Every once in awhile you stumble upon a piece of art that speaks to you in a hushed voice, asking you to tune out the white-noise of life and to just LISTEN. Pino’s “Maternal Instincts” has done that for me. And appropriately so. I’m always amazed at life’s magical way of syncing with my Soul Song.
This morning was one of those rare and priceless Mommy-Daughter moments that will remain embedded in my heart and mind for all time. We somehow got on the subject of dreams coming true and Cali asked, “What do YOU think about sometimes when you dream?”
I told her I thought about ways to be a better Mommy…a better wife. A more soulful artist…a more revealing writer. Then she hit me with:
“How do you know you’re an artist?”
Aha! Big Life Teaching Moment! So I immediately stopped what I was doing and sat on the floor with her. The conversation went a little something like this:
ME: I know I’m an artist because it’s what I HAVE to do. If I don’t, then there’s a big yucky gunky pile of junk around my heart and I get sick. I know because it’s the one thing I do that makes me feel complete (besides being your Mommy). I don’t have to work at it. I create because it’s my authentic self. What do YOU do that makes you happy inside? That gives you a warm oozy feeling in your belly?
CALI: My music…and dancing. That’s what I do when I’m happy.
ME: Then you’re a singer and a dancer. Right now, it’s what you have to do, right?
CALI: Yeah, but I don’t wanna go to dance class anymore and be scared on the big stage.
(She’s referring to her Spring recital.)
ME: You don’t have to be on a stage in front of people to be a singer and dancer, Cal-Belle.
CALI: No?
ME: No. You just do it. Who cares if anyone sees or hears it. But don’t you dare stop if someone stops to watch or listen, okay? Don’t ever be embarrassed to do what you love.
CALI: What’s that smell. Did you toot? Nahhh…I think it was Tess. Tess tooted!
Life lesson complete. But the more I think about that conversation, the more I think the lesson was just as much for me as it was for her. Maybe even more.
“You don’t really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around – and why his parents will always wave back.” ~William D. Tammeus
Oh, get your head out the gutter. When I say “Pants on the ground!”, I am speaking of Larry Platt’s little diddy, instructing all homies to pull their friggin’ pants up. Some lyrics for your pleasure:
Pants on the ground Pants on the ground Lookin’ like a fool with your pants on the ground
With the gold in your mouth Hat turned sideways Pants hit the ground Call yourself a cool cat Lookin’ like a fool Walkin’ downtown with your pants on the ground
Get it up, hey! Get your pants off the ground Lookin’ like a fool Walkin’ talkin’ with your pants on the ground.
Get it up, hey! Get your pants off the ground Lookin’ like a fool with your pants on the ground
Now I promise you this. Unless you’re tone deaf, the tune of this song will be stuck in your head so bad that not even a lobotomy could remove it.
Btw…Larry Platt is a ripe ole 62 years of age….which only adds to the allure. I predict it’ll be the first big hit of 2010. Let’s just hope American Idol doesn’t get hold of it and bubble-gum it to death.
We got our King Cake yesterday….I’ve already secretly embedded the creepy plastic baby and we’ll be having our party in the next day or so.
So what in the world is a King Cake Party, you ask? What’s with the creepy plastic babies? Let me see if I can break it down for you:
Day of the Epiphany falls on January 6th. Christians mark this as the day Jesus was visited by the Three Kings. You cannot, will not, shall NOT make or partake of the King Cake prior to this date. I’m not sure what’ll happen if you do…I’ve never been bold enough to try it. Maybe you’ll get flogged with Mardis Gras beads. Who knows. At any rate, from January 6th until Ash Wednesday, you can party all night long with your King Cake parties. While cakes and parties are the grandest thing ever, there’s actually alot of sacred symbolism behind the cake itself.
Traditionally, the cake is an oval or circle – this representing the unity of all faiths. It’s then slathered in white icing and decorated in traditional Mardis Gras colors: Purple for justice, green for faith and gold for power. The plastic baby which is baked inside of the cake represents Jesus.
The person who receives the slice of cake with the plastic baby inside is considered lucky. Lucky AND responsible for bringing the cake to the next party….which could be that night, the next day…whenever. And these parties just keep go-eeng and go-eeng until Lent rolls around and everyone has to swear off sugar and starch.
A very cool tradition indeed. One I intend on keeping up with. If you’re interested in more Mardi Gras/King Cake faqs, Mayor Nagin will do what he can to answer your questions here.
“The pencil of God has no eraser.” ~ Haitian Proverb
This morning I watched footage of a news reporter standing on top of a huge pile of rubble, listening to the desperate cries of two women trapped deep below, sadly reporting that there was no way possible to extract them…no machines, no diggers, no tools….no way at all to remove the debris to save these trapped lives.
This whole tragedy takes on a more personal note as a close friend of ours tries desperately to reach his brother who was visiting family in Haiti….the earthquake hitting only a day before he was scheduled to return home.
There have been countless images of children wandering the streets looking for their parents, children huddled beside the bodies of their parents. Stacks of corpses are beginning to line the streets, making it difficult to even walk. The true severity of the situation became stark as I watched Rene Preval, the President of Haiti, tell a CNN reporter that he had no idea where he was going to sleep or seek shelter because the presidential palace and all government buildings had been reduced to piles of rubble.
My love of photography always pulls me towards those images that capture the pain and strength of the human soul. Pictures that don’t need captions or subtitles…..when the story is written on faces and reflected in their eyes. I’m sure in the upcoming weeks, more and more tragic images will flood in….here are a few that stood out to me.
Please remember our family friend in prayer and positive thought as he continues to search for his brother.
Yeah, baby. I’m bringing back the penny loafer. Remember all the crap Katie Holmes got a couple of years ago about sporting pennies with baggy jeans? Two words. TREND SETTAH.
I say bling the things out. Screw the pennies….put jewels in there and whatnot. I’m not doing the whole baggy jean thing though….I’m thinking skinny jeans with pennies. I got me a pair of Converse skinny jeans right after Christmas and I’m practically sleeping in them. They’re becoming kinda like Amy Winehouse’s ballet shoes. Ew. I know, right?
Here’s a tribute to The Penny. Try to open your mind.:
“You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by; but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by.”
~James M. Barrie
So yesterday was my first pdoc pow-wow of the new year. The subject of STRESS was discussed at length. I’ve had a bellevue couple of months which I initially attributed to the holidays. After yesterday’s meeting of the minds, it was determined that I done went and over-stimulated myself. That’s right. Went and worked myself up into a lather. Specifically between the months of May and October. The Folk School, the writing, the submitting of manuscripts, the emotional high of mind-blowing opportunities showing up on my doorstep every hour on the hour. All of that combined with Matt’s surgery and my warped desire to have Martha Stewart Christmas Happy Times resulted in a most undesirable forehead-vein protrusion and a mood most foul .
I stopped making New Year’s resolutions a long time ago. I think they’re a farce. But this year….okay, I’m not gonna call them resolutions. We’re not agreeing to anything via a vote or anything here. I just saying….this year I’m making a concerted effort to relax more and commit myself less. OH yeah. Slacker you say? Eh? Please.
We’ve become a jacked up society that views rest ‘n relaxation as a luxury…when in all actuality, it’s a God-given necessity. Even the big man in the clouds had the good sense to rest instead of putting in some overtime so he could give Jesus that new robe he’d been asking for. No. He put the foot down and rested.
Growing up, my parents had the STUPIDEST MOST DUMB RULE ON THE PLANET OF EARTH AND SPACE. (That’s what I called “The Rule” when I was 7 years old.) The Rule was this: No screwing off on Sundays and there was a mandatory nap approximately 45 minutes after the usual pot roast/carrots ‘n taters lunch. We didn’t have a choice in the matter. Get in the bed and I want to see those eyes closed, sister!
Nowadays if I lay down in the middle of the day to rest, I immediately begin to flog myself with the guilt-stick. Naturally, my ADD makes it a tad difficult to stay still. And as odd as it sounds, I can’t really relax unless I’m working on something. Painting, gluing….working with my hands. So vowing to stop all of that would be like a big fat yummy stress samich. Instead, I’m going to bring the bar down a hair. I’ve been told I set the bar so high that God and the angels in heaven would need a compass and pygmy guide to find it. So I guess I’ll bring it down to cloud-level.
The bottom line is this: When I’m stressed, ain’t nobody happy. So I plan to find time for more useless activities…and to ease up on the guilt-trippin’. So while I was hanging out in the waiting room yesterday, I kicked things off by downloading a game onto my LG Neon: “Brain Exercise” by Namco.
Apparently my brain age is 60. I’d like a do-over because my elderly fingers ain’t swift with the the new texting keyboard. I saw this little 10 year old brat across the room smirking…looking me in the face while she texted away…her thumbs looking freakishly Hobbit-esque. I fought back the urge to inform her that if an Atari were to magically appear, a butt-whoopin’ of monstrous dimensions would go down, followed by me doing the Rocky dance while dumping water all over my head. Hey. It was the pdoc waiting room. Things like this don’t even warrant a look from the desk-lady.
So to all my chronically stressed homies out there who have minimized the Excel spreadsheet in order to read my Blog…and are feeling really crappy about their choice….I applaud you!
Our Christmas parade was Saturday night and apparently it was the coldest parade in its 19 year history. Low 40’s….felt like 50 below. The girls danced like stars and braved the cold like olympic champions. Now I’m trying to haul hiney to get Cali’s Christmas dress done in time for her to sing on Friday. Oh! Did I mention the husband is having surgery in a couple of weeks? No? Well…..yoga breathing…..in your nose, out your mouth.
Fabulous Monday Freebie Fun Time! I don’t do this every Monday, people. It might be a Tuesday…Saturday…you never can tell. Depends on which way my hormones are swinging. So without further a-doo-doo:
FREE cookie dough from Papa Murphy’s Take ‘n Bake:
FREE Totally Kids fun furniture & toys $10 gift card:
FREE design-your-own luggage tags:
FREE Crest Extra White toothpaste sample:
Enfamil: Certificate for free sample of baby formula:
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