Our Everyday
Sharing our stories, big and small.
Christmas pajamas
“December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory…”
― John Geddes
The exception being our December which gave us warm and humid breezes keeping us daydreaming about beaches and margaritas instead of snow fights and egg nog culminating with a humid, 70 degree, air-conditioned Christmas Day. Whether cold or warm December is unforgivably short.
Before tomorrow we must reflect on yesterday. If we don’t remember our mistakes we cannot learn from them, if we don’t remember our growth we cannot continue, if we don’t remember our smiles we cannot be grateful. Let us be in the moment, recognize it for what it is and make the choice of how we will recall this day.
2015 was filled with travel
Sitting in the back of my parent’s station wagon driving to Ocean City, MD I’d stare out the window at the houses passing by wondering who lived there, imagining the clever conversations they must be having, the interesting food they must be eating and the great belly laughs that filled their sunshine filled homes. I was ten years old and I romanticized what existed in these houses, believing the lives they led were filled with TV moments. I’m not ten years old anymore but the romantic in me is still thriving. Now my lens has shifted from the houses on Route 50 to the rest of the world. Whether driving through the charming town of Valladolid or walking the tourist filled Avenue des Champs-Elysees I am equally enamored with the history and the landmarks as I am with the daily routine of those that live there. (Smithsonian Folklife Festival 2015, posted August 15, 2015)
“Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain”
– Rob Thomas
“He adored New York City. He idolized it all out of proportion…no, make that: he – he romanticized it all out of proportion. Yeah. To him, no matter what the season was, this was still a town that existed in black and white and pulsated to the great tunes of George Gershwin.”
– Woody Allen, Manhattan
Tagged: Central Park, Children's Art Museum, MoMA, NYC
We return to our favorite spot for pumpkins and fall fun.
Look at how much we’ve grown in a year!
it is an amazing thing
to be born
bringing purpose
that wasn’t thought needed
laying vulnerability
in the hearts of those that love you
the gift of life
bestowed upon everyone that touches you, that learns you
depositing a windfall of happiness
to last for every rainy day
depositing a windfall of happiness
to last for every rainy day
evening out all the rough edges, filling the empty spaces, healing the gaps
with the love that is you
with the love that is you
Five weeks of third grade, first grade, pre-k; five weeks of CCD, soccer, hip hop, gymnastics, homework, projects; five weeks of stirring the kids awake every school morning with a rapid succession of brushing, dressing, eating, packing and dashing; five weeks of new job responsibilities bringing new stresses; five weeks of precariously teeter-tottering between balance and insanity I was left with only these words, “Calgon, take us away!”
The Homestead, in Hot Springs, Virginia, is a resort that dates back to 1766. Two hundred miles away, the last sixty miles meandering through bucolic towns, we were instantly transported away from routine and time. It is one thing to experience history displayed on walls, in the wear of the brick, in the stories told and it is another to sit on the carriage, sip from the tea cup and recline in the chair by the fireplace. I realize that this hotel has been re-built and re-decorated many times over but as I played checkers I couldn’t help but feel the past, very present.
Our Everyday 