These are the days.

These are the days
of the Fresh and New--
A yawn and a stretch and
morning-breath I love yous.

These are the days
of Discoveries--
You do what?!s and
You're hot/I'm cold
and you squeeze toothpaste FROM THE MIDDLE?!!?!??

These are the days
of Simplicity--
Bare, green walls
and one-course meals
and we don't care because it is ours.

These are the days
of Someday Dreams.
What ifs and What nows
And well, we're not sure
(but still willing to try).

These are the days
of Joyous Thanksgiving
For Lord, we have much
Now please, teach us to give.

And one day, these days
will be yesterdays.
And you'll say Remember when?
And I will, with a smile.

Oh WOW! ...Oh GEE!...It's the OGs!

YOU GUYS! Can we talk about how unbelievably adorable these two are?!

Exhibit A:



Be.still.my.heart.

This coming from a girl who cannot HELP but sigh a little sigh anytime an old couple pops into view (except on occasion when I am stuck behind them in traffic...but that's another story).

But okay, NOT ONLY are they old and cute and still in love after 72 years (Harry is 98 and Barbara, 93) BUT ALSO they have a blog called the OGs (Original Grandparents) where they offer advice and hilarious anecdotes and even comment on Lady Gaga now and then (thanks to their granddaughters, who man the camera)!

Enough chatter. WATCH THEM! NOW! You will not be disappointed.

(And if you are, you do not have a soul.)

Together:


Cutie (Barbara) on marriage:


Adam, get ready for this someday (although of course, we all know that YOU are the one that will bust a move):


Learn more (NPR feature story).

Weekended: Footloose and fancy-free.

Sometimes, it's nice to soak up summery freshness.
And get fancy with fab Fiestaware and yummy fruit.
And set the table.

And show the world that YOUR HUSBAND GAVE YOU FLOWEEEEERS!
ON A MONDAAAAAAAAY! FOR NO REASONNNN! (!!!!!!!!!!!)
(say it like OPRAAAAAAH for best effect)

(note: I used to say "Oh, I'm not a flower-kind-of-girl". And turn up my nose and say things like "They just die!" or "Give me chocolate any day!" or "It's not like I just finished a dance recital!" ...but can I just say I CHANGE MY MIND! PERIOD. Flowers are cheery and pretty and gives even a one-bedroom apartment an immediate makeover!)

Ahem.

The point is, sometimes, on days such as those, life looks like this:



But soooometimes, you're just kind of tired from running around and errands and out-of-towning and future-thinking etc etc etc.

So it's all you can really do to unpack groceries while your fab husband washes dishes and pop a frozen pizza in the oven.

That you eat in front of the TV. Watching LOST (because you are OMG SO ADDICTED AND ON SEASON 5 ALREADY AND CANNOT WAIT FOR SEASON 6 TO BE RELEASED ON NETFLIX!)

And then follow it with a much-anticipated b-f-f reunion/life talk/snazzy beer/CELEBRATION!

And it may not be as fancy or picturesque, but it's still pretty darn good.


p.s. Please excuse the flash. (such a camera-hog...)

p.s.s. I may be totally showing my kitchen no-not-how BUT when we got our little salt & pepper friends, we were discussing which was salt and which was pepper. I thought that Mr. Salt would be the pudgy one (salt=not awesome for you+he is holding a baked good which always takes salt) BUT NO! Not true, my friends! Mr. Salt is sneaky and lean and Sir Pepper is the stout one. Guess the mustache should have trumped previous reasoning?

We were just sitting there talking.

I share this with you, friends, because I don't know a single soul who has not and will not yet again feel the long loneliness of life.

No matter what the season, no matter where we live, no matter how successful, how seemingly cheery, how pretty, how rich, how poor, how healthy, how sick, how young, how old...we feel it.

Loneliness wafts within the pages of our lives and lingers at times, pressing in and down and around us and making us feel so incredibly, painfully, terribly alone.

At times it can be almost crippling, can't it? To stare out at the world behind this foggy glass. To scream yet no one blinks an eye. To mask such pain with a smile.

Because if there's anything worse than feeling alone, it's telling other people that you don't have it all together and that you are --gasp!--human and flawed and kind of icky in places. And that is scary. And in our culture, often taboo. And you usually feel like you did/said/are "too much."

(Like me...right now...thinking oh dear, this blog is far too heavy. Do I dare hit Publish?)

I used to think this was my problem. That everyone else had it together and it was just me not adequately managing stress/anxiety/faith/etc etc etc. And that once I cleaned myself up and dusted myself off, then--and only then--would I be fit to join the group again.

I was wrong.

Thank you, Dorothy Day, for reminding me how essential community is for all of us. And what great things we can accomplish when we unite.

*****
Postscript from Dorothy Day's The Long Loneliness (emphasis mine):

"We were just sitting there talking when Peter Maurin came in.

We were just sitting there talking when lines of people began to form, saying, "We need bread." We could not say, "Go, be thou filled." If there were six small loaves and a few fishes, we had to divide them. There was always bread.

We were just sitting there talking and people moved in on us. Let those who can take it, take it. Some moved out and that made room for more. And somehow the walls expanded.

We were just sitting there talking and someone said, "Let's all go live on a farm."

It was as casual as all that, I often think. It just came about. It just happened.

I found myself, a barren woman, the joyful mother of children. It is not easy always to be joyful, to keep in mind the duty of delight.

The most significant thing about The Catholic Worker is poverty, some say.

The most significant thing is community, others say. We are not alone any more.

But the final word is love. At times it has been, in the words of Father Zossima, a harsh and dreadful thing, and our very faith in love has been tried through fire.

We cannot love God unless we love each other, and to love we must know each other. We know Him in the breaking of bread, and we know each other in the breaking of bread, and we are not alone any more. Heaven is a banquet and life is a banquet, too, even with a crust, where there is companionship.

We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community.

It all happened while we sat there talking, and it is still going on."


image: here.

Lest we forget.

here.

Currently:

• Searching for the perfect chocolate chip cookie. Desired qualities: unpretentious, traditional with a twist, comforting, ooey gooey chocolate-y goodness. Got a recipe I should try? Do share!
• Feeling a bit guilty for having five dirty coffee mugs in my office. Also for opening the bag of peanut M&Ms...after having a brownie at lunch. Oops?
• Wishing the Adult World would be a tad more user friendly. Also, that I would not have to make another trip to the DMV (scream). Also, that I wouldn't feel so helpless and confused at crucial times like when I have a Serious Situation on my hands and have no freaking clue what to do. Luckily, God is good and my husband is awesome.
  
• Trying to muster up the courage to ask someone to hang out. Because, well, she seems fun and a new friend would be nice. But somehow I feel really awkward about it. Like what if she says no and thinks I am a weirdo? Or what if she says yes but only says yes out of obligation and then secretly hates it? Hmm. I think I'm suddenly really bad at this whole friendship thing. Is that a mark of old age?
• Reading this, albeit halfheartedly, after tearing through this, even though it totally freaked me out and upon finishing it resolved to never see the movie or read the sequel. Recommendations?

here.

Yuk, yuk, yuk.

In high school, my best friend and I would love to sit in a public place, pick out a person and begin making up their life story.

The best one was in a train station on the way to Chicago (Spring Break 07!) when we spotted a handsome middle-aged man with dark hair flopping over his forehead as he tossed a worn satchel into the seat next to him.

We immediately deemed him Pierre and proceeded to tell his vibrant story complete with his profession (rich-people-dog-breeder! Why?! JUST BECAUSE!), his status (single. duh. with a broken heart from his longtime girlfriend who died of a mysterious fungal disease the week before their wedding day! GASP!) and his reason for travel (en route to deliver his brother from the evil clutches of corporate boredom intermixed with an addiction to an all-night marathon of watching Wheel of Fortune and eating Cheetos).

Our dreams were dashed in one fell swoop when our friend had the nerve--the nerve!--to actually approach Pierre and discovered that in fact, his name was Charlie and he was a schoolteacher on his way to visit his parents.

Snoozefest.

Annnnyway, the point is I can totally relate to this article and maybe it's because I work in an office or maybe it's because of my aforementioned Pierre past (and perhaps an overactive imagination but whatever), but I read this and loved it and just had to share.

(via here and here)

So read it, friends, on this blase Tuesday afternoon.

And then, as my husband would say, "Yuk it up."

(And if you can say that phrase with a straight face, you get a million points because I cannot help but immediately dissolve into giggles and the occasional unexpected snort.)

((It's almost as funny as my mom propping her feet up at the end of a long day and saying her "dogs are barking."))

Enjoy!