tollipop

a room of one's own

Dear reader, I spent the week with Izzy in Salt Lake City where she attended a chamber music workshop at the University of Utah.  We stayed in a pretty little house close to campus, and of the many things I could say about the experience, here's one I didn't see coming: how remarkable it is to have time alone in a place that is unfamiliar, quiet, and still.  Once Izzy was off to her classes each day, there were no distractions--no family or friends (beyond a wonderful day spent with Sophie), no puppies or praying mantises, no duties or particular errands, no house to half-heartedly clean.  

You really cannot imagine all the things I accomplished!  

My mind was so clear, my energy so focused!  I spent hours studying, revising my novel, reading, and painting...and it was glorious.  All week long I tried to understand why it felt so different, so revolutionary and new.  One could argue I often have nearly the same access to nearly the same experience at home. But this week I learned what a difference it makes to be away from home,  in a place where no one knows you, no one needs you (disregarding mornings and evenings with Izzy), and time suddenly, truly becomes your own.  

It's that notion of time, I think, the quality of it all.  It seems a true luxury, perhaps even a miracle, to be given time in a way that makes it feel infused with more time, the way your capacity to breathe seems to deepen when the air is fresh and sweet, out in the middle of nowhere.

I've been mesmerized by accounts of writers like Truman Capote, who were often invited by wealthy patrons to spend a month in some stately mansion in the woods or by the sea.  I've wondered about the creative potential of such retreats, the idea of serious emphasis being placed on making things, how it would feel to have one's work so highly regarded such accommodations would be made for it to flourish.   

Well, this was my retreat.  I must say it caught me completely off guard, but twenty minutes in I realized: dear me, I do believe this is a retreat!  

Once I got over the shock of it all, I began to breathe it in.

It seems to me everyone should have such an experience, even if just for one week.  

come, thou fount of every blessing

Dear reader, last week we attended Izzy's school orchestra concert at the Smith Center.  

To begin the program, the students performed The Star-Spangled Banner as well as La Marseillaise, which is the national anthem of France. It was very moving to stand at attention as they played, to feel the depth of emotion such music is uniquely qualified to stir.    

I'm sharing their performance of a favorite hymn that feels like a prayer to my soul.  

I find myself at a loss for words these days, my thoughts have become so inward, but then I often feel a sense of stillness when I visit Tollipop.  Perhaps it's a strange thing to admit, that a blog could be a place of solitude, or something of a retreat.  Writing has always been that for me and I like to come by here, even when I have nothing to say.  

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

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Hither by Thy help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee:
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it;
Seal it for Thy courts above.

a few quick items of business

We have new friends in our house!  A sweet budwing mantis, Parasphendale affinis, and a giant African variety going by Sphodromantis viridis, which I believe translates from the Latin to: watch out, you just slipped to the bottom of the food chain.  

Caroline wants to call her mantis Billings.  I am considering Miles.  As of this moment we are still undecided.   

Springtime in Utah can be tough on morale.

Izzy recently performed at the grand opening of db Brasserie, a restaurant created by chef Daniel Boulud.  I got a little excited about this, as I first learned of him on an episode of Anthony Bourdain's travel/eating documentary wherein he visits Boulud's home town of Lyon, France.  I was intrigued by what I learned of this man...so it was quite a lovely surprise Izzy was able to play for him.

Finally, I wanted to say I've reopened my Etsy shop!  I will probably offer original works only, as it proved a bit of a headache to offer quality prints in the past.  Someday I may figure out the process to my liking, but for now it will be original art.  

In the meantime, I promise I'm still working on my novel but painting is also a passion, and I'm happy to offer some of my work for sale.  

Wishing you a peaceful weekend.   

happy st. patrick's day

An Irish prayer for one of my favorite days of the year:

May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.

over the weekend

Over the weekend it was just me, Izzy, and Winnie hanging out.  Roger and Caroline were in California for a volleyball tournament and Sophie...well, Sophie is away at school!  I keep forgetting that, if you can believe it.  I mean, I know she's not around, but sometimes I fail to grasp she's actually gone.  

I struggle with this concept in general--distinguishing between true reality and the one inside my head.  I know there's a difference but if I'm not vigilant, it can blur.  

I did a lot of cooking for some reason.  Perhaps it would make more sense not to cook when it's just us girls but lately, and I think it's due to Caroline's fascination with Ina Garten, I've come to fancy myself quite the proficient in the kitchen.  I mean, I've always been pretty familiar with the goings on in that area of the house: a firmly rooted childhood memory is standing over a bowl of some concoction with an electric beater in my hand.

I love how cooking is reduced to ratios and concepts, how basic methods of preparation may be applied to the advent of any dish. Of course, I'm no barefoot contessa so take everything I say with a grain of salt, but essentially it is less about strict measurements and more about vibes, about grasping the rhythm of proper temperatures, of wet and dry ingredients, of sugar to cut the acidic and of course my favorite: butter vincit omnia.  

Butter conquers all.  

Much of Izzy's weekend was occupied with music in some form or another.  On Sunday her quartet played in an ensemble competition and won first place!    

The experience left me feeling grateful...not for the win or anything like that, but for the wonder of seeing someone so deeply content.  Izzy never fails to intrigue me, her interests are varied and intense. She is one game girl, curious and outward while at the same time quiet and thoughtful.  Perhaps more than enjoying the performance, I was happiest to see how she interacted with the other quartet members off stage.  They spend a lot of time together and I can see it's a great friendship with lots of laughs, interesting conversations, and genuine concern.  

The musical part is a privilege, but in my mind it's something of an extra.  What really matters is to see this greater development of character, this ability to connect with others, to share interests, to make something beautiful together which comes through effort, collaboration, and love. 

happy thanksgiving

Life has been busy lately, filled with music lessons, concerts, a birthday girl and her party. 

It's amazing to think my sweet Caroline is twelve years old.  She really is very sweet, conscientious, kind hearted, and anxious to do well.  Having such a child means a thousand heartaches, watching her go through this world which can be callous to the tender in spirit.  

And yet I am so lucky.

Last night, a special treat: I was invited to be the guest speaker at a local Cub Scout meeting.  

What did I talk about?  Bugs, of course.  

Oh, it was a grand time, I tell you, and my audience was nothing less than the raptest of the rapt.  For what could awaken the imagination of an eight year old boy more than tales of exoskeletons, of moltings gone wrong yet miraculously recovered, of ruthless predators fighting their way to the top of the food chain, perfectly rolled dung balls fifty times the weight of their handlers, beetle dances and navigations by the Milky Way, and those who devour carrion in the desert?  

Needless to say, the Tollipop Beetle Club swelled considerably in ranks by the end of the evening!

This morning I read an address given by M. Russell Ballard, who is a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles:  

"...Our belief in the overriding importance of families is rooted in restored doctrine.  We know of the sanctity of families in both directions of our eternal existence.  We know that before this life we lived with our Heavenly Father as part of His family, and we know that family relationships can endure beyond death...

Our family-centered perspective should make us strive to be the best parents in the world.  It should give us enormous respect for our children, who truly are our spiritual siblings, and it should cause us to devote whatever time is necessary to strengthen our families.  Indeed, nothing is more critically connected to happiness--both our own and that of our children--than how well we love and support one another within the family."

These words reflect what's at the core of my being: a feeling of profound respect for my children, an awareness of the great gift and responsibility it is to raise them.  The frequent realization I've been lapped several times over.

On a broader note, I hope these feelings guide me with every step I take: profound respect, wonder and awareness.  I'm not saying they always do, but that is still my hope.  I think they go to the heart of gratitude, revealing greater beauties in life and providing an important context for darker moments.  
Wishing you a lovely weekend, and a deeper awareness of it. 

musical weekend

Over the weekend Sophie made her official visit to BYU as a new recruit for the upcoming 2015 women's volleyball season.  She had a wonderful time with her teammates, she loved the classes and events she attended, and she was a little caught off guard by the concept of cold weather, which manifested itself plainly to her while attending a football game one late afternoon.

That's what happens when you're Canadian but raise your children in the desert, dear reader. 

On Saturday we attended a performance of the 2014 MS/HS Honor Orchestras, an annual event wherein students from across the school district audition for the chance to play in a top orchestra of their peers.  The orchestras have just six rehearsals with a guest conductor to prepare for the performance. They also compete for seating within the orchestra and this year Izzy was the concertmaster!

I was struck by one conductor's comments during the performance...he has travelled and worked with orchestras and musical programs all over North America and said there is no public school music program which can compare to the one we have in Las Vegas.  It made me feel both incredibly fortunate and a little sad.  I've seen many instances wherein making musical instruction available to all children has transformed the lives of individuals who otherwise would have never had such opportunities.  

There's nothing like good music to express and access the far reaches of the soul.  It troubles me that the serious pursuit of such knowledge, that the pursuit of so many great opportunities, is often the privilege of an elite few.  

Every child should be able to saw away on a violin, if his little heart so desires. Every child should have access to pencils and paper, buckets of clay, drum sticks, and ballet slippers.  

Music is, for me, the one foreign language I knew how to teach my children. I've always wished we were a family who slipped easily between a rainbow of tongues, from Spanish, Korean, Arabic, and Swahili, to Russian, French, and Chinese. Imagine the beauty of so many words, of so many ways to express what it is you want to say!  I feel giddy just thinking of it.   

But not every dream fits into reality quite as we picture it and still we are a house filled with beautiful sounds, with singing, soaring passages, and deep, sonorous tones.

The gift and blessing of this is not lost on me, though I often wonder if I fully realize its effect on our lives.   

There's a passage of scripture in the Book of Mormon which says "lay hold upon every good thing."  Through the experience of parenthood, especially, I've gained a sense we cannot appreciate the sum total of what such efforts bring, both to us and others.  

It's a means of coming closer to God, and in that journey we experience some sense of the destination, every step of the way.   

over the weekend

Hello, dear reader!  Happy Monday to you!  I wanted to thank you for your comments on the previous post...they meant a lot to me.  While I'd never want anyone to feel obligated to respond, I will say it is a certain thrill to hear from you.  I love hearing random snippets of your thoughts, not necessarily in response to mine, but just for the sound of your voice and the way it opens a tiny window into some hidden corner of the world.

This weekend was lovely.  We spent Saturday morning at the temple doing baptisms for the dead, something which was especially meaningful to Sophie as she has recently taken an interest in family history and has located quite a few names of ancestors for whom to perform this ordinance.

You may have no clue what I'm talking about or you may have heard something strange about Mormons and their fixation with this practice.  To me, however, it is one of the most beautifully logical and bonding experiences to perform and therefore offer this ordinance to those who have passed on, never having had an opportunity to receive it for themselves while living upon this earth.  

I hosted a brief Instagram symposium over the merits of allowing one's dog access to the bed.

It seems there's very little room for debate on this topic in our house and to be honest, I love it.  Winnie sleeps in a kennel but she also finds her way to our bed whenever I'm on it and one of the best extras about this is the way it draws the entire family together, just to spend a few moments with her.  



Caroline's tattoos show no signs of abating.  

Perhaps most glorious of all--Higgins molted!  He now has wings, meaning the molting (growth) stage is complete which comes as a huge relief to me and is cause for great celebration.  

Even better, I wasn't home when it happened but received a flurry of texts from Caroline keeping me abreast of the situation, replete with more exclamation marks than I have possibly seen used in my entire life. 

On Saturday night, Izzy and I attended the Life is Beautiful festival.  

I will admit such excursions don't typically come to mind when I think of the phrase "most desirable ways to spend an evening."  In a way, though, I feel badly about that.  I've mentioned before how I'm not the "fun" parent in this equation...I mean, I'm no utter drip, but I am less outgoing and more reserved.  

Let me be clear on this point, however: we had fun.  We had so much fun!!  It was a total thrill to hang out with Izzy.  I'm telling you: she's some of the best company you could ever imagine keeping.  

We saw The Roots perform and it immediately awakened in me the old dream of becoming a rock star.  Does that surprise you, dear reader?  I know I was going on just a few sentences ago about being a quiet recluse, but that's only because I failed to go with Plan B twenty years ago, which was to become a world famous chanteuse.  

No regrets but oh man, I'm telling you: The Roots made it look delightful.

Then we saw Alt-J.  Do you know who they are, because I didn't. But when you have the world's hippest daughter, you can just sit back and let her tell you what's cool.  And honestly, I had to concur.

After that we saw Lionel Richie.  Lionel Richie, dear reader!!  It was during his performance Caroline bombarded me with texts regarding Higgins' molt, which shot the entire experience through the stratosphere of awesomeness.  Lionel Richie was amazing!!  Wow.  Lionel!!  I still can't believe it. 

Outkast put on the last performance of the night and they were apparently the main draw.  I'm going to say that confused me a little...but what do I know? Everyone else seemed highly enthusiastic, with special emphasis on the word high.  

In between acts we walked around looking at different exhibits and enjoying the coolest art installations.  We shared a falafel pita, a beet salad, and a gigantic fizzy lemonade.  We ate french fries dusted with delicate shavings of feta cheese which made me wonder, as I often do, why poutine has yet failed to storm the border and establish itself as the most desirable element of Canadian culture this country has ever seen.

Poutine, what are you waiting for?  You can't get any more awesome than you already are.  

We didn't get home until well past midnight, trying to no avail to find an open McDonald's along the way.   

What's the point of living in Las Vegas if you can't get an Oreo McFlurry at 1 o'clock in the morning, dear reader?  I thought that was the whole point of this town.   

At any rate, Monday is upon us.  The girls are off to school and I'm home with Winnie, determined to make some progress on the novel revision this week. The house needs attention and Higgins needs crickets.  Sophie will have some exciting volleyball games this week...I wish you could come to a game, dear reader.  I wish you could see her play.  Izzy will fill the house with beautiful music and Caroline will do the same, undoubtedly covered in tattoos.  My husband will be busy and every chance I get to see him, there'll be no mistaking the smile on my face.  

As for me, I'll be doing my usual dance, whatever that may entail.  But this time look for it to be a little more outgoing, a little less reserved, a little more fun.

wherein i discover that flimsy excuse "the dog ate my homework" is actually a real thing

Things with Winnie are coming along brilliantly, dear reader.  

With a little coaxing, she's shown herself to be quite a proficient in the arts. Why, if I could only tell you what she knows about line and color alone!  

Like any artist, she comes with her share of ego.  But what can you expect when you're in the presence of genius?  

Izzy considers herself lucky to be tutored by one of the great coloratura sopranos of our time.  

The girls have been busy at music camp this week.  Each day I drop them off and take a picture as they enter the building.  I see they are growing up, the gap between them is narrowing.

It touches my heart.

Sophie is playing volleyball.

And I'm doing a few things: wiping up puddles, making beetle houses for neighborhood boys, missing the desert, missing Sherlock, realizing there's no point in trying to fold laundry when Winnie is around, stalling for some reason on getting my manuscript out there, waking up in the middle of the night with my ankle hurting and a puppy who's so happy to see me, a little bit of drawing.

The familiar things mixed with new twists and turns.  It's always a little bit new, depending which way you look at it.  

caroline on the cello

 

Over the weekend Caroline performed, for the first time ever, on a full size cello at her end of the year recital.  I was regretfully unable to attend, on account of being on a mountain top, so I was extra grateful for a husband who records everything.  

Whatever Caroline goes on to do with her cello, this is, and always will be, my favorite of her performances.

I've watched Caroline's musical journey with great interest over the years.  She's the only child in our house to play an instrument which is completely foreign to me.  There's something to be said for that, you know: pursuing a field of study your mum can't weigh in on, one way or the other.  

It's been a busy and rather bittersweet week as Caroline prepares to graduate from elementary school, and I'm running a bit crazy today as usual. But even if I could sit at this computer for ages, it would be difficult to articulate what makes her so lovely, how she is undoubtedly evolving and yet is still my sweet little girl.  

How watching children grow up is like being in a dream which only gets more wonderful and fascinating (plus the other moments), yet strangely more familiar as time continues to slip through my fingers and roll forward at this amazing, breathtaking pace.  

p.s.  Sherlock wanted me to tell you Caroline isn't the only subject of that last photo...