Lesson in Coolology II

So if you ill-advisedly purchase something from a very expensive,
teenager-haunted mall store, and then you proceed to return it, (you knew you would), do not feel smug in the fact that you are handing the very young, thin, buff male cashier the same chic bag that you bought your items in, and have helpfully included the pristine cash register receipt, right on top of the still-folded clothing items that you are returning.

Do not smile your 40-ish face at this young man, expecting him to enjoy the easy transaction, and hoping he isn't inwardly sneering at what was your vain attempt to Be Youthful and Fashionable, and also hoping that he doesn't know the dismay you felt at home when your arms, which heretofore you believed were relatively thin, could not be jammed into the sleeves of this wretched garment.

Because you never know what he could pull out of that bag when you hand it to him.
It has been sitting in the house for awhile now.
He could pull out an action-figure, or a Barbie torso, or a lint-flecked gumball.

Or, he could pull out a pair of Victoria Secret underwear.
Oh yes.

And because he has already summoned the store manager for the return,
when he pulls out the Underpants,
there is another young, attractive man present to view the spectacle.

Do all three of you stare at his hand, cupping the tiny, still-tagged piece of fabric, uncomprehending?
Oh yes.

At the moment of dawning, do you brighten visibly and say,
"There they are!" and pluck them from his hand, which remains upwardly cupped for a stunned second or two afterwards?
Oh yes.

Do you stuff them into your open purse, and smile placidly at the young men,
pretending not to notice the look that passes between them?
Do you calmly accept your adjusted receipt and walk out with your head held high?
Oh yes,
Oh yes,
Oh yes.

Moondance

It was time for bed last night, but the moon was beautiful.

The kitchen was a mess.
I was cranky.
Laundry pile in the basement.
Children up too late, and nobody to steer them to bed
because I was just too pooped.

So I said, "Get your shoes on!"
They scrambled.
And out the door we all dashed.
Five of us running, spilling out into the moonlight.

The children understand.
How to just....go.
How we don't have to plan it out, we can just
run for the joy of running in the dark,
down the road, up the hill to the streetlight.
Giggling,
heading nowhere,
enjoying the feel of strong young legs
and healthy hearts.
Gulping air and twirling
because it feels good to twirl.

We ran all the way to the playground,
and right there was a huge mound of woodchips,
new for the school year.
We all scrambled to the top as if that
were our destination all along.

We felt dangerous and illegal up there.
Pacing the length of the mound,
we looked down and everything looked
different from so high.
King of the Hill!

"I hope the cops don't come," I said.
We all looked to the road.
"I saw a car turn in!" middle child whispered.
We froze, ducked down.
"Run!" I yelled.

We descended with steep steps, nearly falling
over each other and splitting up at the bottom.
We ran with whispered shrieks to go this way,
no, this way!
In a dark corner by the school we rested while
twin boy fastened his shoes and heard another car
in the parking lot next.
We hid behind a huge pine while the car
slowly approached and then u-turned to go
the other way!

After much dashing, ducking and hiding we
decided to return to the sidewalk and
"act natural".
Relief followed the exhilaration of our escapes,
and we slowed to a walk,
quieting, talking in murmurs,
looking at the dark houses and shushing each other
because regular people were in bed.

Down our road we watched our shadows and
laughed at how tall and short we became.
We walked with arms around each other's waists
to see what that silhouette looked like,
and then just kept on because it felt so good.
Twin boy danced ahead, stomping on our shadow heads,
an imp making us smile.

It was good to just let the mess go,
to just run away from it,
and smile wide and straight into each other's faces.
Real smiles,
loose,
free.

Ah, the moon.

Bad Mom to Good Mom: A Metamorphosis

So we are standing awkwardly at the first cheerleading practice...
twin girl exchanging silent smiles with the other girls, suddenly shy after not seeing each other for two months since school let out.

Some are doing cartwheels, some hanging on their moms, some showing off their youthful energy through impromptu races across the school lawn.

Twin girl tugs on my arm. I look down. She is smiling apologetically and pointing to her shoes. I open my mouth in shock.

She shrugs at the alarm in my eyes.

"These are the only ones I have!"

My jaw tightens and I glance around. Of course I only see the little girls with neat ponytails and brand new shoes. Coordinating outfits...laughing, chatting, coiffed mothers with babies dandled on their hips.

Suddenly I feel a little bit old and worn out, out of place. I have never quite fit in with the Brownie mothers, the cheerleading mothers, even the Ladies Circle at church mystifies me. Misfit! And my child in shoes with her toes hanging out.

I whisper a hurried promise to twin girl that we are going shopping together, just her and I. We will get doughnuts, we will buy school supplies...she will have new shoes. I'm suddenly anxious to make up for everything I might have forgotten about lately:

Making supper.
Buying milk.
Watering the plants.
Reading aloud.
Baths.
Checking their teeth.

Sometimes the obvious eludes me.

So yesterday I felt the nausea of Things I May Have Missed.
Today I felt the elation of covering all of those bases in one fell swoop.
All it takes is a little dough.
Of which we have little.
So...
Walmart.
She is nine, she's okay with Walmart.

Wish I Had Written This

UNBOUND


Before the pen drops...
Before the color stains...

Before the sound breaks
the silent night,
there is that moment,
where we sit with
our hearts,
our limbs
bound by imaginary ropes
of our own making.

Be brave creative souls.
Choose to be unbound.
Choose to create with
immediacy
and passion.
Choose to cut through
the threads of self-doubt,
the paralysis of perfection.

Use your hands,
your eyes,
your voice
to keep God's creative force alive.
It is your gift to the world
and to God.

Embrace this unbinding,
and watch yourself
fly free.

Wanderings & Ponderings by Lisa Dunlap

Fans

They are the faces that I look for in the crowd.
They are the ones who cheer for me.
They are the ones who never hear mistakes.

No matter what I do in life, they will always be my fans,
and I will always be theirs.

They call me "Mommy".

How lucky can a person get?

Before and After

He was twelve in the first two pictures....fifteen when he got his braces off.
Almost taller than I am.
I feel like I'm watching an egg hatch,
or a butterfly emerge,
only

I don't want him to fly away.

Michigan Brand

One time I went grocery shopping with my grandma in Warsaw, Indiana. There was nothing remarkable about the trip at all. I can see the shelves in my mind though, and I remember following close to her, and I remember the checkout lane.

And I remember this one thing she said.

You’re probably thinking it is some profound pearl of truth that fell from her mouth, and that’s why I’m re-creating the moment in my blog. But it was only this:

“Michigan Brand cottage cheese is the best.”

That’s what she said. I have no idea why I would remember THAT. I mean, I want to remember some words that come to me in the middle of the night, or bring peace during the storm... The words of my grandmother, startling and eternal. You know, something like that.

But all I have is cheese.

The thing is, there’s so much that I remember from my grandmother and none of it is really words. It’s more…smells and pictures. We spoke together, of course, over the years. But I don’t really remember the words.

I remember the feel of her, and the sound of her voice. I remember her expressions and her wit – you could see that in her eye. I remember the way her fingers, bent from arthritis, would just touch her hair before a picture was taken, a split-second of shy vanity. I remember the laugh that she had for teasing boys – her boys – that revealed pride even while she remonstrated.

I wonder what my children will remember of me? Because I try so hard to make the words that I say to them the right ones. What if they don't remember any words at all?

I can just hear my oldest reminiscing with the others:

"She always said to choose Jif."

The younger ones would nod thoughtfully, while secretly hoping that perhaps there was more to that statement than was obvious...finally accepting with an attempt at pride this legacy: Their mother was a Choosy Mom.

So maybe it's not about words. In fact, maybe I say too many. Who knows what little droplet of verbal minutae they will remember? It could be anything. But if it's not about the words, then it really doesn't matter.

My children will remember my feel. My look. My eyes. My smile. My softness. My laugh. My arms in a hug. My lap.

This brings me some comfort, and some pause.

I'll think about that while I eat my cheese.
I bought Michigan Brand because it's the best.

Summer

There is something about that first day of summer that you can feel in your face. Something relaxes. No more schedules. No more alarm clocks. No tests to study for and forms to sign and return.

Windows open all night long.
The train at midnight, blasting loud and long but so far away it's only a faint reminder of the world that still exists outside of my dreams. I smile and sink back in.
The morning, the birds.
Opening my eyes to the sound of the pad, pad, pad of the lone early runner down our country road.
A new whole day all stretched out, cool but never cold - then later, hot, slowing us.
Green things growing, the whole earth moving and changing and waking up to live.
Coffee on the front porch.
Children all within my grasp. Finally, bored. Finally, weaned from television and the constant noise of school they slow and spread out within themselves. They become wider and deeper because the days are about hours now. They are no longer pressed thin to fit into the sliced-up minutes of a busy day. They think, and dream, and draw.

So do I.

Countdown to the Shower

Having lots of people over to my house!
Invitations and everything!

The husband is alarmed that I haven't cleaned much. Dust and stuff.
But I'm waiting for that adrenaline rush that comes when you only have a few hours left. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

There'll be that moment of panic, and then it'll be a crisis for an hour, and then it will be over and time to party.
Way better than dragging the whole cleaning thing out over several days don't you think?

Me too.

The First

So I find this gray hair on my head two days ago.
It totally shocked me.
My mouth was open and I was leaning in towards the mirror, trying to see if it could POSSIBLY be real. I had this weird thought pass through my brain (quickly), that maybe it was somebody else's that had sort of wafted through the air and landed on my head.
And stuck there.
Yeah, it didn't make sense, but there was that moment of confusion.

The thing is, I don't think anybody really believes that they're going to get old. I mean deep down, do you really think it's going to happen? It's like none of us think we're going to die. I mean, how bizarre is that - to die, and not even be here anymore? Nobody believes it. Intellectually, of course. But in the front of your brain?

At some point it's thrust upon you, and then you have no choice to believe it. But wouldn't we all freak out and run around in circles frightening the neighbors if we really really really believed it?

I saw an old friend of mine today. I think of him as a friend, although he was really my spiritual director and so the whole thing was kind of one-sided. I loved going to talk with him because he was the only person I ever knew who only wanted to hear about me. Being a self-centered person, I really liked that. Anyway, he sort of helped me to be honest with myself once upon a time, and so after all that deepness it's always been kind of awkward to have small talk when we occasionally meet. It seems better to say only honest things.

So I saw him and gave him a big hug and I looked at him and he looked all cool and he had more gray and he was older, and he had this great smile on his face. He just looked good and I told him so. Then I added, "You are aging well," and he smiled and nodded because he knew exactly what I was saying even though it came out sort of blunt and weird.

I walked away having a mental conversation with myself as is often the case after I open my mouth in public, and I'm just rolling my eyes at myself thinking, "You're AGING well?" Just what every 40-something man likes to hear. But honestly, as with most everything else, it was a statement having to do with me. I looked at him and he was happy and peaceful and cool. He's right in the same boat with me, but he's doing okay with it. No running in circles. No frightening the neighbors.

That's what I want.

Basil Update

I transplanted ten of them today into little clay pots.
I hope I didn't kill them.
Who would like a basil plant???

Talent Show

Twin boy and middle child.
They wowed the crowd!

To The Bottom Of The Sea

On Friday they had each received a boarding pass and bio of the character they must play.

The twins' bios said they were siblings on the Titanic, having just left England where their father (a university professor) had finished up the semester and was taking them back to New York. They were reading in their bunks when they heard a bump and noise outside the cabin. When they went to see what it was, they were quickly bundled off to a lifeboat. Their father had to wait until women and children were safe before he could join them. Sadly, they never saw him again.

Oh they couldn't wait to get to school on Monday. They both dressed their nicest.

In class they were served by white-shirted 4th graders, who each told their own sad story into the microphone before serving them their appetizers. Some passengers were 1st class and were served right off the bat, then 2nd class, then the poor 3rd class passengers got what was left. Dinner was Swedish meatballs, Norwegian potatoes and corn casserole.

After dessert, the teacher dropped a huge bucket of ice and yelled, "Every man for himself!" Twin girl says they all screamed and ran out onto the playground.

What a day to be a child.

Random Chores

The husband has come up with a new plan for chore division among the laborers.
He presented us with a cup filled with popsicle sticks.
The children eyed it warily.
I sat back with arms folded, jaded from years of coming up with such plans myself and having them last exactly one week.
I kept my mouth set in a prim line of superior and indulgent supportiveness though. Nary a word of doubt escaped my lips.

Thing is, it's working.
The plan is pure simple genius and I have jumped into full participation of it,
and here it is:

He asked me to come up with a list of jobs that needed to be done around the house every single day. These jobs were printed on the ends of popsicle sticks, and dropped into a cup. Each child chooses three sticks, blindly, the moment he walks in from school, and does the jobs immediately.

Here's the math: I decided that I would choose 5 sticks per day also, and 3 sticks per child (4) equals 17 sticks in all. Two of the sticks are blank, so there are 15 jobs listed on the sticks.

Here are the details: The jobs you get every day are random, so you never know what you're going to have to do. This keeps things from getting boring. Getting a blank stick is fun. The most difficult job on the list is VACUUM, which means you have to vacuum one common room of the house (not your bedroom). All of the other jobs can be done in around 30 seconds. Samples are: Downstairs Toilet (wipe it down and swish inside), Kids' Bathroom Counter (wipe it down), Bookcase (straighten it), Pantry (straighten it), Dust (dust any common room with the feather duster), TV (straighten videos, etc)...They're easy jobs, and the only day that they were difficult was the first day. The second day there were only one or two books out of place - 30 seconds to straighten the shelf. Wiping down the stove top is simple when somebody does it every single day. Same with the Pantry, which used to be a collection of empty cereal boxes, half-open stale graham crackers and the packaging from a multitude of fruit cups.

All of the jobs affect the entire family. There is no "Clean Your Room", or "Put Away The Clothes That Your Mother Has Washed For You." These things are expected - you're supposed to pick up after yourself. The jobs on the list are all little things that just need doing every day - they're nobody's mess - they're everybody's mess!

None of the jobs are "time-sensitive". They are all things that can be delayed if somebody has play practice after school, or are otherwise delayed. As long as the kitchen trash is taken out and a fresh bag put in sometime during the day...as long as the floor is swept...one window "windexed"...well, we call it good.

Actually we call it very good. The house has never looked so clean.

The children love it. Sincerely. Middle child says to me, "I like doing this because it's really quick and because you're not telling us what to do."

Genius.

Basilica

I think the name "Basil" is tres cool.

But instead of giving birth to another child and naming him, "Basil", I have settled for growing a basil plant.

Actually, I'm growing several because according to internet sources, each one of these little sprouts is going to become rather large! I thought I could just keep them all in this little tin thing on my kitchen window, but apparently I have to transplant them.

Who would like a basil plant?

It's so cool to plant a seed and be surprised by the sprouts coming up.

I am going to make a tomato-basil pizza. How long will it take to grow basil leaves that I can harvest?

Stay tuned.

The Hermit

There really was one, last summer.

Just about a hundred yards from our house runs Kalamink Creek, and you have to cross over it to get into the village. On the other side one day we noticed some fresh wood chips making a beautiful path into the woods south of the road. The next day, there was edging along either side of the path! But the path went into the woods too far to see where it led to.

We were all a-flutter about who could have laid that path, and decided to follow the trail ourselves to find out. We only got a few yards before we saw the sign:

PRIVATE PROPERTY: NO TRESPASSING

I highly suspect the property south of us is city-owned and the sign was just a ploy to keep nosy people like us out, but still, it was sort of intimidating.

So we stayed away but we watched. (We don't have cable.) Every once in a while we saw a man walk down the path, or back up to the road. He had a blue pickup, and he'd park it just on the shoulder. He made several trips and one day we noticed a big blue tarp through the trees. We craned our nosy necks but could not tell much at all about the Private Property or the man living there.

When we walked by, we walked really slow, and we tried not to look like we were trying to catch a glimpse of him. I wanted so badly to follow that path and see what was in there, but it was too scary for me so I didn't.

Until today.

It's been nearly a year since we first saw the man. I was walking the dog and coming back up the road ready to turn into the driveway when I stopped. Without the full summer foliage it was pretty obvious that the hermit's place was deserted. All of the edging (I could never quite figure out that edging), was in a sorry pile just inside the trees. The woodchips were scattered. I looked at the dog.

"I'm going in there," I told him.

I walked up the path and saw the sign. I glanced up at it and back down really quick. I had some weird thought that if somebody was watching me, and they saw me looking at that sign, that I would seem guiltier than if I didn't. I tried to look confident and purposeful but my heart was beating really hard.

Once inside the woods, I hurried over a log and had to unwind the dog from around a mossy tree. I saw a dishwasher on its side, and further up a flatware basket that must have gone with it. That sort of spoiled things for me.

But then I saw the teepee.

A huge tree that had been growing on the banks of the creek had toppled over and somebody had taken saplings and leaned them all in a row against one side, and then all in a row against the other until they came to a row of crossed points at the top. The felled tree's limbs acted as crosspieces, supporting the small row of trees on each side. Like a long teepee. It was so cool. Pretty big inside.

I peered my nosy head in close between the trees to see inside, and I saw a long cushion. Like for a bed. It was really dirty and old. And small.

I turned around and stopped looking. I thought about all our excited nosiness last year, and how uncomfortable that little bed looked for a grown man. I felt cold and I wished I hadn't come so far in. His poverty had seemed sort of romantic to me from far away. I could see my big warm house from where I stood.

"C'mon dog," I said, and we went home.

Strange Things I Have Seen

The country is way stranger than the city. Way.
When we lived in the city, everything was sort of the same.
Baskin Robbins, Einstein's Bagels, Kroger, Target. They're all over the place, and they're all the same. Everything is really neat and tidy. People get mad if children ride bikes over a corner of their lawn.
Here people think nothing of turning an entire backyard into a huge BMX track.

In the country you go to "Rick's 2-Fers Party Store", and the ice cream place is called, "Lumpy and Goomers". And we have an annual Tractor Pull, and boys from the high school walk around in overalls and John Deere baseball caps there. Trucks are for haulin', and if your truck doesn't have a few finely placed dents here and there...well, you're sort of suspect.

Seriously.
It's so weird and cool.

So anyway just yesterday I saw three strange things.

First I saw a tractor pulling this huge tractor-wheel by chains. There was a child sitting in the middle of the wheel, which was on its side and being dragged through the dusty shoulder of a little two-lane highway. He looked like he was having fun and getting really dirty.

Second, I met a man at the I-Scream shop (we eat a lot of ice cream in the country), who started talking to me, animatedly, on the topic of baldness. I had never seen him before in my life. He didn't really introduce himself, he just started talking about the male pattern baldness that runs in his family. He chuckled and lifted his hat because he's about seventy and still has hair. Then he sucked some air through the sides of his teeth, glanced skyward and shook his head with a smile. I felt it might be my cue to speak and said encouragingly, "I guess it missed you, huh?" He let all the air out in one gush and leaned over to slap his knee like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard and shook his head while he laughed loud and long, and then got real serious and quiet all of a sudden, leaning in toward me,
"You know my uncle?"
I did not, but like anyone else would do, I nodded.
"BALD AT AGE TWENTY-EIGHT!!" he roared and laughed and laughed some more. I just stood there, looking at him with this crazy smile on my face, my eyes wide. I was thinking how nice it was to be happy like that.

Finally, and this was walking home from the ice cream place, I saw this person on the horizon. I thought it was an old man because he was all bent over and moving really really slowly, but I kept my eyes on him as I got closer because it looked like he maybe needed help crossing the street or something. He was in the middle of the street for a really long time. Then I realized, as I got closer, that it was a woman with a helmet on her head, and two ski poles, and some sort of long roller-blade-except-not things on her feet. Right then I was sort of entranced by the whole image, especially after the kid on the wheel and the not-bald man. I was smiling as she drew near, except that she didn't really draw near, it's just that I was walking towards her so it seemed like she was moving a little bit. She was not. She was this summer-cross-country-skier person in full gear. Head to toe pads, full body suit. And she was really really bad at it. I thought it must be her first day because she looked pretty athletic, but she was obviously having a painful time.

So on an ill-advised small-town impulse, I stepped out of my hermitish self for a second to hail her with a wave and a nod. I even spoke and called out, "How's it goin?" Apparently it was going really well and this was only her third week she said with a smile and turned her head as she rolled past me (at this point there was a dip in the road and she was actually picking up a bit of momentum). I thought she would roll on by and that would be it. But no, she stopped herself deftly with those ski poles (actually, she stuttered to an ugly stop which I immediately felt responsible for and quickened my own step away with another wave and a hearty, "Good luck!").

The woman continued to balance herself with head turned my way though, and kept talking - about the sport (which is actually sort of cool), and her attempts to learn it, and how she was looking for other interested people in the area so they could start a club, and the whole time I was going, "oh no, oh no, oh NO" and backing away while nodding, walking backwards but continuing to give polite signs that the conversation was ending...but she kept talking. She was a Talker. At one point I realized that I had backed away so far that there was a huge telephone pole directly in the visual line between us, blocking her entirely from my view. I had to sort of crane my head around it to see her. I felt foolish about this rudeness on my part and stepped out from behind it sheepishly, and just stood there with a big high closed-mouth grin, nodding and shooting my hand out occasionally in an attempt to give a casual wave goodbye, but then letting it fall uselessly to my side in surrender. I think I might have missed a few things she said as I froze into a statue of blankness. My mind tends to shut off like that in the presence of Other People Who Talk Alot, but mercifully she was beginning to roll again and seemed unable to keep her head turned backwards in a comfortable manner. I started a little when I realized she had stopped talking and jerked back to reality enough to yell out another robust, "Well good luck!" like a parrot cawing out the same phrase again and again it seemed all I was capable of at the time.

On returning home I reflected on the beautiful strangeness of the world. I'll bet those city people are strange too, they've just got it covered up a bit more.
I like it here in the country where the dirt is right near the surface, and the trucks are denty, and the strange people like me ride wheels, laugh too loud and get from here to there any way they can.

He Made This Up

Hey Mom,

Want some green tea????

Family Fun

We're in the middle of a weekend called, "Family Fun", and it's basically a very short, activity-filled two days of family togetherness, planned and executed by moi, paid for generously by the husband.

And it's going so well! The whole thing is a secret, and we've just been going from one thing to another and the children don't know what is happening next.

The details and costs:

Friday "kidnapping" from school at 1pm..........free
Butterfly Gardens on Bogue road.................parking, $3
Clara's restaurant (old train depot, and a train went by!)............$44 with tip
Preuss Pets (huge pet store with amazing exotic birds, fish, reptiles and...kittens)......free
Horton Hears A Who with popcorn and pop.........$38
The Dairy Store on Farm Lane....................$15
Driving around MSU campus playing the Airport Game.....free
*the Airport Game was created and named by my brother Crydo. Basically you people-watch until you see someone with a slight resemblance to a famous person, a friend or a relative, and then you shout out, "There's __________!" Unfortunately for the husband, the children enjoyed pointing out people with bald heads, very plump bodies or people with large and poufy heads of hair and shouting, "There's Daddy!" There was no rhyme nor reason to pointing out people who looked like Daddy, it's just that he can take a joke I guess. Another popular person to find was, "There's Molly!" anytime they saw a blonde headed, pretty girl with her hair pulled back, smart jacket and backpack. There was a definite "Molly-look" to a lot of those college students.

Now today there is a lazy morning, a brand new puzzle set up on the card table ($7), and this afternoon we are visiting the Scrap Box, a recycling place where you can fill a large bag of anything from the store for $6.50. It's a big building full of cool stuff that businesses usually just throw away - but children love making arts/crafts from it. I can imagine my Aunt E would love this place!

If we have time we're visiting the U of M Law Library (hahaha). I know, sounds super-cool. But it's free. If you go in and ask for a Visitor's Pass, you can walk around the whole thing. I heard it sort of looks like Hogwarts, and there's a whole subterranean level to check out. It could be one of my famous ideas that goes over like a lead balloon....

After that we have tickets to the Ann Arbor film festival ($46), where we'll watch the Family showings of several film shorts in the Michigan Theatre.

On the way home, we'll go to Los Tres Amigos, and I have to laugh here....the children have been begging to go to this restaurant because apparently their grandparents took them and they loved it. We really never eat out as a family so this is a special treat for them. I looked up the AA location on the internet and read really good reviews for the restaurant except one that says,

"I'd rather be stabbed in the stomach than eat here ever again."

hahahaha. Always an adventure....

Peace!

Family Fun Pics

Butterfly Gardens

A Train Is Coming! They waved and tooted the horn!

Preuss Pets

Dairy Store!