Zipped

The Friday before G left, we came to the shocking realization that we had a completely free Saturday the next day. We started throwing around ideas for doing something momentous for his last New England wahoo weekend. After about 14 total years of living in the area, it seemed like there should be something to mark the end of the era. At some point G suggested "What about doing a zip line course?" 

A quick google search and an online reservation later, we were booked for the next day before we could really stop and think about the implications of dangling from a wire high off of the ground. (Although we did have a 2+ hour drive to mull it over the next morning!)

We arrived in Lincoln, NH, got fitted for harnesses and instructed on hanging on for dear life, and headed up the mountain in an old WWII all terrain vehicle. The forested zipline course was made up of about 7 long swoops between high platforms at the tops of the trees. That first step is a nail biter but it was glorious to soar out over the breathtaking scenery--glorious and a wee bit terrifying. I was especially proud of M (usually the most timid amongst us) for jumping in with gusto. By the end the guide had most of us convinced to jump off backwards in the last, freefall zipline.

All except G, who dove off head first. 

How's that for an apt metaphor for life?  

I am about to break all of my personal rules about posting pictures of myself. This is an unflattering, hair-plastered, awkwardly posed photo of me (and, let's face it, the harness does me no favors in the fashion department) but we were so utterly thrilled and gleeful at the end that I love this, sweaty hair and all.

 

Throughout the course I kept repeating: We are intrepid; we carry on. (Name that movie.)

I think intrepid will be our new word around here this summer. I like how it feels. 

Triplicate

Artist: Brian Kershisnik

1. I got a job.

2. I got a job!

3. I got a job?

. . .

1. The straight-forward version is that an incredible opportunity has come up at a terrific national non-profit organization I've long admired. It wasn't the precise timing I was anticipating doing this but it does feel right for our family and we have all felt sweet assurances that it is indeed the thing to do, on many levels and for many reasons. I'll be the director of program research and development and I start Monday. The eventually has arrived, the season for this.

2. It is the exact kind of job I always said I would eventually like to do when people asked "so what are you going to do with that degree, teach?" (I would say something like "I do love teaching but I'd really like to help lead a foundation or non-profit, connecting research and practice to help children and families in innovative ways," not sure if there were, in fact, jobs with all of those elements at once). In fact, I have the eery feeling that someone was secretly taking notes or that my words flew out and become some kind of seedling that cultivated this particular, newly created job. They are paying me to come up with ideas! To have a big-picture perspective! To pilot new programs and innovate and connect the dots...and then hand off those things to someone to do the nitty gritty implementation.

3. And yet. Still, I'm nervous. And terrified. 90% excited (or, honestly, sometimes 74%), but the rest rather terrified. I worry about other people's opinions. I worry about logistics. I worry whether I'm up to the task. I worry worry worry but it's all the kind of uninspired fear that is unhelpful and belittling, the kind you have to tell fear, go sit in the corner until you're more productive. Each concern I've had has been resolved (Oh you want to be home in the afternoons? Sure, you can work an earlier, flexible schedule) but still I ruminate about things, long after the calm, right decision was made. Yesterday morning I expressed some worries to G as he got ready for work. I leaned against the kitchen counter in my pajamas (pajamas! they won't let me wear pajamas to work, will they?) and quietly wailed "what if I'm not doing the right thing?" He looked me in the eyes, kissed my forehead and whispered you're doing the right thing. Which is, of course, just what I needed.

. . .

Just wanted to say that today.

And I'll still be here. Here and here. 

To be continued...

45

Three cheers for G, the leader of our band,

the peach in our pie,

the ink in my pen,

the twinkle in my eye,

the beat of my heart.

45 today.

{p.s. All of my sentiments on other birthdays still apply, too: 43, 42, 41}

. . .

1. yes, he's a studly scout and always prepared. I love that he apparently forgot to take off his shoes before his pants.

2. this is how I first knew him, as a big-brother-type protector and friend in high school, laughing from the back of the bus

3. Woo-woo! Rocking the short shorts on a 50 mile hike.

4. I love it when people remark how much Sam looks like G. As templates go, G is a pretty marvelous one.

Cinema Francais

In 8th grade all of the middle school students in our town construct a building for a French or Spanish or Chinese village, depending on what language they're taking. They draw the building assignment randomly and it is with great seriousness and excitement that the assignments are made and buildings constructed. The towns sit proudly on display in our library for several weeks afterwards.

Sam came home with the assignment to build a French cinema. He knew right away he wanted it to be a corner building with little movie posters and iron balconies. I think it's pretty wonderful. I'd love to live in the top story.

Being the third child does have its advantages! By now we have learned all the little lessons about early planning and lightweight materials and adhesives. Most of all, we know that this is a BIG deal at the school--every year there's a poor kid who, unaware,  builds a lego building and calls it good.  Turns out the bar at our little over-achieving school is a little higher than that.

Lucky for me, G is the chief assistant on these projects and I think Lauren, Maddy and Sam will each have fond memories of the month of evenings spent together with him transforming their visions to reality.  I am so glad this is G's specialty. Give me the task of daily homework oversight and I'll gladly hand big, hives-inducing projects to patient, tool-savvy G.

Speaking of cinema and France, have you seen Hugo yet? We loved it. And Sam was happy to think of his cinema fitting right in.  I just want to know if his cinema serves chocolat viennois because that would make it just about perfect.

. . .

p.s. If you want to take a peek at what G and I will be talking about in one or two decades, here's your glimpse. No kidding.

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