movin’

so i am moving to my other blog today is pretty.

as of right now, i will no longer be updating on this blog. i’m consolidating blogs. however, now i will be occasionally adding words, between the regular photos, to today is pretty, whenever i can. i hope you’ll change your bookmarks, feeds, links, whatever, and visit me over there.

the happinest blog and its archives will remain here until further notice.

go check out today is pretty’s new look too! thanks for reading.

if this is IT

very excited to learn this week that i’ve been chosen to read one of my happinest blog posts (it’s a secret) at the blogher conference in chicago next month. wow!

obviously, i’ve been slam-blasted with my new FT gig (eh em paid gig) and leaving happinest to sit empty in all its loneliness. however, i feel like i’m getting in a rhythm and maybe soon i’ll make it back to this place. it’s hard to know what’s next. maybe something new. maybe nothing new.

today i’m not all that bothered by the idea that this, what i’ve got right here, right now today, may be “IT.” i know i’ve hit times where the idea of any period in my life being “IT” was the most terrifying feeling. but right now, in this moment, i feel pretty content. ed’s really happy in his new job. clyde’s having a fun summer, despite falling and scraping his forehead, nose in three places, and upper lip (ouch!) and having to learn to apply the three steps of conflict resolution. leo’s doing great, despite the fact that he all but sticks his fingers in his ears and says lalala whenever we try to mention the word “potty.” and i’m doing, well, much better with juggling work and home, thanks to FT childcare, ed having weekends off again, and a new division of labor. so so grateful for the job and feeling closer to finding a “work voice” i can live with (and hopefully someday be proud of) every day.

i do miss my friends and socializing a lot (working at home can be lonely too and we’re all so busy), but i’m trying to work that out. trying to get something going.

the world’s laziest hummingbird lives in my backyard. he goes branch to branch in the pomegranate tree and *sits* drinking from the blossoms.

and also, it’s hot. which is stupid.

hopefully more to come. if you still come by this place, then thank you. if you’re new, then hello and thank you for visiting my often-empty happinest.

also, don’t miss the newest issue of this joy+ride with poems by brad buchanan. and you can still find photos regularly over at today is pretty.

one of those days

i’m in need of a g-list. life just seems to be passing me by.

here are a few reasons not to let it:

• reading clyde a book that i loved as a girl. there’s a magic ring and kids who become small and go into a dollhouse
• leo, prompted by my response when he hugged me one morning in bed, now says “mmmm” when he gives me big hugs in bed
• nice, chatty dinner with a long lost (not really) friend
• crows on the blue sky streaked in clouds
• my sweet little potato bush tree, she’s come back with many purple flowers!
• the coolest, most lovely june
• strawberry rhubarb crumble
• yellow lillies by the dozen coming soon
• how i cried when clyde wrote “i will miss you” on his card to his kinder teacher and how he pat my back and said, “it’s okay, mom”
• brushing celie cat
• spooning teacake
• rescue me: i can’t get enough
• today’s the birthday of a old friend who i always miss and love
• i believe in patience and understanding even when i don’t have either
• tree bark falling all around
• the feeling of wanting to cry because life is so gosh darn beautiful

my nyc (on the quick)

pondering my quick nyc trip:

i have to say, i wasn’t really in my body very often on this trip. not much anyway. too much anxiety in the getting here, getting there, going to work and meetings, working, and the what’s next?

there were a few moments when i was in my body. when i really felt it. that nyc.

• riding the train one evening: the rocking, the holding on, crisp white blouse, big round hair, sleeping man, a woman standing still under a tiny red umbrella open wide on the top of a faraway building
• dark neighborhood restaurant at night with a friend: talks, murmurs, longing, hope, and a dark chocolate pear tart
• the dusted-off memory (albeit a confusing rebellious yet lonely one) of being responsible for just me for awhile
• cab ride home: the rain dots on the windows blurring my view, the backseat quiet, and the gliding hypnosis of the drive through a city where i feel lost and found at the same time
• walking home four rainy blocks after i misguided my cab driver. i walked an extra three and back again just because i didn’t want to give up the night and the walking and the ridiculously good feeling of being alone in a warm rain and a welcoming, contagiously energetic city at night
• dimly lit hotel room where the bed took up the entire room and i got the feeling that all my feelings (of serenity, loneliness, longing, doubt, and pure joy) and those of every other person in every tiny lit and unlit window outside my window and beyond are integral parts of what keeps the city alive

in nyc, i miss it while i’m there because i know i can never have enough. i will never get enough. i can’t wait to go back.

nature v. nurture

at our house, nature is winning.

boy #1:

clyde (standing in rubber boots in the garden): dad, can you open the gate so i can dump out these weeds?

ed: you’re weeding the garden?

clyde: yep.

boy #2:

me: say you’re sorry for saying “shut up” to your brother.

leo: noooooo.

me: say it.

leo: nooooo!

me: then you’re not going to get ice cream. earlier, you didn’t get a ring pop. now you will get no ice cream. say you’re sorry.

leo: nooooo!

me: no ice cream then. we will all be eating ice cream. you’ll get nothing. all you have to do is say sorry.

leo: nooooo!

me: my sweet stubborn child,  this is precisely what leads people to prison.

today’s lesson

clyde, when asked what he was doing sitting still with his eyes closed:

“i’m pretending i’m a ball, and i’m bouncing.”

i think i should do this sometimes too. and not like a crazy ball, a nice gentle bouncing ball.

tracking joy

phew! it’s been really busy (even if that’s only in my mind) but wanted to give a “find joy” progress report (haven’t heard? well, here are the deets).

my joy list:

1. take nightly family walks in new places
2. make meals from scratch
3. invite friends over for dinner (even if the house is dirty)

progress: the only progress i have made is on #2, but that’s a tough one for me to stick to. don’t get me wrong. i chose a simple recipe to start with, but indeed, it gave me joy. i made molly’s bouchons au thon (just to say i make something that sounds so fancy french) and served them with artichokes. i loved this. simple and yummy. clyde ate one too.

not sure if this counts but um, molly’s bread and chocolate. i also tried this. with MUCH MUCH MUCH joy. i’m seriously wondering where this combo has been all my life. literally, it’s just a hunk of good french-style bread with a piece of dark chocolate shoved inside. but the salty and the sweet and the ohohoh. so good (and you can’t get any easier than that)!

i also bought the ingredients to make her italian grotto eggs. that’s up next.

no real progress made on #1 or #3 but working on it (thinking counts as working, right?). with the rain and the busy, we’ve only fit in our normal nightly neighborhood walks. and #3, well, that’s going to be my hardest one: 1) cooking and 2) calling and 3) planning and 4) not freaking on the house. sigh…

misc. joy:

my nigel peake birds book

my lisa solomon doily body: lungs print

while ed won’t touch public displays of joy with a 10-foot pole, clyde decided to jump on board the “find joy” bandwagon.

clyde’s joy list:

1. learn something new every day (heavy hitter!)
2. make dates with my cousins (we’ve got one in june)
3. spend more time with mom + dad

how’s your “find joy” progress going? it’s not to late to join the joyous fun if you haven’t already.

writing is hard

know why? well, among a thousand other reasons, it’s hard for me because i write in order to be understood. and seen. so if i get it wrong, i am misunderstood. and unseen.

bad blogger

i’m trying to win the award for world’s worst blogger, can you tell?

new issue of this joy+ride up. it’s a pretty one with rinne allen.

always new photos over at today is pretty.

i just bought this doily lung by lisa solomon. it makes me happy.

and below is my feathery addition to the traveling blog friendship box, which my friend meredith sent to me (thanks, m!) and which i sent onto my friend emily (check out her new true places blog). i love my blog friends.

now i’m working on regrouping. this means i’m working in the garden and reading twilight and about how to start composting instead of blogging or writing anything but work stuff. something is brewing. or i ate something weird. not sure which…

more soon!

invitation

i haven’t been reading lately. not much offline anyway. i request books at the library and can never get through them before the library asks for them back. sigh.

but i have been forcing the poetry. no matter how tired. i flop my arm over to  my nightstand, grab whichever book of poetry, pry open the book (and my eyes), and, usually mostly under the covers, read at least one poem to the end.

last night it was this one:

Invitation
by Mary Oliver

Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy

and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles

for a musical battle
to see who can sing
the highest note,
or the lowest,

or the most expressive of mirth,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air

as they strive
melodiously
not for your sake
and not for mine

and not for the sake of winning
but for sheer delight and gratitude—
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing

just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in this broken world.
I beg of you,

do not walk by
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.

It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.

From Red Bird
Beacon Press
Copyright © 2008
All rights reserved.