tollipop

survival of the dimmest

Dear reader, I couldn't tell you exactly how the world was formed but I am one who embraces the theory of creation--not in a hocus pocus, wand-waving sort of way, but in a manner which harnesses universal laws somewhat beyond what I was able to grasp during my freshman year of physical science.  

That said, if I keep making the stupid mistake of going for a run in the desert mid-morning simply because school has started so that must mean there's a change in the air, I'm going to end up as the punchline to Darwin's theory, stat.

But the desert is a strange and wonderful place when it's not trying to kill you. The cairns keep manifesting themselves in the most unexpected places: some stirring in their balance and design, others tucked away like secret sentinels.  

Will it sound crazy if I say rocks have a certain presence?  Because that's how it feels, out there in the middle of nowhere. They make me feel less lonely.  They hum with an ancient stillness. 

Best of all, the water is back!  It's been gone all summer and I haven't bothered to say anything because it made me sad to watch legions of tadpoles expire in the relentless heat.  But yesterday morning I could hear the happy gurgle of a current and as I reached the stream, imagine my wonder and delight...

Tadpoles!  Zillions of them!  Zinging around, no bigger than sunflower seeds!

How is that even possible?!  Where did they come from?  I've not seen a sign of frog life, not a ribbit nor a croak, all summer long.  

Paging Charles Darwin: Sir, I'd like to have a word with you.

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In other news, dear reader...while the school schedule is definitely upon us, things get even crazier next week with the advent of music lessons.  Oh, yes. Round two is going to make round one look like a pretty picnic with lemonade and sandwiches cut in the shape of wild burros.  

As a result, posting here on Tollipop may wax sporadic as the speeding locomotive of September plows me down, brakes, reverses, and goes back and forth a few more times for good measure.  

But you have my word as a lady:  the entire time I'll be thinking isn't life magical?  Isn't it grand?!

You also have my word, less as a lady than as whatever I am the rest of the time: I will still run. And write.  Were it not so I'd be forced into other recreational outlets, probably none of them moral or ethical. Or legal.

For sure not legal.   

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Last thing.  Let's announce the winner of little Lucy.  It's Tisha! Congratulations, darling!  You and Lucy are certain to become the best of friends.  

Thank you, everyone, for your kind comments and for playing along.  I wish you something lovely today. Like a change in the air, a tiny frog, a stellar hamstring, or something wonderful which you'd given up hoping for because it just seemed too good to be true.  

there's the sweetest little old man behind this corner, i'm telling you

This afternoon I popped into Trader Joe's to grab a few things before picking up Caroline from school.  The store was busy and I immediately encountered a gaggle of shoppers in gridlock, each one staring at the selection of olive oils or simply trying to decide which way to go.  

Ahead of me, in the direction I wanted to go, was a little old man.  He wore a fisherman's hat, glasses, a faded short sleeve shirt, shorts, socks, and sandals. He looked a bit like Henry Fonda in On Golden Pond, only smaller and sweeter.  
We regarded one another and I smiled, because my day had just been made. He raised his eyebrows and it almost looked as if he had to remind himself how to smile back.  But then he did and in the midst of the bustle, the world stood still. 

Have you ever shared a smile like that?  

Of course we both yielded the right of way and laughed, then he insisted I go first, and I practically skipped off to the bananas.

Later on, as I rounded the last corner of the store, there he was again, perusing almonds.  He looked up at me and I said, "I'm following you!"

He laughed and reached out and touched my shoulder. 

He touched my shoulder!

"You're sweet," he said.  

And I had this crazy moment, like when I tell Caroline what a good girl she is and she sort of pretends she didn't hear properly so I repeat myself and I can practically see the happiness travel through her body, wherein I wanted to make him say it twice.  

But luckily I pulled myself together, said thank you, and kept going with a ridiculous grin plastered across my face.  

To have lingered in the moment might have ended up with him inadvertently having to adopt me.  

Then I wondered, would it be okay to take his picture?  Like, surreptitiously?  Unfortunately there was no one accompanying me who could frown and state what a breach of etiquette and possibly the law that would be.  

Not to mention creepy.    

To my credit, I exercised restraint and merely took the above shot as a reminder of this moment: how the kindness of a stranger may touch one deeply, how it can seem like a gift, how the feeling it creates will stay long after the almonds have been eaten and the bananas peeled, because most things cannot last forever but the things which do are the very most important of all.

last day of summer, first day of school

Oh, what a glorious weekend!

Filled with music,

volleyball,

and a semi-decent trail run wherein my hamstring threatened to cut me with a shiv and there was a high school girls' cross country team out training and I passed every one.  

Oh, teen age girls.  You may have the world's most adorable hamstrings but I have the mind of an aging assassin.  

Feeble, yet ruthless.

There was a dinner party...

filled with yummy things to eat, 

pretty things to drink,

and some of my most favorite hooligans.

Then it was time to get up and go...

and see old friends.

A little shy at first, 

but if the mismatched socks are any indication, I do believe this will be another grand year of school. 

tollipop original giveaway (and my brother on the radio tonight!)

Happy Friday to you, dear reader!  I'm always happy when I know what day it is. I don't think the reality of school beginning on Monday has hit me.  This week has been lovely--filled with friends, music, volleyball, rain, dinner parties, a date with my husband (we walked to the movies!), sleepovers, cousins, and there is more yet to come.  

So I guess I won't bother to think much about next week until it happens.

Would you like a chance to win little Lucy?  She's one of the girls I painted on that beautiful rainy day.  She's very sweet.

Well, not too terribly sweet.
 

If you call this sweet, then yes, she's sweet.

Please leave a comment on this post if you'd like to enter the drawing.  Any old comment will suffice.  I do so adore your comments...something about them always touches me, makes me smile, makes me feel this world is quite a cozy place.  

In other news my brother, Dr. Tim Tollestrup, will be on the radio this evening at 6:00 p.m. PDT.

The station is Talk Radio AM 720 Las Vegas, or you can listen to it online at  kdwn.com/streamer/.

If you want to see what we looked like back in the day when I'd sit and watch him draw life-like, muscle bound barbarians while my page was covered in scribbles, and I'd cry to my mum as she told me to practice harder (all the while sticking my brother's picture to the fridge), so I practiced like the dickens and now I can draw melancholy girls in blue dresses and that's IT but don't worry I'm not bitter, click here.

Wishing you a lovely weekend. xo

this beautiful rainy day

During the night and throughout the day rain was falling.

We think perhaps it came with friends who visited from far away, who joined us for dinner and spent the night and stayed up very late whispering, laughing, and never falling asleep.

It rained all morning while the children played games  and watched a movie.  I did laundry and painted a girl in a dress like a late summer sky.  

I'm surprised a lark did not fly across it.   

It rained all afternoon, after our friends left.  Izzy said she felt tired and I curled up in a chair.  She asked me questions in a small voice and I spun my answers in a slow, lingering way.

After awhile I rested in the silence, in the low light, in this empty room with my daughter.

I love talking to you, Izzy, I said.

I love listening, she replied.

She looked out the window and said, I see a king in the trees.

And I knew exactly what she meant.

perfect pitch

The other day Izzy was using the vacuum cleaner and called out over the noise: this vacuum is a D.

I assumed she meant D as in a school grade and nodded in vigorous agreement. Thrilled by the prospect someone shared my disdain for the feeble capacity of this appliance, I launched a detailed description of my secret vacuum fantasy, one that could inhale a fly off a wall from the next time zone.

Izzy shook her head. No, she said, D as in the musical note.

I froze.  Oh.  The pitch of the vacuum cleaner.  The sound it was making.

Scratch the fantasy.  Scratch me getting my hands on a machine that could suck the ennui out of housekeeping.

I walked over to the piano and struck the D above middle C just as she turned off the vacuum.

One and the same.  And I mean exactly.  

Did I freak out and gush and try to make Izzy wear matching lockets and start doing my hair just like hers?

Sort of.  But that's nothing new.

Several moments later, as I was taking pasta off the stove and splashing it with cold water in preparation for a salad, Izzy approached and draped herself over my shoulders.

Now, she said, let's see what sound the sink makes. 

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Some random thoughts I've been meaning to share:

1) This lovely and visceral description of a Canadian snowfall from Kimberly.  

2) I've almost finished unpacking from our move...six months ago.  Recently I put away this cherished copy of Fantastic Mr. Fox and remembered how awesome it is to read aloud to kids.  

If you were to ask me: what would you rather have?  Crazy amazing hair or your very own personal reader? I'd blanch and whisper: Would his voice sound like Jude Law's when he narrates a movie??  If you replied: No, more like Russell Brand's when he opens his mouth.  Then I'd be forced to go with the amazing hair.  

But I'd probably always second guess the decision.

secret garden

Won't you please come to my garden,

And journey to far away lands?

Such wonderful, marvelous sights to see,

We'd look at the world so differently!

There's beauty enduring,

And in its first blush;

Exquisite, each one, to behold.

And creatures of curious workmanship!

More perfect and precious than gold.

There's ripening treats on this magical day,

No one will find us tucked so far away.

You whisper to me and I'll whisper to you,

As afternoon fades into night.

No matter how long 'til we journey again,

This moment is golden and light.

why i run

It's been a busy past few days and a busy few more to come and today, as I was doing errands with my husband, I lamented the fact I wanted to go for a run but couldn't find a free morning or evening to do so.

My husband said: You could always go for one this afternoon.

And I was all: In the middle of the day?  In 99 degree heat plus humidity?

He looked into the distance and said:  There's a little cloud cover.  

I looked.  There were, like, two measly clouds.

So I said:  Really?  You don't think I'll collapse out in the middle of nowhere?

He was all: I think you'll be okay.

And I was all: There's a fine line between a vote of confidence and total lack of concern, you know.

He laughed like I was joking.

Did it turn out to be a good run, after all?  That depends.  If you're into near death experiences, then yeah, it was awesome.  Looking on the bright side, I couldn't tell what hurt the most, so entire miles passed while I tried to decide.

Was it my ankle?  Or my hamstring?  My knee?  Or my hamstring?

I really don't know what to do about my hamstring.  Give it more rest?  Or should I stretch it out a little before running?

Stretching it before running.  That's like telling my hamstring: hey, before I hurt you, I'm just going to hurt you a whole lot more.  

The run was okay.  I didn't exactly bound around like a gazelle, though at one point I was on all fours. I think my soul made a horcrux while I was out there.  I think my Patronus is a wild burro.  And I think I shaved ten years off my life expectancy.  

But when I returned home, I didn't have the energy to be mean, crabby, or shrill. All I could do was stroke my children's hair and tell them through lips caked with salt how angelic they looked, how well-hydrated.  And when I saw their messy rooms I smiled weakly, as if I'd transcended the pain of having asked for those clothes to be put away so many, many times.

And my husband. He looked so vibrant, so full of life I wanted to cry. Who cares how wrong he'd been about the cloud cover?  Who cares if a part of my soul is now living under a rock in the desert?  

I was just grateful to be reunited. 

I was just happy to be alive.

strike

Last night I decided to give the trail run another go.  It wasn't so much that my hamstring felt better but there were other needs to consider, such as the ozone layer and my mounting desire to punch a hole through it.  

It turned out concern for my hamstring was preliminary, as my entire body staged a protest the minute I started moving.

My ankle was all: Dang, girl!

And my knees were all:  What the...?!

And of course my hamstring was all: So help me, if you take one more step...

Until finally I was, like: Man up, y'all! There are bigger things at stake.

And they were all: Like what?

And I was all: Like the propagation of the species.

And my ankle, who's a real wiseguy, was all: Oh yeah? What does us running have to do with that??

And I was all: Trust me, you don't want to know.

In other news, I think I'm getting older.

happiness is having a big brother

The other day I stopped by my brother's office for a quick visit.  Also, because I needed his help.

But more for the visit than the help...at least that's how I felt reflecting on it afterward.

I was probably there no longer than 30 minutes since it was a busy day for us both.  We said hello and I made him give me a hug and he seriously squeezed the living daylights out of me.  We talked and laughed and made plans for a trail run when my hamstring stops feeling like a piece of beef jerky and he gets fast enough to keep up.

When it was time to go, I practically skipped out the door.

Why?

Because I was so happy.

Happy to have a big brother.  This big brother.  Happy for him for everything he's accomplished in his life. He has a beautiful wife and four awesome kids. He speaks Thai and Laotian.  He is an amazing cook. He is honest, generous, easy going, funny, and smart.

And he is an incredible doctor and surgeon.   

It's hard to explain why Tim is such a great doctor without sounding dismissively biased as his sister but if anything, that's why I'm such an authority on the matter.  I'm not trying to say he's perfect, mind you.  I've watched my brother like a hawk since I was a kid and believe me, while I thought the sun rose and set on him, I didn't exactly notice a halo hanging over his head.  But Tim always wanted to be a doctor.  And I am telling you, since we were little, he's had the hands of an artist.  Or a counterfeiter. Or perhaps a very skilled pickpocket.

Somewhere on that spectrum.

Was it a picnic growing up as Tim's little sister?  That depends.  If you call being forced to retrieve homemade boomerangs from a wasp nest in order to hang out with him and his hooligan friends then yes, it was quite the picnic.

But I digress.  The point I'm trying to make is beyond his natural gifts, I've watched my brother work like an indentured servant to become the doctor he is today.  Throughout our high school and college years he took grueling summertime jobs to fund his education: bringing in the harvest on ranches in Alberta, planting trees all over British Columbia, working up north (as in, the Yukon) in remote gold mines.  During this time he also took a two year sabbatical to serve an LDS mission working with Thai and Laotian immigrants in Oakland, California.  

I've watched how these and other challenging experiences have shaped my brother.  I wish you could meet him so you'd know what I mean, but he is just a very genuine person.  He doesn't fawn over you but he doesn't talk down to you, either.  As a doctor, he is curious and intent on helping his patients.  And he has the knowledge and ability to do just that.  

In a way, you can get a sense of my brother by listening to his weekly radio show Friday nights at 6:00 p.m. PDT.

The station is Talk Radio AM 720 Las Vegas, or you can listen to it online at  kdwn.com/streamer/.

I'm going to try to be better at announcing his show on my blog...maybe this is the biased sister in me, but I wish everyone in the world knew what a great surgeon he is.  The difference he's made in people's lives who suffer from chronic nerve pain is nothing short of miraculous.

Something else that would be helpful to Tim, if you feel so inclined, is to take a moment to like his Facebook page.  Social media...it's a great way to get one's name out there.

If someone were to ask me, back when I was a little kid, would I be surprised to know my brother would one day grow up to be a great surgeon, I would've looked that person dead in the eye and said I never had the slightest doubt.

Maybe I would've been surprised if Tim had walked on water.  Not very, though. But for sure I always knew he was going to be a great surgeon.

I'm telling you.