Sunshine

 

You are My Sunshine is a special anthem of love in our family.

G's Grandpa Lee has sung it to generations of Lee family babies (and grown ups, too). Probably we're not alone there. 

It's a good song.

Maybe that's why this did such a great job of warming the cockles of our snow-day, stuck inside hearts:

Oh my goodness. 

I can see why programs like Roots of Empathy have come up with the innovative idea of inviting babies and their mothers in the classroom to help prevent/reduce bullying and encourage empathy and kindness. Just softens the heart right up. 

p.s. I love studying babies but, help me Rhonda, sometimes it makes my uterus ache a little.

In my own image

Recently I came across this photo of myself. What ever happened to Batgirl? I thought, as though she were the girl who sat behind me in pre-algebra. Somehow we lost touch along the way.

She didn't mind wearing a cape or being photographed. She didn't worry what her thighs looked like in the tights or even really care what others thought. But it's more than that.

There's a "hello, life!" look in her eyes that I want back. She just knew what she wanted to be. Or who she was.

Batgirl, that's who.

* * *

Recently I've had the occasion to need a more formal bio photo. The people who asked for it gave me a deadline of the end of August and, while I kept intending to get it done, I was really more in summer mode. You know: procrastination + que sera, sera attitude. Plus denial. Finally, at the end of the month, I put my camera in Maddy's hands, stood in the spot of our house with the best natural light, and said "have at it!" It was after a Sunday nap and I forgot to brush my hair. That's how bad I am at being a photo subject. I did put in earrings, however.

(You may have noticed a dearth of photos of myself here on this site. I loath having my photo taken. I much prefer taking them. So this exercise was wayyyyy out of my comfort zone.)

But Maddy was the ideal photographer (for me): very positive and patient and open to suggestions. She even got me to do some shampoo commercial action hair flips and red carpet over-the-shoulder gazes. She did a great job. Here's (because I know you're wondering, not because I've suddenly embraced self-photos) what we decided on

although I would have been just as happy to send in the batgirl photo and call it done.

* * *

Sam got a Wii for his birthday in August, which means we are all enjoying his birthday bounty. One day he asked if he could do a Mii of me (which is a character that you create and can have as your avatar when you play a game). It was hilarious to see him decide on the nose and the hair and the eyebrows and the size. He made me thinner and better looking than I really am, which was very kind of him.

Or maybe that's how he really sees me?

Making me think: if the people I love think I look fine, maybe I should stop worrying and get on with things.

I think that's what Batgirl would do.

* * *

p.s. I'm back. I think. I'm dipping my toe back in the waters of everyday life, after a great visit from my mom (she left today + I'll be posting some of our adventures for record-keeping sake) and our family's August journeys. Bless you, September, with your routines and nesting. I'm looking forward to both.

You be Jill, I'll be Kelly...Sabrina's up for grabs

If you were a girl and grew up where I did, chances are you played Charlie's Angels at recess. We would gather in the outside stairwell in front of the Boys' Entrance (a relic from when the girls and boys entered through different doors, I suppose) and cast the roles.

Almost everyone wanted to be beautiful Jill, played by Farrah Fawcett on the t.v. show. There would be long queen-bee-ish negotiations resulting in one happy girl and several stomping away in a snit. For some reason (conflict avoidance?), I consistently opted for Kelly, who seemed pretty enough and smart enough but not extraordinarily so on either count. Somehow Sabrina was always the booby (ha!) prize role--was she too brainy or was it the page-boy haircut? Her sharper-edged voice? We would conscript a nearby boy into playing Bosley and we were set to fight crime and, more importantly, to run with our hair flowing behind us, catch boys, and wrap them up with our jump ropes.

But first! I almost forgot the most important part. Someone would recite the opening lines:

Once upon a time there were three little girls

who went to the police academy

and they were assigned very hazardous duties

but I took them away from all that

and now they work for me

my name

is Charlie

And make the all-important, gun-toting pose:

Please tell me I'm not the only one. I think in our young girl minds, we were all three women: the beautiful one, the smart one, the classy one. At least we believed it was in our future, when we reached the magical grown-up years. Probably whole feminist studies dissertations could be written on the messages we received and internalized.

I outgrew Farrah Fawcett as a role model before I left Wilson School (but in jr. high I totally had those sneakers she's wearing in the photo below). Since then I've rarely given her another thought. This isn't an "O Captain, My Captain" moment, really. But her death still makes me kind of sad, albeit in a selfish oh-no-not-my-childhood-icons/I-must-be-getting-old way. She was someone's mom, someone's sweetheart, and she seemed to handle her health ordeal with a great amount of courage.

And I kind of feel bad that she had to go on the same day as MJ. Talk about being upstaged.

That's all I wanted to say.

A kind of postmodern memento mori

and reminder to myself to carpe diem.

It really is a small world...

me, Greg, and Matt making jello on a pretend stove

Once upon a time I lived next to a boy named Greg (no, not that Greg, another one...my life is replete with Gregs) and his two sisters and parents.  Except he always wrote his name Gerg so that's what my family called him.  He and his older sisters, along with my brother Matt, were my favorite people.  We lived in two houses down a dirt lane in a small university town in Utah.  We played in the snow, did lemonade stands, played "it's not nice to fool with Mother Nature" with blankets in the wind, went fishing, and all those other childhood things.  I have a blurry picture of all of us hanging, cocoons in blankets, from my mom's rotating clothesline--a very downscale version of an amusement park ride: 

------------------------------->

Fast forward...oh, 30-something years.

I'm sitting with Gabi having lunch while our kids play on the playground. (She was visiting New England and we arranged to get together. I can't believe I didn't ever blog about that; it was a highpoint of my April.)

Gabi mentions it reminds her of a time she met another one of her blogging friends last year.

G: Do you ever read RochelleT's blog?

A: Hmmm. Yeah. I used to...but I lost the link and it's been a while.  I like her!

G: I met up with her at a park in Logan last summer when I was visiting Utah. She's not from there and she lives in Texas but her husband grew up in Logan. Aren't you from Logan?

A:  Yeah.  I wonder who her husband is (idly thinking there's no way I know him).

G: I can't remember his name but her last name is ...T@11m@dge

A: You're kidding!  Is his name Greg?

G: Yes!

A: I do know him! Gerg! He was one of my favorite childhood friends!

Isn't life grand?

(Hi Greg and Rochelle!)

Climbed a mountain & I turned around

Love this.

It's an anthem for many seasons in life
but I'd never heard it sung by children before

& it's a haunting fit.

Read more here.
Sending love to many people tonight.

Landslides come in many forms...

xo