go now

. . . check out this girl's new blog!

i work for tamara's husband, matt.
and she rocks!
seriously, she paints, she sews, she knits, she gardens, she teaches art, she decorates . . .
and now, for the whole world to delight in
(or at least the 4 or 5 peole who read my blog)
she blogs!

Thanks

When Herb and I started dating, one of our jokes was that we couldn't wait to get married, move to the suburbs, and buy a mini-van for me to drive. In this tongue-in-cheek, "no way in the world will this ever be our reality", fantasy, I would be a scrapbooker with a bad haircut.

Well, something odd happened along the way. I actually became curious about scrapbooking. It began our first Christmas when I was buying stocking stuffers for herb. I found a small, sophisticated black scrapbook in the dollar section. I bought it. I didn't have time to do anything with it before Christmas. But for Valentine's day, I used it to tell our love story. I used some pictures, but mostly my handwriting, doodeling, and passages from my old journals. I love love loved making it and it is the one handmade gift I have made him that he goes back to over and over again.

But still.
Scrapbooking?
I bought a magazine.
And a few pretty patterned papers from Target.

And I let it all sit, tucked away for about six months.
Somewhere in there, I saw an article in a magazine by this girl . And i figured that if she could scrapbook, so could I.
Then, I saw this gal's blog and thought . . . "oh, yeah . . . scrapbooking. i have all those pretty papers tucked away. I can do this. If they can do this, I can totally do this."

SO, thanks Elsie and Jody for scrapbooking.

Today, Elsie shared her favorite picture on her blog. And asked "us" to show ours.
Sort of a less dirty version of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

So, here are a few faves from the past couple of years.

I of course love this smoochy italitan honeymoon picture.

And then there are these two which perfectly show off my husband's character . . . hard-working and playful! Plus, who gets the chance to help two old italian fishermen dock their little boat!?!?!?

Wisdom for the Day

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

How Could I Forget?

Friday was my sister Amy's birthday! I adore my sister! She is wise, kind, and hilarious! And even though she has yet to forgive me for the Barbie Incident of 1989, she is by far one of the best people I have ever known! Here is to number 27, hot stuff!!!!
This is a picture of the card I made her. I also sent her a fabulous wool and felt bag (that almost didn't get packed into the box because it is so adorable), a tambourine, some Mexican Pumpkin candles, some bubbles that you blow out of a squeezey rubber fish, an ice pack in the shape of Mr. Bump (from a children's book we used to read), and some other goodies!

In the past 10 years my mom has tried a lot of new things that would have previously been outside of her comfort zone. It is cool to watch her push herself. This summer, she went on a mission trip to an orphanage in Russia.

Marriage: A Tool for the Depraved? VOL. 7

Herb posted this on the comment section of my last post this morning. But I think we should let him have his own forum to share his thoughts . . . so here's herb!

I'll have to steal Cara's blog space since I have yet to plunk down the time and energy of setting up one for myself! :)
I just wanted to share an exchange with my doctor a couple of months ago. I see him every month, so he keeps tabs on most of the goings-on in my life. He started by asked how my stress level was...

Me: Fine. Nothing to big... just relationship stuff, you know.
Dr: Oh, how's that?
Me: You know, just the roller coaster ride of marriage (being ambigious, hoping he would drop it)
Dr: (Not one to drop things) Oh... well, how big are the dips and hills on your coaster ride?
Me: Well, they've been pretty high and pretty low at times.
Dr: What are YOU doing? (He's been married 25 years or so, he will always assume I am the cause!)
Me: Well... you know we have over 50 years of combined selfishness we are trying to work through and it's been really tough at times.
Dr: {laughing} You should have that posted above your front door like McDonalds. "Over 50 years of selfishness!"
Me: {Laughing with him now} Oh, and then we just count down for every year we take off?
Dr: No, underneath that, you start counting how many years of selfLESSness you guys have together.
Me: yeah... (That's about all I can usually muster up when presented with such clear wisdom).

We'll never erase the selfishness, but we don't have to be tied to our past. Identify it and move in a new direction... together. To quote RENT, "Forget regret or life is yours to miss. No other road, no other way, no day but today. There's only now, there's only here, give in to love, or live in fear."

wise girl lori chaffer

Alone Everybody
by Lori Chaffer and Don Chaffer

i am happiest when by myself
nobody’s hurts nobody’s helps
like a gun or bullet on a shelf
alone everybody’s fine

i’ve been playing little tricks on me
it’s fascinating what i’ll believe
then in circled stitches my mind weaves
alone everybody lies

i tell myself my life is pretty easy
i take a pill if i am ever queasy
i shut the door when it gets a little breezy
but people really baffle me

so i tiptoe around because it’s easier to fake it
try not to be loud, or emotionally naked.
i’ll agree to go out with my friends, but never make it
at least i keep my evenings free

if you want to try to shift the blame
think of how hard you try and all your pain
oh, there’s one amendment to the game
alone everybody cries

i’ve been thinking i could get along
i think i’m happy, i think i’m strong
but like my cactus when it’s dry too long
alone even cacti die
alone everybody’s fine
alone everybody lies
alone everybody cries

The Grizzley, Our God, and Oompa Loompas

i am reading a book called Story by steven james.
it is james' interpretation of what scripture might look like. yes, look like. and i don't mean that in the post-modern, psycho-babble sort of way. i mean, he uses words to paint pictures. he explores what god's story might litteraly look like if we could see it.

i am loving the journey he is taking me on. begining in genesis.

he takes: "in the begining God created the heavens and the earth . . . " genesis 1:1

and shows me this:
you clothe yourself with daylight.
you wrap the stars around your waist.
crickets chirp from the folds of your garmets.
grizzlies growl from the deep hidden pockets of your evening robe.

where do you set me upon yourself?
am i an earring, dangling in the moonlight?
am i a necklace, flashing by your breast?
where do you slip me on?
where do i fit into your tale?


and i think this:

i love the image of god's evening robe. i picture it as a thick billowing quilt made of burlap like the rocky mountains and silk like the adriadic sea . . . stiched together with tropical vines. hints of piercing bright blue like the eager eyes of my husband and the deep indigo sky of the evening i married him. specks of the grey from the coat of kelly's beautiful dog, and though i don't understand the purpose of pets, i love that kelly loves her dog. threads of the many shades of green from the lush rolling hills of the midwest. cinched with a rope braided of the cream of my newborn baby cousins and the chocolate of my sweet friend latonya. i love imagining that god keeps a grizzley bear in his pocket. and there the bear stands, dwarfed by god's glory but set freed by god's closeness to know his own wild roots. i like to wonder where and how and why he might choose to slip me onto himself, despite his perfection without me.

i love james' descriptions. but for some odd reason, when he describes eden . . .

"adam was one note, eve another, and god a third. and they were woven together in a melody of relationship none of us has ever come close to recapturing. we hear faint echoes of that original song. but we haven't heard the whole thing. not for a long, long time."

. . . i can't help but imagine the scene from willy wonka and the chocolate factory where the children are receiving their initial tour of the magical land. and while the idea of a dark (not milk) chocolate river is heavenly, i don't imagine the the "original song of eden" was sung by oompa loompas.