depressionware.

tonight a poem by one of my favorite poets, ted kooser.

Depression Glass

It seemed those rose-pink dishes
she kept for special company
were always cold, brought
down from the shelf in jingling stacks,
the plates like the panes of ice
she broke from the water bucket
winter mornings, the flaring cups
like tulips that opened too early
and got bitten by frost.  They chilled
the coffee no matter how quickly
you drank, while a heavy
everyday mug would have kept
a splash hot for the better
part of a conversation.  It was hard
to hold up your end of the gossip
with your coffee cold, but it was
a special occasion, just the same,
to sit at her kitchen table
and sip the bitter percolation
of the past week's rumors from cups
it had taken a year to collect
at the grocery, with one piece free
for each five pounds of flour.

i love this poem because it reminds me of my mama.  i grew up looking at her depression ware, which she inherited from her grandma.  it was so beautiful with its faceted surfaces and its warm rosy color.  and i love what it represents--the effort at refinement in spite of difficulty and poverty; the collection of beautiful pieces as part of providing for a family's needs.  i remember the surprise i felt when my mom explained that the pieces came sewn into the bags of flour purchased at the local grocer.  i couldn't imagine acquiring finery through such means.  maybe this is part of why i've always despised fine china. because in my family, the finest china was collected free with bags of flour.

someday i hope i have a piece or two of my great-grandma's depression ware to catch the light and gleam, beautifully reminding me of the simplicity and honesty of my roots.

happiness.

so yesterday was my birthday.  and i cannot say how glad i am to put a close to the last year--to heartbreak and major depression and everything that comes with it.  i've been thinking back over the year and have to admit that i don't have many more answers now to the questions i was asking then, but i am much happier. and it is good to be happy.  so here are a few things that make me happy:

• thai nakorn.  i just can't get enough.  and, happily, they have reopened their original location.
• a day at disneyland with a friend.  for free!  
• a birthday shopping spree at anthropologie.  that store is pure evil...
• a beautiful new niece who i can't wait to meet at christmastime.
• four rambunctious, mischievous nephews and an evening at chuck e. cheese's.
• making progress on my school work.
• seeing a copy of homer's iliad in the front seat of a slightly beat up full size pick-up.
• wonderful food and conversation with friends--not only at our birthday dinner, but often.
• a beautiful, cozy new scarf to take with me on my winter trip to new york.
• my good friend george's happiness in her new relationship.
• spending time with my beautiful little nieces, my little sister, and her wonderful husband.
• evenings out with my siblings and their spouses and our parents.

in short, life has made me happy.  and that in spite of the fact that not everything is peachy keen.  and i like being happy.

i've been making big decisions lately.  which i'm not going to go into much here.  not yet, anyway.  suffice it to say they've been stressful.  i find myself needing stress relief almost constantly--something that will keep myself a bit busy but without being too taxing.  so i've been stitching.  a lot.  crocheting, specifically.

last summer i decided i wanted to make my own version of an afghan of my mother's that i've always loved.  it was made by my great-grandmother.  and my mama told me it's called grandma's garden--a very fitting name:

so i did a bit of searching online for patterns, which helped me figure out a few basics like how to get started and how to make corners.  and, since my mom taught me to crochet nearly twenty years ago, i needed to brush up on my basics.  and then i sat down with my great-grandma's afghan and figured out the pattern.

it's been very therapeutic to have something beautiful to stitch at the last six months.  life hasn't felt very beautiful, so it's good to watch yarn unspool off a skein and turn into beautifully colored flowers in my hands.  and i love that these flowers will connect me to my grandmothers who created so much beauty themselves.

proud.

last night i went to target.  target is wonderful.  a haven.  i can take any problem to target and find some distraction.  so when i found myself sitting around, feeling a bit glum (isn't that a lovely word?), i decided to get out of the house and go pick up a few required items for my new apartment (i moved--yay!).  and you know what?  i'm proud of myself for going to target.  that's right.  proud of myself.  for going to target.

i know, i know.  target isn't much better (if at all) than those other big-box stores.  consumerism is bad.  retail therapy is bad.  yada yada.  but i'm still proud of myself.  because i could continue sitting on my rear end, wishing somehow my computer would connect me to a real live person (which i'd already been doing for well over an hour); or i could get off my rear end and engage.  with something.  anything.  even if it was just going to target to buy a trashcan with a lid on it so my new kitchen doesn't stink.

you know what else i'm proud of?  when i was at target, i resisted spending $65 on the only wireless router that looked reliable just because i want wireless at my new place RIGHT NOW, not in a few days.  instead, i put it back on the shelf and, when i got home, did a bit of research about wireless routers and where to get the best prices (any suggestions? i'm still figuring this one out).  and i'm proud of myself for buying a compact fluorescent lightbulb because it's good for the environment.  even if i dislike CFL's because the light they generate feels cold to me.  and i'm proud of myself that the biggest indulgence of this trip to target was a compact surge protector with a built in USB charger so i can charge my phone while having my computer, lamp, and printer plugged in all at once.

this is what i hold on to right now.  small things.  i've done a lot of small things in the last couple of months of which i'm proud.  sometimes it's as simple as calling someone--just connecting to another person.  sometimes it's working--having actual ideas about actual literature.  sometimes it's eating.  i'm proud of myself for eating.  how's that for a window into how bad things have been?

things have been bad enough that i have, in many ways, not been myself.  i don't know what i would have done had i not had such incredible people loving me, helping see me through.  but i haven't made it only because of the people who have helped me.  as a friend pointed out , i am also one of my sources of support.  i'm proud of myself for more than just little things.  i'm proud of myself for big things, too.  because in the last two months i've done more to change my life than i have in the last two years.  i'm not happy about how things are right now.  i'm not happy that my relationship with j(wh) is over.  or with the outcome of the prop. 8 ballot measure.  i'm not happy in my relationship with my church.  there are a lot of things that could be much, much better.  but i can say this much--i'm happy with myself.  i'm happy that, with my family and friends' love, i have made significant changes in my life that have brought me greater peace now and which, i have no doubt, will bring happiness in the future.

bedtime.

i've been keeping late hours the last couple of weeks, thanks to the olympics and being on vacation with my family. last night my sister J and i spent our evening playing with her girls and watching the olympics (or at least i was ogling the beautiful men on the U.S. track team). which meant bedtime wasn't until well after midnight.

i climbed into bed about one in the morning but found myself tossing and turning a bit. so i pulled out my computer to read a few of the blog posts i'd not had a chance to read (due to excursions to the park to have a picnic and ride the horsies [i.e., carousel], playing princess dress up, swinging small girls by their ankles, etc.). maybe it was a mistake to try to pass a bit of time that way, because it got my mind whirring. again.

all day yesterday, my frustrations and tension and pain over the church's position on california's proposition 8 (which would amend the state constitution to prohibit any marriage but that between a man and a woman) bubbled under the surface. let me be perfectly clear: i find this proposition repugnant in every way. i believe it originates in bigotry. i believe it attempts to deny citizens of the state liberties that the government should protect and preserve, rather than remove. there is no question in my mind that every citizen should have the opportunity to enter into a civil marriage contract with another consenting adult and to therefore receive the protections and privileges governments grant to married couples.

the day i heard the news that the california state supreme court had overturned prop. 22 (passed nearly ten years ago) and therefore declared marriage legal for all california adults regardless of sexual orientation, i celebrated. and the day i learned the church planned to join in the effort to pass prop. 8, i mourned. on the day (coincidentally--coughcough--gay pride day) the letter from church headquarters regarding prop. 8 was read in church, i went to church wearing a rainbow ribbon and with a freshly buzzed head--two visible attempts to declare my disagreement with the church's actions without being too confrontational.

since then, i've continued to display my rainbow ribbon when i go to church. and i'll keep my hair buzzed through the november election. but it's not enough. last fast sunday, in the midst of incredible spiritual turmoil at least in part caused by this issue, i bore my testimony about what i believe is the true miracle of christ's atonement--that it teaches us to look past people's problems to recognize their beauty; to step outside of ourselves and extend love and compassion and understanding to all people, regardless of their gender or their race or their religion. for me the gospel of christ is a gospel of love and acceptance—one that requires that we stretch ourselves to understand how and why people think differently than we do. for me, the gospel of Christ is not one of imposing our own beliefs on others or of believing our job is to make everyone else like ourselves. but while i think i made that point fairly clearly, i did not specifically mention prop. 8 and gay marriage, in spite of a powerful desire to do so.

then last week a member of my ward called to confirm i'd received an email about the "prop. 8 walk." i hadn't, but rather than mentioning that, i immediately spoke up to explain my position. the conversation went something like this:

me: i think i should clarify that i will not only vote no on prop. 8, but i will also do everything i can to make sure it does not pass. and i will certainly not do anything that could be seen as support.

him: so you're going against the brethren on this. {definitely a statement, not a question.}

me: no, i’m going with my conscience on this.

him: but you’re going against the brethren.

me: no, i’m going with my conscience, which is what i believe god expects of us.

him: hey, i don’t want to argue with you—i’m just kidding around. {trust me, there was no hint of humor in any of this exchange.}

and that’s where the conversation ended. when this man’s committee chairperson—an old friend of mine—called a few days later to ensure that the first caller hadn’t said anything inappropriate, i explained what he had said. my friend apologized. i asked him for clarification on what the “prop. 8 walk” was and clarified my own belief on the issue. because i’ve decided that i can certainly speak up in one-on-one conversations with other church members, even if i haven’t quite figured out how to speak up in institutional church settings.

i still feel that what i've done is not enough. and last night that was causing me a great deal of angst. so much that in spite of being very tired, i could not sleep. so when i was still tossing and turning after three in the morning, i called j(wh) and we talked through some of what i was feeling. not only about prop. 8, but about the church more generally. i won't go into that here. i'm not sure it's something i want to put out into the ether. we'll see. but it was good to talk to him, to name my fears to someone else and receive in return unqualified love and concern.

and best of all, when we were about done talking he read me a bedtime story and encouraged me to hope for something that seems nearly impossible--because maybe, just maybe, the horse will sing. another reason i love my j(wh).

home.

i've been busy. and that always manifests itself in my blog. i've been meaning to respond to a meme my sister-in-law C hit me with for nearly a month now. so with no further delay, the view from my house:

from my bedroom window. a rare rainy, rainbow-y day in southern california.

from the back patio window. one of my favorite views in the world.

if you want to join in, please do.

hotdog!

when i went to d.c. a couple years ago to take care of my nieces and nephews, my brother took me out one day to ben's chili bowl for a wonderful lunch. a chili half-smoke--a half-pork, half-beef smoked sausage topped with mustard, onions, and chili; an order of chili-cheese fries to share; and a chocolate shake. it was divine. i loved it so much that anytime i hear someone talk about visiting d.c., i tell them all about ben's and what to order. so far, i haven't heard a single negative review.

so when i went to visit again a few weeks ago, i requested ben's. and S happily took me there for lunch the same day we made our visit to the library of congress. talk about a perfect day: a morning full of rare manuscripts and early editions and then a lunch that consisted of this:












and my portion of this:


and then of course there was sharing it with the best possible company. my visits to d.c. to see S started when i was 15 and my brother J and i took advantage of cheap airfare (thanks to gulf war I; and technically it was my parents who took advantage of it, since they bought the tickets) to spend a week there. i didn't visit again until '98, but i've been there almost every year since (including two years living down the highway in charlottesville) and i always look forward to my visits. S and i look like siblings. and more importantly, visiting him always reminds me of how close i am with my siblings, even if they do live far away.














if you ever find yourself heading to d.c., let me know. and i'll point you to the best chilidog you'll ever eat. and i might be able to give you a few other tips, too.

this is my nephew S:
if you think he looks a bit mischievous--well, he is. he comes by it rightfully. his dad (my brother) had a hand in all kinds of mischief (along with our other brother) when he was a kid. but S is also a sweetheart. and he has just about the cutest smile known to man.

today, a memory from christmas flashed into my head, and i thought i'd tell the tale. because it's hilariously wonderful. in addition to being a cutie-pie and a mischief-maker, S was a key player in my favorite child-fight ever. it went down like this:

S sat on L (his older brother) and refused to get off.

L hit S in the head with a laser gun.

S started crying. loudly.

L started running down the stairs.

S ran to my bookshelf, picked the biggest book on the shelf, ran to the top of the stairs and threw the book at L's head. he has very good aim.

it was all i could do not to bust up on the spot (i was on my way upstairs to referee by the time the book-throwing happened) and instead make them apologize to each other.

hilarious. S definitely gets points for creativity in coming up with ways to get back at someone who hurt him. and i look forward to being able to tell the story when he's an adult and can perhaps understand the irony of throwing an ayn rand book (atlas shrugged) at someone's head...

booklust.

sometime in november, my brother S called home and reported that he and his colleagues had been taken on a tour of the library of congress. as part of that tour, they had seen various rare books, including a first edition of some blake poetry and books exchanged between whitman and thoreau, among other things. ever since that conversation, i’ve been filled with booklust. there’s something magical about seeing books that old—books that would have been read by an author’s contemporaries; books that show me what the texts i love were like when they were originally published; books with the original supplementary marketing material inside their covers; books with interesting provenances.

when i went to d.c. for a friend’s wedding and S suggested he could set up an appointment at the library of congress for me to see some books, i immediately jumped at the opportunity. so the first day i was there, i made my list—whitman, thoreau, hawthorne, and dickinson from my American interests; eliot, collins, and charlotte bronte from my british interests—and S sent it off in an email asking if it was possible for us to visit the library the following monday. and within half an hour or so we had our answer: monday morning at 11:00 for a visit to the rare books and special collections room and to the manuscripts division.

so that monday morning, S and i made our way from his office through the network of tunnels that runs under capitol hill to the library of congress for our visit. we started in the rare books and special collections room, where we were shown into the rosenwald room to see the books they had pulled for me. the room was beautiful—the furniture, shelves, and décor an exact replica of the benefactor’s private library in his home, most of it in art deco style. we sat at a table and the librarian started a grown-up version of show-and-tell:

an original 1830 edition of the book of mormon. i have a replica of this book that my dad gave me, but i’d never stopped and looked at the note from joseph smith to the reader trying to explain the circumstances of the 116 pages lost and the various rumors spreading about him. looking at the original edition made me think about the contemporary readership of that book, which put the note in a context that made me take note. they also presented us with the title page and clerk’s record from an 1829 attempt to copyright the book. apparently there had been intentions to publish it in that year in a slightly larger format, but it never happened.

books exchanged between thoreau and whitman. thoreau paid a visit to whitman in 1856. during that visit, whitman presented thoreau with a copy of leaves of grass and thoreau gave whitman a copy of a week on the concord and merrimack rivers. whitman made a rather extensive note in the front flyleaf of the thoreau recording the visit and the exchange of books. the two books came to the library in two separate gifts and it was only discovered afterwards that they had been exchanged at that 1856 visit. i was a little surprised by the format of leaves of grass. i had been told in a seminar that it was a larger than normal book—something akin to a coffee table book—, but this book was the same size as all the others we saw. maybe my professor was referring to one of the many revised editions whitman published.

dickens’ walking stick with an ivory handle that had a dog’s head carved into it. apparently dickens carried this stick with him regularly. it was very short—probably for someone closer to 5’6 than my own 6’.

the first American edition of wilkie collins’ armadale, which included marketing material inside its front cover. they also had a copy of collins’ play the frozen deep. the cover page attributes it solely to Collins, but has dickens’ name inscribed in pencil below Collins. dickens was heavily involved in editing, writing, and producing the play.

a manuscript copy in kipling’s hand of the first chapter of the jungle book.

lewis carroll’s scrapbook from his college years, in which he collected clippings from newspapers and popular magazines.

a first edition of charlotte bronte’s Shirley. apparently the library doesn’t have much by bronte, which i suppose is not very surprising since she’s british rather than american. the librarian explained that most of the non-american items in rare books and special collections are at the library because they were originally collected and then left to the library by a prominent american.

a first edition of george eliot’s silas marner, which was a lovely example of a Victorian triple-decker.

hawthorne’s house of the seven gables, which i’ll likely be reading in the next few weeks.

poe’s “murder in the rue morgue” in pamphlet form, which left me wondering how most of his stories were originally published.

the first book of dickinson’s poetry published following her death (few of her poems were formally published during her life). i loved flipping through the book to see how mabel loomis todd (dickinson’s brother’s mistress) and thomas wentworth higginson (dickinson’s mentor) edited dickinson’s punctuation, capitalization, and rhyme schemes.

a 19th century American penny press literary newspaper which they just happened to be processing that morning in the rare books room.


after an hour spent perusing rare books, S and i and our host left the Jefferson building for the Madison building, which houses the library’s manuscripts division. we were met by the library’s literary manuscript historian, who took us into the manuscript “ranges” to see what the library had of dickinson, hawthorne, thoreau, and whitman’s manuscripts.

their holdings of dickinson, hawthorne, and thoreau are relatively minor, as most of those author’s original manuscripts are held in ivy league libraries in new england. however, they did have a handful of items for each—some random diplomatic records hawthorne kept while employed by the government; a short essay on education by thoreau, in which he calls for the government to provide universal education; a commonplace notebook in which thoreau recorded passages from books.

my favorite of the small collections was dickinson’s—unsurprising given my fascination with her. they weren’t original manuscripts; they were holograph images of four poems (one with an accompanying transcript) and a letter. but it was wonderful to see her poems in her own hand and to show S how she used dashes rather than standard punctuation and erratic capitalization in her handwritten manuscripts. and the letter had been written significantly earlier than the poems, so we could see the evolution of her handwriting (which is how they’ve dated her poems).

after seeing these small collections, ms. birney took us further into the manuscript ranges to look at the library’s much larger whitman manuscript collection. apparently they have received three or four gifts, leaving them with one of the largest (if not the largest) collections of whitman manuscripts.

she started by showing us manuscripts of several whitman poems, including his most famous poem “o captain! my captain!” which he wrote on the occasion of lincoln’s assassination. it was interesting to see multiple examples of whitman’s poetry, as “o captain! my captain!” differs rather drastically from the poetry he typically wrote in that it uses a fairly standard verse form and rhyme scheme. ms. birney also explained that whitman came to dislike that poem as he was always begged to recite it throughout the remainder of his life whenever he made public appearances.

as she showed us the poetry manuscripts, ms. birney called attention to whitman’s tendency to use any scrap of paper he could. for instance, one poem was originally written on the back of an envelope. she pointed out in one of his commonplace notebooks how he went back to the beginning of the book and wrote information in blank spaces—information dated much later than other information on the same page.

after showing us the samples of poetry and the commonplace notebook, ms. birney told us a tale of bibliographic intrigue. early in the 20th century—something in the twenties or thirties—the library received a gift that included 24 whitman notebooks. and a cardboard butterfly (more on that in a moment). during world war II, the notebooks (and the butterfly) were moved from the main library buildings to a military base for safety purposes. when they were brought back, ten of those 24 notebooks—and the cardboard butterfly—were missing. for more than 50 years those ten missing notebooks and the cardboard butterfly were the American manuscripts directors' mystery. the fbi even had a hand in the investigation.

until one day in the mid-90s when sotheby’s called the ms. birney and explained that they had some whitman notebooks to auction and they had reason to believe they were similar to notebooks once held by the library of congress—were they missing any? to which ms. birney responded: ‘yes, we’re missing ten notebooks and a cardboard butterfly.’ it was the cardboard butterfly that made the sotheby’s representative sure their four notebooks belonged to the library of congress. so ms. birney and the fbi agent made a trip to new york to bring the notebooks—and the butterfly—home.

she showed us one of the notebooks. it used to be called the ‘albot’ notebook, until they realized there was a ‘t’ in front of that. the ‘talbot’ notebook (if you're interested, you can flip through the entire notebook on the LoC webiste). the first few pages had been cut out. the edges of the pages that remained were lined with numbers, so scholars speculate that it had initially been used for bookkeeping. whitman, being a paper conservator (as most people at the time probably were), re-used the book. the early pages were fairly similar to those in the other commonplace notebook. notes jotted quickly. appointments. then he skipped a page or two (remember, he used paper so carefully that he wrote on the backs of envelopes). and after those blank pages came prose writing that was more philosophical and introspective. then two more blank pages. and after that—poetry. lines from ‘song of myself’ immediately recognizable to anyone who’s every spent much time with that poem. seeing those lines of poetry and recognizing them was a magical moment--understanding that this notebook contained the evolution of a brilliant man’s thought and style.

and then there was the cardboard butterfly. it was brilliantly colored on one side. and on the reverse there was an easter poem (not whitman’s). if you look closely at the butterfly, you’ll find a thin wire that runs through its body. that’s because whitman, being the rather eccentric man he was and being a bit obsessed with self-portraits, used the wire to attach the butterfly to his finger and pose for a picture.

my day in the library was wonderful. i couldn’t have asked for a better excursion. even if you can’t make private appointments to meet with librarians, take the time to go there next time you’re in d.c. the building and the public exhibits are well worth the visit.

creepy-crawly.

yesterday, while sitting in my office on campus allegedly working, i felt something move on my foot. and when i pushed back from the desk and looked, i discovered a huge black beetle crawling on my foot.

i naturally followed the appropriate procedure for responding to such a situation: i screamed, while kicking my foot violently to expel the alien.

but, you say, how do i know this is the appropriate procedure? because it has manifest itself through three generations (my mother, my sisters, and my niece) without explicit instruction. complete with violent foot kick, screaming, wacky arm-flailing dancing (as i was seated, i didn't take that step), and subsequent laughter. because i of course laughed at myself as soon as the bug was gone.

but my ability to recognize how ridiculous my reaction was (i mean, how hard would it be for a giant like me to destroy that beetle, regardless of his hideousness?) did not allay my fears. every little movement against my skin could be another beetle. and the fact that i couldn't see where my expulsion had landed the invader left me a little worried. so i quickly vacated my office (which really was a good thing, as i was too distracted by the internet there). and before i got into my car, i shook out my skirt. just in case the kick had inexplicably left the bug clinging to it, lurking until he could make another foray against my peace of mind...

doctors.

so it's been more than a week that i've been coughing. and the cough doesn't seem to be going away. no matter how diligently i ply it with robitussin or how may hours of sleep i get (8+ the last three nights; heavenly). i'm even enduring a kissing-fast in an effort not to re-infect j(wh) (who seems to actually be getting better). for obvious reasons, i'm ready to stop coughing.

so this morning when i laid in bed hacking and then kept hacking through present-wrapping and email-checking, in spite of my robitussin-taking (i apparently have a thing for hyphens today), i thought i'd best go see a doctor. because maybe my less-cheery friends and family who keep telling me it's walking pneumonia or whooping cough (thanks deborah) may be right. and i actually articulated that thought--that i should go to the doctor--to j(wh). if i hadn't, i probably wouldn't have actually found the info about same-day appointments for grad students or made the phone call or found my insurance card so i could actually go see the doctor. he prodded until i made the call. which is a good thing. and here's why.

in my family, we have an inherent distrust of doctors. well, our parents do anyway. and the kids have inherited it a bit. we never had incredibly regular check-ups once we were older than 7 or 8 or so. doctors were people you saw when you had an emergency. which we did have. i broke my arm three times in 8 years. one of my brothers managed to get seven breaks all at once. and then there were all the various split chins, foreheads, and eyelids (yes, eyelids). and the BB's shot into fingers. and the fingers trimmed along with the hedges. so you see, we definitely know about emergencies and manage to trust doctors then. but for regular preventive health care? or for ordinary, run-of-the-mill sickness (more hyphens)? not so much. my parents have this weird phobia that going to the doctor will just make things worse.

an example. a few years ago my mom tripped and fell down about seven or eight stairs, landing on her head on the tile floor at the bottom. that was on friday evening. did she go to the doctor? after landing on tile on her head? no. of course not. why should she? it's just her head. my dad did take her to the doctor the next day, but still. and that's just one example. last year, my dad thought he had walking pneumonia. did he go to a doctor? no. he called a friend who happens to be an OB-GYN and talked him into prescribing antibiotics.

and then there are his ribs. which he thinks he cracked when he fell off his bike earlier this week. they hurt so bad that last night he grabbed his chest with a look of pain on his face. which naturally alarmed my mom and i, who immediately went into emergency mode. she was ready to run and catch him so he wouldn't fall and i was heading for the phone to call 911 as we asked what was wrong. his answer? 'i need to sneeze and it's going to hurt!' but of course he won't go to the doctor to find out if his ribs are actually broken or not. he just says they can't do anything about it so why go?

and that about sums up my parents' attitude about doctors. they can't make it better. and they'll probably make it worse. so why go? and i've managed to inherit a bit of that attitude. but apparently being able to kiss j(wh) again is a good enough reason to send me off to the doctor. that and shaking the cough, of course.

happy.
more simple (and small) things that make me happy:

• discovering that when my 2-year-old niece B plays wii and sees my mii, she repeats my name: 'amy, amy'
• waking up smiling
• long meandering conversations with a friend
• my nieces wearing the hats and scarves i made them for christmas (in july)
• walking into my favorite thai restaurant on a busy saturday night and being greeted as a friend by all the servers i know
• knowing that saturday will bring family for a week-long thanksgiving visit--yay!
• 'lively discussions' and 'fun exchanges'
• fall in california--it feels a lot like summer, but it's different in little subtle ways
• the anticipation of pumpkin pie and homemade rolls
• having B tell me all about her snack and playing wii and her halloween costume on the phone; hearing her say 'i love you'
  
• dates that involve wandering through bookstores
• squeezing snapdragons so they snap

to be continued...

rundown.
so here's the reader's digest version of my last month (longer bits about some of this to come):

a week spent with family. 15 to 20 people staying with us. wall-to-wall sleeping arrangements. lots of laughter and fun.

a niece being stung by a sting ray complete with a trip to the life guard station and an infection that developed a week later.

late nights talking.

flying cross-country with my sister, brother-in-law and their two girls. M and B sharing the seat next to me on the plane to watch a movie.

rescuing a small frog from sure death by lawn mower.

delicious desserts from mrs. london's in saratoga springs.

babysitting so J & R could celebrate their anniversary. complete with "pat pat" and playing with friends.

a picnic in a park complete with visiting (and surreptitiously feeding) the ducks, riding the carousel (twice), and making wishes in the pond.

exploring the hyde collection (a local art treasure only about 20 minutes from J & R's house), where we fell in love with works by degas, rubens, picasso, rembrandt, among others.

discovering rock hill bakehouse cafe, home of the best chicken salad sandwich i've ever eaten. and, to top it all off, the best cookies i've ever eaten. (and then there was the boylan's diet creme soda--so tasty). have i mentioned that i love bakeries?

a day trip to boston, with stops in concord, at the isabella stewart gardner museum, faneuil hall, the north end, and harvard square.

a roadtrip south to visit our brother and his wife and family.

two days in deep creek, maryland, full of fun and rainstorms.

an excursion to fallingwater. which confirmed to me frank lloyd wright's absolute genius.

a couple of days in virginia with children playing and action movies.

finally finishing a school project that i let hang over my head for way too long...

a horse and buggy ride through saratoga springs on an absolutely gorgeous summer night.

a meandering drive through glens falls in an effort to retrace our steps to the rock hill bakehouse only to be thwarted when we got there and discovered they were inexplicably closed for the day.

a long trip home to the tune of wilco in anticipation of their concert (which i went to last night).

and throughout it all, lots of laughter and conversation and beautiful little children.

needs.
two years ago, my sister and her husband began what would become a very long process to adopt children from haiti. a couple of weeks ago, they finally got word that K's passport had been signed (she's the first of the three children they're adopting). which means they could be traveling as soon as two weeks from now. we're all superexcited to have K home and part of our family. and yesterday (i think it was just yesterday), they received word that M and R's paperwork had been signed out of IBESR (haitian social services office that has to approve adoptions). maybe they'll be traveling back to haiti again in the next six months (or, dare i say it, even sooner?).

anticipating traveling to haiti soon to pick up K, tasha contacted the orphanage where K lives and to find out what they need. they've asked for very simple things: sheets, shoes, and clothes. tasha added watches to that list (one of the caretakers asked for tasha's watch last time she was there). if you'd like to help provide shoes, clothes, sheets, or watches for orphans and their caretakers in haiti, you can send donations to tasha through her company at:

QuicKutz, Inc.
1365 West 1250 South
Suite 100
Orem, UT 84058

mark your package or envelope "Haiti Donation".

you can send either the items on the list or cash (please look at the more detailed list on tasha's blog). any cash donated will either purchase items to be taken to the orphanage or pay baggage fees to fly the items down. please send donations by August 7.

any help you can give will make a difference for these beautiful children. thanks.

smile.
just because seeing little b. smiling on her first theme park adventure makes me smile. what a sweetheart.

i do love all my babies.

wordless.

wednesday.

wii.
i have been initiated into the wonderful world of wii. and i'm totally hooked. it's ridiculous. it's made my arm sore. it's made me laugh so hard i nearly fell over. it's given me two hours of high entertainment with my brother and his girlfriend.

and i haven't even given anyone a black eye with the controller yet.

we're hatching plans to get our mom and dad in on the action. now that should prove thoroughly hilarious.

{addendum: i'm sitting in the family room working on my computer; my brother and his girlfriend are in his room playing wii tennis. and i just heard my brother's girlfriend, in a slightly panicky-concerned voice, say: 'oh--sorry!' it really is only a matter of time until the wii produces stories of bodily injury...}

help.
a note from my sister about her cookbook project. she posted it in the comments on my last entry about it, but i wanted it to be more visible. it illustrates how very much the children of haiti need help.


Amy-
Thanks for your help! We are commited to ordering 2000 books regardless of the number of orders we have come April 6th.....so keep pushing if you will.

The cost for 2000 vs. 1000 books is almost half - so we are going to stretch a bit in effort to raise more money for the children of Haiti.

Holt has a waiting list of children. Until they can expand they remain on the waiting list. The money we earn from the sale of this cookbook will help the Holt Fontana Village build the required homes so they can help more children.

I struggle with the memory of a little boy who probably had AIDS that couldn't keep any food down. We went into a remote area of Haiti to see some of the wells that Peter Fontana was so proud of and responsible for building. On the way back we stopped in the small clinic in Montrois. The Doctor had very little to work with. And the poor little boy he was trying to help was very sick and unable to keep any food down. The skinniest dog I have ever seen came along and cleaned up what the boy couldn't keep down.

It is those memories of our trip to Haiti that I remember when I'm feeling tired of pushing people to buy a cookbook. We have so much! We can always do more. The cookbook is a start.

I love you!
tash



i spend a lot of time listening to the news on the radio. and i regularly find myself in tears because there are so very many people--beautiful children of god--who suffer in this world. who could be helped if only i could give them a little bit of my excess. this is one way of doing that.

ideal/idol.
as a teenager, i decided that when i grew up i wanted to be the mother of a large family. i planned the rest of my education based on that decision. i had my life mapped out. after high school, i would attend brigham young university where i would certainly find and marry my future husband. i would begin a major in secondary education, which would enable me to work in a profession compatible with mothering children--but only if life circumstances forced me to work. and i was prepared to drop out of college so my future husband could pursue his career plans as necessary. i would not put off having children for pecuniary reasons. i would be a wonderful wife and mother.

my plans didn't work out exactly as i envisioned them. right in the middle of my undergraduate education, the spirit prompted me that i should more seriously pursue my education--including a graduate education--in order to allow me to teach. i knew teaching was a gift from god and that were i not to teach, i would be failing him. i'm 31 now. i'm unmarried and have no children. i finished my undergraduate degree. and i continued to earn a master's degree. i am currently working on a PhD. i still want to marry and have children--more than i want anything else. i will not give up on that vision for myself. but my life is very different from what i envisioned it would be.

in the april 2007 ensign, shauna bird dunn shares her own teenage vision of her future life and how that life radically changed. after having spent years planning a high-power corporate career, she felt prompted to turn down a dream job in favor of a job that would allow her to have children. ultimately she left work altogether to become a stay-home mom. i respect dunn for her decisions. they were clearly very difficult decisions to make. and she made them in keeping with personal revelation about god's plan for her.

that said, i was troubled by her article. dunn creates a fairly stark opposition between the life she envisioned as the "leader of a large corporation" and her actual life as a stay-home mom. she writes: "i have stayed up many nights to comfort a sick or frightened child instead of staying up preparing a presentation for the board of directors; worn clothes covered in peanut butter smears instead of power suits; cleaned my home each day instead of enjoyed a penthouse view from my office; bandaged 'owies' and encouraged piano practice instead of handing out performance reviews; and enjoyed hugs and kisses instead of stock options as my compensation plan." dunn also describes her dreams of working as a high-powered corporate leader in terms of "wearing power suits to my penthouse office, dazzling my co-workers and employees with my expertise, and cashing paychecks that truly reflected my value."

the message is clear: being a stay-home mom is rewarding in very real, deeply human ways. it is full of love and compassion and kindness. it is selfless. pursuing the high power career with its "unbelievable benefits" is actually about shallow considerations like clothing, how high up the building one's office is situated, wowing other people, and making lots and lots of money; it is not about true fulfillment, passion, or serving others.

part of the problem here is that dunn is clearly discussing labor in a very capitalist system, a system in which money and power are the measure of all that is worthy. and she compares it to labor (the labor of mothering full time) that is not recognized in terms of money or power within our capitalist society. she is participating in a conception of 'work' that fails to recognize that leading which is done for money should be similar in kind to leading that is done for christ. in other words, leaders in the workplace should be servant leaders every bit as much as leaders in the church or the family. but i digress; servant-leaders in the workplace is a topic for a different post.

the thing that really bothers me about dunn's article is that she portrays women who want to work as supremely shallow. they are motivated by money. or by clothes. or by power. or by prestige. they are not motivated by passion. they are not trying to use god-given abilities and talents--talents that they will lose if they do not use them. they are the demonized other to the stay-home mother.

i want to give a voice to those women who pursue a career not because they want money or prestige or to be one of the boys; but because they are driven to do a certain work. because they know that if they do not do that work, they will fail god. because that work will allow them to be co-creators with god. i want to work not because i'll see my name in lights or have multiple publications or be able to append three degrees to my name when i sign letters; i want to work because i think teaching will let me do god's work in ways that nothing else will allow, not even motherhood. i want to work because teaching will give voice to passions and ideas that, if they remain bottled up inside me, will otherwise explode.

and i want to be a wife and a mother. the difference between dunn and i was she actually had a choice about following her teenage vision of a life. i have not had that choice. my opening paragraphs are not simply a subtle parody of dunn's opening paragraphs; they are an accurate statement of my dream for myself when i was a teenager. my life has unfolded in such a way that i have never had the opportunity to make the choices that would allow me to marry and have children. instead, i have had to grapple with the darkness of not being able to make that choice. but, like dunn, i have learned that "i am happiest when i follow the lord's plan for my life rather than my own personal plans."

dunn's article illustrates the great faith it takes some women to give up work and instead become a stay-home mother. i honor that faith. but this decision is idealized to such an extent that it is often idolized in the church. my decision, which mirrors in inverse dunn's decision, also required a great deal of faith. the decision to continue pursuing the work and education the spirit prompted me to pursue was a decision premised on faith--faith that doing so would not foreclose the opportunity to marry and bear children; faith that i have the capacity to do the work i feel prompted to do (believing this is an ongoing battle for me); faith that i can navigate the sometimes troubled waters of being a mormon, a feminist, and an intellectual. accepting the fact that my righteous desire for marriage and family may never be fulfilled, and finding the strength to build a life for myself alone, has required more faith than i realized i had.

dunn's almost-glib dismissal of women who work in favor of women who mother conceals the passion and spiritual commitments that inform some women's commitment to work. and the idealization/idolization of stay-home motherhood her article represents ignores the reality of so many women in the church--those who are single, whether with or without children; those who must work for financial reaons; those who cannot have children; and many others. it is time to celebrate motherhood and marriage without doing so at the expense of real women whose lives do not, and often cannot, conform to an ideal/idol.

{this was cross-posted on Exponent II.}

donate.
my sister natasha and her husband mark are currently in the process of adopting three children from haiti. K, M, and R are beautiful children who have been in institutional care for most of their young lives. K currently lives in the Holt Fontana Village, where four or five children live in small cottages with caregivers rather than in a large institutional style orphanage. currently holt fontana provides for between 20 and 25 children, but they are planning on building additional cottages so they can care for more children.

after visiting haiti last year, tash and mark wanted to do something for the children at holt fontana--give them some kind of memory book so they would have pictures of their friends, the people who loved and cared for them, and where they are from when they move to the u.s. to live with their adoptive families. when they heard that holt fontana was planning on building new cottages and needed to raise the funds, tash and mark turned their memory book into a cookbook that could be sold to help raise money.

the kids from haiti cookbook is a pretty cookbook, full of pictures of these beautiful children. it's also full of great recipes collected from the children's adoptive families, people who work for holt fontana, and people involved in the scrapbooking industry. my sister's company (thus the scrapbook connection), QuicKutz, has donated all of the labor to assemble the cookbook. 100% of the profits from the sale of the book will be given to holt fontana for construction of additional cottages and to support children at risk (only cost of printing and shipping will be deducted from the sale price). the book costs $20. i've used it already and it has some great recipes in it. it would make a wonderful gift. and most of all the money its sale raises will go to a wonderful cause.

if you can help by buying a cookbook, please do. you can find information about the cookbook and how to order it on QuicKutz Kids from Haiti Cookbook website. click here for an order form. click here for basic information about life in haiti and the conditions children there face.

you can place an order by filling out and submitting the order form. or you can call QuicKutz at 1.801.376.5666. you can pay by either check or credit card. orders must be submitted by april 6.

if you know me and will see me in the next week, you can order through me. if you're having trouble with the links i provided and would like me to email you information directly, drop me an email at whilikers at hotmail dot com.

our world is so full of darkness. these children have had their taste of that darkness. but somehow they hold onto the hope and light that i believe we are each born with. please do whatever you can to help them. please share the link to this entry with whoever you think would be interested. thank you.