Around my heart in 181 days

This is fun:

http://www.timeanddate.com/date/duration.html

I always liked playing with calculators. My folks bought me a fancy one for high school that did all sorts of great higher math tricks, plus it could spell—it was during the time when it was a popular game to make words out of numbers. Did anyone else do this, or am I the only one who geeked out making a Texas Instruments Scientific say HELLO?

Key in 0.7734 and turn your calculator upside down. See? Fun. Sadly, this probably won't work with your smartphone, but if you can find an old calculator in your parents' junk drawer, you can teach it to say words like hillbillies, legless, oozes, and—hey!—even my name, Geo.

Here's a list of possibilities to get you started:

http://www.presentandcorrect.com/blog/250-words-you-can-spell-with-a-calculator

So there's this beautiful baby in my life—my ladyfriend, my small woman, my seedling, my Mighty Mox, my daughter. I wake her up in the morning and she smiles hilariously. I spend the day feeding and caring for her, teaching her, playing with her, and trying to solve the great puzzle of mothering, and she accepts many of my efforts. I sing her to sleep at night, poor little thing! She practices talking (through a megaphone?) in the middle of the night. She is a funny, intelligent, delightful creature. And today she turned six months old! That's 181 days! I've been there for every one so far. She's circled my heart countless times since September and I am bound, captured. It's joy to love this child and to watch her become herself. I do not have words to express the depth of gratitude I feel for the opportunity to be a wife and mother. I'm glad my husband and I are making this journey together.

Next Monday morning, Rob and Moxie and I will go to court and be able to finalize this adoption. We thought we were going to have to wait till late April, but we just learned that we can shave a month off that expectation. Standing before the judge will be a small moment, but one that changes history for all of us, forever.

This is a great age, six months. There's so much discovery. I'm amazed at the rapid, solid way little humans grow and learn. Moxie's projects today were, with my help, practicing pulling herself up to sitting and balancing, and, without my help, finding new items to snatch while playing in her walker. Yesterday it was just a dish towel that hung on the fridge door. Today it was the dish towel, an outgoing box of thrift store donations, magazines, books, and her daddy's bathrobe. Luckily, I got to the bathroom garbage can before she did. I'm surprised to have to start babyproofing so early, but hey, it just means she's becoming capable and independent, right? Naps and spoons are becoming more familiar. Drinking (or something like it) from our water glasses, and tongue-scrubs are favorite fascinations. Nose-wiping results in thrashing wails, but the nose-sucker, now that's entertainment. I give her a chance at the piano most days, while she sits on my lap. Today she attacked the keys with enormous enthusiasm, giving them her best pounding yet and throwing her whole little force into making those sounds. She likes to dance with me and ride around on me, supervising and grabbing at whatever I lay my hands to. She gets excited about books as well and would like to devour them.

This is typical; all babies do these kinds of things. But HOW INCREDIBLE IS IT THAT I, OF ALL PEOPLE, GET TO BE HERE, EXPERIENCING THIS. My mind is forever blown and I want to savor all of it I can.

I can't count as high as my amazement. I'm going to need one powerful calculator to help me add up all the good words: belle, bibs, blesses, bliss.

The prettiest, cleanest party

So much for September's NaBloPoMo. I turned in my badge earlier, after not posting on the last three days of the month. Oh, well. I did finish my detox, which was far more important to me. And I will write about that.

I also hope to write about some other wonderful bits from the past few days:

• The dreaded cranberry juice blitz
• The grand entrance of Alice Chlotelle
• Winning a pedicure
• Loving Relief Society
• A shopping spree with Bec o' my heart
• Intro to Jillian Michaels
• Breaking my 30-day detox fast with one of Leland's eggs (not one that he laid himself, whew)
• The El Salvadorean pupusa as a soul meditation
• Buddha bowls—my new fixation

But for now, I am going to focus on a few special moments from today.

(1) Remember this girl? She dictated an email to her mother today, to send to me. It was such a sweet starting point for the day and the perfect intro to General Conference. The conversation in the middle was an aside, between Scout and her little interrupting brother, Finn.

I have not gave you to say something to me. I want to say, "I am the Queen of Everything." But I need to tell you something. I have the Queen recipe. It is called the Queens' Cookies.

It has: sugar, milk, cinnamon, and yummy yummy spices and cream and jello.

Finn: Eww! I don't like those kind of cookies! They taste like poo!
Scout: No, why?
Finn: Because I don't want you to be the Queen.
Scout: Well, I'm not really, Finn, I'm just writing it to Georgia.

Then, you set it in the stove with oil, and before you put it in the stove, you can cut it into cookie shapes too, and put it to cook for uhhhh, 11 minutes I think.

And then, I have another question: You can take care of the world, and I can take care of the world. I want to have a party on the next conference day, or today! And I want to invite all my cousins and aunts and uncles, and maybe Grandfather if he can come, and Ahma and Jeanne. I want to have that party, and I want it to be the prettiest, cleanest party about Jesus and us and how we can take care of the world.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoscout

That sounds like a great party. I'm in. 

(2) General Conference was so very very good. To prepare myself, I wrote a long list of personal questions that concern me, ranging from simple yes/no to onion layer to pert-near-impossible-to-answer, and I was amazed at how many of them were addressed in some way, either through a talk, through music, through quiet consideration, or through discussion. I am eager for tomorrow's sessions. I wish everyone I know would listen and enjoy the inspirations to be had at this conference.

(2.5) When President Thomas S. Monson announced this just after 11:00 a.m., I screamed for joy. I'm not a screamer by nature, but the sounds came all the way up from my toes, I'm pretty sure. Three good loud primal hallelujahs, of sorts, which left me with a sore throat!

Maybe one day I'll write more about why I feel so connected to the Tabernacle, but it has a lot to do with many special meetings inside, stake conferences I attended, including one at which I gave a talk and had the most remarkable speaking experience of my life—yeah, yeah, shy me. So many happy church- and community-related events. The Tabernacle is part of my neighborhood and I pass it all the time. Our friends were the caretakers. I remember when the fire took it, I stood in the street all morning in the January chill, crying and watching it burn, unable to tear myself away until I could barely walk home, I was shaking so hard and my feet hurt so from the cold. It was a heartbreaking time. And now it's turned to something sweet. Lucky President Monson, getting to deliver such a happy message this morning. I can't wait for our second temple to be built, in my own backyard!

(3) While the guys were at their meeting this evening, I recruited the ladies and kids in the family to trek over just before dusk to see the old Tabernacle. It was fun to see the traces of other neighbors' celebrations: balloons, a sign. I'm imagining some dancing in the street, lots of picture-taking. I was too busy screaming at home to join them. We played a while beneath a big sycamore, and went home with glad hearts. Happy day!

Time to celebrate!

Vanna White, eat your heart out! Here are the lovely and talented Ahma, Daffodil, and Eden

S-t-r-e-t-c-h-!

This is not a great photo, but I had to really crank the iPhone to get all of this baby in the Hipstamatic frame.

Our friends bought a limo for their family car, fer cryin' out loud! How fabulous is that? This is what happens when you have triplets before your Irish twins turn three. You need a real family wagon. With cupholders. And a privacy screen. And leather seats. And decanters! And a TV/VCR! And just enough curb space to park the thing!

It is a thing of laughable beauty. I hope our friends keep it and don't chicken out on this crazy wonderful eBay deal. Beats the pants off a minivan. They are a very special family and I think anything that helps them keep and share their great sense of humor as they navigate the winding roads of parenting five children three and under is a keeper.

I'm looking forward to my first ride in... what's its name, anyway? A 'mobile like that has simply got to have a classy name. Any suggestions? I'll pass 'em on.

Miracles Are

Exhibit A.
You flew in the sky from there to here, to see your family, but you came to see me too, and I got to wrap my arms around you, and you are still you are still you are still my dear darling girl, my friend, my you-know-who. That's the sweetest blessing and benediction to a week that began with my getting dumped (thankfully not by Rob). That was the worst. You are the best. I love that we are still heart and soul friends and I hope I hope I hope that will always be our joy. I believe I believe I believe it will be.

Exhibit B.
You, amazing person who also flew in the sky from there to here, are exactly the person I expected. I don't brag like lots of people do that I am a good judge of character, because really, who can suss out that sort of information without a great deal of work and actual revelation? Such a declaration always embarrasses me. What I do claim is that it doesn't take long to love people, and every once in a while that feeling seems to predate the friendship itself. So when did I start knowing you, anyway? Logic says it must have been the first time I studied you in photos. But even then I felt a sense of recognition, so it must have been earlier still. Huh. Well, nice to meet you and finally get to say I like you out loud and to your face.

Exhibit C.
Thunder and rain. Comfort sounds.

Exhibit D.
After my third hamburger in less than 24 hours, I am completely ready and can hardly wait for The Great Garden Produce Purge of September. I wish I was starting my juice fast tomorrow, I am that tired of food, but I still have some prep to do. I am so ready to wash my brain and my whole system with veg and fruit. A full month of harvest season relief and bliss! It was that final devastating hamburger, the one at the ward picnic this evening, that pushed me over the edge. I don't care if I eat meat again till autumn. Or maybe ever. Ack!

It Followed Me Home

Some people find lucky pennies. I found a lucky squash, when I was passing the high school on my ride over to the track this morning.

It made me laugh. It followed me home. Okay, that's stretching the truth. Technically it didn't follow me—it rode in my bike basket. 

I'll cook it tomorrow so I can get two days' mileage out of this particular miracle. Maybe I'll find an onion in the morning while I'm out riding. A feral cucurbit and a feral allium fried in butter and sea salt—what could be tastier?

The Wonders of Wednesday

#1.

Rob and I have made frequent short trips to our favorite thrift store recently, on the hunt for audio components for making sound art. Today we shot across town to be there just after the doors opened for business. Rob got caught up inspecting equipment so I wandered into the book section. The store was crowded that time of morning—teeming with deal hunters (deal hogs?) with visions of eBay sales dancing in their heads, and maroon-vested employees, busily stocking shelves. I was standing there, scanning titles, hoping that one that would really grab me, when a maroon-vested book sorter with no apparent sense of personal space came up too close to me on the right, stretched his arm across my line of vision, and waggled a photo at a man who was nearby at my left.

"Heyyy, where d'ya think THIS one goes, Tom?" Maroon Vest chortled at his section manager, pleased with himself for making a good joke. Some book this is, huh? Har har!

Manager Man didn't answer him. Maroon Vest flapped the photo practically in my face, so I had little choice but to look. And, lo and behol', there was the smiling face of a friend with her husband and children. The picture was date-stamped 2003.

"I know them!"

Manager Man turned to look at me.

"I know those people. I'll take it."

Maroon Vest and Manager Man stared at me, blankly.

"You know them?"

"Yes!"

Maroon Vest then attempted to be in charge: "Umm ... so willya take it to them?"

I don't remember exactly what I muttered in response, but he reluctantly handed me the picture, like it might be a dangerous thing to allow to fall into the wrong hands, which mine probably were.

Not.

But I am keeping it.

Of all the places to be standing in that big store this morning! I'm glad Catherine and her family didn't have to go home with some stranger and serve as his bookmark, or worse, end up in the garbage. Glad I intercepted them.

So I got a book of flash fiction and this miracle, for just a buck and a half. Bargain!

Hi, Catherine!

#2.

I got to spend part of the afternoon with some of my favorite women of all time, enjoying haute cuisine at a popular local eatery: J-Dawg's. I had the enormous privilege and pleasure of working with these ladies in a Relief Society presidency and I fell in love with them in a great big hurry. Because of a geographic boundary change earlier this year that affected our church congregation, we had to kiss our little band of leaders goodbye with a promise to remain friends, a promise I intend on keeping forever.

The four of us decided to get together one last time before Heather moves to North Carolina with her family. J-Dawg's is Heather's special place and she complains that nobody will ever go there with her. I don't know why not. Best Polish dogs anywhere!

It was so so hot outside in the fancy parking lot with the beach umbrellas. It was fun. And I'm still in love with these girls. After Heather, Merideth moves next, and then Holly. *sigh* I'm counting on the phenomenon of the Great Provo People Magnet to draw them back someday.

Here's a quote from Ezra Taft Benson that I want to dedicate to these great women. I've watched them prove it repeatedly:

"Men and women who turn their lives over to God will find out that he can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace. Whoever will lose his life to God will find he has eternal life."

We got to know each other through serving others together, and that made for some beautiful bonds. I'll always be grateful to God for raising up these friends for me. I love you, ladies. You've been miracles in my life. 


P.S. Thanks for introducing me to J-Dawg's. Deelish!

Rex, Heather, Holly, Long Tall Sally, Merideth, and me

Chicken-warm

Rob was up before me this morning and greeted me early with this pretty gift, passed on by our friend Leland. "This one's still chicken-warm," Rob gushed, smiling. He put the freshest of the eggs into my hand, and it warmed me as much as it did him. It got me off to a thoughtful start, and I tucked the experience away as a little miracle, in case I didn't find another I could count for the day. Oh, me, of little faith!

It was an anxious day, agitated and unsettled. I hiccuped through the first two hours of being awake, without a break. Then those hiccups submerged and headed for my nervous system. Jumping blood, my stomach in a knot. 

As soon as the next miracle started, I knew I was onto a big one, and wouldn't have to wait for the vantage point of a quiet midnight to reveal it to me: music. Music saved my day. I typically listen to music while I work and go about my life, but today it wielded an impressive transformative power. When I felt tightness taking hold of me and that weird nausea of anxiety rising, I sat down at the old upright and starting working out a Mozart sonatina, and even lacking in grace as my playing was, it calmed the sick waves. It felt fantastic to play, never mind the mistakes. 

Work eventually called to me, so I turned up the little transistor that sits on the fridge—I turned it up loud—to broadcast classical through the entire house. Gorgeous music! Nothing I knew, but so big and fine and life-affirming. 

Sometimes I'd drop what I was doing and go back to the piano and play some more. I'm out of practice by many years, but I'm sounding better than I was two days ago and two weeks ago. How is that we get nearer and nearer to music just by continuing to try? What a rush to touch the stuff, shape the notes and chords and progressions, and build ideas with sounds and silences! 

The transistor reliably kept me company while I made lunch, and that's when I got to hear an old favorite: Gershwin's American in Paris. So incredible. It just wasn't possible to listen to it and feel anything but joy for those several minutes it lasted. 

Anxiety was waiting for me at every turn today, but I took a lot of big swigs of musical elixir to quiet the symptoms. It was an interesting sort of war I fought, and those songs honestly felt like some legion of guardian angels doing my battles for me. I don't remember the last time I felt so strongly connected to the high power of music. 

Just listen to this, would you? What a terrific performance!

At the end of this day that was my musical lifeline, I remembered I had my other little just-in-case miracle still in reserve, so I scrambled Leland's brown and blue egg harvest for supper. Even better than eating them was the perfect thin sounds their delicate shells made when I cracked them against the side of the bowl. More music. I could have cracked those eggs all night!

I'm Looking for a Miracle a Day

“When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.” --Alexander Graham Bell

My miracle today came after a treasured door was closed and locked in my face: a new door of opportunity was flung wide open, and two beautiful people stepped into my world, bearing gifts of kindness and friendship. One of the pair reminded me to look for a miracle each day and keep a record as they collect.

Good people. Good miracle. I will be satisfied and I'm not going to let myself stare sad holes into the old door. I'm moving with the moments.

Thanks, friends.