Nov 11, 2012 |
Dot’s Birthday.
My beautiful, talented, shy, generous, gregarious, smart, amazing daughter turns 18 tomorrow. She’s not a baby, not a child. We are celebrating all weekend long with little things. Last night she chose to see the new James Bond movie. Knowing that she doesn’t care as much for Bond as I do. Knowing that there are other movies she also wants to see. She chose Bond.
I bought the tickets and the popcorn (junkfood hangover, anyone?), and we settled in. How fun it is to not be relegated to PG or teen-angst movies. To have her say, “It was so good! I had to keep reminding myself it’s just a movie!” How fun to watch a “grown-up” movie with my Grown-Up Daughter.
Fall.
The winter winds blew old leaves out of my yard this week. I always say that’s God helping me rake the leaves, since I haven’t done it yet. But as I awoke this morning, still in bed I looked out my large window to see a steady rain of yellow and gold leaves whispering their way to the ground.
Dot’s facebook page is full of color as she captured the stunning images of her Grandmother’s Liquid Amber trees a few days ago. This last week of cold and last night’s freeze has brought the sudden onset of toe socks, heavy scarves, and yes… falling leaves.
Dot’s Fall
Veteran’s Day.
I’m so very proud of my Big Brother who served many years in the military. I’m so thankful for those who serve publicly and privately and in ways we will never know. For those behind the scenes, for those kinds of first responders. And for those who keep doing it, year after year after year. Because they do what they do, I can do what I do.
Flag
Christmas.
Driving home from the movie last night, we caught this year’s first glimpse of Christmas lights. Just a block and a half from home. Strands of white “icicle” lighting outlining a roof. How wonderful. How magical.
There’s something so intimate to me about Christmas lights. I can’t explain what it does to me or why. But I adore – no, I need – to see an abundance of Christmas lights this time of year. It’s a public showing that there’s hope. Hope for surprises. Hope for family. Hope for gatherings and happiness and fireplaces and hot cocoa… all the things that make this time of year so incredible. Christmas lights are a public announcement of all things good.
We don’t have outdoor Christmas lights. That’s just not something we’ve been able to get yet. But I still have hope. For surprises. Family. Gatherings. Happiness. Fireplaces. Hot cocoa. And oh, so much more!
Mission Inn’s Festival of Lights, Riverside, CA
[Photo Courtesy Hannah Realy]
When you drive past my house this year
Don’t be dismayed at my lack of holiday cheer.
You may not see it, but it’s here.
In our hearts, in our home.
And we’ll share it with you,
Everyone.
What does this weekend look like for you?
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Nov 10, 2012 |
I saw the new James Bond movie tonight. SKYFALL. Don’t worry, I won’t give away any spoilers.
Have I told you how hard it is for me to watch movies or television? It has to be an exceptionally good program to distract me from my Writer’s Brain that is always trying to rewrite the scenes.
An even better program is one that inspires me to not write. I can often be found scribbling notes in the dark of the theater, but a great movie keeps my eyes, and thoughts, on the screen.
SKYFALL did just that. Only occasionally did I wish theaters offered a Pause or Rewind option, so I could better indulge my senses.
I found myself striving to be one of those writers. Another Ian Fleming. Or Louisa May Alcott. The kind of writer whose story quality you know just from their name. When was the last time you heard “Bond. James Bond.” and didn’t imagine a tall, suave tuxedoed spy ready to tackle any problem – or person – that came at him? Or do you imagine Sherlock Holmes without his hat and pipe?
It can’t be done.
That’s the type of writer I strive to be. One who perhaps writes in a language a bit more romantic and old-fashioned, who can capture scene and emotion and action with one swift pen stroke. Whose characters are endearing, endangered, and extraordinary.
I desire strongly to capture the essence of the world around me, whether it be filled with steel and glass that shatters on impact, or an endless row of cherry blossom trees that lace the river banks with their delicate pink flowers.
When I’m lost in a setting of modern machine guns in exotic countries or strolling through woods of old…
That’s the type of writer I strive to be.
Jo. Molly Jo.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Nov 9, 2012 |
What a different a week makes.
Fridays are quickly becoming my favorite day of the week. This Friday, in particular, is one that I intend to treasure and enjoy.
Two weeks ago I bared my soul to God. One week ago I wrote about it. Today, I’m banking my first paycheck in a year and a half.
It’s small. My first three days’ worth of work. But it’s so much more than that.
It’s a purpose. A taxable contribution to society. A means to an end. I get to socialize, help people, crunch numbers, work with computers, and have a reason to get up in the mornings besides seeing Dot off into the world.
I bought a new dress. And knee boots. I realized, as I donned my new outfit Thursday morning, that I’ve not worn a skirt in three years.
In The Store
I’ve lost a little weight since summer. I wasn’t overweight to begin with, but the few pounds that have dropped have made wearing skirts and short hair more fun. And those boots?! Lemme tell ya, these boots were made for walkin’! [That’s right… I went there.]
I’m walking out of the dark, into the light. I’m walking toward self-sufficiency. I still have a long, rocky, and sometimes very narrow road in front of me. But I’m walking. With a smile on my face. And earned income in my wallet.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
