tollipop

seaside

 
Over the weekend we made a flash getaway to the beach.  It turns out you can do a lot of relaxing in 24 hours. 

 
As previously noted, I'm not really the type of person who longs for a getaway.  Rather, I am much more lacking in stayrighthere. 

My mind, it would seem, defaults to the clouds the moment I stop paying strict attention.  Which is, to say, perpetually. 
 
 
But when the opportunity for getaway presents itself, I am happy as the next person to plunge right in.



The beach was lovely, the water bracing, the air sublime.

 
I am watching my girls grow up faster than would seem possible.



I suppose, for me, this was the best part of our overnight escape: a moment to get battered by ocean, to drag myself out, to lay down on the warm sand and feel my heart beating.  Every time I opened my eyes I saw my husband and three girls running around, laughing, and when they noticed I was watching, they looked at me and smiled. 

this moment

 
Taking a page from the lovely Amanda, who has some precious, newly paired sisters of her own.

Wishing you a happy weekend, dear reader.

xo

group hug

 
Dear reader, the comments left on yesterday's post were deeply touching.  To say thank you does not begin to capture the scope of their effect on me.  I thought about responding to each and every one but decided instead to share my feelings here. 

My motive in asking "what draws you to Tollipop?" sprung from curiosity and the valiant intention to perhaps try harder to write about the topics which interest you.  Instead, you took it as an opportunity to say the nicest things, observations which caught me off guard and filled me with wonder to think someone, especially those I don't personally know, would see so much in me and my writing. 

It made me feel...amazed, thoughtful, and generously seen. 

Thank you for coming here and spending time with me.

 
Also, it was very interesting to see Tollipop does indeed have a few gentleman callers!  Imagine!  For your interest, and because I know graphs and pie charts are so appealing to the opposite sex, I distilled the information into a highly scientific table of my own.

Forgive the hasty nature of my work, but I think this captures the demographic rather nicely.

Dear, darling man readers of Tollipop...you are ever so welcome to join us at this tea party.  I hope you will always feel comfy and cozy here! 

Even if you didn't invite me to prom.

question for the man demographic at tollipop: do you exist?

 
A comment on a recent post  prompted me to wonder who, exactly, comprises the readership at Tollipop. 

As in: are there any dudes out there?

Forgive my momentary indulgence of stereotypes, dear reader, but it amuses me to imagine what appeal this blog might hold for the manlier amongst us. 

Are there not too many trinkets and baubles?

Too much love and mush?

 
A revolting excess of handiwork?

Heavy on pastoral scenes?

Notably lacking in pyromania?

Let's be honest: the real problem is Mr. Darcy, isn't it? 

Yes!  His pride and prejudice might sicken you, but deep down you know you'll never be half the man he is!  His noble birth and bearing, his fine figure, his clever way with the ladies...why, it's enough to make you want to bust him in the mutton chops!

Then again, don't lose courage!  What does Darcy have that you can't muster in spades?

 
Oh, ladies--can he do this?  Can he break out fresh moves like this in the midst of his simpering gigues and allemandes?

What?

I didn't think so.

::::::::::::::::::::

But I am curious, dear reader.  If you are, indeed, a man and happen to read this blog in and of your own free will...would it be asking too much for you to leave a comment admitting as much?  And perhaps let me know what draws you to this tea party while you're at it? 

Because if it's car chases and explosions you're looking for, darling, it could be you've wandered into the wrong place.

Then again, I'm sure I could rustle up a stick of dynamite or two if it would really make you happy.

:::::::::::::::::::::

And to the rest of you, the question still stands: what draws you to Tollipop?  What do you like to read about when you stop in for a visit?

there is the small matter of some bunnies on the loose

 
Dear reader, something you may have gleaned from reading this blog is that I don't exactly score high marks in keeping up with the times.  As in, the calendar year marches to a certain beat of the drum, while I am off in the corner doing interpretive movements. 

It's not something I'm necessarily proud of; in fact, it is a quality I'm in constant struggle to overcome, or at least to keep at bay.  Or at the very least, to minimize the effect of its totalitarian regime upon the lives of the people I love. 

 
So it shouldn't surprise you to know there are still a few bunnies wandering about my house, souvenirs of the spring season~mild, docile companions who pose such minor demands upon my attention that it would seem while Easter has come and gone, yet I have forgotten to put them away. 

But it isn't a clear-cut case of forgetting, I should say.  I do believe there is sentiment involved, as well.

 
For example, some bunnies are edible, and who can help but feel attached to those?

 
Some are simply too fabulous not to have their moment in the sun.

 
And others are noble and brave. 

It is apparent to me, at least, that bunnies, along with various and sundry souvenirs of the season, are meant to be put away in increments, darling. 

Let Time march as it will; this way is much cozier.

 
And when a few must be retired here and there, how good it feels to know they are keeping one another company in the darkness!  

Two rabbits alone amongst the crystal and fine china...I wonder what fun awaits the next time I come fetch them from the cupboard?

it's hard to say why the desert is so amazing

 
A few nights ago I went for a bike ride.  It was at the end of a long day and I thought my energy was gone.  But I dragged myself out there anyway, climbed on my bike, and set off into the fading light. 

I don't know what it is about the desert, but I can't stop trying to articulate its mystique.  If I tried to tell you how the desert affects me on five different days, I'd give you five different answers.  It is clear and endless, like an empty canvas that imparts its soothing effect on my cluttered mind.  It is a furnace that can reduce me to a pillar of salt.  It is a cathedral of air and space. 

The desert is not the pillowy aunt who erupts in laughter and smothers you in her ample, scented bosom.  It is the lean, black sheep uncle with squinty eyes who takes long drags on his cigarette and doesn't like kids.  It is not a warm, sloppy puppy.  It is an aloof and rarely affectionate cat. 

 
The desert has a way of making one confront mortality.  It is dry and barren, hardscrabble and bleak.  Life out there is fleeting and every living thing must work hard to survive.  When something blooms against all odds, the beauty is especially poignant. 

These thoughts are sobering, yet fill me with the hum of a deep, perpetual energy: everything comes,  everything goes.  There is a rhythm.  There is a cycle.  I feel my place within it. 

As I rode along, I saw two cyclists in the distance. 

And just like that, my zen moment was over.

I started pedaling with the hunger and ferocity of a lion unleashed upon gladiators in the ring.  Although it took awhile and likely reduced the lifetime capacity of my lungs, the eventual catch and pass was so thunderous and definitive it made up in spades for all that lost introspection along the way. 

That's okay.  I can contemplate my mortality any old time. 

Farther on down the road, I whipped past the largest snake I'd ever seen.  It was indisputably dead but I was still filled with the desire to turn around and determine if, indeed, it might be a rattler. 

Did I dare?  Had I sufficiently increased my lead enough to risk it?

Yes.  The snake was massive.  I would take the gamble.

I slammed on my brakes, turned around, and pedalled back to the twisted carcass.  It was not a rattler, after all.  But it was still a very big snake.

In the distance, the cyclists came around the bend, gaining ground.  I saw them and nearly fell off my bike trying to jackknife it back to the right direction.  I put my head down and let my legs fly, a cacaphony of limbs and joints hurtling into infinity. 

Immature?  

Who could say otherwise?

But also in that moment: happy, alive, and totally carefree.

::::::::::::::::

Dear reader, I think I must announce another little blogging break.  I hope it's not for long and am wishing you a lovely few days in the meantime...

on the scale of passion from one to ten, three to four is not bad

 
Dear reader, over the weekend Sophie's volleyball team participated in their final tournament of the season and came in first place!
 
 
It was amazing to watch how well everyone played and to see the brilliant progress they've made over the past several months.
 
 
I enjoyed every minute of it.  I love how the pursuit of athletics develops discipline, humility, focus, strength, hard work, spirit, and unity.
 
 
Friendship, too.  Watching the girls compete together, have fun together, and grow close on and off the court has perhaps been the sweetest experience of all.
 
 
Also over the weekend, Sophie performed at a piano recital.  As we drove to the location, I noted her tired and unenthusiastic demeanor.  I thought of how happy she'd seemed the day before at her tournament and asked for her thoughts on volleyball and piano by ranking them on a scale of passion from 1 to 10.

Volleyball got a 10.

Piano?  Let me see.  Oh, that would be about a 3-4.

She looked at me hesitantly before ranking the piano, as if sharing her true feelings might crush my fragile spirit, but luckily for Sophie she has a mother who runs with the death squad and is growing less human by the day.  It truly did not faze me one way or the other.  Rather, it was a delight to hear how much she loved volleyball.  How wonderful to discover a passion so early on in life! 

And even though her interest in the piano is presently at an all time low, I assured her of my belief in fostering passions and non-passions alike.  Again, lucky girl. 

Certainly volleyball is going to eclipse the piano in priority over the next few years.  And I will be excited to sit in the stands and cheer her on.  But as I listen to Sophie bang out her Joplin, I still want so badly to help her nurture this gift.  I honestly feel as if I should.  

She doesn't even need to feel obligated to enjoy what she's doing.  By all means, she is welcome to rock a pouty face.  

Darling, (cue glittering, coloratura laughter) I thrive on high times, not positive feedback!  

And for the next few years I plan on swinging this chandelier high enough for the both of us.

and the winners are...

 
Karen and Melanie!  And in case the answer key fails to make it sufficiently clear, Karen is the winner of stripe-stockinged Tess, while Melanie carries off the prize of the hugging bunnies. 

To be even more specific, the lovely Karen who said:

Jude the Obscure is one of my favourite books and I cry every time I read it. Id love a chance to win Miss Tess...Karen xx

 And the incomparable Melanie who said:

This picture makes me think of my youngest daughter. She was born needing her mommy, and still at 11 is my constant companion. I didn't get to hug her goodnight today, and I sure could have used one!

Congratulations, darlings!  I am thrilled for you both.  Let's get in touch soon to exchange mailing addresses, candy preferences, and other pertinent information. 

To everyone else, thank you for playing along.  In lieu of the prize, I wish you something lovely.  I wish you a cozy spot to sit in with a friend~a tucked away bistro with a hidden corner just for the two of you.  It would be a window seat overlooking a fabulous city and you could sit there the entire afternoon, laughing and visiting and eating delicious things. 

And you would be wearing such a pretty pair of shoes and a cardigan of perfect yellow, and you would just love the way your hair looked.  And you would have two silver bangles on your wrist and so would your friend--matching bangles, in fact, because you purchased them together on an adventure you shared a few months ago in Morocco.

And what an adventure it was!  So many close calls!  So many narrow escapes!  So many admiring glances!  You sip fizzy lemonade and laugh at the memories, the grand times. 

And there are many more such moments yet to come!  Because your friend is asking you to join her on another voyage, this time to a castle in the Swiss Alps.  A baroness needs your help.  Of course she does.  There is a legend of a hidden family treasure, a puzzling map, a nefarious sedan, and a lifetime supply of the world's finest chocolate awaiting if you successfully complete your mission...

recital

  
There are many sides to my little Izzy.  This one is rarely seen in public but I find myself the lucky recipient of it on a daily basis. 

And I do mean lucky. 

 
She and her friends participated in a recital the other night.  The level of performance was amazing...I often wonder why the rest of Las Vegas doesn't show up to these events?  I think there may be too many all-you-can-eat buffets and Elvis impersonators in this town. 

 
Here is Izzy's performance.  It is the same piece she was practicing well past bedtime a few posts ago and if I had my way, she would play it for me every day from here to the end of time.  The speed and dexterity required by this piece is thrilling.  Plus I love that my little girl up there is the same one who was reenacting, spot on, entire scenes from Potter Puppet Pals earlier in the afternoon.

 
And here is something else you should see.  This is Izzy's friend.  Her name is Victoria and to see her perform is a mesmerizing experience.  She brings virtuosic comprehension along with childlike wonder to the music and her instrument all at once. 

Her life story is already amazing and from the very first time I heard her perform several years ago, I sat up straight in my chair and realized I was receiving a gift like no other.  I think I forgot to breathe.  I often marvel this little girl is growing up in the same town with us and feel honored by every opportunity I have to be in her audience. 

:::::::::::::::::::::

In other news, I will wrap up my two seemingly endless giveaways by the end of the day.  Finally!  But there is still time left to enter to win some affectionate bunnies or a little girl with striped stockings.  What could be better? 

Wishing you a lovely Friday...

was it caroline's imagination, or had her cello grown needier than usual as of late?

 
Dear reader, on the way to Caroline's cello recital last night she expressed anxiety over the notion of public performance and the fear of making a mistake in front of a whole bunch of people.  

This is a big deal for Caroline.  She takes public failure very seriously.  I listened and made encouraging comments when it was possible to get a word in edgewise. 

She slumped.  She sighed.  She informed me this reason alone might account for her impending decision to quit the cello altogether. 

I told her that wasn't going to happen.  But I said it with great empathy. 

 
Several moments before it was her turn to perform, however, she leaned over to me and whispered, "Mum, I'm sooo excited!  I am going to make this magical!"

And I do believe she did.

 
On the way home that evening, Caroline was in high spirits.  She loved her cello!  She wanted to be a great cellist when she grew up.  Also, a volleyball star.  Would Daddy be at home to help her with hitting practice?  She was starving.  Did we have anything healthy to eat?  Because volleyball stars only eat healthy stuff.  She loved Breakfast at Tiffany's, but not as much as Pride and Prejudice.  Nothing was as good as Pride and Prejudice. 

There was a brief pause in the chatter.

"Do you remember how nervous I was before my performance?," she asked, as if that was ages ago.

"Yes!," I exclaimed, "what do you think happened?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said in breezy, dismissive tones, "I just got some confidence, I guess."

Apparently, Caroline has a vast reserve of it somewhere which is available on demand.