Tiny

Recently I watched a documentary called Tiny: A Story About Living Small (available on Netflix Instant View, ITunes, and Amazon). Merete Mueller (one of the individuals in the film and it's co-director) sums it up on IMDB like this:

What is home? And how do we find it? TINY follows one couple's attempt to build a Tiny House from scratch with no building experience, and profiles other families who have downsized their lives into houses smaller than the average parking space. Through homes stripped down to their essentials, the film raises questions about sustainability, good design, and the changing American Dream.

Sounds interesting, right? Well, it was. I recommend this movie to anyone who is feeling cramped in their current quarters. I can almost guarantee that you will feel like you live in a veritable mansion after 66 minutes of viewing houses 300 square feet and smaller (often much smaller). It will probably also give you the urge to purge, a desire to run madly through the house, filling a large receptacle destined for Goodwill as you go. And long after that fervor passes, it will leave you with much food for thought.

via

While the synopsis says "couple," the tiny house highlighted in the documentary is primarily the brainchild of Christopher Smith. Though his girlfriend, Merete, grows more and more attached to the project, her future relationship with the tiny house (and Christopher) remains ambiguous at the end of the film. So there's the first thing about tiny houses: they're tiny. So small that one wonders if that, by necessity, they are isolating. Are they big enough to hold even two lives, two wills, two egos?

Yet, despite my doubts, some do it. In addition to Christopher and Merete, the film also introduces other individuals and couples who live in tiny houses. In their interviews, some of the tiny householders focus on the amount of time and money that is saved over a traditional home. Some mention the peace that one finds in simplifying one's life, the freedom of not being forced to work constantly to buy goods that are unnecessary. Some even mention the newfound ability to focus on relationships rather than things.

As a minimalist myself, I found myself nodding along in agreement. Yes. Yes! That rat race. I want out of that rat race. I don't want my junk. I want relationship. I want intimacy. I want freedom. Freedom.

Even though each person spoke about the topic differently, it all came down to this one thing: freedom.  I do want freedom, and a freedom not just from things, but for things. Good things. But that's where I have to part ways with the movement (and yes, it is a growing movement). My good things involve a spouse, and unfortunately, he's not as much of a minimalist as I am (though I don't think it's so unfortunate when one of his "random" purchases turns out to be just what I need).

And we like children. Our first one. Our second one. Our third one. Even our fourth one. And even other ones. More ones. Future ones, so to speak. And that may not be tiny, but it sure is good.

2-3 August

WEEKEND DIARIES

Can you believe it's August already?!

What's new for you? 

We've been spending a lot of time outside. Playing at the playground. Soccer practices and games. Scootering at the river, and running. Yes, I've started running again, or more accurately, run-walking. It's hard to keep the pace consistent when I've got a babe and three little scootering fools in tow, but its still enjoyable. I don't keep track of pace, time, or distance. I just want to enjoy the exertion of it and the pleasure of the process rather than turning it into a competition (with myself).  

I used to be hardcore and crazy when it came to exercise; I've avoided "working out" for five years because I'm so wary of getting sucked back into unhealthy attitudes. Maybe it's a blessing that the kids force me to be flexible... You can't get too competitive when you are constantly stopping to pick up acorns and other "treasures" ("Mom, look at this chapstick I found." The chapstick that was actually a used tampon. Even in the cleanest park, a mom has always got to be on her toes!)

In addition to our fitness endeavors, we've been enjoying the flavors of the season - fresh cherries, apricots, peaches and nectarines. Watching nature up close: a robin built a nest, laid her eggs, hatched her young, and raised them up to flying age all in a hanging basket on the porch. Life is truly amazing. 

Also, there have been some less fun activities, like trying to save the book collection that got too damp in the basement. Not wet, just damp. The process of removing the mildew from so many books is so overwhelming that I wept. Maybe more than once. I've realized that the collection of books that I love needs to be severely culled. There are just too many to thoroughly dry and de- mildew. Sigh.

Have a great week!

Look, me in florals. I do get out of the all black now and again. And I still look the same :)

De Pomiane in Ten Minutes

Today I'm linking up with Jessica for What We're Reading Wednesday. The book? French Cooking in Ten Minutes: Adapting to the Rhythm of Modern Life by Edouard de Pomiane.

I love this little book, and I think that I would get along swimmingly with the author, were he still alive (sadly, he passed away over fifty years ago).  De Pomiane's writing style is conversational, yet clear, witty, yet kind. You feel he has faith in your taste and abilities, no matter how inexperienced you may be. While de Pomiane's background as a doctor and scientist is apparent in his methodical approach and his faith in process, he refuses to reduce cookery and consumption to cookery and consumption.




And that brings me to my favorite thing about this book. It's really about more than French cooking, and you can profit from it even if you never prepare a single recipe from it's pages. It's a reminder: that meals are for nourishment and delight, that anyone can cook, that life is beautiful. Let me share with you one of my favorite passages, where the author describes what one ought to do following the stress free, quick, and delicious meal one has just prepared and consumed:

Fill your cup with the hot coffee... Lean back in your armchair and put your feet up. Light a cigarette. Take a nice long puff, then blow the smoke to the ceiling. Enjoy the coffee's aroma, take a long sip. Close your eyes. Think about that second puff, that second sip - you're rich!

And if that is all a little too esoteric for you, here are a few concepts that make this book a practical gem.

Courses: At the time of publication (1930, but maybe still?), French habit was to compose each meal with four or five small courses. While I personally love meals that have courses, I don't serve them at my house. In my mind, courses equal waitstaff and chefs. De Pomiane outlines how the cook pressed for time can plan, prepare, and serve just such a meal with a minimum of difficulty.

Cooking Methods: De Pomiane outlines the basics. He lists three cooking methods that can be accomplished quickly, and explains a bit about what is happening and why. He gives the reader an understanding, rather than just a process. And this is his modus operandi throughout the book. I think most of us have had a sauce turn out lumpy or an egg curdle and turned to takeout none the wiser for our failure. None of that with the good monsieur. If you fail, there is a reason, and he does his best to make sure that you understand why.

The Master Recipe: I recommend reading the book from Introduction to finish, all the way through. De Pomiane doesn't designate it as such, but he often starts each section with a master recipe that can be used, built upon, or modified. The cook is an artist and masterpieces start with basics. I love this concept, because it gives the novice cook an invaluable starting point rather than a deluge of recipes that can't be remembered.

So there, I think you will love this book even if you don't particularly care for French cuisine or such foreign wonders as Honeycomb Tripe with Tomato Sauce or Breaded Pigs Ears. De Pomiane wouldn't judge you, for as he says, "If you're not convinced, do as you like. After all, that's the best way to enjoy what you're eating."

Summer Rituals

Summer means fresh food: basil and mint, tomatoes, cucumbers, salads. Summer means slowing down to beat the heat. Lazy afternoons beneath the shade tree, reading, watching the kids run around. Relaxing with guests. Grilling. Freezie Pops and cool drinks.

After a brutal winter summer has finally come, and my brood and I are trying to make the most of it, and I bet you are, too. And as idyllic as it all sounds, at times it's hard for me to just calm down and be. To be present to my kids (that's starting to be a theme, isn't it?). To not feel guilt if I'm not busy, busy. To be content to hold a baby that won't go to sleep or to choose a trip to the playground over completing a blog post.

How to solve this inner angst... I don't know, I just keep reminding myself that my biggest responsibility right now is to these littles. And alcohol. Just kidding. Sort of. What I mean is that alcohol is part of it, one small part of creating and living summer rituals. Of responding to the changes in weather and environment, interacting with them and with each other in meaningful ways. 

You may have caught the post two Fridays ago about summer cocktails. Since then I have been playing around with various ingredients, and I have come up with a formula that can be used with whatever you have on hand. It's a little less boozy but just as fresh and even more refreshing for the days that are turning hot, hot, hot.

I hope you like it!

The Perfect Summer Cocktail

Ingredients:

Gin or Vodka

Basil or Mint

Lemon or Lime

Fruit: Strawberries, Blueberries, Peaches, you name it

Simple Syrup (equal parts sugar and water, boiled together to dissolve)

Club Soda 

Ice

The Formula: 2 ounces alcohol + 1 ounce simple syrup + juice of lemon or lime + five leaves basil or mint + club soda

Muddle (i.e. crush using a muddler or the back of a spoon) the herb leaves in the lemon/lime juice. Pour into a shaker. Add alcohol, simple syrup, and ice. Shake. Strain into a Tom Collins glass (or a martini glass). Mash some really ripe fruit and add. Fill glass with cold club soda. Now take it outside, and enjoy!

14-15 June

WEEKEND DIARIES

Better late than never, right? Wow, this week has really gotten away from me! We had Fathers Day. We had a little boy turn four. We had a fiasco at the DMV over a clerical error that occurred three years ago (that is still unresolved - ridiculous bureaucracy). And a baby that's starting to do things that aren't so babyish, like not sleep the day away, and some of the evening and night hours, too!

Nothing stays the same, except change. And maybe possibly this cliche. Have a great week!

"I'm going as fast as a snail!" she shouted with glee.

Brothers.

I've been playing around with cocktail recipes (but you already knew that).
I've got another good one to show you sometime soon.

Baby feet. The toy that never gets lost.

Someone refuses to take naps since she moved out of the crib and into a toddler bed. It's been a rough transition.

Walter Mitty, The Word's Most Interesting Man, and Other Things

By now, many of you have probably seen the movie The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, and if you haven't, I highly recommend it. The basic storyline revolves around one Walter Mitty, a man who lives a very ordinary life and simultaneously creates a fantastic identity in the realm of his own imagination. Only when events outside of his control force him into a globe-spanning adventure is he able to integrate the two disparate realities and truly live.

I think that many of us can see a wee bit of Walter Mitty in our own lives. Not that we each have some secret phantasmic life, but that much of our time and mental energy is spent on things that aren't real. Like Walter, we experience our day to day as fatiguingly mundane, and we seek respite in mindless TV, FaceBook, eating... and all sorts of activities intended to add color and excitement to our life.

Before I go any further and you decide to quit reading this appallingly preachy blog ever again, I just want to say that I am not condemning TV, FaceBook, or eating, even mindless TV, mindless FaceBooking, or mindless eating. I love a ridiculous sitcom accompanied by a tub (and I mean that word in its fullest sense) of popcorn. I am not a robot. 

And I am absolutely not saying that we all have be the world's most interesting man or go on some amazing global adventure when we have four little kids at home (give or take a few). What I am saying is that sometimes we need to re-awaken to the here and now, and all the adventures it could hold.

I've put together a little list for myself, prompts for when I'm stuck in a rut.

See the usual in a new way by seeing it at a new time. Get up early for the sunrise, or enjoy the sounds of the night with a glass of wine.

Read more books. Keep a running list of books that pique your interest or that friends recommend. Goodreads is a great tool for doing just that. 

Be quiet. Figuratively, but maybe also literally. Take a short break from FaceBook, Pandora, magazines, maybe even, gasp, blogs! Let all the words and talk clear out of your mind, and be still.

Learn a new language, or practice a second one that is rusty or only halfway known. Knowing a second language is a good in itself, but it is also a vehicle for diving deeper into a culture. The ways and words we use to speak of things reveal a lot about us.

Do something that makes you uncomfortable. Introduce yourself to that other mom you always run into at the park. Submit an article to the newspaper. Invite a friend over even if your house isn't spotless.

Go out of your way to be kind. Authentically compliment someone. Write a get well note. Make a meal for a new mom. 

What would you add?

29-30 March

WEEKEND DIARIES

Every Saturday is different, and every Saturday is the same. Being awakened by small children. My husband saying, "Let me run out to the farmers market for a couple things. Let's have a big omelet for breakfast." And returning with strawberries, pears, asparagus, mushrooms, sweet peppers, rye bread, pastry hearts, cinnamon rolls, cookies as big as a face, locally made breakfast sausage, chorizo, feta. And then saying, absolutely seriously, "We can swing by the market again, I just wanted to get stuff for breakfast." I love this man.

The kids watching a show or two. Me having too much coffee. Scanning the weekend paper or finishing that book that needs to go back to the library. Showers, baths, errands in groups or all together. Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me in the car. A strong beer at four o'clock (trust me, its deserved if the errands were run en masse). An easy dinner. Children playing. Bedtime. Redbox movie time. Every Saturday is different, and every Saturday is the same.

D said, "Take a picture of this," then posed.

This book, eh, ok. I finished it but all the examining of women's dilemmas of "art versus family" and societal pressures was exhausting.
And I was left with so many unsettling questions. What is art? Why was Wiemar Germany so sexual?  Am I oppressed?
But I do like the light in this picture I took. Pat on back.

Sun like spring, snowing like winter.

"The long arm of justice."

Cooks Illustrated Skillet Penne with Sausage and Spinach (roasted red peppers substituted for sun dried tomatoes)...
Fast and delicious!

Temptation to Distraction

This lent, one of my resolutions is to spend less time on the internet during the day. Though I periodically check my email and Facebook for messages, I have been trying (with varying degrees of success) to save the article and blog reading for the evening. As a stay at home mom, it's been a real temptation for me to fill the every "in between moment" with information. After some thought, I think that the temptation stems from two sources.

Just a symbol. If apples were my only temptation, well, call me holy.

First, the very "hurry up and wait" nature of being at home with children. One moment you can't catch your breath because there's an accident on the carpet, a child climbing the counter to get that juice you forgot they wanted, and another yelling that he is going to get in trouble. And then the baby starts to cry.

And at another, peace reigns while some nap and others play. The peace may last five minutes or thirty.  Whatever the case, odds are it won't be long enough to get into that new book by Weigel or have an uninterrupted phone conversation. The result of this reality is that there are a lot of odd and unclaimed minutes here and there. Moments begging to be filled.

The second source of the temptation is the very nature of the stay at home tasks themselves. They're mundane in the most literal meaning of the word. And at times, they are, to be quite honest, unpleasant. Disciplining, cleaning up gross messes, getting up when you're tired, sitting still when you want to do. It's not all drudgery, and it's very rewarding, especially in the long run... But it's not always easy. It's rarely easy. 

It's human nature to seek escape from boredom and unpleasantness, and we all need a bit of escapism now and then. But there is a real danger to subconsciously make the day more and more about these "filled"moments. In the language of Laura's review, we try to fill our hunger for something more with mere distractions. The paradox is, at least in my experience, that the more one tries to fill that hunger with distractions, the less and less satisfaction one finds in the distraction and the real. 

So, while my lenten practice was intended primarily as a little mortification, I'm seeing other side effects. The first is that I'm realizing that these "empty" moments aren't so empty. In the quiet of these moment, there is often inspiration, whether it is some profound philosophical insight, or a flash of creative genius about how the living room could be perfectly arranged. 

Another is that I see my children more clearly, and catch more of the interplay that goes on between them. The comical, the absurd, the innocent, the tragic (isn't every sorrow a tragedy to a child?), it's all there to be treasured if one has the eyes (and the attention) to see. And this has given me a new sense of gratitude for these children. 

The comical. 

The lovely.

The wonder.

The fleeting.

And finally, I realize that I have more time than I thought. While I may not get through chapters of an intellectually weighty book, I can gain something from reading a short excerpt and reflecting on it throughout the day. And while I may not be able to make that hour long call to a friend, I can write a quick note to let them know they're on my mind. 

So maybe the more that I'm looking for is already in these moments. It just takes time and practice to recognize it.

Books and Culture With Laura

A Review: Women Food and God
by Laura Scanlon

I’ll start with the ending of Women Food and God, by Geneen Roth. Once a woman finds peace with food, the author proposes, a woman realizes that “God has been here. She is you.”

No . . . no. She’s not. That is to say, I’m not. Thanks all the same.

That being said: I found a lot of value in what Ms. Roth writes about women and food, even if I find the parts on God a bit lacking.

The author asks rhetorically, “What has hunger got to do with food?” For women who struggle with food obsessions (the author posits that over fifty percent of American women do), eating has everything to do with spiritual hunger but is unhealthily disconnected from physical hunger.

Ms. Roth explains that women overeat to distance themselves from their feelings and to seek happiness that eludes them elsewhere. “Women turn to food when they are not hungry because they are hungry for something they can’t name: a connection to what is beyond the concerns of daily life.” On the other extreme, some women diet compulsively seeking a sense of control and validation. “Diets are the outpicturing of your belief that you have to atone for being yourself to be worthy of existing.”

Both behavior patterns, the author explains, are forms of food obsessions and allow us to check out of life. “Obsession . . . creates a parallel world, a hologram of emotions . . . . There is madness in obsession, yes, but its value is that it drowns out the madness of life.”

Ending the obsession, according to Ms. Roth, comes through awareness: awareness of one’s feelings, of one’s true nature and, at the simplest level, one’s own body and sensations of hunger. In this regard, Women Food and God reminds me of French Women Don’t Get Fat, by Mireille Guiliano, and its motto of “pay attention.” The answer, according to Ms. Roth is to be aware and live fully the present moment you are in, no matter how mundane or unpleasant.

One of Ms. Roth’s illustrations on this point struck me: “If you focus on getting the dishes done so that your kitchen will be clean, you miss everything that happens between dirty and clean. . . . And when you miss those moments because you’d rather be doing something else, you are missing your own life.” There are plenty of kitchen- cleaning (and laundry folding and child-corralling) moments when I inhale a handful or three of M&Ms, or gobble the kids’ leftovers, even though I’m not the least bit hungry. Instead I eat to distract my senses from the drudgery, to avoid giving the task any more attention than absolutely necessary.

Moreover, the passage reminds me of a similar scene in One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. One Thousand Gifts does not address food compulsion at all and is explicitly Christian, as opposed to the Buddhist perspective of Women Food and God. Both books, however, address the authors’ grappling with emptiness and finding fulfillment through awareness and gratitude.

I wash dishes. . . . A soap bubble bursts next to my skin. A soap bubble, skin of light and water and space suspended in sphere. Who has time for that? . . . When I fully enter time’s swift current, enter into the current moment with the weight of all my attention, I slow the torrent with the weight of me all here. . . . I only live the full life when I live fully in the moment. . . . This is where God is.

Reading Women Food and God has challenged me to be more aware of each and every moment of my day, to practice gratitute for each moment, to discern true physical hunger and not abuse food as an anesthetic. I find these challenges especially suitable now, as Lent begins. While Women Food and God is not exactly Lenten spiritual reading (please understand I’m really not reviewing it to recommend it as spiritual reading) . . . I am grateful for the challenge.


Laura is a Catholic Christian, a mother, a part-time lawyer, and a recovering overthinker. She writes monthly here at Atelier on books and culture, and blogs regularly at This Felicitous Life. 

1-2 June

WEEKEND DIARIES

I awoke with a migraine Friday morning, and it set the tone for the rest of the weekend, discomfort-wise. Headaches have been a really big issue for me in all of my pregnancies. If any kind reader out there has any good advice, I'm all ears...

My husband took a personal day to help me out, and it was a good thing because we had a bit of a plumbing incident. Dishwasher, not toilet, thank goodness! As he tried to work through that, a wounded bird decided to take refuge in our house, hopping past me as I stood at the partially open screen door, too flustered to take any effective action. The hopping bird quickly found the couch and took up residence underneath.

As my husband spent the next 90 minutes on the phone with GE, I racked my throbbing brain for some way to extricate that bird from our abode. At one point it was calmly perched atop a bin of the kids' building blocks. I picked up the bin and walked it, bird and all, across the house. As we passed the television, it jumped onto the entertainment center, deposited a gift, and fell off the edge into the mass of cords tucked against the wall.

Miffed but not defeated, I cleaned up the poop and grabbed a large Olive Garden to-go bag and waited. The bird eventually made its way back to the top of the entertainment stand and I shooed it into the bag with a wooden spoon, then I dumped it outside the fence into the neighbor's yard. Shhh. Don't tell the neighbors.

Anyways, I didn't get a pic of the bird; there was just too much excitement. I did however catch a few other moments from the weekend. I have been telling stories of my own creation to the kids before bed about a boy scientist named Billy (I hope Bill Nye doesn't get me for copyright infringement) and his travels across the globe. Saturday we had a French inspired picnic with pain au chocolate, des fraises, and Fanta (don't tell my kids it wasn't Orangina...). After the picnic, the kids played in the little pool. V lost her diaper, as the world's largest wedgie will attest and I drowned my discomfort in this book of short murder mysteries.

We also ordered some balloons from Amazon, to make balloon animals for the kids. It's harder than it looks. The husband did make this crown for H. The book we ordered with the balloons just arrived today, so maybe that will prove more helpful than Mr. Fudge the balloon man on YouTube. We'll see. And finally, we watched Promised Land last night. It was good, enjoyable, yet it was just a wee tad more didactical than I like. Watch it and I think you'll see what I mean.

In Case You Missed It...

you didn't miss anything! The last two weeks have been slimmer on posts, because...

source

We're really happy! And nauseous.

25-27 May

WEEKEND DIARIES

Hello, everyone! I hope that you all had a great holiday weekend! I was a little disappointed at first that we weren't able to make it to my cousin's wedding in Los Angeles - sometimes the logistics are just too much... But our weekend ended up being amazing! My sister and her husband did go, see them up there? They look great, don't they? And, congratulations, Jake and Lauren!

Anyway, our weekend was jam packed, and it really flew by.  Saturday we hit the Farmers Market before heading down to the river to take part in Kites for Vets, an annual event to support local homeless vets. The kids each received their own kite to fly and a great time was had by all. Someone brought that beautiful heart kite, and flew it high. A fitting symbol for what we feel for our service men and women, past and present. We finished the day at my sister-in-law's, where the husbands did some tree cutting, the kids ran wild, and I relaxed with this lady. 

Sunday was Mass and spending time outside, running a few errands, and a general recovering from the day before. Monday started early with the guys doing yard work. See D with his "safety glasses and earplugs? He rides on my husband's back in the Ergo carrier while they push mow the lawn. It is the sweetest and/or funniest sight. D loves it, and that extra thirty pounds makes one wonder, who needs P90X? In the afternoon we took in a Memorial Day parade. I'm a sucker for the bagpipes, and it turns out that V is, too. She was actually content to sit in the stroller and watch as the world went by. After the parade we had a big family picnic at the river, which culminated in a watermelon spitting contest with YaYa. 

And, Tuesday... Exhaustion! The house is messy and we are tired, but I wouldn't change a thing! 

He Said, She Said

1

On one of our regular walks at the local park, I enviously spied the in love couples of all ages snuggled on picnic blankets, eating, reading, or just being together. A pipe dream for a parent of toddlers who won't sit still for more than two minutes. After passing one particularly close older couple, I turned to my husband and said dreamily, "That will be us in twenty years." Serious faced, he replied, "I hope not. That was two women."

2

My sister recently went out with a group of friends. The girls in the group were already close friends, the guys were more casual acquaintances. After being at a bar for awhile, the guys tried to get the girls to do a shot. The girls preferred to sip their drinks, but the boys persisted, saying, "Don't worry, we got this!" Finally the girls relented, and the boys went to the bar and returned with the shots. Shots went down, and then one of the guys said, in complete seriousness, "That will be $5.50." He proceeded to collect money from each of the girls! After the fact, Liz said, "I guess by 'we got this' they meant they would, literally, get them from the bar."  

3

My husband is so sweet, always concerned that the women in his life are getting enough to eat. My sister came for a visit, and he commented that she had lost some weight and was getting too thin. That night, he offered to make her a blended cocktail. He brought her the drink and she sipped it. A strange look passed over her face. She sipped again. Not wanting to be rude, she said, "Hmm, that's interesting, good, interesting..."  After she worked on the drink for a few minutes, husband asked, "Do you taste the secret ingredient?" Hesitantly she asked, "Did you put butter in this drink?" His grin said it all. "Butter my shake" has become an expression to indicate any gratuitous attempts at fattening!

4

Since finals were finished, and time was abundant, my sis and some girlfriends decided to hit up a Tuesday  college night at a Pittsburgh bar. The crowd was primarily guys. After waiting for someone to get the dance floor going, the girls decided to start things themselves. Their move broke the ice, and some of the guys started to make their way to the floor, even politely asking the girls if they could dance. The guy nearest my sister leaned in and asked, "Are you white, or are you Spanish? Because you look white, but you dance like you're Spanish..."

5

Upon asking my daughter H where she got her beautiful blonde hair (neither my husband nor I have blonde hair), she paused for a minute, and then replied confidently, "Uncle Tony!"

Uncle Tony used to have long hair.

Because we can't have a post with no pictures!

6

Often, to preclude attempts at negotiation, I will tell my kids that we are doing or not doing such and such because Daddy said so. Since I do this when he is away at work, whatever the ruling is, it has to stand. I realized that maybe I am over using this tactic when H said to me, "I don't want to be the wife, I want to be the boss!"

18-19 May

WEEKEND DIARIES

Images: Canticle for Liebowitz // Bernie

For all of last weekend's barometric fury, this weekend was sunny skies and warm breezes; for all of last weekend's hither and thither bustle for graduations and maternal holidays, this weekend was slow paced relaxing. We stayed close to home and made the most of the weather, catching up on yard work, busting out the kiddy pool and assorted water toys we had tucked away for the winter. 

That's H up there, pausing from play long enough to do a ballerina pose for the camera. We ate cherries outside and the kids spit the pits on the ground. The husband grilled and I had some time to relax. I couldn't put down A Canticle for Leibowitz, but as per my usual I'll hold my comments 'til the end (really a page turner, though).  On Sunday night we watched Bernie. It was enjoyable and not as dark as I expected. But strange. Definitely strange....

And that last pic. I don't know why but I feel kind of self conscious including it. Anyways, H snapped it, and I like it, so there it is. That's my warm weather go to tank for this year, because I'm sure you care. Now I'll let you get back to your busy Monday!

How To Stay Young

Since I turned 30 some months back, I've been thinking a lot about aging. Sure I have a  few fine lines, but I started wondering if something more had changed from my youthful twenties. I realized that I had started to grow "old" on the inside. By "old" I don't mean "mature," or any of the other positive connotations that you could imagine. I mean tired. I mean worn out and spiritless. For a better understanding, let's contrast it with being "young."

Being young on the inside frequently coincides with being young on the outside. In my school days I was fervent, hopeful, energetic. I was idealistic.  I had an impervious resistance to settling.  I was ready for any and every adventure, and I needed very little to get by. I spent plenty of time pondering the mysteries of life, the nobility of man and the tragic beauty of human existence.

And then I finished school, and got married, and had kids, and moved, and moved, and moved some more. Looking at mysteries turned into living mysteries, the mysteries of marriage and parenthood, of the passing of time, and of physical aging in myself and others. And as paradoxical as it seems, the proximity often made it harder to see. Instead of revealing the big picture more clearly, it takes great effort to see beyond the concrete present, beyond the dirty diapers and lack of sleep, the general difficulties and anxiety of making one's way through life.  Sure, occasional intense rays of the real pierce the veil, such as at the birth of a child, but these moments are fleeting when weighed against the balance of "average" days.

I found I wasn't carried away regularly by the great transcendent things anymore - sacrificial love, honor, heroism. In fact, I wasn't even thinking of them. Unconsciously, the valid struggle for material success and financial well being was being elevated to the primary striving of my day to day, month to month. Life was becoming more about comfort than flourishing, security more than the adventure of living authentically. The subtle haze of survival mode was slowly settling over my heart. And this is the beginning of growing "old."

Sounds awful on paper, doesn't it? Worse, even, than grey hairs and crows feet! Yet it is such an easy trap to fall into. The great news is, this is one type of aging that is preventable and reversible. How is one to stay forever young? Here is what I've come up with:

Reflect. I try to spend a few moments daily to think about why I am doing what I'm doing, and really let the answer impact my actions. Everyone should take a few minutes to jot down his or her reasons, core beliefs, and goals, just to have them down, so if things get muddled and confused one only has to look so far as the journal for clarity (I also do this for individual projects, like blogging).

Discuss. Have regular discussions that go beyond the surface, either with a close friend or your spouse. These talks are absolutely necessary in a marriage. Two people can get through many difficulties if they  are united in purpose, and assured that they aren't going it alone. The lead in to such conversations is often as simple as asking, "How are you?" and waiting for a real answer.

Nourish. Feed your soul with what it needs most: the true, the good, the beautiful. These are found so readily in nature, literature, prayer, the arts, and time spent with good friends.

Does this resonate with you? How do you see beyond the daily grind?

The Weekend

WEEKEND DIARIES

4-5 May

Continuing what we started last week...


I started reading A House In Italy. It is the memoir of the British Daphne Phelps, who inherited a home in Sicily and ended up living there for the rest of her life. It's a nice light read; perfect for the pool or the airport. Since I had neither, I paired it with both coffee, beer, and two sunny, 70 degree days.

We spent Saturday in the great outdoors, for the most part. We prepared the ground for this year's garden, using the "lasagna" technique. Every year we get going too late to have optimal production; this year will be different, by golly!  We also got our seeds ready to go. We're starting the plants in cups inside instead of buying seedlings like we usually do.  Too ambitious? Maybe.

I've been getting a little burned out lately with mommying. Toddler stage is difficult. I'm not telling anybody anything new. On Saturday night, after finally getting the kids to sleep (you know those nights where bedtime morphs from a 30 minute routine capped with sweet childish kisses and peaceful slumber into an excruciating two hour long voyage into the heart of darkness, your heart of darkness, as you seethe interiorly over the millionth call of "Mom, I need you!" only to find that your child wants you to add one more toy to the forty already choking his bed...) my husband told me he was taking me out for a drink! I was caught off guard, so there were no smoky eyes or heels, but nothing's prettier than a happy face, right? That's me up there, and that's what I wore (smile included), when at 10 p.m. we went to Pizza Plant. Check it out if you are local; their craft beer selection is one of the best in the area.

How many of you out there go to a farmers' market? We're blessed to be fairly close to a very large and not "touristy" one - the North Tonawanda Farmers' Market. Going is a Saturday tradition for us, year round, but it's not nearly as fun when the weather is frigid. Saturday marked the sixth day of gorgeous weather here in Western New York, and the streak is supposed to continue all week. And when I say gorgeous, I mean everything that the word implies: sunshine, perfectly azure skies marked only by stray immaculately white clouds, and no humidity, just pure golden warmth, the kind that caresses. Basically, this may be what it was like in the Garden of Eden...

Also, just an FYI. If you're in the mood for a more style related post, please head over to Mommy Notes, where I'm guest posting about postpartum mommy style!

Something New...

WEEKEND DIARIES      

27-28 April

I hope that everyone had a great weekend! Don't they seem to just fly by!? In recognition of that reality, I've decided to start a new series called Weekend Diaries. Each Monday I will post  a little collage of the weekend's best, the highlights, the little pleasures. It will be a good way to keep memories and to share with my online friends, the making of which (whom?) has by far been one of the least expected and best aspects of blogging.

But this isn't just about me. I want to hear about your weekend. Next Monday I will open it to anybody who wants to link up and join the fun. Don't have a blog? Feel free to share your adventures, big or small, in the combox!

What I do not want is for this to be a space where you come and think that my life is perfect. Because it isn't. Because no one's is. If you wanted lowlights I could tell you things that fall all along the spectrum, from sleepless nights with waking children, to how awful Twilight Breaking Dawn: Part II was, to how my bedroom still smells of the 64 oz chocolate protein shake that was dumped over carpet and child ten minutes before we left for Mass (How could so much go so wrong so quickly? Isn't that the perennial parental question?). But those things, I'd prefer to forget.

From the top left:

Life of Pi (image): I enjoyed this movie, though I need to watch it again to process the last plot twist. I won't spoil it for you. Let's just say it was visually exquisite and thought provoking, and also left me with a desire to know more about "French India."

White Scarf: I received a $10 off anything card in the mail from Kohl's (via mass mailer), and I had a gift card with a few dollars left on it, so I "bought" myself this soft rayon scarf for 0 dollars! I was torn between the white and this one, but I'm happy with my choice. 

The Keys of the Kingdom (A.J. Cronin): I kept stealing moments all weekend to read this book. I'm really enjoying it but I withhold a final verdict 'til I'm finished.

The Niagara River: On Saturday we went for a long, long walk along the river with the whole family. The pic is from a different day; Saturday there was no mist, just gorgeous sunshine and warm breezes. If you are ever in the area, check out Niawanda Park for miles and miles of paved riverfront paths.

Monk's Café Flemish Sour Ale: Mmm, this Belgian beer was tasty! Mild, fruity, a little sour: just right for a post walk refreshment! My husband and I split the bottle. I don't know about you, but I love the comfortable intimacy of sharing a delicacy with a special someone...

Pretty Happy Funny Real

Today I'm linking up with Like Mother, Like Daughter for the first time to take part in Pretty Happy Funny Real (byline: Capturing the context of contentment in everyday life). If you are unfamiliar with this feature, it basically involves one or more image for each of the four categories, and a brief explanation of each. Here we go.

Pretty

The sum total of our daffodil crop, and a branch that was blown off of the lilac bush. Humble. Pretty.

Happy

Book. Coffee. Sunshine. Happy.

Funny

"Thrilled. I'm sure."

Real

A day in the life.

Are you on Instagram? Look me up (mboctor) and let's be friends! 

Beautiful - Ugly

The other day I came across a French expression that was completely new to me: jolie-laide or belle-laide. These are two variations of the same concept, which, when literally translated, mean pretty-ugly and beautiful-ugly, respectively. According to the New York Times article The Unfairest of Them All (Daphne Merkin, 2005) that was my initial point of contact, this expression refers to an idea of feminine beauty that goes beyond both classical standards and cultural conceptions. Such an abstraction is difficult to pin down, as you might imagine, but the article's author writes in terms such as "the aesthetic pleasure of the visually off kilter," and a "triumph of personality over physiognomy." Such expressions seem to point to the fact that one who is belle-laide has either a certain irregularity of physical features, or some force of spirit, or possibly both, that sets her apart from the "merely" pretty.

Intrigued, I decided to do a bit of research, starting with a simple definition lookup. The results ranged from "a woman whose face is attractive despite having ugly features" (Oxford Dictionary, ouch!), to "a woman who is attractive though not conventionally pretty" (Merriam Webster), to "a woman oddly attractive, though not conventionally beautiful" (New World Dictionary, don't you just love the use of oddly here?). 

Unsatisfied, I looked for uses of it in other sources. Interestingly, all of the instances I found were non-French sources referencing this supposedly French attitude. In the 1928 German essay, Sex Appeal: A New Catchword for an Old Thing, the author references the expression, giving the [French] vernacular meaning as, "not pretty, something more than that." The article goes on to say that ultimately this "something" is reducible to sex appeal, but this is posited as the author's opinion rather than the French understanding. Going back further, the expression appears in a story published in the December 1888 - May 1889 edition (Volume 78) of Harper's New Monthly Magazine. The author uses it to describe a woman thus, "this little mother was not in the least pretty in the English or American sense, but she had a face full of deep feeling and fine character - a kind of face in French studios known as une belle laide." He goes on to describe her face as "beautifully plain." Both of these instances help flesh out an elusive concept, but at first, I was a little disappointed I didn't hear it from the horse's mouth.

Upon some reflection, my inability to find direct French references isn't a discouragement or proof of anything. It is more likely a sign of my linguistic deficiencies than anything else. Even without such references, the fact remains that the French language is the etymological source of the expression, and that the concept is un-translatable into the English language. I think of the word chic in much the same way; I'm not sure that the French go on about it the way we English speakers do, yet it is unquestionably Gallic. And even if contemporary French speakers don't use the words, looking as far as modern era French celebrities (à la Loulou de la Falaise, Jane Birkin, and Charlotte Gainsbourg, to name just a few) will evidence that their essence remains.

So what is the conclusion of all this chatter about words and expressions, and why do I care so much? The conclusion is that an entire culture has for years embraced an idea of beauty that goes beyond the idea of perfect proportion. It has enthusiastically expanded the rubric of beauty to include the wonderfully unusual and that which is irreducible to the purely physical. And you know what? This fact gladdens my heart; these types of beauty should be recognized because they are real. And, if  women have permission to believe that they are beautiful, it truly changes everything. I've been to France a couple of times, and French women are attractive, yes, and stylish, yes, but the mystique and appeal that they wield as a whole isn't located in [dare I say] mere perfection of proportion. They believe in their beauty, and so convince the rest of us. We should take a lesson.

Loulou de la Falaise, longtime muse of Yves Saint Laurent

Jane Birkin (London born actress turned French cinema star)

and her daughter, Charlotte Gainsbourg, French actress