Magazine-Induced Spring Fever

Spring fever struck me on the sofa with the March issue of House Beautiful magazine. The entire issue features one color,” the most popular of all colors,” according to Editor in Chief Stephen Drucker, and “a color full of good feelings and often prone to obsession….”

Of course that would be blue.

But lots of blues! Photo after gorgeous photo of interiors are grouped in sections as opal, Titian, denim, porcelain, and ocean blues. Tiles and pillows, walls and lampshades. A feast of beauty in calming yet vibrant blue. (Which is what I read magazines for – a feast of beauty. I’ve given myself permission to read the articles only if they are truly interesting to me.)

Do we have any blue in our house? I asked myself, prone on the sofa, lost in the magazine. Well, two rooms with teal walls. And nearly 20-year-old teal carpeting that is one of my least favorite things.

I must add blue – different blue! Which means I must think about my home’s rooms and décor. In my mind I move from room to room, checking my emotional pulse, looking around.

Then before the issue gets covered by clutter on the table and forgotten, I’ll walk through the house room by room. What do I have that’s blue in a cupboard or drawer that could be “put out?” Where could I add touches of blue?

Of course this investigation leads naturally to “wow, is that lampshade ever dusty!” And “how have I not seen those cobwebs that join the window valance and the corner?”

And that leads to spring cleaning. Which is the first symptom of spring fever. I hope I’ll soon get past the duster to, really, an added dash of blue.

What is the spring fever symptom that strikes you? Do you want to add blue, or another hue?

Home Alone with Baby

Adeline sits at my feet, playing with the shoelace on my left tennis shoe. Hagrid, her parents’ St. Bernard/border collie, hovers over her, licking down the fuzzy hair of her cowlick, and then giving her kisses. We have made several laps of Adeline’s favorite pastime: her walking around the house between my legs, holding onto my hands. She pauses to pat or investigate something, then reaches up for my finger to keep walking.

I completed some deskwork during her morning nap. Her afternoon nap I spent lying on the sofa. She and I both unraveled in the late afternoon.

It’s been a day like many days with then boys were little. My mind had lot of time to think of what my husband should do – like with his Christmas clothing gift card. My eyes surveyed the house in hyper-critical mode, noting (but not doing) all the places that needed cleaning. I dressed really comfortably for my day at home with Baby, then when I caught glimpses of myself in the mirror, I shuddered.

I’m thankful that tomorrow, another day of keeping Adeline, is a new day. Each day calls for a new strategies. She is a sweet and curious baby, and I don’t want to wish the precious hours away, as I did too often when the boys were little.

Tonight I bathed Adeline before bed, to settle and soothe us both. Tomorrow, weather permitting, I’ve decided we’ll take a stroller walk to somewhere I’d like to visit in the late afternoon.

My favorite strategy when I was often at home alone with three little boys, with Alex traveling, was to have spur-of-the-moment potluck dinners with my friend Anne, who also had three little boys at home and a husband who traveled. The phone conversations went something like this: “You busy tonight?”

“No, my house or yours?”

“I’ve got carrots and hot dogs.”

“Cool. I’ve got jello.”

We knew without asking that we would both dress in sweats. Anne and I drank hot tea in the kitchen and talked while the boys played, and the evening passed quickly till the boys’ bedtime.

Tomorrow will be a new quiet day with little Adeline. I’m looking forward to it.

Overwhelmed at Home

This photo is not my home, but it is my mother-in-law’s home, which my husband and his brother must now clean out and put up for sale. This is one of the basement rooms: a BIG task.

Some items from O’Ma’s home trickled into ours. Add to this all Alex’s office supplies as he transitions from one office/job to another. And we’re playing auto roulette each morning, since Alex had to give up a company car from his previous job, and we’re temporarily three adults in the household with two cars.

For days…weeks…I have let the house go. How can you clean with all these piles? Any energy I usually direct toward cleaning has been sapped. But finally, today, I decided that I needed to become part of the solution around here rather than just complain about the stuff.

This afternoon, after work, I attacked the house. My objective wasn’t to clean so much as to bring order to the main areas. The boxes in the laundry are now consolidated and stacked. The ancient pile of reading material in the bathroom is gone (I found a stray Christmas candle in one bathroom). I dusted the shutters in the family room – their blanket of dust really bugged me – and then stepped outside into the sunlight and banged the duster against a post to release the dust. Boy, is that cathartic! It felt so good that I banged much longer than necessary.

Finally, I cleared off the kitchen counter, found the surface of the table, and set it for dinner. It was Slow Cooker Beer Corned Beef, which will be included in a new downloadable Once-A-Week Cooking one-week sampler at www.once-a-monthcooking.com by this weekend.

No one has commented on how much better the house looks, but I feel so much better that they’ve surely absorbed some peace from me.

After dinner Alex and I made a list of all the tasks he needs to address, at his new job and in his mother’s home, and with maintenance here, to gather it up so it won’t be so over-whelming. Somehow when you prioritize the chores like stepping stones, the summit seems attainable.

What’s overwhelming you at home?

A Personal Take on “The Help”

When I heard about Kathyn Stockett’s new – and first – novel, The Help, I bought it immediately. But I debated as to whether, or when, I should read it. I’m writing a novel set in 1947 in which one of the main characters is an African American maid, Alma, who is difficult for me to write. What do I know about what it was like to be a domestic worker in the 1940’s? Would I learn things about Stockett’s characters that would be too easy to assimilate into my own writing, even unintentionally?

In the novel, a young white woman, Skeeter, in Jackson, Mississippi, in the early 1960’s, interviews the African American maids of her friends about what it’s like to work for white women. An editor in New York will possibly purchase the manuscript for publication.

Stockett maintains the suspense of the secret project. Skeeter had already been ostracized in her white community, but the maids would suffer unemployment and perhaps physical abuse if the project became public.

I’ve read criticism of the novel based upon the fact that Stockett, a white woman, wrote in the voices of two black narrators, Aibileen and Minny, as well as a white one, Miss Skeeter. To me, these African American narrators were strong, fascinating individuals, not stereotypes. And they were in ways freer – by the end of the book – than the white women who employed them.

The pacing was masterful, I cared about each of the narrators, and I couldn’t wait to pick up the story up each night. If I had it to do again, I would have purchased the audio version to enjoy the women’s voices.

As for my own novel, I admit to being intimidated by Stockett’s work, which draws life from the African American maid who helped raise her. Whether or not Stockett got her characters “just right” as they would have been, she obviously drew them with great respect. I will hope to do the same with Alma.

Falling in Love with a Cookbook

Although I am not a cookbook collector, sometimes I see a cookbook that hooks me and reels me in – and I have to have it. Often I’m drawn to cookbooks that speak to my specific life season. So two favorites have been Beyond Macaroni and Cheese and The Accidental Hostess: Sanibel’s answer to coping with constant company.

While Christmas shopping in a gourmet kitchen shop, a new cookbook captured me. It is a gorgeous hardcover book by the Junior League of Houston, and junior league cookbooks are some of the best for regional recipes. But it was the title that cinched the coup….Peace Meals: a Book of Recipes for Cooking and Connecting.

I opened it to read the flap…”This book began as we took stock of our ‘crazy quilt’ lives, and came to appreciate those special pieces of them in which time seemed to slow down and we truly felt alive, fulfilled and overflowing. Looking back, those were times of family and friends, and often, good food – experiences too wonderful to be kept to ourselves.”

Bring it on! It is that heart connection at a table that these women love that keeps me cooking (not, frankly, the enjoyment of cooking).

The recipes in Peace Meals are definitely for company, not weeknight fare. But the lists of ingredients are not lengthy, and these gracious women give me tips and accompaniments and chatty encouragements.

I gave it as a gift to myself, and now with the holiday bustle behind me, I will sit in a comfy chair with a cup of coffee, and a pen and stickie notes, and get acquainted with this beautiful new friend. I’ll mark recipes to try and they will jog my thinking to particular friends with whom we would enjoy an evening in our home. And so this new resource will have me confidently, expectantly having company again.

With what cookbook have you fallen in love?

The Craft of Writing: Learning from Masters

Writing is a craft, and I have a voracious hunger to keep learning and learning to do it well. Yet I’m also aware that there is an element of giftedness to writing that we’re born with, that is out of our control, and that part can’t be taught or caught.

This week I enjoyed to a double-header on the learning-to-write journey from two of the gifted ones. I read Stephen King’s On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft and I heard Khaled Hosseini speak, the author Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns.

King’s book is encouraging but no-fluff. He tells it like he sees it from his experience. As I totter through my attempt to write a first novel, King provided wisdom like this nugget: The first draft you write with the door shut. Start with a situation – not a carefully constructed plot – and write the story. Just write. Don’t show it to anyone. Write six days a week, until you get 2,000 words on the page a day (1,000 for a beginner). Just get the story. This should take about three months.

I finished a first draft of my novel last summer after 10 years. The reason I finally finished a first draft is that I finally took seriously the part about needing to write daily and keep going and going with the story. There is just no getting around this discipline. I’ve tried to for a long time, but gave up – and finished the draft.

Then, King says, put the first draft aside. You rest and let the manuscript rest. Think about and do other things for at least six weeks. Give the manuscript to a few trusted readers at this point to get their input, with the agreement that they won’t give you input until you ask for it.

For the second draft, read the manuscript through in one sitting, making corrections, cutting the unnecessary, and taking notes on larger matters that need to be fixed. His formula is that the second draft should be the first draft – 10 percent.

King provides lots of other practical stuff that I can’t wait to try.

Then last night at the Denver University Pen and Podium series I heard Khaled Hosseini, who grew up in Afghanistan during the 70’s like the main character in Kite Runner, although the book is not memoir or autobiographical. Hosseini helps returning refugees secure housing in northern Afghanistan. His third book, in process, will involve American soldiers in Afghanistan, and the attitude of appreciate for them among many Afghans. He is a man gifted in his time to translate a culture through fiction.

Here is a quote from Hosseini’s presentation: “It is the roll of the author to talk about things people don’t want to talk about, that have been divisive: to open dialogue.”

And so I go back to the novel in February, blocking off a two-day sitting to read it, to see what the story holds, and what it can hold with work. To try to open dialogue. By then I will be excited. Right now it seems very big.

Balancing Work and Home

Running errands on a frigid day, I stopped for a “pick two” lunch at Panera Bread. Since I was by myself, I planned to multi-task through lunch. I chose a round table for two against the wall and set down my tray and drink. Then before I sat down I pulled out what I would need: my glasses, a pencil, my planner, my to-do list, a book I’d just purchased and my phone.

I stared at the pile covering the table and thought: too much!

A life wave washed over me. Sometimes life seems too big! There’s no way to read, know, keep up on things. So I have to continuously make choices.

This morning as I put my ducks in a row (see last blog post) for today. I admitted to myself that on average I spend my week days one-half to two-thirds on my writing/speaking “work,” and a good chunk of the other portion on “home” (shopping, cooking, cleaning, repairs and remodeling, hanging out with family and friends, etc.).

I could carve out more “work” time. I used to work at an office very full-time, for Pete’s sake – including a hefty commute. But if I raised it to the realm of “what’s important,” then the “home” portion of my current weekday equation sits secure. Intentional home-keeping (I like this term from Martha Stewart) pays intangible rewards far beyond what I tell myself is so important (and I love what I do!) at work.

I recognize, because I’ve been there, that not everybody has the flexibility that I do currently to create their own work/home equation. But for people who do, I’d say give your home (maximizing your special spaces and relationships) the priority it deserves. Pick and choose what you read, know, keep up on, well.

Ducks in a Row: Returning to Routines

Like most people, I have a few obsessive-compulsive tendencies, none stronger than my need to, as the family calls it, get my ducks in a row each morning.

I have spent years searching for the perfect planner for me, which has the week on the left page and a page for notes on the right. (www.thedailyplanner.com the Exacompta Space 17 refill 1701) Two of my quirks: When I complete a task from the running to-do list on the right, I erase it rather than cross it off. That way I can look at back weeks’ pages and see clearly what still needs to be done. Second, the cover is red leather, so it lasts for years and I can spot it easily on my desk, the kitchen counter, or in the depths of my bag.

New Years is an exciting time because I get to take the new calendar refill and create the new years master lists in the back, with categories like Interior Home Projects, Exterior Home Projects, Christmas, Cabin, Travel, etc. I love to do this! (I admitted to obsessive-compulsive.)

September is to me still the real New Year’s: time to embrace a new schedule and start new ventures. But the new calendar inserts come out in January, so this is a tweaking time. How will life routines be different in the spring than they were in the fall? It’s a time to dream and plan and change.

But that done, give me the comfortable routines to implement the changes. Beginning each morning with getting those ducks back in a row.

Parting Hope from Christmas

The week between Christmas and New Year’s is such a let-down. I wish we celebrated 12 Days of Christmas, up to the traditional celebration of the visitation of the Magi on January 6^5h.

Or do I? Could we sustain the momentum and the spirit for 12 days? That is 12 days past the shopping/preparing 30 days?

But as I leave Christmas 2009, I’m hanging onto the thought that captured my heart this season, because it will carry me well into a New Year and beyond. It’s the angel Gabriel’s response to Mary’s question, “How can this be…?

”For nothing is impossible with God,” Gabriel says. (Luke 1:37)

Nothing is insurmountable. No wound is unhealable. No dream is too big.

I hope this reality will carry you too.

Wishing you a New Year of wonders,

Mary Beth

Of Life and Death at Christmas

Adeline's first taste of candy cane

O'Ma

When I was in college, my niece Molly was born and my beloved Nana died within a week of each other, and I was affected by the poignancy of it, the continuing cycle of life. Times like that seem ripe with meaning, if we can just wring it out. What should we learn?

This Christmas was such a time. We watched our grandchild Adeline’s delight in her first Christmas. The highlights were not her gifts – although, appropriately, she immediately kissed her first baby doll – but rather all the time she was held and bounced, and the ribbons and packaging.

I had lots of time to watch and hold Adeline, Christmas Day at our home. Babies exuberantly attack life with all senses. Adeline pulls off her socks so her toes are free to snuggle into the carpet or kick at the hard edge of the table as she takes a bottle. Every object goes from her little fist to her mouth. She babbles and chuckles and squeals and cries. And she is as soft as soft can be, especially at that very kissable little place on the back of the neck where her hair ends.

But also Christmas was about the passing of Alex’s 89-year-old mother on Christmas Night, after a long, slow decline. Some months ago she seemed to give up on the effort required to be helped into a wheelchair and explore her home, so her bedroom became her world. She had amazing caregivers, but of course as she ate and drank less and less she became birdlike, and her wrinkle-less skin tissue thin. The circle of her life shrank in until it was hard to find topics of conversation.

As I wring out the holiday today, I grasp two things: First, the reminder that home is the base for the significant milestones of life. Home is where life, and often death, happens, generation after generation. It is our most special place.

Second, I want to touch, taste, smell, hear, LIVE the Adeline way until the circle of my life is shrunk for me and becomes out of my control. Even then I hope to push the on the circle, to stretch it larger, as long as I can.