Where we’ve been…

I’m honestly not a terribly “craft-ish” person. I’ve tried knitting and it stresses me out. I’ve tried jewelry making and my motor skills leave something to be desired. Sewing on almost any level will often cause injury when entrusted to me.

I made cards for a while thanks to my friend Dina who I love more than air sometimes. She and I still joke that she is my “Stampin Up Drug Pusher” friend. Stampin never really held my attention enough. I just found that I hadn’t the time or the patience to keep at it.

The only thing I have felt any peace with has been, hold on to your hats…scrapbooking.

Yes, indeed. I’m not quite as crazy over it as some of the other moms I know but I do enjoy taking the piles and piles and piles of photos I have stacked up in large plastic storage bins and putting them onto a page. My pages are simple. A coupla photos, cropped to remove evidence of my crappy photography skils set against a background and a line or two to give context. Once in a while if I’m “croppin” with other ladies I’ll add an embellishment (and feel quite proud of it I must say.)

I’ve not picked up my croppin’ stuff for a while. Part of the draw for me in scrapbooking is coming together with some other friends and spending an evening with a glass of wine, some snacks and conversation interspersed with, “Oh, wow….remember this trip?”

Since I moved from Chicago I’ve missed out on our monthly crop circles. So, I really have not spent much time on my books. Today, though, I pulled out all of my scrapbooks because I’m moving things around in my room and sat for an hour just leafing through them. I found myself in tears, remembering the trips, the holidays, the friends and family with whom we shared them.

Perhaps what I love more than actually scrapbooking is in fact, the reminiscing.

I know, it’s not usually my style to wax nostalgic here at Mrs Metaphor but I do have this weepy side and here it is for you to see. All this to say that today this is where my head and heart are at….looking at where we’ve been and it just makes me a little homesick.

It’s been difficult to build a community down here but I do see it coming…it does seem to be gathering. Perhaps in a few years I’ll find myself leafing through the albums that show the fruit of the time spent here and the faces of the people with whom we share it.

I hope so.

What makes me beautiful?

I was in Target today and I came across this little pink sign in a lovely frame which read:

To be confident
is to be beautiful

At first I was taken with the sign. It was attractive; pink wood frame, interesting embellishments on the pink textured paper. I thought it might look nice in Riley’s room. I wanted to remind her that beauty was not based on mere physicality, especially now that she is in that pre-teen stage of her life. I placed the sign in my cart and took it out again three or four times. There was something about that sentiment that just did not sit well with me. So in the end I put it back on the shelf.

I’ve been considering beauty for a while now and often it seems that just when I have it boiled down something comes along to press me further into the examination and the appreciation of what it means to be beautiful.

This is where I went as I continued down the aisle toward the bath towels and bed sheets… Does being confident really equal being beautiful? What about being kind? Doesn’t being Kind trump being Confident?

So I’ve decided we’re to make a list. This is your assignment this week. I will start the list for us of that which makes us beautiful and would like you to add to it through comments.

I’ll admit that yes, confidence is attractive and mixed in with a few other things can in fact make us more beautiful so that will make the list.

Ready then? Here we go.
THINGS THAT MAKE US BEAUTIFUL:

honesty
being just
kindness
mercy
confidence
trust
wisdom

I believe there are many, many more but I’d really like to hear your additions to the list. What makes us beautiful?

magic

it is nearing dusk
the sun…going down
i suppose
i’m only guessing
since the clouds, blushing violet and gray
hid that sun deep
as it made it’s
journey to the other side
of the world.

with the mist rolling to a stop
hanging just above the trees
in pregnant pause
and the lightning
tracing the faint echos
of cumulus outlines

while the fireflies begin
their blinking luminary dance
around the prairie grass
the last vestiges of obscured
but implied
daylight wane

it is then
that i remember fairy stories
and wonder
what ever became
of that magic.

Binary Solo

You’ve met the Flight of the Conchords already here on Mrs Metaphor so they should be familiar to you…they should feel like family now, yes?

So, here’s some fun for you this week…no metaphorical implications come to mind immediately but obviously if something comes to you then I’d be glad to hear it.
: )

grade school theology

True conversation at my house tonight as the boys sat in bed. Transcribed for your edification:

Henry (6): “Mom, what do you think about it if God would just make us so we don’t fight?”

Chet (7.5): (exasperated) Henry, God made us this way so we’d have to CHOOSE to do the right thing.

Henry: I am asking mom, Chet!

Chet: We’re supposed to LEARN how to get along. That’s why He made us like this.

Henry: Hey, Chet…you know how else God made us? Look at this. (turns his head to look over his shoulder)

Chet: (does the same) What?

Henry: He didn’t make us so we can turn our heads all the way around. We can only turn them this far.

Chet: Huh. yeah.

end scene.

Now, I don’t know about you but I believe that is just laden with metaphorical implications. I’ll just leave you to ponder that.

as you were…

People like us

True Stories is by far one of my most favorite movies in the whole entire world. “People like us” is one of my most favorite songs in the whole entire world. I was reminded today of this clip so I thought I’d put it out there. In the film, Swoosie Kurtz is a woman who never leaves her bed…not because she CAN’T…more because she is so rich she can afford to have everything done for her, so…she has no REASON to leave it…until, as you see in this clip, something compels her.
(sorry to be a spoiler on that Jude…see the movie ANYWAY…)

This whole thing speaks to that desperate inner place we all hold, myself in particular. It’s not a romantic notion, it is a desire for community, finding my tribe. Who are my people? Where are the people like us?

The clouds roll by and the moon comes up
How long must we live in the heat of the sun
Millions of people are waitin on love
And this is a song about people like us

People like us
(who answer the telephone)
People like us
(growing big as a house)
People like us
(gonna make it because)
We dont want freedom
We dont want justice
We just want someone to love.

So….what do you do?

My friend Ahna had a great post about this subject recently.

I have no idea how to answer this question in polite conversation. This has been a tough one for a long time, probably because when I became a mother for the second time 7 years ago I quit “working” for the man…well, working for my man, that is. I used to produce for projects Dave wrote and directed. You could say I stopped producing Film/Video for Dave and starting producing Children instead. har, har.

Now that I’ve hit my mid-life crisis though, which in reality is more about figuring out my own identity, this question makes me bristle more than ever.

Ahna had some incredible thought provoking insights on this and I fully plan to embrace those but in the meantime I have another idea.

Next time someone asks what I “do” rather than saying “I have no freakin idea” I shall answer thus:

I breathe every day
I parent
I wife
I caretake
I sleep
I write
I drink too much coffee
I work it out with fear and trembling
I fail
I pick up again
I worry
I remember to breathe
I start over the next day

and see what greets me.