The Noise of Stillness

At the end of the evening—usually the beginning of a new day, I reluctantly give in to sleep.  Rarely in bed before my husband, I love turning off the television or computer and simply standing in the center of the room listening to the noise of the stillness.  No one is fussing in the kitchen, the cat is asleep somewhere, the dog is on the bed with my husband impatiently awaiting my arrival.  The sensation of quiet is palpable as I hold myself still in the darkness.  I feel wrapped against the night and force myself to move toward the bedroom with anticipation for that feeling of body between the sheets.  I gently nudge the dog to make room for me, moving against the contours of my husband.  Then comes that blissful release from the exertion of holding up my skeleton.  Ahhh, peace.

Modern Technology

When my father was a minister in upstate New York, I would regularly enter the sanctuary of his office where I got to help him prepare a mimeographed newsletter.  I was too young to type, but I could help with the correction fluid from time to time--that blue stuff that is daubed onto the stenciled template like fingernail polish.  It sealed the shapes made by the typewriter--and then Dad would type over the correction into the waxed mulberry paper.  He laid it on the drum and I turned the crank that spit the pages out.  I loved the smell of the correction fluid and the ink, the whoosh sound of the crank, collating the pages--all of it.

And now, I am one of six or so volunteers who edit my Sacramento church newsletter--the Unigram.  Unlike the creation of my father's newsletter, the entire Unigram is executed on the computer.  Articles are sent via e-mail, assembled in one document, and passed on to the one among us who makes the issue look good.  And then it's passed back to the church for the paid employees to distribute.  This is all done without putting ink to paper.  How times have changed.

Writing is what I love to do.  And while I might fantasize about the smell of ink on the paper or the stain of ink on my fingers, the fact is, I, too, tap at the keyboard without besmirching either finger or apron.  My recently-acquired iPhone is merely another reminder of the leap from ink to ether.  But that's another story.  And Thank goodness for modern technology. 

The Mysteries of the Mind

After years of chipping away at the French language in the hopes I would one day sound like Simone Signoret or the more au courant Marion Cotillard, I think I have picked up the pace.  What makes the difference?  I'm not totally sure but for the fact that I've added a solid hour of conversation per week with a friend who is fluent--in addition to my three hours a week with other friends with whom we slog through French novels.  Or is it the French radio station I just found on my iPhone? 

In any event, it feels more like the moment when all the puzzle pieces fall into place.  You all know what I'm talking about.  It can be found when the vinaigrette emulsifies, when the car reaches fifth gear, when you finish the last page of a book, when you capture that perfect photo--or even when you look at what would have been a perfect photo.  It's epiphanous, frankly. 

What a wonderful feeling it is to be challenged by the mysteries of the mind.

To add a note of reality, I don't really expect to sound like Simone or Marion, but you gotta have hope! 

Sliding from Christmas Right into the New Year

Just in time for dinner, the last of my three sons arrived from San Diego to enjoy a repast with the family and to finish up the Christmas observances.  At the table, then, to welcome the first day of the new year were my three sons, their three belles femmes,* my father, my husband and me.  The late-arriving son had spent the entire day driving through Orange and Los Angeles counties, up through the endless central valley blanketed in fog and rife with traffic to arrive just in time to sup.  So we were especially happy to see them walk through the door without having experienced any untoward experiences--despite the near miss avoided as a result of Patrick's quick thinking.

Dinner with family seemed like the perfect way to welcome a new year full of promise and hope.  Putting aside the trepidation about the state of affairs in the Middle East and Northern Africa--not to mention other hot areas of the world--and the drudgery of another eleven months of presidential campaigning, I will always hold onto the expectation that things will be better in the world. 

The three dogs (l to r:  Milo, Winston and Jack) have enjoyed their weekend together.  Or at least Milo has enjoyed his weekend with Jack and Winston.  Jack and Winston aren't nearly as enthusiastic about Milo's energy as he is about their resistance to that energy.  The dogs will bid each other adieu, and we will return to our twice-daily walks to assuage Milo's mental health needs. 

I wish only the best for you, my loyal blog readers--the best travels, the best health, the best outlook for your year and beyond. 





*lovely ladies

Tomorrow and tomorrow

'Tis the day before Christmas Eve and tomorrow we'll be celebrating with my father, sister and family plus one son and fiancee.  Christmas Day will be the first in our thirty some years of marriage that my husband and I will be alone.  Son number one is in New York with his belle amie.  Son number two is in San Diego with his.  And son number three and his fiancee will be with us in the morning, then spending the day with her family nearby.  No big meal, no scented candles, no twinkling lights, no Christmas music, no photographs.  As a result, we are treating ourselves to a decadent day of movie viewing. 

We go to the movie theatre maybe once a year.  But this year, we will be immersing ourselves in the fantasy land of Mission Impossible (definitely), Tintin (maybe), Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (definitely and yes, we saw the original), We Bought a Zoo (also maybe).  I figure our knees will be frozen and our bums numb by the time we finish.  But what a way to celebrate the day of celebration.

I wish you all a happy Christmas--for those of you who observe Christmas--and a happy holiday for all the rest.  It turns out the darkest days of the year may be artificially illuminated, but I am thankful for that all the same! 

Christmas Music

Don't we all tire of the Christmas music that can only be avoided if we were to stay home starting on Thanksgiving, steering clear of any stores, any elevators, any radio, any television?  Not practical and certainly not easily achievable. 

But even when the jingly music barrages our senses, along comes a rendition of Panus Angelicus, sung by tenor Juan Diego Florez, and time stands still--utterly still.  All my other senses shut down.  I don't take in what I see before me.  I don't notice my skin or taste the last bit of coffee I just drank.  The music gets sucked inside and fills me with sensation--not so much of sadness or joy, but of just unidentifiable feeling.  My eyes tear up and I wish for the music never to stop. 

It's a blessing to be able to distinguish the extraordinary from the everyday. 

Photo challenges

Each year, I try to capture an image of my family that would be appropriate for a Christmas card.  No easy feat, I assure you.  Photographing three sons is like gathering up the contents of a broken egg.  Add my granddaughter as well (She learned her mugging skills from the best--her father!) and you have even more complication.  This season there were several attempts to produce something that would make them appear sweet and kind.  This is what I get.

So I try again.  Oh, so perfect for Sam and Patrick (left to right); and oh so not perfect for Seth and Taija.








Next effort?  Even worse.  Now they're synchronizing their antics.

And this year, I even made the effort to get a photo of the three boys and their girlfriends (and fiancee).  Would that be better?  Decide for yourself.

 

And even when I try to get a photo of Patrick and Christine, there's mutual interference from both Seth and Patrick.  Ha, ha, ha. . .

Did I get a photo?  Well, not exactly.  The only photo of the boys and Taija that makes them look reasonably presentable includes me.  Not what I was looking for, but the best I can get. 

And finally, one of the couples that finally worked out.  They are left back to right Seth and Rachel and Sam and Samantha (his fiancee) and in front, Patrick and Christine--playing it straight.

The whole time we're taking pictures, you understand, everyone else (including the photographer) is reeling with laughter.  It never enhances the seriousness of the process.  What seriousness?  By now after all these years, it has, I believe, become a challenge for them.  'Let's see how quickly we can make her laugh until she's crying?????' I'm sure they're thinking.  I didn't want to count.  And I'm sure they lost count.  

I was ready for a nap by the end of it!