Sometimes

Sometimes you just have to leave the world and the rain and the floods and the news and the achy bones behind and just take your dog to the park.

This is one of the highest points in my county, a prime example of the perks of living in my country, my state - beautiful public spaces, safe forever from concrete or corn, thanks to taxes and local conservation. This is the headwaters,  a glacial-gouged rise in the plains that feed the streams that feed the rivers that feed the ocean. You can see for miles. On a clear day you can see the skyscrapers of Chicago, some 45 miles away. Only Johnson's mound, a mysterious glacial remnant, forested in old growth Oaks marks the landscape between here and the great lake. What a surprise the lake must have been to those early travelers, who could not imagine such an expanse of fresh water. On warm days, the clouds gather over the lake like a mountain range, but it is a land journey of weeks from here to reach the true mountains. I can't fathom how wagons ever crossed this, or those mountains to reach the Pacific Ocean, but they did.

Every time I come here I see back in time, to pioneer farms, covered wagons, tee pees, buffalo, horses, the great American frontier, land that Lewis and Clark mapped, that thousands traveled to stake a claim, to seek gold, to settle the west coast, to make this country. The Oregon trail's remnants are a mile or two from here, many of our roadways paved over the old army and wagon trails westward.  Maybe it was those Little House on the Praire books that made such an impression on me, that keep me stuck partly in the past. 

It is only a blink of an eye in time that brought us roads, cars, trains, planes, this modern shrunken and often disconnected world. Maybe that's why I like coming here so much, to reconnect, to take in the view, to imagine, and to be grateful for this strange new world by reminiscing about the treacherous and difficult old ones. Some days I'm amazed humans have survived at all in the wild and I'm forever grateful mine were hardy, resourceful and likely lucky.

But here we are, miraculously. 

April has been a bitch, as she often is. 

But today the rains stopped, the floods receded, the winds abated, the sun shone and life was good.

Very good, excellent even. Sometimes I get days like this, and they carry me through the others.

xo

Today

I spent my weekend in Louisville Kentucky for the Junior Volleyball Association World Challenge.

650 teams from the US and Canada, 80 courts under one roof. Kinda surreal, and lots of fun.

Our girls represented, finishing in the top third of their group.

A great time was had by all.

Louisville was gorgeous, weeks ahead of us in bloom time, so there were redbuds and bradford pears in bloom and so much green! Sadly we didn't see much of it inside the State Fair Expo Center.

I came home to some lovely surprises in my own little yard.

Camera never does the color or beauty justice, but every year I try.

Yesterday's tragic events in Boston just will not process in my fatigued, head cold riddled brain.

All I can think is that the people in this world just keep breaking our hearts. 

I find what solace I can in the small miracles of the world, 

and in keeping love in my heart, in the face of hate.

T. said it perfectly.

xo

A Pictoral Recap

My week in pictures:

It was a full week, lots to see. These first images are just the best pictures I found from the best website I've found in a long, long time, My Modern Met. Don't click that link unless you have an hour to spare, it's worse than pinterest for pulling you down the rabbit holes.

Baby girl had her wisdom teeth out, both kids are officially tonsil and wisdom teeth free now. Hope we're done with sedation and surgery for good. She was a trooper, and caught up on her rainbow snuggie crocheting. It's 99% complete, and it makes me happy to look at her wrapped in comfort she crafted herself.

It was Spring Break for the boy too, and he continues to date the most photogenic, lovely girl I've ever met. I hope their relationship can take the long distance until summer, because they are perfect for each other. I feel pretty lucky in the kid department.

I took a solo adventure this week, to the north shores of the Chicagoland area.

I went early to have time to eat, and see some drive by sights.

I picked a fish restaurant, and was beside myself to see old bay on the tables.

I got a kick out of the fish on the walls, and texted my husband and daughter who had their own date night. We cracked jokes and shared pictures of our food, so it wasn't even like eating alone.

I was going to see this: Post-classical/modern string quartet Ethel and Todd Rundgren.

Cheapest and most mind blowing concert I have ever attended, and I've attended a lot.

I knew nothing about post-classical music and it was like seeing and finally understanding abstract art for the first time. Mesmerizing. Then Todd came out and the real fun began, then back to some post-classical, then more Todd and Ethel. Two and a half hours of musical reminiscence through the 70's, in an acoustically exceptional setting, 7th row, clear view, and I paid $20 for the pleasure.

If you want to enjoy some of the classical and modern music online, this collection of radio and video recordings has changed my week, remarkably.

Davee Media Library, Bienen School of Music, Northwestern University

If you want to hear Ethel, click HERE and start with number 10 and 11, then explore some of the more abstract and less accessible numbers. The more I listen the more I hear and learn.

Daughter and I stopped by a remarkable pastry and coffee shop yesterday after getting her stitches out. The food is art, and each bite is a masterpiece. The chocolate art in the lemon tart is held in place by the best blueberry I've eaten in decades. It was a delicious treat.

We are now the proud owners of an old but reliable jeep, more toy than car, a hoot to drive and exactly what my daughter wanted for her first car. Very retro, who knew? It suits her and it's fun to  run around in, but I prefer mine for better mileage and creature comforts. How she got to be of driving age is still a mystery to me. And she's so tall that strangers will stop and ask us about her height, how tall is dad, does she play basketball or volleyball. She's shy and embarrassed, but I'm guessing secretly proud. I would be. I am, no secret about it, so proud, and even more amazed.

She took me for a spin around the neighborhood, during a sublime sunset. Not bad for a picture through the car windshield at 25mph :)

In the circle of life news, this poor guy scared the bejeezers out of me on the way outside to the composter last night. I screamed like a girly girl, ran inside, then went back out to see if it was playing possum or actually dying. I gave him a banana from the compost collection. He sniffed the banana, but he did not recuperate. Husband said why the heck did you do that? I didn't know except it was the only comfort I could offer, and I imagined maybe the smell of something he would love to eat would be nice in his last moments. My Friday will entail a respectful dealing with his earthly remains. It was heartbreaking, and I never do well with these things. Once it's in my yard, animal, vegetable, insect or otherwise,  I feel ownership or kinship or something. But there was nothing to be done but keep the dog from frightening him while he died. I still can't get over the fact that they live only 2 years if they are lucky. Good relativity thought path, I'm grateful for having a more reasonable life span than these poor guys. And the true blessing is he was making for the tunnel under the porch, and died not ten feet from it. Last year's momma possum death made me want to move or bulldoze the porch to get under there and clean up. At least I can get to this one. I hope he had a good little life. And they are frightful and beautiful at the same time. I desperately wanted to pet him, but the teeth petrified me.

Lastly, this picture is from the full moon on Dad's birthday, a strange, reflective night for me. There was so much light in the darkness that night that it didn't seem to make sense. The last bits of snow sparkled and the moon shone so bright and true and there was a peacefulness to it that comforted me a bit.

Tucker and I lingered outside longer than usual that night, to be sure we soaked it all in. 

Spring is coming, we can smell it, feel it in our bones. We're ready.

Happy Friday!

I feel a draft...

...post, that is. March is my blue ribbon month for writing posts I don't post. For every post I've shared, I've held one back. Maybe because they bored me, or were derivative. Let me recap: the one where I'm grateful and love my family, the one where I'm overwhelmed and sad, the one where I miss my Dad and I hate getting older, the one where I'm pissed and defeated, two where I try to share and express my love for music, which, along with books have saved me time and again, the one where I share cool pictures I've found on the internet, and the one's I can't even begin to write about my outraged frustration with politics, the Supreme Court, gay rights, gun control, fracking, greed and assorted fuckery that just won't end.

So my mind is very busy, but my ability to put meaning to words is currently impaired. It's all I can do to write a coherent comment on a beloved blog. It took me two weeks to write a review for an advanced copy of a book I loved, and author whose blog makes me happy, and I just couldn't find a way to say something that didn't bore the crap out of me. Never read other reviews before you try to write one, I know that. Also don't read them after you've written yours. They're always better in comparison. Square wheels, marble mouth, whatever it is, I've got it bad right now.

I will share this, though, because it is perfect. I love love love The Oatmeal and wish I had half his gift for biting satire, and excellent drawings.


 

the oatmeal

He pretty much nails it, don't you think?

I hope the draft phase is just a phase, and I find a way to write what I want to read. Until then, thanks to you all for doing it for me.