How long has it been since I posted a Ramona quote?

Me: Okay, so the thing to remember about long division is ....

Ramona: I can't live like this!

Today is the day that I celebrate 29 years with the man I love.

Happy anniversary, Atticus! 

(photo courtesy of Stock.xchng)

Here we are, in Paris!

Except, oh, wait.

We've never been to Paris.

But that's okay. Because even though what we're really doing in our real life is strolling through the grocery store together, or curling up on the couch for Downton Abbey, or asking one another about the van and does-it-need-gas-and-why-is-it-making-that-noise, or listening to each other vent after a bad day, or talking about our children and their futures and the cost of college, or thanking each other for all the breadwinning, cooking, cleaning, teaching, snow-shoveling, yardwork, laundry, petcare, oil changes, trash-hauling, and toilet unclogging that goes on in the everyday lives of our very everyday selves ... even though it's all that, and not all that, well, I have to tell you, it feels like that swoony, black-and-white photo of a romantic walk in Paris.

So thanks for making my life feel that way, Atticus. Happy anniversary. I love you.

Pondering, Positivity, and Praise for a Thursday

Pondering: The mystery of friendship.

Aside from feverishly working on book revisions this week (thus my bloggy silence) one thing that's kept us busy is having an extra ten-year-old in the house. One of Ramona's best friends is in town and she's been able to spend a lot of nights at our house.

The friendship between these two girls has grown up over the years despite living 500 miles apart. This friend -- I'll call her Faith -- and her family moved away when Ramona and Faith were just two years old. They didn't miss each other at first. "Friends" at that age, of course, are really just toddlers playing side by side and, we hope, not clobbering each other too much.

But as these two little girls have gotten back together on recurring visits over the years, they've found  that they are like two peas in a pod, two sides of a coin, twins separated at birth, and every other cliche you can think of to describe kindred spirits. Faith's older sister still lives here in our little town, so Faith and her parents (with whom Atticus and I are friends, too) come back to visit at least a couple of times a year. Ramona and Faith have seized those opportunities, cemented their friendship, and sealed it with Skype. They've found ways to beat the odds that are in favor of long-distance friendships dying away.

In this post about friends who move away, I quoted C.S. Lewis:

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... 

It has no survival value; 

rather it is one of those things 

that give value to survival."

Positivity: Instead of feeling sorry for myself about all the dear friends who have moved away, I am thanking God for the mystery, beauty, and gift of friendship. He has given me so many dear, close friends over the years. And though many have moved away, I am also blessed with dear, close friends who still live in my town, women who support and sustain me, and keep me sane. Women who share coffee and chocolate with me, and tears and laughter. Thank you, Lord.

Praise: Praising God for the happiness of ten-year-old girls. Praising God for the kind of happiness that makes little girls skip. Is there anything better than seeing a girl so delighted with her life that she skips everywhere?

(Photo thanks to Stock.xchng.)

"Pondering, positivity and praise."

Last Friday, I was on Relevant Radio's Morning Air and Sean Herriott and I discussed some New Year's resolutions.

In addition to eating as much chocolate as I possibly can, trying to lose a few pounds, I had been giving some thought to a motto, or theme, or goal, or something, for my resolutions in this Year of Faith.

Remember my daily Marian quotes in Through the Year With Mary: 365 Reflections? I look back at that little book often -- not for anything earth shattering that I wrote, but for the treasure chest of quotes it contains, the wisdom of others and the inspiration their words offer me.

When I read through the quotes for January, this one jumped out at me:

"(Mary) modeled for us three great secrets of spiritual power: 

pondering, positivity and praise."

~~ Peter Kreeft, 
Making Choices: Practical Wisdom for Everyday Moral Decisions 

And I knew what my motto, theme, goal, something for 2013 would be:

Pondering.
Positivity.
Praise.

Pondering: My vocation, my faith, my life: How am I doing? What needs tending, pruning, change? What am I trying to control that is actually in God's hands? Am I making enough time for the pondering, or am I thoughtlessly flitting from one thing to another, with no time to think it all through? To pray through it?

Positivity: Where is the negativity? What's fueling it? What can I do to turn it around?

Praise: I've long been focused on being thankful. When you've lived feeling lost and now you're found, you know you have a great deal to be thankful for, and you thank God for everything, every day. And yet, there are always temptations to lose sight of the gifts that He doles out every minute, every day. Praise. Every day. Examinations of prayers of thanksgiving that may have become rote, digging deeper, thanking God for everything, even the bad stuff, because I know He can turn even the worst of messes into something of glory.

Pondering, positivity, and praise.

Will you join me? 

Poetry Friday: Billy Collins

Given that last week I tossed Billy Collins aside like a cat book in favor of T.S. Eliot, I feel obligated to return to him this week and let him know how much I love him.

I am also experiencing a newfound appreciation for Collins' poem "Morning." During Advent, Atticus and I put a new resolution into place: we're getting up at 5 a.m. (not every day, but several days a week) to get workouts done before the rest of the day kicks in.

This is, ahem, not a cakewalk for a night owl. (Here's the last time I posted about night owls, Billy, and me.) Yeah, yeah, I usually get up at 6 a.m., so it's not that much earlier. But hey, this new routine involves not only less sleep (one of my favorite activities) it also requires movement and energy for something other than lifting a coffee cup. This is a challenge, people.

And yet, I find there are several things I like about it. First, it's delightful not to have "WORKOUT" hanging over my head all day, a gloomy cloud I don't have time for. Second, when I've gotten up at 5, exercised, had breakfast, consumed eight a couple of cups of coffee, and checked some chores off my list, I find myself bursting into my daughters' room, chirping annoyingly cheerful things, such as, "Time to get up! I've been up for three hours and I feel great! I'm wide awake and happy and you should be, too!"

Their reaction? Not so much.

Tough luck, girls.

I may not be a true morning person in the Collins mold, but I have been seen lately buzzing around the house at unnaturally early times.

Thanks, Billy. You're your own kind of powerhouse. And I'm betting Eliot was a night owl.

Morning 
by Billy Collins


Why do we bother with the rest of the day,
the swale of the afternoon,
the sudden dip into evening,

then night with his notorious perfumes,
his many-pointed stars?

This is the best—
throwing off the light covers,
feet on the cold floor,
and buzzing around the house on espresso—

(Read the rest of the poem, here at The Writer's Almanac.) 

The Poetry Friday round up is at No Water River. 

Kid History, Edmisten Style

The Kid History version goes like this:

"I am a snackavore. It is like a dinosaur who loves ... snacks and tweets."


The Edmisten History version, featuring 16-year-old Betsy, goes like this:

"I am a McAvore. It's like a dinosaur who loves ... James McAvoy."

Shockingly Clever Reading in 2012

A great deal of my reading in 2012 was work-related. Fascinating stuff, but not necessarily rattling good yarns, as C.S. Lewis called page-turners. Still, I managed to dig in to some good stuff in the off-hours, and here are a few favorites:

My Favorite Non-fiction last year:

Quiet: The Power of Introverts In a World That Can't Stop Talking, by Susan Cain
If I invited you over for coffee and tried to explain to you how much I love this book, I'd end up sputtering, and sounding incoherent and inept, because as an introvert I'd spend too much time analyzing what I was saying and how I was saying it. I adore Susan Cain for understanding that and for attempting to help the world better understand introverts, too.

The Year of Learning Dangerously by Quinn Cummings

~~~~~

My Favorite Fiction last year:

The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh
The more I think about this book, the more I love it. It is delicate, but raw ... eloquent but real ... deeply touching but not saccharine. It is simply beautiful, brimming with what is best in humanity.

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery

~~~~~

Favorite Books I Read to Ramona last year:

The Prairie Thief
Little Women

Charlotte's Web (with this cover, not the movie cover) 

The Search for Delicious

~~~~~

Favorite Book I Read Because Betsy and Anne-with-an-e Couldn't Believe I'd Never Read It:


Meet the Austins by Madeleine L'Engle

~~~~~

And finally, perhaps the most important category:

Favorite Book Written by One of My Daughters in November:

Bront, by Betsy (her NaNoWriMo novel)

Bits and Pieces of Our Days: The Epiphany Edition

As our Christmas break comes to a close, I'm thinking about the lovely bits and pieces that came together to make it a great couple of weeks:

* Our break was relaxing. We used to do some traveling over the Christmas break. Our families are spread out all over the country -- most live far, far away, by land, sea or air. (Ok, not really by sea. Just land and air. But the point is that we're spread out.) Until about ten years ago, we sometimes had some family come to stay with us, or we went somewhere, but as situations changed or ice storms altered plans, our Christmases evolved into, "We stay home, indulge in nuclear family traditions, and see extended family at other times of the year." This may be the best family/holiday decision we ever made.

* Staying up late, sleeping in, reading books, cooking, baking, hanging out and talking. Relaxing.

* That said, we did get to see a couple of Atticus's sisters (he comes from a family of 12 children, and no, they weren't Catholic) and their families a few days after Christmas, and that was a lot of fun.

* We finally got together with friends for that gingerbread house party. The results were sweet:

* Atticus, Anne-with-an-e, Betsy, and I went to see Les Miserables. My quick review: I loved it. I can forgive some of the less-than-Broadway quality voices in exchange for the intimacy of the film experience of the show, which added a different and beautiful dimension which I fully appreciated. Beautifully done. Small objections here and there (did you really need to change a lyric in the epilogue ... leaving out "Your mother gave her life for you...." I was waiting to hear that one!) but overall, highly recommended for fans of the stage show. Bring loads of tissues. I had puffy eyes and a headache afterward. 

* Atticus and I got out for a date and went to see Lincoln. Oh. my. Daniel Day Lewis was incredible. Such an affecting, human, gorgeous portrayal of Abraham Lincoln. Powerful movie. I'm not a huge Sally Field fan, but at least she didn't ruin anything for me. Atticus and I both thought the final shot should have been the one in which Lincoln walks away, heading out for a night at the theater. We know what happens after that; not really necessary. Recommend, recommend, recommend. 

* Girl Time.  Fun to get out shopping with my teens for boots and purses while Ramona had a playdate, and fun to spend time with Ramona on one of her surprisingly favorite things (surprising because my nails haven't seen polish in years.) I did the "Cute Polish Designs - Water Marble" technique that she'd been wanting to try. It took a long time, and didn't turn out quite like the video, but the final result was pretty and she was happy. Good enough! 

There's more, of course, but I'm out of time! Will be blogging more soon, now that Christmas break is over....

Poetry Friday: T.S. Eliot

(This just might be -- I'm not saying it is, but it could be -- a four-year-old post that is just as applicable today as it was in January of 2009, as we crept toward the Feast of the Epiphany.) 

Sometimes, on a Thursday night, I plop down on the couch, look at Atticus and ask, "What do I want to post for Poetry Friday tomorrow?"

He always has an erudite reply and an intriguing suggestion. He's an intelligent, fascinating man. I used to fancy myself equally intelligent and fascinating (we-e-elll, maybe not equally but close enough to hold my own in a good poetry discussion), and I considered us a perfect match. Several years back, I could keep up with all of his Wallace Stevens talk. Then I had children and for a few years, when sleep was so elusive, my mind started to slip. "The Emperor of Ice Cream" began to sound more like a character on the Disney channel than existential observation.

Anyway, in answer to the learned suggestions of Atticus, I usually stare into space a moment, take a sip of cabernet and say something like, "I think I'll write a poem about Putty," or "I'll just do Billy Collins again."

These exchanges remind me of a scene from Annie Hall in which Woody Allen and Diane Keaton are in a bookstore, and he says, "Here, I think you should read these, uh, instead of that cat book."

So, in order not to read a cat book today (though I must add the disclaimer that my beloved Billy Collins is not a cat book -- the metaphor refers only to my state of mind and has nothing to do with his poetry, which I much adore, and it is equally removed from cats, creatures I like very much), I am posting Atticus's suggestion: Journey of the Magi, by T.S. Eliot.

At first I groaned, "Ohhh, Eliot ... I don't know if I have the energy for Eliot." But then, I asked myself, "When did you last read Journey of the Magi?" And I had to honestly answer myself, "I don't know. It may have been several Emperors of Ice Cream ago." So, I read it. And, as always happens, I was mesmerized. How does he do that? How did he carry around the reputation of being too scholarly and too philosophical to write poetry, and then do that? It's so good, such a perfect melding of earthly earthiness and the supernatural. Like Jesus Himself, really. Eliot captures that down-to-your-bones discomfort, the squirming and the revelation, the discovery that this isn't really my home. That knowledge which at first is both comforting and terrifying.

Go here, to the Poetry Foundation, to read more about Eliot.

Journey of the Magi
by T.S. Eliot

'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year

For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,

...

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was

Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

...

The full text of the poem is here, where you can also hear Eliot read it.

~~~~~

The round up today is being hosted by Matt Forrest Esenwine at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme.