Lately, my dear

I'm finally feeling like I'm back for real after fighting a post-trip cold for a good many days. And I finally feel like I have both feet in October. The leaves are extraordinarily late turning colors this year so it has still felt a bit like September to me.

I pulled out some of the Halloween decorations. That helped. And I had a birthday on Saturday (I have always loved my October birthday), a lovely day where I went on a long fall walk with Madeleine and Louie, G went grocery shopping with my wishlist, and we all went to lunch. And then I took a delicious birthday afternoon nap. October, you are more real to me now.

Yesterday I was chatting with Lauren on the phone and she asked "so, what's new there?" and I drew an utter and complete blank. It feels like we have kind of groove going and it's boringly (but satisfyingly) placid. No funny stories or mishaps lately. No big epiphanies. But I do feel like I dropped the conversational ball there and owe her a little more of a glimpse of home. So here's my do-over. Here we are, just doing what we do, every day:

Sam reads the paper, quizzes us on current events, practices & composes on piano, figures out more songs on the ukelele. Sometimes we don't know where he is in the middle of the afternoon and find him asleep in his bed with his headphones on and a book open by his side. He's playing basketball and refereeing soccer again this year (and loves the income that generates). I think one of his greatest joys is when I make a planned out, full-on family meal when everyone's home. He's so effusive in his praise and gratitude on those occasions that I really should do it more often. He likes Johnny Cash and is excited that the new Coldplay album is coming out. He just read the new Rick Riordan book over the weekend and re-read The Giver.

Maddy eats a banana every morning on her way to seminary. She's slowly adapting her new room to suit her and can usually be found nestled in her lovesac/chair listening to music and writing letters or reading. She's still that gal who is seminary president and student senate leader and model UNer and Mia Maid class president and assistant violin group teacher. You know, the one who raises her hand to volunteer for everything and has a list of other clubs she'd love to join if she had the time. She loves to take notes and smell good and laugh with friends and dress with flair and eat mashed potatoes and caesar salad (not at all the same time). She just finished The Catcher in the Rye and is now reading Song of Solomon.

As you know, most of Dad's time is spent: 1) working (7:30 to 7), 2) bishoping (bishopping?), 3) being a dad and husband. As you also know, he's a good good man who does all of these wholeheartedly. He plays basketball every Saturday morning with some dads from here in the neighborhood, goes running and makes his own lunches every morning, putters around the garden when he has a few moments to spare. He got a kindle at a work retreat so I'm not sure what he's reading right now since I don't see the cover any more but it's probably a good spy thriller or mystery. 

And you know about me: this blog pretty much covers that. I just read Falling Together and The Night Circus and just started Unbroken. One of my favorite times of the day is after dinner when we all plop on the couches in the family room and read, talk, and laugh. Dad looks through the newspaper and we all catch up on our day and read a chapter or two of scriptures. Louie burrows underfoot and fights for the blankets. Sometimes we watch The Amazing Race or The Sing-Off.  These are especially the times I still look around for you and listen for your laugh.

So, that's what I meant to say when you asked. We love you immensely and, while (as you and I talked about yesterday) things have probably changed a bit for all of us in your absence, there's still a Lauren space right here all the time. xo

Thanksgiving retrospective

Apparently the answer to the question How long does it take to recover from Thanksgiving week? is...oh, until today.  It was wonderful and filled with goodness. And--naturally!--I took hardly any pictures. 

We made these fun wheat bundle placecards again:

 

And remembered to take a picture of the table only after the meal:

Here's an iphone shot of some of the people, around a table at Bertucci's the next day, though:

Some favorite/memorable moments:

Looking, heart filled, around the table at parents, children, husband, siblings, and family friends.

Singing rounds and alleluias by candlelight after dinner. Glorious!

Taking turns reading our gratitude notes, including creative items like junior mints, junior proms, the seasons, crying, the primary program, handwriting, cinnamon raisin toast, funny people, seminary, nail polish, kraken, netflix, and Cary Grant as well as beloved standards like family, food, books, home.

Spending an afternoon in Harvard Square: pizza, brass quartets playing Christmas carols, bookstore browsing, Christmas gift shopping.

Movies: Harry Potter 7, 127 Hours, Morning Glory, Tangled, & Sherlock Holmes.

Picking up naughty Louie from dog jail after he went missing for a few hours

Successful gravy. Juicy brined turkey. Failed blueberry pie.

Breakfast with my parents at the Colonial Inn

Hyggli conversation, music, laughter.

. . .

And then, crashing with a head cold for three days after everyone went home.

It was worth it.

Welcome, December!

November comfort

Well, hello November. Around here half of the leaves are still hanging on bravely by their little stems but the temperatures have dropped and I feel compelled to have soup simmering. And a cozy book--a comfort read.

Like Gretchen Rubin, I find myself turning to comforting + familiar books when I feel a little stressed. Or, in this case, when the weather turns Novembery.  It's the literary equivalent of comfort food (which, incidentally, you may have noticed that I also turn to in cases of stress or November).

To Kill a Mockingbird, for instance. I just finished reading this out loud to the kids last week. My voice quivered as I read the Halloween eve passage: the ham costume and the suspense and the "hey, Boo" and the final words: 

"Atticus, he was real nice...."

His hands were under my chin, pulling up the cover, tucking it around me.

"Most people are, Scout, when you finally see them."

He turned out the light and went into Jem's room. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.

My voice quivered because I always get teary there. But also. It was one of those golden-tinged moments and I felt it as it happened: remember this. I am sitting here with my three children and sharing the string of words that Harper Lee threaded together. I am transferring something I love into their open hearts. Or something like that.

Other comfort reads for me: Anything by Rosamunde Pilcher: September, The Shell Seekers, Coming Home. They are long + lovely British family sagas. They make me want to have an Aga stove and a scrubbed pine table with lots of people around it. They are not intellectual or high brow and I love them. Right now I'm reading Coming Home. Again. Same thing with Maeve Binchy's Irish saga books. 

Speaking of November comfort, here are a few Novembery images that have warmed me up a bit, via my gather tumblr (which I use as a clipping file, basically):

What about you? What's giving you comfort this early November day?

p.s. I'm working on some technical glitches right now. If you're reading this, you probably came via some other route than basic-joy.com

Thank you so much for the several heads-up notices about the wonkiness. I'm keeping calm and carrying on, hoping to restore everything soon. xo

[edited to say: everything's fine now! Thanks for being patient!]

Growing pumpkins

Here's what I want to know:  What happened to these little pumpkins?

October 1999, Alexandria, Virginia

Seriously, where did they go?

Because, back then, we would take this kind of fall weekend and go on a hayride.  We would pick out pumpkins and take long moseying walks. We'd stomp through the leaves and then pick them up and look at their veins and make crayon rubbings of them. Maybe someone would throw a tantrum, maybe not.  But life had a bountiful, easy quality; what we lacked in emotional regulation we made up for in time.

Those squishy cheeks. The little buttons I helped fasten. The chirpy, high voices. The feathery gosling hair.

It's enough to make a gal's womb ache. 

This weekend is beautiful--I know this because I have seen a lot of it through the car windows as I shuttle people hither and yon.   A small sampling of activities: Last night G and Sam went to the ward campout in New Hampshire and the girls had a high school football game. Today Maddy is off early on a seminary field trip to Vermont and Lauren is taking her final SATs. After picking up everyone, they come home for a bit and then all have plans tonight in various places.

Where's the justice? Just when they get so interesting and potty-trained (okay, that was a while ago) and hilarious and can make their own sandwiches, they are almost suddenly scarce around here. It's true what they say: the (early) days are long but the (later) years are short.

In the meantime, I guess I'll head to Costco. They do, after all, still manage to eat quite a bit around here.

p.s. I'm totally going to make them recreate that photo sometime soon. Humor a mama, kids. 

. . .

Listen:  Ashokan Farewell  ~ The Civil War documentary

October sprucing

Oh, I love autumn. October, I welcome you with arms wide open.

Unfortunately, my front porch wasn't reflecting that love and was in need of a serious makeover. It looked more like a place to sit with a rifle slung across your lap to scare trespassers away while muttering "git off my propity" between clenched teeth. Not the welcoming message I was after. 

{Maybe my mind just goes there because we started reading To Kill a Mockingbird out loud and I've been thinking about porches and scary neighbors.}

I've had the corners folded down on a couple of catalogs for ages and, lo and behold, when I checked online they were on sale.  It was a sign, a giant green light from the universe.

Ah, much better. It's getting there anyway.  Amazing what just a couple of changes will do.

Red bench , on sale.
3-tiered wire baskets stand , on sale.
Fall cattail wreath (not pictured), not so much on sale. Hey, 2/3 isn't so bad.

Come and sit a spell, you hear?

. . . 

Listen: Theme from To Kill a Mockingbird, Elmer Bernstein

{The whole soundtrack is wonderful; it says childhood + autumn to me.}