My weekend in idioms

A watched pot never boils, but an unwatched pot might be a dog's object of obsession and then get tipped over, causing you to cry with the mess of white bean chili everywhere.

You can lead a horse to water but you can't make a teenager write a college admissions essay unless she really wants to (and that might be at the last moment).

Into every life a little rain must fall on the multitudes of leaves, making them wet and impossible to rake.

A fool and his money are easily parted, especially when internet shopping.

Blood is thicker than water except when asked to take your little brother with you to the movie with friends. 

Practice makes perfect but a reminding (nagging) mom makes practice happen in the first place.

Rome was not built in a day but I'll bet we could clutter it up really good and put it on the road to destruction in a single Sunday afternoon.

Rather than cursing the darkness, light a candle. And enjoy the extra hour of sleep.

. . .

How was your weekend? What rings true for you today?

image via

Climb + jump

When G and the girls arrived in Utah, Sam and I had already spent a blissful week+ with my parents, both at the wedding in California and in Logan at their home. I absolutely loved the time there with them, seeing movies, lunching out, sorting through treasures in the basement and garage.  Sigh. Everyone should go home again now and then for an unhurried span of time.

Once the five of us were reunited, it was off to a W family reunion with Greg's whole clan at Bear Lake.  We stayed together at a big cabin and spent our days at the beach, getting sunburned (wow! you are really close to the sun up there), water-skiing, eating raspberry shakes, going to a hilarious family dance, picnicking, going for walks.  And I'm happy to report that we did not repeat the urinal incident of 2008.

My favorite: one day when we decided to do something a little different and headed north to hike to Bloomington Lake. I've always wanted to do it and have heard so many stories about the glacier lake at the end, complete with rope swing for jumping into the (I'll say it again) glacier waters. It lived up to its hype.  I got swept up in the excitement and actually even jumped in myself. It was fa-reezing but worth it.

 

 

Stop and marvel at the snow in the background and at what a great sport I am!

Climb and jump might be good words to remember the next time I'm lingering at the edges, watching from the beach, and defaulting to bystander status.  That was fun.

. . .

Have a wonderful weekend!

Listen:  Pamplamoose ~ Another Day

The wedding at the end of the tracks

The train took us to Los Angeles for a happy reason: my cousin Erik was getting married. At this point in our family, these weddings only happen every so often (and I've missed the last few) so I was determined to go celebrate and see everyone. We spent time with my parents and my sister and took the chance to enjoy Santa Monica pier,

and movies and eating and even Disneyland along the way.

The wedding was lovely and dreamy: cousin Erik married Vivi on a yacht in Marina del Rey at sunset. All of my aunts & uncles (except one) and many cousins were there. Somehow I neglected to bring my camera so these photos are snagged from facebook. 

 

It's a pity they are so unattractive, though. I really feel bad for their future children. It will be hard to be saddled with those long-legged, white-toothed, chiseled-bone-structure genes. Poor things. Let's take up a collection, shall we?

. . .

Listen: The Book of Love ~ Rose Polenzani & Rose Cousins (Magnetic Fields cover)

Revolving door

 

We've had a bit of a whirlwind weekend, a revolving door of comings and goings. And emotions.

G's parents arrived on Thursday for a quick visit.

Lauren arrived home at 6 Sunday morning, happy and exhausted. 

Maddy left last night to stay with a good friend for a day before camp.

Then, lots of packing and laundry and a flurry of departures this morning to airport, train station, girls' camp.

{Ready, break!}

Oh, and quietly at the center of all this revolving...G was sustained as bishop of our ward yesterday.

{Speechless}

Good thing I have long stretches of hours ahead of me to slow down, take a breath, and ponder things.

 Happy Monday!

In the gloaming

I'm writing this from the hammock in our back yard--with wireless access!--and am feeling pretty decadent. Greg has fallen asleep on the bench on the patio, a book open and face down on his chest. Louie is keeping watch from under the bench. The kids are doing homework for tomorrow at the table inside the open door, the long weekend suddenly screeching to a halt as the realities of deadlines and assignments suddenly appear.  (School's not out until June 21st for us. Sigh.) We've made a pact to stay out here for as long as we can because once we go inside, the weekend's officially over.  Someone will want dinner or clean clothes or to talk about the 5872 things we have on the calendar this week as school slowly winds down with one recognition assembly/concert/game/event after another.

 

Yesterday afternoon, after church and naps, we decided on the spot to take a Sunday drive to Wingaersheek beach in Gloucester. We read out loud in the car up and back, flew a kite in the breeze and watched the sun set. I was so happy with our spontaneity.  And with the lovely, glowing light--the gloaming. Sometimes I look at these faces and am just smitten with motherlove.

And then sometimes, like today, we have silly + emotional showdowns in public at Subway over who owns a certain pair of earrings (+in the process the earrings end up on the floor and no one will pick them up) and the smitten-ness is tempered with a sprinkling of irritation and eye-rolling. It's a fickle pendulum, this mothering thing.  Just when you think you've got it right, you don't.

But still.  I'm dazzled. By who they are + are becoming, by my wide gaps in competence and my abundant weaknesses and occasional bursts of doing it alright, by the delicious aching laboratory these years are. Most of the time we are both kites and kiteflyers: we soar and swoop, rise and fall and we hold on to each other, hoping we all stay both aloft and anchored.  No wonder it's a tangle sometimes.