tollipop

hello

It's been recital central these past few weeks.

Also, I broke my yellow streak.

I'm feeding the girls a leafy surprise.

And last night Izzy brought tears to my eyes.

 

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Dear reader, my apologies for such a pathetic rhyme.  I'm tired for some reason. And it's a blustery day.  The effects of wind plus fatigue upon an already scattered mind equal bad poetry every time.  

It's a scientifically proven fact.

You know, I often wonder who you are. Who is reading Tollipop?  Every now and then I get an email from someone who reads this blog, mentioning she's been reading it for awhile yet never left a comment.

If you are such a person, I'm interested to know more about you!  Won't you please introduce yourself?  Tell me your favorite book, your favorite treat, your favorite color.  Tell me how things look in your corner of the world...

Lately I've connected or reconnected with some kindred spirits who've contacted me through Tollipop: a sweet high school friend, a wise and luminous girl from my newlywed days, and a woman living in Wales who has the very same name as I do (prior to marriage) plus a daughter named Izzy, the same age as mine.  

Saying hello is a lovely thing.  

It makes this little tea party one of the bright moments of my day.  

diversity

I sometimes wonder if this blog doesn't give the impression only girls exist in the Tollipop world.  

To be sure, girls are well represented in this space.  They are the main focus group. They are the overriding demographic.

But there is one guy in the picture.  He fits in perfectly.  His vote counts.  

And we can hardly get enough of him: he is super amazing, all the way around.

details

Look what I discovered on my trail run today!  A shimmering green beetle, perfect in its detail and deathly repose.

There was nothing to do but take it home in my sweaty hand.  

If you are familiar with this blog, you may have already noticed my penchant for cherishing lifeless insects, especially the magnificent ones.  In fact, if you look carefully at the background of the picture of my herb garden below, there's a speck on the windowsill which is actually a dead bumblebee I couldn't bear to throw away.

Why do these things fill me with such wonder and happiness?   

I think it's because something in their design beckons to me.  Without wanting to offend or invite the derision of those with differing opinions, I must offer that I see God's hand in this tiny insect.  

I believe He created the earth and all things upon it.  I don't know how He did it.  I suspect it was not by waving a wand within the period of a traditionally defined week, but rather through a gradual and masterful harnessing of universal scientific laws.

I believe this through simple faith.  Beyond this, I am compelled to acknowledge an intelligent presence at the origin of creation, as experience has shown me nothing ever gets made without an organizing force behind it.  You know?  Like, my girls' rooms never get cleaner on their own, to put it in very simple terms. Dinner doesn't just magically happen.  As I make things myself, whether it is having babies, composing music, writing, drawing, or building a friendship, I am impressed by the thought, effort, even personality which goes into a really good creation.  

This is the heart of the matter as to why the beetle resonates so deeply: there is something about this intricate bug which awakens in me a closer feeling to God.  There is something about it which makes me feel I better understand an aspect of His nature, and that somehow He understands an aspect of mine.  I recognize something familiar: that we share, if I may say so, a common element of appreciation.

I think He knows how such a tiny, perfect creature would bring me no end of wonder and delight.  I actually think that matters to Him.  And reflecting on this, sensing it is true, brings greater joy and gratitude to my path on this beautiful earth.  

wishing you a lovely weekend

Late last night I was working at the piano when Izzy wandered into the room, picked up her violin and started to play...which was clever of her, given she knew she'd incurred my displeasure by not being in bed.  

 
I recorded this little clip, which she asked me to send to a few of my friends.  I was touched that Izzy feels she has a friendship with my friends, meaning over the years they have taken the time to express an interest in her whenever they cross paths and as a result, a connection has blossomed.  

Isn't that how life should be?  Being friends with people of all ages?  

Beyond that, the desert is still beautiful.

Caroline is still sleuthing with a fellow redhead.

Sophie may still be found in the gym.

My husband is still making brilliant pizzas.

And I'm still thinking about rabbits.  Pillowy soft rabbits who take everything in, who have a quiet, knowing way, and by their presence make you feel calmer, quieter, as if you are okay and everything is going to be all right.

happy mother's day

To all women: I wish you a beautiful day filled with a deep sense of self awareness and worth.  

I am thinking of my mother today, of her many beautiful gifts and how she blazed a trail through life unlike anything I've ever seen. She was strong, industrious, capable, intelligent, wise, humble, faithful, creative, selfless, steady, and endowed with an ability to love that did not run for cover, ever.  I love and miss her deeply, and know someday I will see her again.    

I am fortunate to have many wonderful women in my life.  I have a mother-in-law who is in a league of her own.  She is an amazing example in every respect and I am so grateful for her influence upon me and my daughters.

I love my sisters and my sisters-in-law.  I love my dear friends.  I love the little girls who used to be in my Sunday school class and who still come sit on my lap during church.  I smile when they come, because I've often remarked that after having had three girls of my own, I wish someone would just hand me three more.  And nearly every Sunday, that is exactly what happens.  

I love being a woman.  I love the experiences that come to me through the roles I've been given as an individual, a daughter, a sister, a wife, mother, aunt, and friend.  

I love the beauty I see in this world, how deeply I care about people and how this capacity to care can bring both great happiness and inevitable suffering.  I try not to mind.  I try to embrace it all and feel that my happiness is made more poignant by sorrow, and that sorrow is made more bearable by the sense of wonder I feel at being alive on this earth.

I hope you know I consider you a friend, dear reader.  In most cases I believe we don't technically know each other.  But then again we do.  There are many similiarities in the human experience.  There are many common goals.  And my heart seems to stretch far and wide when I think about people everywhere, wondering who they are, wondering about their stories, wishing I could understand better and help better and make more of a difference.  In some way I sense this quality is an attribute both of myself as an individual and as a woman. 

I hope you have a lovely day.  I hope you sense something deeply meaningful and important within yourself.  One belief I hold dear is the worth of each person, how great it must be, how much each one matters.  I hope you feel it, dear reader.  I hope it stays with you through thick and thin.

Happy, happy Mother's Day. xoxo

go sophie and her dad

 

Last night my husband asked me to preview a montage of highlights he compiled from Sophie's recent club volleyball season.  

I sat down and was all: Oh my!  You set this to music!

And he was all:  Yeah. 

And then I was all: Oh, and you included replays.  In slow motion.

And he was all: I know.  Isn't it awesome?!

And I was all: Yes, you are.

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p.s. I don't know if this video will be of particular interest to the demographic who reads Tollipop, unless we are talking about the demographic who happens to be my little brother in Washington, D.C.  

So in particular I am including it for him. 

lately

Dear reader, how are you doing?  How are things in your life?  I want the 30 minute response, not the one word one.

Here are a few snapshots of what we've been up to lately.  They only reveal a moment in time, but these are the moments I want to remember.  

Lots of volleyball.

Lots of cello and polka dots.

My husband, the pizza artisan.

Izzy and her favorite drink.

Composing music is more than just sprinkling dots on a page, franchement.

My smoothie pal.

Perfect weekend movie party: Tin Tin, sour gummies, snuggling. 

We can't get enough of baby cousins.

Or grandpas.

Salads,

Sun, sisters, and gelato...feels like summer is on the way.

Actually, I want the 40 minute response.  Plus a fizzy lemonade.

I hope you are doing well.

lemon pound

Yesterday morning I came into the kitchen to find my husband up to his elbows in batter.

I was all: Oh!  Are you making waffles?
And he was all: No, I'm making cake.
So I was all: Cake?  As in.....coffee cake?
And he was all: No.  Cake, as in lemon pound.

"Really?," I said.  "Yup," he replied, "I figure you never know when it's your last day on earth, so you might as well have some cake to go with it."

His logic, at 6:30 in the morning, was so morbidly awesome I was simply at a loss for words.

So.  Lemon pound cake for breakfast.  Why not?  That's my husband's job around here.  He's the fun guy.  

I'm the type who's more: Final call.  Do I have any takers for a sewing circle?  How about a spelling bee?

Thank goodness he's here to tip that scale. 

In other news, I just returned from walking Caroline to school. On the way, she announced, "Mom, can we talk about my wedding?"

I didn't even know she was into guys.

Well, she's not, apparently.  Her overriding concern was whether or not she could have fruit salad at the reception, and should she consider a simple, elegant dress, or one that twirled when she spun around?

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Dear reader, it seems inevitable that I need to take another break from Tollipop.  I am just so behind with everything, it seems.  I'm always a bit mournful this blog is the first thing to get cast off the lifeboat when it starts to sink.

If you were in a sinking lifeboat, what would you rather keep?  A sweet, affectionate blog or a ton of surly boxes that need to get unpacked??

I'll be back once I'm halfway afloat.  

p.s.  and thank you for your lovely comments and curiosity about the creosote sachet...it made me realize what a fantastic way to share the essence of the desert!  I am hoping to make more soon...xo

creosote pour une amie

 
This is my friend, Jeanne.  I have the softest spot in my heart for her.  She is 90 years old and comes from a little village in the Alsation region of France.  

If I stopped right there you could already imagine what an incredible life she has had.

Last year her husband passed away and she came to live with her daughter, another dear friend who looks like Leslie Caron in Chocolat and who is married to the gentleman who sometimes brings me pastries from a French bakery.

Anyway, Jeanne and I often sit together at church.  She is like a tiny bird tucked next to me.  Sometimes we write notes to each other.  Sometimes I draw pictures and make her smile.  I hope that's not too terribly irreverent.  

Once, in the middle of the week, she sent me a letter with pictures of her garden in France.

Sometimes we go to lunch together and when we do, we speak mainly in French.

She always orders fish and with that, potatoes.  When the plate arrives, she regards it like a child on Christmas morning.

"Oooh, j'adore les pommes de terres!," she exclaims, "Surtout avec le poisson."  And then she eats every bite.

Eating something yummy with one of the loveliest people you could imagine while speaking in French: is that the recipe for ultimate happiness?

Last week we had a lunch date and she told me about one of her favorite desert plants, creosote.  She kept talking about how good it smelled, how one time she took a branch of creosote back to France and placed it in a cupboard, and every time she opened the door, she was filled with the aroma of the desert. 

Which reminded me of my Easter tree, so I told her about the branches I had in my home which smelled like fresh rain.  

After lunch I took her to see the Easter tree and guess what?  It turns out my plant and her plant are one and the same plant.  

Jeanne was absolutely delighted.

Creosote, dear reader.  If you ever come to the desert I hope you get to smell it.  It has the zen, calming aroma of the first moments of rain.

This week I finally accepted it was time to take down our Easter tree.  I thought of Jeanne, who is returning to France for the month of May, and had a tiny idea.  

A creosote sachet, filled with the aroma of the desert.  For her to take back to the land of wine, cheeses, and rolling hills of lavender.

This way she'll know I'm thinking of her, hoping all is well, and looking forward to exchanging notes in church when it's time for her to return.

this moment...

Sharing a moment from the week without words...more on this project from the lovely Amanda.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend...

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eta: Dear reader, I don't know why I try to participate in Amanda's project of posting a picture without words.  I realize it's very zen to allow you a moment of unfettered silence to gaze upon this idyllic scene...but there is so much to say!  And it seems I've been too busy all week to say anything!

The irony is I am not especially talkative in real life, but in thinking aloud through writing?  For me that is like the eternal fount.

Anyway, I'm excited today because I'm driving to Arizona by myself.  Well, not exactly by myself, per se.  More like with a vehicle full of teenage volleyball players.  But beyond that, the exciting part is I downloaded an audiobook which claims to teach Spanish in the car.  

Do you think it will work?  

Do you know how badly I want it to work?  

Let me put it this way.  If someone came up to me and said: you have the choice between two superpowers.  One is to be able to fly and have your hair still look awesome when you land, the other is to be able to speak every language on earth so fluently that even the native speakers of these tongues will be astounded by your command.  

I would be so stuck. I would be wringing my hands and hopping from one foot to the next.  I would be asking just how awesome awesome means. 

Wanting to be multilingual as much as wanting to fly.  

That's where I'm at, dear reader.

That is where I'm at.