Midsummer playlist

 

Yesterday was a completely quiet day around here, just Louie and me. I thought I would spend all day with my nose to the writing grindstone but instead (in a classic case of productive neglect) I decided to clean the studio, organize my computer, and create a few playlists.  Suddenly that felt very urgent, you know?

This playlist is full of songs I'm listening to this summer, mostly recent music but also a few summer classics from years gone by. You can listen to the whole thing on Spotify* if you have it but, if not, here's a list in case you are also trying to avoid deadlines like me:

1. Barton Hollow ~ The Civil Wars
2. Jungle Drum ~ Emiliana Torrini
3. North ~ Chris Merritt
4. Towers ~ Bon Iver
5. Romeo & Juliet, 39, Romeo bids farewell ~ Prokofiev
6. Someone Like You ~ Adele 7. What is Love? ~ Howard Jones
8. Charlie Darwin ~ The Low Anthem
9. Awake my Soul ~ Mumford & Sons
10. O Mio Babbino Caro ~ Gianni Schicci
11. Human Orchestra ~ Mark Bradshaw
12. It's Oh So Quiet ~ Bjork
13. Poison & Wine ~ The Civil Wars
14. Via con me ~ Paolo Conte
15. Pumped Up Kicks ~ Foster the People 
16. Sugar ~ Chris Merritt
17. Mama, You Been On My Mind ~ Jeff Buckley
18. Doctor! Doctor! ~ Thompson Twins
19. Ghostwriter ~ RJD2
20. Some Things are Meant to Be ~ Little Women musical
21. Gravity ~ Sara Bareilles
22. Don't You Remember ~ Adele 

Taking a closer look now, there are some themes there, I think.  Fun. Love. Warmth. Some mellow nostalgia. A little melancholy there at the end. Yup, that's this summer from the view in my shoes, pretty much.  

What's your favorite song of this summer?

. . .

*I know I told everybody to join Spotify but I should add (thanks, Sarah) that you have to request an invite by entering your email address on the site. It only took a day or two for me to get the invite. I forgot to mention that before. 

photo via dandelionandgrey

Liner notes 21-26

21. Find and emulate good mentors. Personal mentors, spiritual mentors, academic and professional mentors--whether in person or distant, they light the way toward the person you were meant to be. Wonder about what makes them so terrific. Notice what makes them tick, what their habits are. Use those things as a pattern for your own self. (Then, of course, thank them for their inspiration.) 

22. On a related note, sometimes you have to fake it 'til you make it/make a leap of faith. Not all the time. But every once in a while, you'll feel kind of like an imposter when you first _______ (become a parent, start a job, graduate from college, fulfill a calling). It's okay; make the first steps, get out there and the way will appear beneath you (thank you, Kierkegaard and Raiders of the Lost Ark).  

23. Learn a little ballroom dancing. You never know when you'll be invited somewhere (wedding? ball? inauguration?) that it'll come in handy. But until then, when in doubt on the dance floor and some kind of ballroomish dancing is required, just step forward together, side together, back together, side together, making a kind of square.

24.  Sunscreen, baby. Every single time.

25. Embrace a little fear. Do it anyway. Recognize it as a little signal that you're giving yourself the chance to grow.

26. Read the paper, listen to the news, be able to discuss issues intelligently. Get your information from lots of sources, not just the ones that confirm what you already thought you knew. When you don't agree with someone, be willing to listen to their point of view and articulate yours with respect and kindness.

. . .

With the first of my children leaving home in the next few weeks, I'm writing occasional (weeklyish) Liner Notes, bits of advice to my kids concerning my take on how to be a gracious, awesome grown-up-type person (both trivial bits and major advice). Why "liner notes"? Because, back in the day, I pored over the liner notes of my cds, curious to find the story behind the music. That's what I hope this will be: the story behind the music of growing up and setting off on your own. (Or at least a ready-made catalog of how you can avoid making my mistakes.) Feel free to chime in! What would you add?

. . .

photo from Lilibet Circus Child via 

Randomness does not skip a generation

I came across a little pile of 14 cards under a stack of books on the ottoman. Apparently Sam compiled these at some point this summer before he left, just because. It was a delicious little dose of his sense of humor and randomness:

(we really do call his barber Tim the Shrubber. Just a little Monty Python reference, you know.)

The other lists are equally charming and quirky. Oh, we miss that boy...

. . .

In that same spirit (and since I do love a good list as much as the next gal) I'll add a few random things of my own:

Summer loves:

• Crates full of CSA veg (mint! corn! cucumbers! potatoes! zucchini! loads of greens!)
• Loads of salads (see above)
• Streaming shows and movies on Amazon prime for FREE (Hasta la vista, Netflix?)
• Dog walks (Louie got skunked so now we walk rather than send him out in back to meet Mrs. Skunk and her five babies again)
• Spotify Joinjoinjoin. It's like Pandora but you can listen to whatever you want + create playlists
• Smores bars. I made these for my sunday school class. Oh, Minerva. They are goooood.
• Air conditioning.
• Long evenings. 

Still dreaming to do this summer:

• see the new Harry Potter movie (waiting for Sam to see it with me)
• Refresh my French (it's in there somewhere...)
• Revive calligraphying
• Decide on room reassignments and decorating 
• Drive-in movie 
• A little getaway with G
• Have an outdoors dinner party

Good reads I'm still thinking about:

• My blogland friend's (although she doesn't know me at all...I just read her blog and imagine we're friends, you know?) young daughter survived a shark attack. Amazing tale.
• Russell Brand's commentary on Amy Winehouse's death  was insightful
• Kristen Duke's hints on how to pose in photos: much appreciated
• Anne's commentary on text vs. in person relationships; this is something L and I have talked about a lot, too.

My apron strings, a status report

These kids just keep going and coming back and leaving again. At this rate my proverbial apron strings are going to be all in tatters with all the stretching and untying and retying. This summer feels like a huge turning point in our family with the kids trying their beautiful new wings (new metaphor alert!) and us, their parents, waving goodbye and smiling and jumping up and down and blinking back tears.

Or I might be a little bit lonely and melancholy today.

I put Maddy on the train early this morning so she could trek up to Maine to join her friend and friend's family at their lake house for the weekend. Lauren blips in and out between work and socializing, already acclimating herself to reduced family contact. Sam is at yonder camp and must be having a blast because he hasn't written us even once, although I did email the director (helicopter mom hover powers activate!) and he assured me Sam is doing great. 

Yonder camp is pretty wonderful, though. He's at Birch Creek Service Ranch in Utah, a program for good kids to learn more about service and community and have lots of outdoor fun. It's based on the philosophy of one of my heroes, Lowell Bennion, and his creed:

Learn to like what doesn't cost much

Learn to like reading, conversation, music.

Learn to like plain food, plain service, plain cooking.

Learn to like fields, trees, brooks, hiking, rowing, climbing hills.

Learn to like people, even though some of them may be different   . . . different from you.

Learn to like to work and enjoy the satisfaction doing your job as well as it can be done.

Learn to like the song of birds, the companionship of dogs.

Learn to like gardening, puttering around the house, 

and fixing things.

Learn to like the sunrise and sunset, the beating of rain on the roof and windows, and the gentle fall of snow on a winter day.

Learn to keep your wants simple and refuse to be controlled by the likes and dislikes of others.

(Of course, you don't have to go to a 3-week camp to learn these things. But keep in mind he has no brothers. He's the only 12-13 year old boy at church. He needs some intensive boy time.) The boys spend the first half of every day doing service in the surrounding community of ranches and farms, the afternoons doing camp fun, and the evenings in concerts and discussions and group activities, with some backpacking trips thrown in along the way.  Ever since our friend's son went a few years ago and raved about it we've kept it in mind for Sam.  So we are thrilled he's able to go, too.  It would be even better if he WROTE US A LETTER so we knew it was as awesome as we hoped. But whatever. My letters to him are increasingly pleading threatening inviting so I think he'll get the message sometime along the way.

My mothering years are galloping by at breakneck pace.  I'd love to peek in on our years of afternoon summer naps and swim diapers and sticky popsicle faces and towel bundled babies on my lap and 5:00 bathtime. Just to visit. Maybe linger. It's true: the days are long but the years are short. I used to roll my eyes at it but turns out they knew what they were talking about.

Now remind me: why didn't I have more kids? Just kidding. Kinda. 

. . .

Photo via

Ensconced

(This entire post should be whispered.)

Hello.

I am sequestered in a super secret hidey hole this week in a self-imposed writing retreat.  Just me, a stack of research studies, my computer, and a stretch of hours every day. A gal in search of self discipline, that's me.

I give all internet friends permission to scold me outright if I show up on facebook or twitter this week during working hours. Go ahead, publicly shame me like the old lady in Princess Bride. I need the deterrent.

But (she throws out an escape rope) don't be surprised if I still show up here now and then. It's my reward. If I'm good and stay away from the internet for a lot of hours in a row, I'll let myself think and write about other things besides parenting interventions and program retention and attribution theory and other such things. 

My poor, mushy (rebellious, addled) brain is being put through boot camp and doesn't like it one bit.

Pray for me. Send good thoughts and maybe some doughnuts.

. . .

picture by Thibodeau, found via pinterest