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Five hour practice, beginning early.
Catching up with dreams on the road.
The world is changing, getting ready for its own deep sleep.
Inside is warm and cozy.
My bookmarks.
Sophie's bookmarks.
Time to leave. Conversation more lively this time around.
No more leaves. Everything less lively but clear and beautiful as ever.
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Yesterday I came into the kitchen and found Izzy at the table reading Planet Earth and eating a snack.
She looked up and said, "I love this book! I've been reading it for years now and I'm finally starting to understand what it's all about."
She's a fantastic composite, this girl. She likes nailpolish, dance moves and pop music, but she is also auditioning to perform with the Las Vegas Philharmonic, wonders about spiritual matters, and has a deep interest in the structure and dynamics of this planet.
I wish I'd had a friend like her when I was going to school.
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Dear reader, sorry this picture has nothing to do with announcing the winners of the recent bookmark giveaway. It's just that I feel weird writing posts without an accompanying photo. Isn't that some sort of unwritten blog rule?
At any rate, the winners are as follows:
Beth, who said:
I would love to have a Tollipop rabbit!! Although I would probably NOT use it for a bookmark (I tend to lose them)!
Julie, who said:
Of Course we would like some of your art! I would treasure it!!
Another Julie, who said:
That line about your husbands practically wearing matching lockets had me laughing. Too funny!
Yes, please in putting my name in the running for a bunny bookmark. Darling artwork!
Anna W., who said:
Oh my, yes please! I love your little rabbits! And I love that your daughter has an original bookmark of yours to mark her pages.
Elizabeth, who said:
I find almost ANYTHING charming in striped stockings - but most especially bunnies.
Congratulations to you all! Please contact me at your earliest convenience to exchange mailing addresses and the like.
Thank you to everyone else who played along. I wish I could make bookmarks for you all. Perhaps if I hold enough of these giveaways, it will happen. In lieu of the prize, I wish you a lollipop that is at least as hip and cool as the one Isabella has accessorized herself with on her way to music lessons.
And now the picture belongs, after all.
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If you have a moment to listen. It's good stuff.
The station is Talk Radio AM 720 Las Vegas, or you can listen online by clicking right here.
Tim will be on the air until 7:00 PDT this evening, to take listeners' calls and discuss the merits of peripheral nerve surgery.
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Dear reader, I've often said after having three girls of my own, I wish someone would just hand me three more.
Well, this weekend my wish came true.
My brother and his wife went on a business trip and left their two youngest with us and my cousin let me care for her baby while she and her husband jumped around in a mosh pit at a rock concert on Saturday night.
I'm not sure if Jimmy Buffet offers an actual mosh pit, per se, but that's how I like to see it in my mind.
At any rate...an actual baby! Can you believe how sweet? My cousin was a bit worried about leaving her, so throughout the evening I texted her updates on Lilly's first word, first step, and eventual request for a tattoo.
Wasn't that reassuring of me??
It was amazing to be around a baby for an extended period of time. It jostled many memories within me, this time with the perspective of knowing how fleeting these first stages truly are.
How touching to be watched with so much wonder. To listen to her tell me things. I know she was telling me things. She had so much to say! Probably asking for fake id and keys to the car but honestly, it sounded much more like agoooo.
Something that makes three younger children easier to manage?
Three older children.
I so appreciated how my girls helped take care of the younger girls: did their hair, dressed them up, made paper purses, paper crowns, paper everything.
Made them feel special.
I love how I heard Auntie Kirsten probably a zillion times by 10:00 in the morning. I really did love that.
I mean, let's keep it real--it was more demanding of my time and energy--but there is something deeply satisfying in knowing my nieces will have these good memories of us. I think it is very grounding to feel a connection with extended family--like a tree stump, encircled by rings of love.
A major part of Saturday was occupied with Sophie's volleyball tournament. I love watching my daughter play. I'm including this rather lengthy clip of highlights which, if you watch the first 30 seconds, will give you a pretty good idea of what transpires in the ensuing five minutes.
The additional minutes are for the rest of my family, especially my youngest brother who lives in our nation's capitol and can't just hop on a plane every time Sophie drills the ball over the net, franchement.
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In other news, I have closed the bookmark contest and will announce winners soon.
Did I mention it's been a crazy past few days??
And I do believe my brother has a radio show tonight. If this belief is actually grounded in reality, I'll try to come back here and make a more specific announcement.
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The other day I walked into the kitchen and was all: You know what I'm in the mood for? Cinnamon rolls.
And my husband was all: That's a great idea. You should make some.
And I was all: Um, I think you missed the trajectory of my comment.
And he was all: No, I think I pretty much got it.
And then I was all: Oh, it is on, mister.
And Caroline was all: You leave my daddy alone! Redheads stick together!
And I was all: No, Caroline. Girls stick together. Girls. How many times do I have to tell you??
It could be she'll have a few issues down the road.
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A few nights ago my friend stopped by to pick up her daughter, who is a friend of my daughter. Which is an ideal friendship to foster, by the way--the one wherein the entire family has a bestie. Our husbands practically wear matching lockets.
Anyway, she noticed something on the couch and asked, "Is that one of your little Tollipops?"
I looked and sure enough, it was. A bookmark I made for Caroline. Just a little something to help her know what page she's on in her latest Nancy Drew.
My friend seemed surprised my artwork would be laying around in such a casual manner. Which kind of touched me, to be honest. I draw rabbits by the zillions which, if you know anything about rabbits, is a pretty accurate rendering of the species. And I try to foist them off on practically everyone I know, meaning mainly my daughters and nieces.
So I tend to forget someone may consider them extra special. Someone may be extra thrilled to have a rabbit with striped stockings to tuck away within the pages of a book.
Are you such a person? Do you appreciate the certain charm of a handmade bookmark? If so, please leave your name below and you will be entered to win one of mine. I will choose five winners at least.
After all, these are rabbits we're talking about, dear reader.
There's probably five more hopping around since I first started this post.
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Dear reader, every once in awhile someone who knows me well says something to the effect my blog makes her feel inadequate, and it makes me wonder.
It makes me wonder if I should take my con skills to the street.
Because apparently there's money to be made and I can hustle it like candy from a baby.
So...in case you are that baby, I want you to keep your candy. I want to set the record straight. But I don't want this to come across as unsolicited reassurance or false modesty. You know? Like, if Tollipop makes you feel the furthest thing from inadequate; indeed, if reading this blog makes you feel better about yourself, then carry on as per usual. I will feel like a royal dunce marching in to assure you how very normal life is behind the scenes.
Because you do realize these posts are scenes, right? Just fleeting moments from an entire spectrum of experience? And that I don't waltz around speaking in fake British accents and sprinkling Martha Stewart glitter everywhere the rest of the 24/7?
I mean, I may do those things in my head, but generally not in reality.
The fact of the matter is, I come to this blog for much the same reason I hope you do: a little escape. To enjoy a pretty moment, to linger over a lovely thought. To be happy I made one nice meal this week while the rest devolved into bringing home pizza, heating things from packets, and once actually saying whatever you can find in response to the question what's for dinner?
To me, the charming stories of sisters working on homework projects do not conflict with the fact my pockets are stuffed with emergency swear vials, or that I was raring to break one open this morning when a few too many huffy moods and tweenage eye rolls made me want to take back every piece of bundt cake I've ever fed them.
I embrace it all. Or at least I accept it all. I just don't really care to write about that stuff. Lingering over it in the moment seems to be sufficient for my liking.
But in case it doesn't translate clearly, we are well rounded characters in this house. It's not all: Mummy, will you read me a story? Yes, darling girl, just as soon as I finish knitting the Eiffel Tower.
I have questions. I have doubts. I'm not sure about some of my steps as a parent. I'm a bit withdrawn. I have emergency swear vials. I seem to have a hard time keeping the house clean. I have things I believe in. I have faith. I love my family. I find beauty in every person and everything I see. I believe in a certain sort of magic which must be cultivated within.
I don't think it's fair to oneself to let others make you feel inadequate. Nor is it especially healthy to let them make you feel superior. Just factor out the others altogether when having a moment of introspection. To my way of thinking it's better to see life as a journey, and your journey is the only one you can possibly begin to appreciate.
And there is so much to appreciate.
Some parts I appreciate more than other parts.
And it is generally those parts which make the cut when the moments of my day line up to audition for Tollipop.
xooo.
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I stepped out of my car this morning wearing a running skirt and the first thing out of the first guy's mouth was: Tennis, anyone?
And I was all: Really? How long have you been working on that line?
And he scowled and was all: Two weeks.
And I was all: Listen, about that last post...
And he was all: Oh, it is on, Speedracer.
And I was all: You're the one who stopped to tie your shoe. In wolf talk, that's like saying, "Kick me out of the pack."
And he was all: Yeah? Well, wolves don't wear shoes.
So basically he won that one. Plus, I think he was going to cry.
Anyway, it was a fast run. I figured out why the death squad don't have souls: too much extra baggage. And this time no one stopped to tie a shoe. No one stopped to admire the sunrise. No one stopped to act like a gentleman.
No. It was a grim, grueling race to the finish.
The death squad.
They may not be the type to lay their capes on a puddle in the presence of a lady.
But they are the type to wear capes.
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********
Who says birthday parties
Must have an expiration date?
Why, Izzy’s mum thinks
It’s never too late!
For when she suggested otherwise
Her darling girl
Made orphan lamb eyes.
Which are the saddest eyes
You’ll ever see,
They’ll haunt and lurk
In your memory.
And so, dear friend,
Please come and fête
The birthday girl,
There’s still time yet
To celebrate dear Izzy’s birth
Twelve years, one month upon this earth.
(Don’t heave a sigh at Izzy’s mum
She’s human
As they possibly come.)
Your company will be sublime.
Please join us
For a lovely time.
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Will someone please remind me how often a sucker is born? How about gluttons for punishment? What is their frequency? How about fatigue-induced, easily manipulated parents?
How about them??
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