If the shoe fits. . .

All winter I  struggled to find a pair of slippers that would fit and last through the season.  The first pair I bought were warm and cozy and cute.  Unfortunately, they fell apart rather quickly.  By early winter I had lost the lining and had to keep the sole on with bright green duct tape.

Next, I found a discounted pair of slipper-booties.  They, too, were perfect, or seemed to be.  But they disintegrated in record time, and eventually they had to be tossed. They were comfortable and trendy but certainly not durable.

For the last couple of months I've essentially been slipper-less, and it has thrown me, as odd as that sounds.  I need something besides my socks between my feet and the cold, cold floor.  I need to feel firmly planted, not sliding and unbalanced.  I need the comfort and stability that slippers give my feet during these hard, cold Western New York winters.

Recently, I've been shuffling around in multiple socks or old tennis shoes. When my husband isn't home I slip into his too-big slippers that are warm with a firm rubber sole.  But they make me trip over my own feet.

On Sunday I found a pair of Croc-like shoes at Ikea, and I snapped them up.  We're coming into spring now, so I thought I could wear them for a bit with socks then wear them sock-less when the weather warmed up.

 They don't fit.

By the end of the day yesterday my feet hurt, and my toes pinched, and I felt unmoored again.  How can a simple thing like HOUSE SLIPPERS, for God's sake, make me insane all winter and spring?  How can finding the right fit be so damn hard?  Why did my slipper conundrum throw me into near tears?  I felt so much like Cinderella's step sisters: desperate to make those stupid shoes work and willing to cut off a heel to make it happen.

Today I went to the big box store that everyone loves to hate and found a pair of house shoes that, I hope, will last at least longer than a few weeks.  They are goofy and large and not very trendy at all, but they fit like glass slippers--perfectly.

This post isn't all about shoes, of course. But sometimes the things in life that are only held together by duct tape and hope are too complicated to write about while slippers, well, they are easy.  They can be fixed with a few bucks and a little determination.

If only everything were that simple.

Life is Sweet

For flutter, a wedding blessing, in song....

I wish you many joyous days of happiness. May life together always be sweet, like honey on the tongue.

I hope you always remember that each one of you is a celestial body, with a halo slightly askew, yet infinity perfect.

And, in the end, no matter how tough life might get you both will be alright. Always.

You burn bright, a star born from the sun. But you, my dear, will never burn out.

Congratulations, flutter. xoxo

Thanks, Emily, for organizing.

It's a Small World

The tiny and hidden fascinate me. When I walk, eyes lowered, it isn't that I am missing the big picture. It's that I am looking at the small microcosms that are everywhere but are often overlooked or dismissed:

The marching ants carrying breadcrumbs to their queen.

The tiny, darting, silvery slippery fish swimming in and out of coral crevices.

The broken shards of pottery and glass where a house once stood centuries ago.

The minuscule pebbles and rocks that make the gravel road.

These are the worlds (for they indeed are whole, wide worlds) that have attracted me my whole life. When I look at a garden I of course see the large landscape of colors and textures, but I also see the ladybug working its way up a rose stem. I don't just see the wide expanse of the ocean as I stand on a beach; I also see the the grains of sand, the sea shells, the tiniest starfish.

I can see details in people, too. I will notice your new earrings or that you have trimmed your hair. I will be struck by the catch in your voice and know that your heart aches. I will see the twinkle in your eye and know you are about to tell me something amazing. I will see the tiny lines around the corners of your smile that tell me that you are tired, strained. I will sense the smallest twitch of your eye, and I will know you are anxious or upset.

It is, of course, a problem sometimes, in the practical sense. I bump into things frequently as I walk, head bowed, looking for bottle caps or interesting little objects that other people step over or kick aside. I can utterly forget the time when I am lounging in the grass watching a bee lap nectar from a nearby flower. I can overly prod a person to share their hidden feelings when they aren't prepared to discusses them with me. I can miss a sunset while contemplating initials carved in a tree trunk.

This attention to the small details of my environment made me want to create tiny little worlds myself. For a while I became obsessed with making terrariums. In one sits a smiling Buddha and a sea shell with a mini succulent I have no name for. I even have a tiny little glass necklace filled with live moss that I have to water, carefully, every month with a damp q-tip. And I couldn't bear to see our neglected goldfish swim in an empty bowl, so I filled it with a small rainbow cave and a blue female figurine to keep him company. Now he has his own mini space to hide in and a plastic friend to blow bubbles with.

And isn't that what we all want anyway? A space of our own, no matter how small? Don't we all want to be seen even when we feel insignificant and tiny in this large, crazy world?

Earthy Crunchy

I made up this recipe today, and it was very, very tasty.

What's in the Cupboard Quinoa Granola

1/4 cup seseme seeds (black or white or a combo)

1/4 chia seeds (black or white)

2 cups rolled oats

1/2 cup uncooked quinoa (any variety)

1/4 melted virgin coconut oil (I think butter would work as well)

1/4 cup + 1 tablespoon pure maple syrup

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl. In a separate bowl mix the syrup and coconut oil and then toss with the dry ingredients.

Spread the granola on the baking sheet and bake for one hour. Let it cool then break the granola into small pieces. At this point you can add nuts, dried fruits, or shredded coconut, or just eat it as is.

Enjoy!

Sunday

The Superbowl, without my father, is painful for me.

I can get through Christmas and his birthday, but the Big Game? It slays me.

I don't like football, really. I didn't really even like it all that much when I was young. But he did. It was the only sport he would watch, the 49ers the only team he would root for. So, of course, we all watched, we all cheered. And Superbowl parties, whether the Niners were in the game or not, happened every year. Now, without him, Superbowl is just another Sunday, and the ordinariness of it all squeezes my heart.

Yesterday there were no commercials and wings for me. No party invites or half time shows. It was just another quiet night. I went to bed before 10pm and had a fitful, restless, and anxious sleep. My dreams were filled with fog, literally, like the fog that hovers over San Francisco Bay on cool, winter evenings with the light from the Snow Moon filtering through the mist.

San Francisco

15 minutes by Kelly Myers

My dear friend Kelly Myers took on Sarah Cedeno's writing challenge! Please take a minute to read and comment on her guest post, below. She is a great writer and should really start a blog, too. My response to the challenge is here.

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I've got a school bus coming home in 15 minutes bringing me 3 rowdy, excited-to-play-in-the-snow seven year olds. Here's all that 15 minutes will get you.

My desk. It's huge, heavy, wooden, and it was FREE!! We got it from an associate of Dennis' who was pulling up stakes and abandoning his office with furniture inside. He just couldn't take it with him. Why yes, I'd love that big, wooden professional desk with oodles of drawers. I sit at my desk in the "living room" of my house. I can't imagine people before me living in this cozy ranch house using this as their only living room. Thankfully, they added on to the house in the 80's and put on a huge family room. This room has never been our "living room." We call it the "front room." I used to have my office in here. Just a desk and some other random furniture that rarely got used. Then it had 3 babies' cribs in it. Much different! Someone go back in time and tell that pregnancy crazed hormonal lady that painting the walls a deep, deep red would take about 13 coats of paint and aggravate her husband to no end. Once the cribs moved out, the room was our therapy room. We added a kid height school table and chairs. My son had 3 years of in-home therapy here - ABA, speech and OT. Fabulous ladies who loved my son and his siblings just as much as we do came here. They became part of our family. Once the kids started school full-time, my old "desk" came back in the room. I was just a ramshackle piece of MDF board with folding table legs attached. Some homemade make-do on a budget piece of furniture that we whipped up back in college, when we were still babies. This new, fancy, free desk makes me feel grown-up.

I don't have time to talk about all the drawers. This desk has drawers for miles. I love them and reorganize them with glee on a regular basis.

Up on top, we've got a big ole' box of tissues. Then, a cordless phone and charging station. Then, one of my set of two speakers, for requisite rocking out while I pay the bills. I've got my tiny purple iPod shuffle charging away reminding me that I haven't been to the gym since before Christmas. A pencil with a broken tip. I was going to sharpen it this morning, but decided to leave it for one of the kids to sharpen because they get such a thrill out of the electric pencil sharpener. Under my monitor sits 5 cash envelopes that came from the bank. They've got Christmas money inside for each of my 4 kids plus Dennis and I - all from my great-grandma who will turn 102 years old in just 6 weeks. She saved all her life so she'd never have to go without. The envelopes have handwritten names of all us scrawled on there by her daughter - my great aunt. She's in her 80's and I'm sure she never imagined her mother would live so long. We sometimes worry about my great-aunt and my grandpa (her brother) and their worsening health conditions. No one in their 80's expects to be outlived by their 102 year old mother.

Damn, the school bus is here. Hmm. It would suck to stop in the middle of a story.

Little people are home and they've been reshuffled. Dennis shoveled the whole driveway, the boys are playing in the snow, and Gillian is reading a book. I ate a bowl of turkey chili. Aren't you a better person for knowing that?

Back to the desk. Under my monitor is a sensory skin brush. The OT gave it to me over a month ago. We don't use it too often, but it sits there waiting to be pressed into service. Then, there sits the sparkling blue box, covered in faux jems. Hidden inside the little tin box is a tiny, colorized photo of Joseph Gordon Levitt. Hi Joe! Tech tools include my wireless keyboard and mouse, and my headphone used for quieter rocking out. Nearby, my mousepad is guarded by my Dexter bobblehead, bloody knife and all. My kids asked a bunch of questions when he came home. Am I warping their sensibilities? I hope so, just a little. Gillian ran off and got her Hello Kitty bobblehead and plopped it next to mine. She said they could be buddies. A serial killer and a Japanese cartoon character, besties? Of course they could be, Gillian.

Over towards the other side of my desk I've got a quart sized mason jar full of a hundred slivers of plastic. We cut up our credit cards over a year ago and I've kept the carnage hanging around. I like the visual reminder that we're being frugal and that paying bills is actually fun now. It's a game to see how much we can save and how much debt we can pay off. Tucked inside the jar is a mini American flag that the boys and I got when we welcomed the WWII Veterans home from their trip to DC last October. The grownups cried that day. Can't wait to go do it again.

Beyond that sits 3 unopened Pinewood Derby Car kits. We haven't even started them and the derby is in 8 days. No problem. Last year Doug's car beat out the other 5 boys in his age group. He couldn't have been more thrilled. Eric cried that day. He cried a big, ugly, snotty cry that lasted too long and embarrassed the heck out of me. He hates to lose. Perched at the very edge of my desk is a new-to-me metal sculpture of flowers - might be cherry blossoms. I found it at the local Savers goodwill shop and I had a coupon. It made me think of Springtime, and now I don't want to put it away and "save" it for a spring day. Why wait?

I've already evangelized today about my ScanSnap pro on my Facebook page. Gillian wandered past my desk today when she got off the bus and whined a tiny bit. She was disappointed to see some of her schoolwork from yesterday in the recycle bin, that crafty, observant girl. I told her - don't worry. Not only did I read it, I thought it was so cool that I scanned it in and emailed it to Dad so that he would read it, too. She and I talked about how I'd save the file until she was a teenager and we smiled about it.

Don't forget that thin layer of dust covering the back few inches of the whole desk. Once in a while I blow really hard and watch it scoot away and fall behind the desk. Ha, Ha. I'm Betty Homemaker. I don't look at the dust, too often, though. I like to look out the window. Yesterday and today I've been watching the birdfeeders. I've seen house finches, starlings, chickadees, male and female downy woodpeckers and yesterday we saw a giant red-headed woodpecker. This is the biggest window in the house and I love the view. The school bus pulls away at 7:30am each day and I get to watch the sunrise over the neighbors trees while I check my email in the morning.

Now I think the boys are finally wet and cold and about ready to come back in from the snow. That was probably about 45 minutes if you subtract out my chili break. Phew! Thanks for visiting my office.

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Thanks Kelly!

45 Minutes

This is a writing exercise that I learned about from Sarah at copyright1982. It is a bit different from most of the pieces I write here, but I thought it would be fun to mix things up a bit.

Here is the prompt (Originally from an article by John Smolens in The Writer) taken directly from Sarah's post which you can find here:

1. Focus on where you write (45 minutes).

Write for a minimum of 45 minutes, describing where you are as you write, how you are writing (using pencil and paper, computer, etc.) and why you have chosen this particular time of day to write, Simply describe your physical location, what about it makes you comfortable–or uncomfortable.

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Start, 9:25 am, January 6th, 2011.

Here I go. I'm a little nervous that I don't have the complete details of the prompt, but I'm too eager (always a problem for me) to get started. I don't have a subscription to The Writer, so I'm going on just what she posted at her blog.

In any case, I suppose I'll start by describing where I am and any random thoughts that enter my mind as I go.

I'm in my study with orange walls, three aloe vera plants, a conch shell, a jade plant, and some other succulent plant that I have no name for. I'm listening to "Falling Slowly" on my ipod which is making me feel melancholy.

There is a plate in front of me with LOTS of crumbs from the early morning tortilla chip snack I just had. Who does this? Who eats chips at nine am? I do, I suppose.

Right now I'm fighting the urge to clean up the mess on my desk. Notepads, a pea green binder, and some advil (kept close in case this week's migraine makes a return), some mini-wallet size pictures of the kids that I need to send out, and a hand out from the speech therapist.

Ok, ok, I'm moving on with the exercise. . . in the little cubby hole right above my computer screen is a collection of little crystals and gem stones. My favorite is a flat, transparent opal. It isn't sparkly like most opals you see in jewelry. Instead the color is luminous and liquid, and I often hold it in my hand when I am day dreaming. It has a particular name, this type of opal, but if I look it up now I'll just get distracted.

The room is cold. The heater just kicked on, so I'm hopeful it will warm up a bit. Besides, the sun is shining brightly, and that will help warm things up, too.

Here's another favorite nick-knack that sits in one of my many little desk top cubby holes: It is a candle shaped like a cupcake. The "frosting" is pink and sparkly, and there is a fake candy mint on top and fake little gumdrops around the edge. I seriously love this candle. I've never burned it, because it would break my heart to watch it melt.

It still smells like incense in here. Santa left some incense in my stocking, so I've been burning it in the morning when I meditate. I'm still not sure if I like it or not. The scent is heavy and reminds me of my college days and dorm rooms and late nights and stale cigarettes.

Van Morrison has come on the ipod now: "Into the Mystic." I think Van is the only artist that I can listen to over and over and over and never get sick of his songs. I used to think this about my beloved Cowboy Junkies, but after a while I do get a little bored with them. Unless, of course, I'm listening to the Trinity Session. Should I post some videos with this blog later when I spell check? We'll see.

Twenty minutes left. I'm starting to think that this will end up being a really, really boring post.

There are two desks is in my study. The one I sit at now is a computer desk. It's "Mission Style" with a dark chocolate stain. I pretty much love it. The other desk, behind me and to the left, is a large teacher's desk a friend's father gave to me. I use it for my crafts and projects. Well, I am not actually very crafty, but I like to pretend I am. I have a large box from Big Lots that contains hundreds of pieces of scrap paper, though I don't use it for scrap books. I use it to make homemade cards and little hand sewn books. I usually don't make time to cultivate this craft.

The phone is sitting here, just in case. I'm expecting an important call, and I have the feeling that the phone will ring right in the middle of this exercise or when I get in the shower. Oops, I guess that means that I've just admitted to not having taken a shower yet. I'll get to it.

I keep looking over at the peach wing backed chair just to my left by the open closet door. It is covered with a piano blanket that I bought about sixteen years ago now. It looks old fashioned and eclectic, all reds and golds and muted greens with fringe rimming the edges. It would be great to say that I picked it up at an antique store and that the owner told me a wildly romantic story about the famous pianist who once owned it. But I can't. It would also be cool if I could tell you that I found it in my grandma's attic buried under dusty quilts and old photos in an ancient steamer truck. But neither of these stories are true. I bought it at J.C. Penny. I thought it would add some flair to my boring grad school apartment. And you know what? It did add flair. It really is pretty.

Ten more minutes.

It is still freezing in here, and I would love a cup of tea to warm my bones. I suppose I can wait ten more minutes.

On the wall above my computer is a framed collage of pictures that my mother made for my grandmother in the 1970s. There are lots of great pictures of my family. My two favorites: 1) A head shot, from the side, of me at about three years old. I'm wearing a simple, white Easter bonnet, and my face is raised to the sun. My eyes are closed and I have a little, gentle smile on my face. 2) A picture of my childhood dog, Prince, as a puppy. He is a white puff ball (he's a Samoyed) under our Christmas tree. A disembodied hand (probably my father's) holds a ball in front of him. The hand is sightly blurry as if the person holding it was waving it up and down just as the picture was snapped.

I just realized that I have five candles in this room. I am an obsessive candle burner. Except, of course, the cupcake. I pick it up and sniff it. It really does smell like vanilla cake! It is even sitting in a little foil cupcake tin that one could easily pull away if you wanted to take a bite. I'm now thinking that I want to spend some time on-line shopping for more cupcake candles. Maybe they make them in other scents and colors. Chocolate with peanut butter frosting, perhaps? Red velvet with cream cheese frosting, maybe?

Now I'm hungry.

Stop, 10:10 am, January 6, 2011.