I sold my mothers dining room table last night. One of the last things my mother mentioned to me, in her right mind, was what a poor job I was doing taking care of it. She was right but I like to believe it came alive in the second part of it’s life, rather than sitting lonely in a room waiting for people to commune around it only a few times a month.
Read moreRedesign
It feels good just to shift things around. Life is loosening up, and I feel energized and hopeful. I think we all do. As if finally we are setting off an adventure we’ve talked about for years.
Read moreSprung
Funny isn’t it, how some people control even time in this great game?
Read moreFool For Love
Sandy Rogers
My April Fools:
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| The fish eye lens creates little hands, BIG head |
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| Retired prom queen? |
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| That's OK, she's still got it... |
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| Behind the scenes it's crazy round here |
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| This is my favorite. |
Herding Cats
Beautiful moments like this...
are sometimes like herding cats (and dogs).
All Packed Up and Ready To Go
This is the last photo I took in our old place. Moving out proved to be tiring beyond belief (you can see it in D's eyes) and endless (though it's over now, ironically...I guess it just FELT endless). I love this moment though because it's clearly a moving day moment: pizza on the floor, box in the window. M was at daycare all day and I warned her when I picked her up that there would be nothing in the house when she came home. She walked in and said "uh-oh" in that cute toddler way that really doesn't mean disaster. I was impressed at how well she was taking the change until I told her we were going to eat pizza and she lost it when she realized she didn't have her chair to sit in. Still she found her way on to the floor with pops and the novelty of eating picnic style set in...so did the pizza. Gingy made out well too.
I kept longing for that last moment of nostalgia in the old place. You know, the "turn the light off at the end of the tv series" moment. I was sure it would come and I would have some time alone with the hallow echo of the empty space to say goodbye to all the hard work and, more importantly, the change that took place there. We weathered dating, demo and moving in together there; we left it behind when we traveled down south; we lived with friends and spent many a fun night passing out in this space; this was the threshold we came over as a married couple; and we brought our baby girl home there. Truth be told, typing this is more nostalgic than what I felt Tuesday morning when we left the keys and closed the door. I was tired and achy, I needed to vote and take a nap. I left turning back for only a momentary goodbye and long look. Thankfully I have many pictures to revisit. I feel like an old friend is no longer with us. It feels strange to move on without that space coming with us too.
Feel The Tide
Mumford & Sons (I'm digging some Mumford & Sons lately. Huge crush. Huge.)
This week has been a crazy one of sorts. The type that reminds you how life is best enjoyed when navigated - like balancing on a bike; not something laid out in tracks that you are secured to for the long haul. In the unfolding of it all, the absurd and the magical moments present themselves and nothing feels more satiating.
Change is physically in the air. We spent the weekend watching fall leaves shed their color and loosen their grip. For the first time ever, we both marveled at the sight of the wind sweeping millions of leaves upward in the air like some stunning flurry of Fall in rewind as a hawk hung above it all.
We too are embracing change these days. We placed a long shot "Hail Mary" backup offer on a house we found. It was a place we walked in to and knew instantly we had made a mistake not finding it sooner. Funny how you can walk in to someone else's space and feel like it is yours. Last Thursday night we found out the sky opened up and we were under contract. Our house promptly went on the market Saturday and is now under contract too; apparently a few people felt the same kinship to our home.
I keep thinking about hermit crabs and how they switch shells every so often. I feel we too are hefting off our armor and walking naked towards something new we will come to know intimately.
I've been thinking about how how our homes define us: our neighborhoods, our entryways, the paint colors we choose, and the art we hang on our walls. Friends come in and share the food we eat, listen to the music we play, and smell our smell. We know where the floors creak and how to open some special drawer or window. The fine nuances of the space become silent details in our story of home.
In a little more than a month, I won't see the view from miss M's bedroom window anymore - reminding me of the silence at 3 am when I was lucky enough to breastfeed my little nugget. Soon I won't be able to enjoy the angles of our stairs. The texture of our brick walls will become a fond memory. The perfectly framed view of our copper Rooster weather vane through our kitchen window from the sidewalk in front of our house won't exist as art anymore (as we made sure to write it in as an exclusion to the house purchase). These are all moments we have built and have come to know over the course of our every day. They will be boxed up in our memories. Miss m might possibly not even remember this place very well at all.
We wholeheartedly look forward to something new: fresh paint and wood floors; a backyard with a nice sized garden and the promise of a basketball hoop hanging above our 2 car garage; new neighbors/new friends we have yet to meet; and of course, plenty of work to make our new shell our own.
In this shift that has occurred over the past week, I too reconnected with a piece of me that has been dormant for quite some time though I have tried to rouse it mentally these past few years. Life is best served when you believe in what you believe and the power of positive thinking (if you go with your gut so to speak). It's about putting things in to play and trusting that things will all work out, or that even if they don't work out, it all works out. It's an intrinsic belief I had unknowingly for quite sometime and I've missed it immeasurably. I'm so excited to move forward and nothing feels better.
This week has been a crazy one of sorts. The type that reminds you how life is best enjoyed when navigated - like balancing on a bike; not something laid out in tracks that you are secured to for the long haul. In the unfolding of it all, the absurd and the magical moments present themselves and nothing feels more satiating.
Change is physically in the air. We spent the weekend watching fall leaves shed their color and loosen their grip. For the first time ever, we both marveled at the sight of the wind sweeping millions of leaves upward in the air like some stunning flurry of Fall in rewind as a hawk hung above it all.
We too are embracing change these days. We placed a long shot "Hail Mary" backup offer on a house we found. It was a place we walked in to and knew instantly we had made a mistake not finding it sooner. Funny how you can walk in to someone else's space and feel like it is yours. Last Thursday night we found out the sky opened up and we were under contract. Our house promptly went on the market Saturday and is now under contract too; apparently a few people felt the same kinship to our home.
I keep thinking about hermit crabs and how they switch shells every so often. I feel we too are hefting off our armor and walking naked towards something new we will come to know intimately.
I've been thinking about how how our homes define us: our neighborhoods, our entryways, the paint colors we choose, and the art we hang on our walls. Friends come in and share the food we eat, listen to the music we play, and smell our smell. We know where the floors creak and how to open some special drawer or window. The fine nuances of the space become silent details in our story of home.
In a little more than a month, I won't see the view from miss M's bedroom window anymore - reminding me of the silence at 3 am when I was lucky enough to breastfeed my little nugget. Soon I won't be able to enjoy the angles of our stairs. The texture of our brick walls will become a fond memory. The perfectly framed view of our copper Rooster weather vane through our kitchen window from the sidewalk in front of our house won't exist as art anymore (as we made sure to write it in as an exclusion to the house purchase). These are all moments we have built and have come to know over the course of our every day. They will be boxed up in our memories. Miss m might possibly not even remember this place very well at all.
We wholeheartedly look forward to something new: fresh paint and wood floors; a backyard with a nice sized garden and the promise of a basketball hoop hanging above our 2 car garage; new neighbors/new friends we have yet to meet; and of course, plenty of work to make our new shell our own.
In this shift that has occurred over the past week, I too reconnected with a piece of me that has been dormant for quite some time though I have tried to rouse it mentally these past few years. Life is best served when you believe in what you believe and the power of positive thinking (if you go with your gut so to speak). It's about putting things in to play and trusting that things will all work out, or that even if they don't work out, it all works out. It's an intrinsic belief I had unknowingly for quite sometime and I've missed it immeasurably. I'm so excited to move forward and nothing feels better.
Through The Eyes Of A Friend
I've been doing some consulting work for an old employer. After being gone for four years, it's been strange and fun to return and catch up with old co-workers I haven't seen in a long time. One day, I came in to find my friend Sachin "visiting" from India. He hadn't been back to Broomfield in about four years as well. We laughed about how strange it was that we were there at the same time and at how much older and grayer we might have become in the interim. I invited him and Julie and Lisa over for dinner one night. Sachin came with gifts and made quick friends with miss m. He took a ton of photos too because it's what he loves to do. Julie sent me this one yesterday. It's a heart I have hanging in our kitchen window; I picked it up in Akumal this summer and it really has become one of my favorite things to look at in the house. I told her I LOVED the photo. She typed: isn't it fun to see your house through someone else's eyes?! What a concept... I now wonder what else he caught on film.