Thankfulness Journal, Week 6 Lent

Almost finished with my thankfulness journal, for Lent.  This has been an interesting experience, some days far easier than others to come up with three things to be thankful for, some routine work days a stretch.  A couple friends have told me that me sharing this has helped them to become a little more aware of their lives.  I feel like that pays it forward a little bit.

3/28/12 I am thankful for

sea turtles.

Devon trying parasailing the first time, Tara going on an ATV expedition.

Parasailing in Riviera Maya

Boys making up games wherever they go.

3/29/12 I am thankful for

safe travels home with kids old enough to keep themselves occupied on two flights.

Unexpectedly running into friends in the Charlotte airport.

Fun friends, great memories made on the beach.

3/30/12 I am thankful

for how many errands we can get done in one day, with no work, school, or kid activities.

Most of our family really wanted to see—and enjoyed—“Hunger Games.”  Lots of discussion.

Sometimes popcorn for dinner is enough.

3/31/12 I am thankful

we FINALLY bought Tara new furniture.

For dinner out with Pam and Steve—no kids!—then catching up with Patti and Jason.

All the kids found a friend to hang with, to finish off break.

4/1/12 I am thankful

all three kids decided to clean up/throw out old junk and papers. Overflowing garbage bin.

Tara’s furniture fits great in Ronan’s room, transforming it to a teen room.

Devon finally gets to use the restored makeup table she has wanted in her room.

4/2/12 I am thankful for

Erin A. inviting Tara and I to hear her read her Irish dance memoir aloud at her school.  Such a sweet tale about these two friends that brought Tara to tears.

finding one final container of homemade tortilla soup made with last year’s tomatoes.  I could taste summer in each bite.

Plowing through most of my emails from vacation.

4/3/12 I am thankful for

dog kisses.

sharing my vacation photos.

Ronan’s frigid, windy first track meet actually ended before dark.

C

Beach Story

Been out of the country, so I haven’t been posting.  Here is a Haiku I wrote in Riviera Maya, Mexico last week.  New habit, Haiku’s in my mind.

Waves caress coral

shimmy crabs plants fish shells while

slyly destructive.

C

Tide pools, underwater view.

Barn Sale

Who can resist a barn full of items for sale?  When driving by on bikes after a brief stop for lunch and snacks in Benton Harbor, MI we were forced to stop and peruse the barn. C

Fuel Stop

Every town needs one!

It’s the permanent barn sales that inspire me to look but never touch an item, since it appears that the majority of them have been picked from a garbage pile, sitting in oil, now with layers of dust.  Here is a sampling of items that you can buy at said barn sale.  I bet they negotiate!

Holly Hobby

Really? 1970's stereo equipment?

Steve now unseeing in the welder's mask

Best table there--even I can make it look pretty despite lots of green copper.

A Graveyard Worth Visiting

The Old Burying Grounds is one of the more memorable and peaceful places we saw on our recent NC holiday.  Beaufort was a short drive from where we stayed, a fun historic town to visit on a cloudy, rainy day.  A few blocks of shops, Maritime Museum–free, can you believe it–with Blackbeard’s ship remains, beautifully restored homes, shipyard, ice cream shops (yum!), but my favorite site was this graveyard aside a tiny church.  Graves from the 1700′s, 1800′s, stilted, leaning, lettering faded, heartbreaking losses of 6 children through the years,  couples, soldiers, settlers laying quietly amidst wisteria and other trees, birds, forgotten flowers, whispers.

The story behind one grave covered with trinkets and joy is that a girl died upon a ship, and her father put her in a barrel of rum to preserve her body.

A few photos from the visit. C

Not forgotten.

angel wings

petrifying conch shells resting with a grave

The Steeple

family plot within the graveyard

Morning Bike Rides

Watermelon.  Key lime. Tangerine. Lemon.  Cranberry.

These were just a few of the whimsical house colors that lined the beach and road opposite us a we rode our bikes daily along the street running alongside the ocean in Emerald Isle, NC.

Mid-20^th century bungalows are situated next to statelier, multi-level clapboards,  all overloaded with balconies and scattered widow walks overlooking the Atlantic and the Bogue Sound. Some had amusing names like “Vitamin SEA” and “R&R” and “Mermaid’s Cove”, others marked with fluttering flags, scrubby gardens, gates open and closed.  A stately white home with black trim stands tall above the rest looking more like it belongs on a New Orleans boulevard than in a sleepy beach town.

It amazes and impresses us the non-motorized traffic along this road each morning.  There are thicker, thinner, high school, middle aged runners, dog walkers, a family biking, then another,  multi-generational families walking, several groups loaded with gear crossing to the beach already, fishermen returning from shoreline solitude.

It is wonderful to see so many people outside, getting some exercise, being together  or releasing stress before hitting the beach, the store, the mini-golf, the arcades, the boats.   Maybe work? If only everyday could be like this.

Slate. Sand. Forest green. Twilight.  Snow.   C

Relentless

Unexpectedly, I- the long-time water bug and ocean lover–was afraid to join my kids in the Atlantic Ocean riding the waves on an extremely windy day with huge, rough waves.  I grew up at the Jersey shore, don’t remember a time when I didn’t know how to swim.  Several days ago, it took me over an hour to move past waist deep.

This was so unexpected, how standing in the churning waters took me immediately back to a similarly rough ocean, on the Pacific coast by Del Mar CA, when my friend Joni* almost drowned while we were swimming.  The flashback was so absolute, so real, I was stunned.

I could so vividly remember that afternoon in Del Mar, on a business trip, Joni* and I swimming out , playing and  laughing,  the sand almost too deep to touch.   After some great long rides atop the careening waves, we realized the current was pulling us further and further from the shore.   We tried to freestyle in, making a little progress before the current pulled us away from the shore, waves continually crashing above us. And what exactly was the useless lifeguard doing? Nothing.

Starting to tire, Joni began a slow rise to panic mode.  Her eyes wide, she exclaimed, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yes you can,” her fear keeping my own fears at bay.  ”Swim over here.  I will help you.”

She grasped desperately at my neck, pulling me under, feet flailing.

“Stop!” I screamed.  ”That will kill both of us.  Put your arms around my neck.  When I tell you, as the wave is breaking, hold your breath.  We are going to dive under the wave and work our way in.”

So we began the excruciatingly slow journey of movement towards the beach. Entangled with each other, I would watch the waves breaking above us, yell “NOW!”, we would duck under the water, and I would try to push off the churning bottom directing us to the shore.  It was exhausting, overwhelming, trying to remain strong with a very fearful (thankfully, very thin) friend.  I wondered if we would finish the journey, but I was definitely not going to let Joni drown.

As we got closer to shore, our friend and co-worker started swimming out from the short, a smile on his face. I urgently waved him over, trying to hide my wave from Joni, just continuing our movements towards the shore. We were now out of the break zone, but I was holding her while swimming in.  Mark’s smile vanished as he realized I was holding Joni up, and he swam more urgently in our direction as we continued our trek towards the shore.

“Mark! Help us!” she yelled when she saw him, throwing her arm around him and pulling him briefly under the waves as she grabbed for him.

Lightened of my load while Mark helped her in,  and in now a calmer section of water, I was able to easily now swim the rest of the way in to where I could stand.  Mark got Joni to the beach, and shakily we both sat on the sand,  caught our breath.  My muscles ached, my brain exhausted as I realized one or both of us could have truly drowned that gorgeous day.  I truly think Joni’s panicking helped me not to freak out.

So this nearly-forgotten day of maybe 18 years passed was bouncing in my brain as I stood in the waves, bile held back.  I could feel the loss of breath, kicking in the sand, visualize the relentless waves.

Today is a respite. Large but not overwhelming waves with a friendlier current, we rode waves for over than hour this morning.  No breaks.  As the day should be, kids laughing, salt mustaches, freestyling to the crest of the wave, then flipper kicks to keep the momentum to shore.  Still got it, after a day of remembrances, and a story to tell my kids about how important it is to respect the ocean while playing in it. C

*name changed

California Pics

Feeling a bit more like a photo blog than a writing blog the past couple posts, here are a few shots I took in and around Bodega Bay.  I enjoy shooting the unexpected, the quirky, and finding beauty in surprising places.  Open your eyes, that’s all.

by the dock

Pallets

enlargement of the food fight!

Spring Break at Home

Spring break. We have friends on the beach right now, skiing in Colorado, visiting family in snowy Minneapolis, but we are hanging around home this week. So lucky we are, to have Chicago just a car ride away–with so much to do–and other local friends to explore with us.

The Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago is still stunningly free, right along beautiful Lake Michigan.  My first winter visit there in years, the polar bear was joyful, the sea lion doing flips, no crowds, no lines.  I have mixed feelings about zoos–animals in captivity, but I know their homes are disappearing, and zoos are a way to educate our kids about conservation and show how beautiful, intriguing, and sometimes cruel the animal world can be.

Lioness sunning

 

On the north side of the zoo is the Lincoln Park Conservatory, a greenhouse filled with palms, then orchids, then a breath of springtime flowers.  Amazing colors to brighten our grey yards.

orchids in bloom

A riot of color

There are miles you can walk in this city, not spending a dime.  After an afternoon in the zoo, today we walked the shops on State Street, seeing the incredible flower displays in Macy’s.

With family, with friends, it’s fun to always see something new in Chicago.  What a great town.

What will tomorrow bring on our hometown spring break? C

Outdoor Color Schemes

I recently escaped to the incredible sand and wide blue skies of the Dominican Republic for a few days.  The colors made me wonder: as our Chicago winter approaches, skies graying and trees becoming barren, how come the recent colors in the trees were so warm and welcoming

while the island shades were cool and relaxing?

Wind.

Opposites of reality? The orange-red-yellow here warning us of the frigid air coming, the blue-green-beige in Punta Cana keeping us refreshed on the beach? Food for thought. C

Thinking in French

By the end of the week in Quebec City, I was thinking in French.  It reminded me of my high school learning days, when I suddenly realized I didn’t have to translate each word back into English to understand it.  I was surprised–but loved–that I remembered so much.  Not everything, but enough so I could think about the basics.  I wanted to share my French with my husband and friends, but alas they speak English…and Sicilian…so that did not help.

I was able to communicate with waiters and shopkeepers, but an interview I might have failed.

Frontenac Hotel

Quebec City, a lovely place to visit and re-learn the past and experience the moment.  And realize that learning French and photography in high school were definitely classes worth my while. C