAB back yesterday. So, so nice.

The Wait, She is Over

Today brings the convergence of two happy events.

First, MAB will be back in the office. This will be beyond superfantastic because just between you and me, I can run the House by myself but I do not want to! Every day just piled on a little more care and weary and there are some monster bags under my eyes now. I will be very, very happy to share the load again. Not to mention, she is hysterical and the mirth factor has decreased by 63% in her absence.


Secondly, of course, within a few short hours both MAB and I (and all our fellow G-men and women) will have a new boss, whose delightful visage will hang in all the lobbies and shine down so handsomely upon us.


And I. Can't. Wait.

There is NOTHING so beautiful to me as this ordered, peaceful transfer of power. And pretty much anywhere in the world that power is transferred peacefully it is because we showed the way. This is one of the great achievements of American democracy, if you ask me, and it is a beautiful thing no matter who is taking the reins.

(The fact that this time it happens to be my guy is just icing on the cake).

The day will conclude when we come together with The Neighbor to enjoy chili and sweet potato pie (two things the new President enjoys...although last night I had a dream that there was a smoked sausage craze sweeping the nation owing to the President's love of same and I woke up in a smidge of a panic because we are fresh out of sausage). We will also have champang-ya. And watch recaps of the day's events.

Meanwhile, I'm going to get into the office early because a) MAB doesn't have her key and 2) I want to start watching coverage on our little office TV until the moment comes to watch the swearing-in on the Jumbotron. This really should be a freaking federal holiday.

Happy joy, my friends, happy joy. May the superfantasticness of your day be exceeded only by the fizziness of your champang-ya.

An Epiphany on Epiphany

High school Christmas concerts are never cancelled, only rescheduled.

If you've been a particularly bad mommy (who is sooooo over going to student productions and celebrated mightily when the concert was originally "cancelled" because of the snow) then the rescheduling could well be the second night after the kids return to school from Christmas break and you'll find out only because you happened to check the school website to see if there was a weather-related late start. Which there wasn't because the snow is all gone but good thing you checked, right? Even though this now means that you will not be doing with you 12th Night evening anything like what you hoped you'd be doing, which included but was not limited to eating the Hoppin' John you still haven't made for new year good luck, baking a 12th Night cake and getting ready for the exchange student who will be in your house in just a few days because some major effort will be required to make The Child's room accommodate a 2nd person, not to mention that tonight was the night you were going to take down the Christmas decorations but you obviously can't now because you won't be home until way late due to the concert that you really, really, really don't want attend tonight any more than you wanted to go last month but obviously even the worst mother in the world isn't exempt from karma. Or high school choir teachers.

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When reading a website announcement, always be careful to read each word and absorb the correct meaning before running off half-cocked and writing a run-on post about having to go to a concert because there is a really good chance that you WON'T have to go because it's just for BAND AND ORCHESTRA.

The Child made me so happy when she told me this.

Hoppin' John, 12th Night cake, Christmas un-decorating and room readjusting are all back on.

Whoo hoo.

Yummy

JP, remember that little coffee shop down the street from our house? The one that served panini sandwiches? No. Of course you don't. Because it was a stupid place and we never went there. The Spouse and I always thought the space was more conducive to a little bistro or a pub, either of which would have been a welcome addition to our itty bitty commercial zone that has only ever had one other restaurant (Italian...decent Italian run by very nice people but still...variety is the spice of life, I've been told). But over the years that sliver of space has been 3 or 4 stupid incarnations on the same stupid coffee/panini theme and we have shunned it, vigorously.

Ok, so you don't remember the stupid panini place because we never went there. But remember the restaurant we went to with The Neighbor to celebrate The Spouse's and my anniversary? The one with the delicious food and the elegant, hospitable owner, Carlos, who also acted as sommelier?

Good news! Superfantastic good news. He and his wife have opened a new restaurant in the stupid panini space. Huzzah!

We went there last night and I'm happy to report that it is going to be terrific. There are a few bugs to work out, to be sure. The space is a little loud, but Carlos is already working on mitigating that. Last night was the first or second night for dinner service and, naturally, the food was a little uneven. The Spouse's lamb wasn't cooked exactly to his specifications and my pasta need a little salt (but sheesh, a little salt...like I can't put that on my food myself. Which I did. And then it was perfect). The Child had crepes stuffed with wild mushrooms which were excellent. The wait staff was courteous and capable and we were very excited to see that they turned 5 tables during the time we were dining. Not bad for a maiden voyage. The name of the restaurant is Saffron. It's small (only about 12 tables) and decorated with simple elegance. A few curtains to soften the noise (I told you, Carlos is already on that) and it is going to be great. The Spouse and I can already imagine languishing over a bottle of wine and the pate-of-the-day some winter evening, when the rain is driving outside but all is warm and satisfying within.

Oh, and I almost forgot! When you are first seated and they bring out the (very crispy, hot and perfect) bread to your table it is served with warm olive oil infused with shallots and saffron. Oy! De.li.cious. I could have just eaten that with a glass of wine and been happy.

Right now they plan to be open for weekend breakfasts and weekday lunches as well as dinners. This is such a welcome addition to the neighborhood. Columbia City, while charming, is stealing all the foodie thunder and much as I like many of the places there it's still just far enough away that you have to be really committed if you're going to walk or else you have to take your car (feeling mildly guilty about it) and then try to find parking. No, what this 'hood needs is a little upgrade of it's own and Saffron could very well be the beginning of that transformation. And even if it's not, it's still so nice to have an actual bistro right down the street.

We're so going there to celebrate when you finally move out here. Or just come to visit again. Whichever comes first.

That's Nice

Every day I do a bunch of things that go unnoticed. In fact, my life is such that most of the time there are only comments when one of those things goes undone. No one walks into the house and says, "Golly gosh, thanks a ton for doing all that laundry today". They may, ocassionally, say things like, "Uh, I'm running out of socks".

Now, strictly speaking, I'm not a housewife for the glory. (I'm in it for the stupendous salary). For the last 14 years, I've stayed home because I wanted to and because, thanks to The Spouse's generous income, I could. I stayed home because being around to raise my child and care for the household brought me fulfillment and joy. It also gave me time to pursue my other interests. The fact that I'm not receiving accolades, bouquets and being feted on a daily basis is immaterial. Truth told, I'd have to clean the house and do laundry even if I was the only person living here so really it's not a big deal.

Should The Child thank me every day for being the worst bestest mom ever? Should she be abundantly grateful that I've been around for her? Should The Spouse be eternally grateful that I pay the bills, change the sheets, walk The Dog, dust the piano and put a decent meal on the table 7 nights a week? I get as much out of all that as they do so it's pretty much a wash.

The truth is, I'm just as skilled at taking for granted the gifts they bring to the table. Maybe the point is that we could all do a better job of appreciating each other but I'm not convinced that the fact that we don't somehow diminishes what we do.

All that said, it is nice when the people in our lives make a special effort at acknowledging what we do for them. I had such a moment today. The Child is now in possession of her yearbook and this morning she came out with it. Each 8th grader wrote a little paragraph to accompany his or her "senior" photo, part reflection, part thank you.

"Did you read Fifi's bio?" she asked. "I think you should".

She handed me the book and pointed to the place. There, at the end of her piece Fifi had written, "I want to especially thank Mrs. Thomas for giving me a ride to school for 2 long years".

Hello? She didn't thank her teachers (although I'm sure she's grateful to them). She didn't thank the principal (although she most certainly owes her a debt). No, the person she singled out was little ol' moi for doing nothing more than ferrying her to and from school.

I give rides to 2, sometimes 3 extra kids. This is not a spectacular feat. They live right on the route to school and it is no trouble at all to pick them up. It takes virtually no more time or gas or effort to car pool than to not. Every single day they thank me. They say "thank you" when I drop them at school, they say "thank you" when I drop them at home. So it's hardly like I've felt put upon.

But still, there was something really sweet about Fi making that public declaration. And when I picked the kids up this morning I got out of the car and gave her a big hug. Because it is nice to be appreciated.

Breakfast of Champions

I have been trying all morning to think how to start this post. I know you are all dying to hear all the details from the superfantastic weekend with The Hat but I don't know where to begin.

"Start," said The Child, "with how I wanted money to go to the co-op to buy a chicken pot pie for lunch".

Well, that would be a beginning. But not what I was going for.

"But it's a good place to start because, remember? I just came home when she pulled up in Big Red and was honking and you were picking lavender for the ice cream (and really, mom, it's too strong) and how we waited for her to get out so we could hug her".

Well, that's a little better. Let's start with the hugs.

Miss Hat fiddled with things in her car as we waited. And waited. And I finally said, "Get over here!" and she got out and we hugged. A big, long, tight, hello-my-long-lost-friend hug. And then we both got all teary eyed. Because, if you haven't experienced it, there is nothing quite like finally holding in your arms someone with whom you have come to feel a kindred bond. Knowing them to be real and actually clasping them to your kvelling bosom are two very different things.

(The huggies photo, btw, Hat, are on your camera. Just saying).

After that, it was no big deal. Ha. Of course it was. But really, it wasn't. Miss Hat sat at my desk and watched me make applesauce cake and honey-lavender ice cream and we talked, the way I talk with friends who sit in the kitchen and talk to me while I cook. She met the family and The Dog and even The Cat deigned to show herself (something she typically does not do when other people are in the house).

We went over to The Neighbor's. There were more hugs. And I teared up again, watching my new old friend hug my best friend. Then we sat on the Deck of Delight and drank vermouth. (Well, I drank vermouth. They had Italian iced tea, which is red vermouth, lemon and ginger ale. Only The Neighbor uses diet ginger ale and I don't like diet anything. But The Hat loved it. I believe the words "my new favorite drink" were uttered).



We talked. And laughed. And The Hat was very giggly about "actual clinkies". We've raised dozens of virtual coffee cups and glasses to each other over the last nearly 2 years. This time we got to do it for real. It was pretty awesome.



See how delighted she is? Darling girl.

We spent so much time talking and laughing at The Neighbor's that The Child was forced to come over and beg for dinner:



"No job. Will do dishes for food".

So I made dinner and we ate dinner. We told stories and asked questions and laughed. Quite a lot of laughing, must say. And then The Hat and I sat in the back garden by lantern light, working on a bottle of wine and talking some more. Until about 2 a.m. or something, not that we were keeping track.

In the morning she joined me for applesauce cake and coffee, the breakfast of champions, before we had to go off to church and she had to try and beat Seafair traffic out of town.



Here's the thing. Being with The Hat was completely unfraught. I hadn't worried a bit that we wouldn't have anything to say to each other or that the reality would be a disappointment compared to our virtual illusions. We knew each other. The things we've revealed in our blogs and comments and emails and phone conversations created a context. That context allowed us to tell stories and ask questions and comment on things in a most delightful way. We both knew we would like each other, because we already did. Meeting wasn't about getting to know each other. But it was, for me anyway, an opportunity to make The Hat a part of my life, not just my blogging. (Although, you know, blogging is my life). She's a part of family memory now, someone we can all picture, someone who made our home that much nicer with her laughter and spirit.

There's so much more to tell but frankly, I'm still absorbing it all. It was that rich a time. A blessed time. I'm kinda basking in it, to be honest with you. But here's one little thing that sorta sums it all up for me.

We sat down to dinner and everyone was still talking. Then The Hat, sitting at the head of the table, held her hands out to The Spouse and The Child, initiating the gesture that we make every meal, holding hands for prayer. She doesn't share our faith but she was one with us, instinctively entering into a family ritual with ease and grace, being family. And The Spouse gave thanks for our food and for our family. Our family, that includes my sister-friend, The Hat.

My Desk

This is where I spend an inordinate amount of time. Allow me to give you a brief tour of those objects (ooh, I avoided using the word "thing") which surround and inspire me day to day.

To begin with, the desk itself. It is made of pine and, as you see, not very big. This keeps me from cluttering it up because otherwise, where would I put my elbows? I love it because it has a red top and yellow drawers and funky flowers for drawer pulls.

Some might suggest that such a small space is too cluttered for it's size. But there's nothing there that I don't love or use. To whit and on the left: the Sacred Frog of Efficiency (which I received after last year's Hood Canal vacay for using the fewest dishes in preparation of a meal (bouillaibaisse, if you must know - for Bastille Day), a framed photograph of The Child in full rain gear, licking rain drops off a table on the deck and the super fantastic glass shoe that had limoncello in it.

To the right, my home girls, who you've met previously.

Above my desk is a tea tray which I use as a magnetic bulletin board (and no, I'm not at all clever. I saw it in a magazine). Chief among the items on it are a magnets of Princess Diana, the Eiffel Tower and Hoover Dam; 2 poems by David Budbill ("What We Need" and "In The Ancient Tradition"), the top (vintage) from a chocolate milk bottle, some random magnetic words, stamps from Italy, the phone number of some new neighbors who need to be invited for cocktails and post-it notes, including one reminding me that I have to send Pat beer and salmon if the Dems don't take back the House this fall. May I add, a) like I'll have to and 2) like he'd let me forget.

Also on my wall are a groovy red clock and a mosaic cross made by my friend Katherine.

Oh, and my screen saver is the label from a bottle of Cotes du Ventoux called La Vieille Ferme which I love because it has chickens on the label but when I tried to soak an actual label off a bottle it wouldn't go so I settled for this instead.

So what's on your desk?