When I'm an Old Woman

Interacting with old women gives me a snapshot of my possible future. It gives me a picture of what's possible--for good or bad. I've come to conclusion that when I'm an old woman, I want to:

• Have good stories to tell so I don't have to tell the same ones over and over.
• Be involved in my community.
• Still be friends with the women that enrich my life today.
  
• Have young friends that replace my old ones that die.
  
• Help mothers with young children just make it through the day.
• Know when to keep my mouth shut and when to give advice.
• Have energy and agility.
• Not be bitter toward and about my husband.
• Finally have a clean house and laundry that's mostly done.
• Listen well.

One of my favorite stories is about an old Mennonite woman. I was working at a summer camp in Pennsylvania and visited a local church with the camp director my first Sunday there. It was a wonderful service with a warm congregation. They had a sharing time as part of the service and an elderly woman with beautiful white hair pulled into a bun stood up. She said, "I was praying this week and God revealed to me some areas in my life where He'd like to do some work. He was just pulling things out of the closet."

The story is so memorable because she looked like she was in her 70s and she was still growing and open to personal change.

Another lesson from that story is that you never know who you impact and how you impact them. I'm sure that woman has no idea that I still treasure her words.

Live and Let Live

I had an amusing interaction my neighbor tonight. Since we moved into our town home six months ago, she and I have spoken probably three times. The last time we spoke, she said, "It's an association rule that you can't put out your garbage before 6 p.m."

OK. I was putting it out in the morning. Change has been hard. It's taken awhile, but I'm getting into the routine. But the whole time I'm thinking about the old lady who has time and energy to criticize someone who feels like she's just barely keeping up with life and its demands. I need to give her a remote to my garage so she can put my garbage out after 6 p.m. on Wednesdays.

Tonight she drove by as we played outside. Greetings!

Then she backed up her little BMW convertible and said, "I've been meaning to tell you that when you park your car, you've been parking on the grass. It kills the grass."

OK. Didn't realize that. I don't want to be a grass killer.

She continued, "I notice your parents do it too."

Oh, must be genetic.

*Laugh.* Is she serious?

I went to look and yes, I pulled too far forward and was killing the the first three inches of grass next to the parking lot. OK. Maybe six inches.

I find it interesting that out of the three times we've spoken, she has twice taken the opportunity to tell me I'm doing something wrong. I'm looking forward to the next time as I have prepared a list of my faults as a neighbor:

• A bike, trike and scooter always sit in front of our place. I try to tuck them away, but it doesn't always happen.
• The landscaping in front of our place is dismal. The hostas I transplanted have been droopy all summer. I have hope for next year, but in the meantime, they look very depressed about the life change they experienced in June. I never went and bought the Astilbe I was hoping for and we should have some bushes as well.
  
• We play outside most evenings and it makes the neighbor dogs bark continually.
• I have a clothes line in my back patio, violating middle class socioeconomic norms and association rules. But it is hilarious that hanging out laundry fuels my rebellious streak. (see pro-hanging out blog: Project Laundry List)
  
• I didn't plant flowers in my planters.
• Our garage isn't organized. When we open it, everyone in the neighborhood can see how unorganized we are.
  
• Sometimes we leave the garbage can and/or recycle bin out 24 hours after it's emptied.
• We play outside, which may involve laughing, crying and screaming (with joy usually). Surely that disturbs someone's TV show.
  

It's a good list. I'm sure I'm real annoying, but I would like a Grace Card.

Crafter and His Cellphone

Dad
Originally uploaded by charitycondit

Grumpiness

I was grumpy this past weekend. I didn't have any patience for my children's childishness. The usual reasons I blame were not handy. Wrong time of the month to blame PMS. I got enough sleep. Only minor stressors in life and at work. Diet included only a little sugar. Relationship with husband is going well.

Does that mean I have to take responsibility for my emotions and how I deal with them?

I'm a big girl and I go places

gotham_crop_webcooler
Originally uploaded by caleb is condit

After being cooped up in my home office for a week, working around the clock to meet a deadline, I was tired. So I rested through the weekend and took of Monday and Tuesday of last week.

Relaxation! Enjoyed my kids, spent time with my husband and reconnected with a few friends.

It was just what I needed. I was getting crispy fried. Foggy brain.

On Wednesday, it was time to get back into the ring and I wrote that I was going places. My friend Hy, who's enjoying a babymoon, wanted to know where I was going.

And since it has been declared that blogging can be an ego-centric, I decided to tell the Internets where I'm went. Because you care and you can live vicariously. That's one of the things I love about Facebook and blogging. The voyeurism. Can we deny how fun that is?

So on Wednesday, I zipped my way to a meeting at a vendor's office. It was the friendliest meeting I've been to (haven't been to many if the truth were told--oops, it was). Laughing, telling of stories and finding commonality. Office tour. Lunch someone else paid for. Realizing that six degrees of separation is in fact true and many times it's only two or three degrees.

Then, a downtown Chicago adventure!

A ride on the El, a short walk and dinner next to the river at Fulton's.

It felt really good to be an adult, to have an adventure. Even though it was work, it was just as fulfilling as the time I spent on the beach during the weekend. It sounds like bragging and I don't know how to end this post.

The end.

On My Way to Somewhere

onboard Amtrak: from Chicago to Philadelphia
Originally uploaded by CR Artist

Today, my four day weekend is over. I'm on my way to somewhere to meet some people and to talk to some people about some things.

Things that are so important.

And I'll make my way back here after I've been somewhere.

10 Things I Love About Caleb

Happy Birthday! I love having you for my brother and here are 10 things I love about you:

1. You're my brother.

2. I love how you've remained committed to using your gift of photography to earn a living. Gutsy, smart, unregrettable. Hard, though.

3. A loving uncle who appreciates the beauty of my children. You're willing to play and run.

4. You remind me of Dad. I'll never forget a conversation with you and the mannerism struck me. This picture at the parents' anniversary reminds me of Dad's high school senior picture. Funny how we look like our parents as we age.

5. You know everything. I remember you telling Mom something about sewing. The same woman who had been sewing for 20 years. I thought you were quite foolish at the time. Funny thing is, the older you get, the more it becomes true--may eventually know everything.

6. The world has no boundaries for you. I appreciate how you still keep your options open when it comes to where you live. And who you love. I don't even know Helen that well and she seems like a wonderful person. I think it's because I can see how she impacts you.

7. I don't have to argue politics or religion with you. We pretty much agree. That's nice for once.

8. I love your music, the songs you write and your voice.

9. Your sense of style.


10. I love you because you're my brother and I love you because of who you are.

Hope you had a good birthday!

Love, your sister.

I'm Back

I think that I'm back to blogging. I have so much on my mind.

I found it ironic to stand in my underwear and look across the courtyard at Muslim women who are well covered.

Ironic.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Another Birthday Post

My new tradition is to celebrate the birthdays of those I love with a tribute of the 10 things I love about them (click on "10 things" tag on the left if you want to see past tributes).

He recently uploaded this photo to his Facebook profile. I don't know what you think when see this photo, but I thought:

"Stick 'em up, Gracie."

Probably not what you were thinking.

In fact, for some reason, that picture reminds me of this kid:

One summer evening he was in the backyard and was wearing a white disposable like the one in the picture above and our friendly doberman pincer(Gracie) grabbed the back of his diaper. Caleb ran and the dog held on. I remember being there and watching and not helping. Maybe it was funny. Maybe that annoying kid was getting what he deserved. Maybe I didn't want to put myself in the way of a biting dog (unlikely, that dog really was gentle--except to boys who happened to ride by on a bike--thanks to a traumatizing puppyhood incident).

Not long after that, Caleb was in our parents' bedroom looking out the window when he saw Gracie outside. Just a toddler, he said, "Stick 'em up, Gracie." A brave boy at a distance, anyway.

Another thought I had when I saw this picture is, "I like this Caleb." He had lots of adventures and learning experiences in his 20s. From what I can tell tell, he has learned what love is not, how to use his talents and the value of family.

Wordless Wednesday Birthday

sittingatthettable
Originally uploaded by caleb is condit

My brother is turning 30 this year so he gets three days of tribute.

His self portrait, taken while in Spain. I know he was missing me.

Glad you live only a few miles away from me. I missed you when you were gone. And you seemed gone before that anyway.

It's nice to have you back. Love you.

Crying It Out Once

I don't believe in sleep training and only once did I let my son cry it out. But that one time only reinforced my decision.

It was a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. My son was probably two years and some months old. I was pregnant (and prone to impatience). It was naptime. I was hoping he would go down for a nap easily and quickly, then I could do something I had wanted to do. I can't remember what was so important, but naptime was a welcomed respite on those days when my husband was at work.

That day was one of the naptimes during which my son wiggled, talked, stared at the ceiling and did anything but sleep. I became increasingly annoyed. Actually, annoyed isn't the right word.

I became outraged.

When I couldn't lie there any longer, I got up out of bed, hit the wall in frustration and walked out. I needed to cool down and went to the nearby kitchen to wash dishes.

Meanwhile, my son cried. And being over two years of age, he could also talk and said:

"Mommy, I need you."
"Mommy, come back."
"Please, Mommy, I need you."
"Come back."

Heart wrenching pleas.

I remember standing over the sink of dishes and looking out the window as those words burned into my brain.

That is why I am glad that I never left him to cry alone when he was an infant and without words I could understand.