pomegranatesandpaper

GOING TO THE DOGS

MEMO:

TO:         THE DOGS
FROM:   MANAGEMENT
RE:         HOUSE RULES

The management wishes to advise you that the following behaviors will no longer be tolerated on the premises, to wit:

• Barking at the dog behind us whenever you hear the slightest noise from that side of the house

• Barking on the porch in the dark whenever you hear the slightest noise from anywhere outside that approximates a
  • chain
  • human
  • animal
  • scary animal
  • non human noise

• Twisting the Mister around so much on your morning walk that you
  
  • pull out his back
  • knock over the $50 clay pot holding the $35 rosemary bush that the Mister nursed all winter in the basement under a grow light.

• Eating rawhide bones in the bedroom after the lights go out.

• Eating rawhide bones anything on the bed(s) whether lights on or off.

• Putting paws into water dishes whilst at the park, thereby
  • wasting several bottles of water
  • creating the only mud puddle in the park
  • so you can lie in it

• Eating any forms of the following
  • The Missus's irises
  • The Missus's roses
  • The Missus's lavender
  • Strange wooden knobby things that may be space alien pods
  • The Mister's sandwich
  • The Missus's sandwich
  • any form of snack food in bags left on table, night table, or counter

In addition, the management would appreciate the following:

• Being able to sleep through the night without any of the following:

• barfing in any part of the house
• pooping in any part of the house
• barking or whining to go out to do the aforementioned in the scary, dark yard where you will bark at the wind and scare either the Mister or the Missus (whomever could not fake sleep well enough to make the other get up).

• Lastly, the management wishes to advise that it will no longer tolerate 5:10 a.m. awakenings regardless of how many birds are singing and/or light is streaming through the window. IT IS NOT MORNING YET!

Thank you, and have a good day.

Summer Slut

I know I am running against the grain of everyone in the world when I say this: I am thrilled that it is 90 degrees today, thrilled and looking forward to every hot day of summer. I don't care that we skipped spring - it'll come back.

The Teen, The Princess, and I are all Summer Sluts. We love the heat, love the sun, and love sitting in the sun until burnt.  One good hot day and all my cares just melt away, along with the knotted up muscles and migraines of winter.

Nothing makes me happier than pulling out the flip flops and a t-shirt, excavating the beach chair out of the filthy garage, and setting up camp in the backyard with a book, drink, and two dogs.

We are summer people. I love spring, love autumn, tolerate winter, but LOVE summer.

As The Teen said today as we drove home from the local greasy roadside burger joint tonight, "I LOVE New York in the summer! Hate it in winter, but love it in summer!"

We were sitting at the dog park, site of uncountable single digit mornings when we couldn't stop moving for fear of freezing in place, and the sun was strong, a breeze was lifting our hair and blowing soft white petals from a cherry tree across the field and the dog is chasing them like they are butterflies. 

Life is grand.

Gone Readin'

It's over 90 degrees here in my little burb outside the big city. The sun is shining, the tulip magnolias, cherry trees, and weeping cherries are in full bloom and the dogwoods have fat, juicy buds.

Mr. Pom ran out and swept the screened porch and bought us a new sisal rug. Then we tried to buy porch furniture that we couldn't afford from a store that couldn't be bothered talking to us because we were looking, I guess, at the cheapest line.

So since they didn't want our humongous sum of money for wicker, I left and came home and bought a set for the third of the price (15% off!/no  shipping!) from Tarjay. I will probably have to recover the cushions, but who cares!

Then we came home and I sat in the driveway on my beach chair and pretended I was at Nauset. I was good so  long as I kept my eyes shut.

But I couldn't keep them shut for long because I am reading this.

Do I like it? I can't decide whether to read it or have it bronzed/read it or have it hung permanently around my neck like a talisman/read it or weep/read it or have babies with it.

Oh, it hasn't been released in the states yet. You have to get it from amazon.ca. (Like that would stop me).

It is astonishing, as one reviewer said. It involves the coming of age of the generation before 1914, in the last of the "Edwardian summer", and revolves around Olive, a fairy tale writer who large, complicated, and interesting family lives in the country surrounded by other large, complicated families, whose children run freely in country manors with names like "Todefright" and in the woods, and interact with Fabians and Russians and puppeteers and great ceramicists.

I honestly don't know whether to take off three days from work, plump up the pillows, make large pots of tea, and read it all in one glorious swoon, or limit myself to one page a day for 600 days so I can feel as if it will never end.

Here is the synopsis of the novel from Good Reads:

Olive Wellwood is a famous writer, interviewed with her children gathered at her knee. For each of them she writes a separate private book, bound in different colours and placed on a shelf. In their rambling house near Romney Marsh they play in a story-book world - but their lives, and those of their rich cousins, children of a city stockbroker, and their friends, the son and daughter of a curator at the new Victoria and Albert Museum, are already inscribed with mystery. Each family carries its own secrets. Into their world comes a young stranger, a working-class boy from the potteries, drawn by the beauty of the Museum's treasures. And in midsummer a German puppeteer arrives, bringing dark dramas. The world seems full of promise but the calm is already rocked by political differences, by Fabian arguments about class and free love, by the idealism of anarchists from Russia and Germany. The sons rebel against their parents' plans; the girls dream of independent futures, becoming doctors or fighting for the vote. This vivid, rich and moving saga is played out against the great, rippling tides of the day, taking us from the Kent marshes to Paris and Munich and the trenches of the Somme. Born at the end of the Victorian era, growing up in the golden summers of Edwardian times, a whole generation grew up unaware of the darkness ahead. In their innocence, they were betrayed unintentionally by the adults who loved them. In a profound sense, this novel is indeed the children's book.

I will be writing more about it as I read on. I am going back to begin again as there are many characters and I keep losing myself in the rich, full lyrical passages that describe the lanterns they make for the Midsummer's Eve party, or the costumes that the maiden aunt sews from discarded ballgowns, or, oh my heart!!! the private books, bound in different colors and kept on a locked shelf, that Olive writes and illustrates for each child!

This and That and More

I didn't mean to be gone so long, y'all. Busy work week and what with midweek travel, no time for blogging.

Let me just tell you, though, that I have been DYING,  DYING I tell ya to write up my Blackbird day.

BB (I call her that now cause we're tight), BB and I met way back in maybe, oh, 2005 (?) in Cape Cod. So I always feel like I KNOW her, y'know. However that meeting, in a bar, at night, was clouded with alcohol and rushing for her to get back to the island before the tide turned.

Seriously. No metaphors. She was staying on an island and had to get on and off it at low tide. I was so impressed that the next year, WE stayed on the same island. Can I tell you the STRESS? With The Empress with us? The STRESS?

But I digress.

BB is a PISSER - can I say that here? -- PISSAH!

As she said, I am just a shade of my former self. Here we are meeting before going in for brunch (She's the one with the hair):

She is absolutely adorable, petite, stylish, and absolutely a TUVALUAN to the nth degree.

We bonded over bread (don't believe her post, she barely ate, she's like a bird....) and then went shopping.

Heretofore unknown BB trivia:

•  she is an Eileen Fisher with Anthropologie undertones and I am a Talbots with the same Anthro yearnings.

We both have taste above our means, enjoy people watching, rainy days, quiet beaches, loud men, world peace, city streets,

•  and avoid cupcake vendors:

• Have kids who would totally love this store:

• She has an aversion to reptiles. Which is good to know if the cobra-on-a-stick  pushcart vendor suddenly appears,  and which is why she wouldn't go into this cool shop with me:

•         She has the ability to enter a store and head right for the coolest thing in it and without missing a beat, totally point out the guy pushing the baby stroller with his pants hanging round his rear. The guy, that is, not the dangling participle stroller.

And of course, there's the whole don't take her picture thing which makes for interesting posing  situations,  and she will teach you the technique for taking stealth photos in stores that ban cameras.  And now I have the money shot of her taking the illegal Anthro photo, so she is going to have to give me her  scooter to shut me up.

So I officially have a Girl Crush and will now stalk her. 

She will probably end up banning my IP address and changing her cell number, her name, and country of origin. 

Oh, and BB - I don't have to use a laptop bag anymore as a purse - I got a cute bag in Saratoga Springs. More about that later wherein I will discuss upstate upscale boutiques that feature both $89 rubber clogs and horse saddles (in the same shop).

Love you, BB. I'll be over tomorrow for coffee.

MONDAY TRIVIA

(Ed.: If you've seen this already, consider yourself lucky cause Typepad ate it and now has burped it back up.)

Many things to write about:

1. fun visit with blackbird in the big city;
2. Sister # 2's fall from grace, a morality tale concerning a bike and a wrist;
3. Mr. Pom's obsession over an acronym for a license plate depicting the Cape and the labs and his inability to make a decision whilst inputting a thousand different acronyms in the dmv site, and my spur-of-the-moment inputting of one  perfect combination that he thought was unavailable and ordering it for myself,  or:  How I Got My Spouse Really Pissed Off;
4. The Teen getting a job  at the French cafe where Mr. Pom and I have our quiet weekend mornings and the resultant complications that ensue for all participants;
5. Grey Gardens: Pros: forgot I was watching Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange, and was touched by suffocating relationship brought about by the extreme isolation of the mother. Cons: I remember the original and not even these accomplished actresses could channel the existential eccentricity of those two women in their time and place; (also: Jeanne Triplehorn was a terrible Jackie O).
6. I am going to Saratoga Springs for a meeting midweek - anyone have any suggestions for cool places to go?

Unfortunately, these all require the uploading, cropping, enhancing, and saving of photos, which is way too much work for a Sunday night.

So instead, I will write about my blog bookmarks.  The other day, I discovered by happenstance that the new laptop allows me to drag the bookmarks into any order I want without having to open the "manage bookmarks" tool, which does not allow me to click on the link without closing the tool. Wow! Who would think such a geeky thing could get me so excited. I could finally clean up my messy and rash categorization of my favorites. The "craft" blogs and the "drawing and painting" blogs could finally have clarity from the other. "House blogs" could be refined to include  all design blogs. The "writing" blogs could be pruned of generalized theme blogs that happen to have excellent writing. The "food blogs" could be edited to jettison the bloggers who start off as food writers  but stray into restaurant reviewing, which is another category altogether.  And maybe, just maybe, I will finally be able to whittle down my slush fund, the general, overblown, overinclusive  niche entitled  "blogs", that house my favorite, oldest slice of life blogs.

Of course, now t I can't find anything. Exactly where did Letters from a Hill Farm go, a quasi-book blog/cum lifestyle/cum rural life blog? What the heck happened to Books and Cooks (what a quandary; books OR cooks?). Where did I put a new fave, Cardigan Empire,  a clothing stylist blog,   a heretofore unrealized niche that has no companions unless I pair it with  Go Fug Yourself, an uneasy alliance at best.  And how sad to click on some of the oldest blogs and discover that while I was not paying attention,  All Things Bright and Beautiful disappeared.

I know it needed to be done. My list was as unruly and unkempt as my garden beds after a fierce winter of neglect. I Heart Germany is a now a fine neighbor for  Too Much Sugar for a Dime: both have excellent sense of place writing (and one loves sweets, the other's moniker includes sugar). Higglety Pigglety, Yvestown, and Jane Brocket are all overseas blogs with artistic authors and  now visiting each does not require visas to cross borders. And the Italian blogs, as hard to herd as cats, are now neatly tied up in their own subfolder.

But when I booted up this evening, I felt like I was waking up on the first morning in a new house. What have I done? I want to go home! Where are my friends and why have they suddenly formed new cliques without me?    I have organizational remorse.   Am I the only one who has a "mind's-eye" imprint of things like the week and seasons of the year? In my mind's eye, my blogroll had a comfy, familiar set of associations. For example, at the very bottom lived the new-to-me,  eclectic set of  blogs with strong women voices:   Mabel's House, Raisin Toast, and Elspeth Thompson. It is strange to see them plunked alphabetically in the general blogs category. And it just seems wrong to have separated the sister blogs of  nienie and c jane enjoy it by their  alphabetical distance.

I will recover and the newly ordered list will become familiar and ordinary. Soon I will begin clicking through links to links and adding more and deleting some and making a mess of it all again. Until then, I'll just have to learn to live with it. I know you feel my pain.

Freakin' Friday

Feeling Crabby?

Lost the wind out of your sails?

And your sails?

Well, it's Friday, so get out there and do your thang!

Go Find Yourself!

Spring Cleaning

The weather here is still stuck in the 40's, but I am SICK of my winter clothes. Tonight I was inspired  to switch out the heavier winter clothes and organize my closet. After I took out the clean winter clothes and heaviest sweaters, leaving the transitional sweaters and pants, I switched in the spring clothes and arranged everything according to jackets, pants, skirts, dress (yes, one), and tops. I don't buy any suits for work that aren't good for at least 3 seasons, so they remain in my closet year round.

Now that I am 20 months post-WLS, I have replaced most of my wardrobe with smaller sizes and it has been a major expense but a lot of fun. I am two sizes smaller than I was last spring so I still have some clothing to buy. I have been on a mission to wear more skirts and dresses. I may have lost a lot of weight, but I still have a lumpy, bumpy figure. It used to be hourglass but now it is "pear", having almost completely lost my bust.  My legs are my least attractive feature, but be that as it may, I am enjoying wearing dresses and skirts for the first time in 15 years. The trick is to find skirts that are a-line, or have a fitted waist and boxy pleats, or are full, and hit  below the knee.

This black and white skirt is very polished and is perfect for court with a jacket, but I will wait until it goes on sale.

The safari skirt is slimming and is nice  for days in the office,  but  even in petite I need to have it hemmed.

This one fits very well and I can dress it up enough to wear to court by pairing it with a black, cropped jacket and black patent leather pumps. Something about it though reminds me of a skirt The Empress had years ago so I am kinda stuck on it being matronly.....

 

I just can't find many dresses with short sleeves. I absolutely cannot wear sleeveless - the weight is gone, but the skin hangs on~  I almost succumbed to ordering a few sleeveless dresses and pairing them with cardigans, but it gets really hot in the courthouses in the summer and I refuse to be sitting in sweat with a stupid sweater on that I can't remove without taking out someone's eye with my batwings.

However, I really  liked this print in a retro sort of way online, and with a sale plus dividend coupons, I bought it for half price and decided I would get a short sleeve cotton cardigan to wear over it. As soon as it was delivered, however, I   I knew I was too short to carry it off. My first clue should have been when I saw Michele Obama wearing it in a magazine - the woman has a gorgeous, tall figure. After trying it on, I discovered that shirtwaist dresses with full skirts make me look like more like Aunt Bee than Donna Reed, so back it goes.

I love this dress, but even on sale, it's too expensive.  And looking at it more, I think it's way too I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen for me.

It wasn't until I started writing this post that I realized that I purchased three "safari" type items of clothing. Besides this dress and the skirt abobe, I also bought a short sleeved safari-style chocolate brown jacket. Good grief, am I channeling my inner bush woman? I will now have to obsess over why I have a thing for this style, but frankly it just is the type of warm weather style that is fitted enough to look polished for the office but casual enough to be cool.  I actually brought the dress back to return it as it was too long even in a petite, but the salesgirl convinced me to have it hemmed since it came with a really cute belt.  Hey, belts are a novelty to me!

I ran across this stylist's blog and absolutely love her posts on body type dressing.  I clicked through on some of her suggestions and ended up ordering both of these blouses which were at least half price. This one is going to require a cami, but it has good sleeves!

This one is so romantic. I love the blue sash, but that cleavage is calling for a cami.

I love this pale green floaty blouse and think I would look very Jane Austen in Cornwall,  but I can't do cap sleeves.

I don't need more than 1 or 2 jackets for summer, but this one is a dream. It's a gorgeous color,  structured enough to be professional, and has short sleeves for the real dog days of summer when getting dressed for court is a chore. Wish I had seen it earlier tonight when I ordered the two blouses.

I lurve this jacket. Last year, I couldn't find many short sleeved jackets and when you are walking to and from court in the 90 degree heat in the Bronx, you don't want to be wearing a long sleeved, lined suit jacket.  I'm keeping an eye on it until it goes on sale.

This is a cute summer jacket and may go with the turquoise print skirt, but there's the sleeve issue again....

Mr. Pom keeps hovering because he sees me on clothing sites.  When he says not to buy anything, I know he doesn't mean clothes for work which I really need and are on sale....and that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

In the meantime, I'll keep checking for sale prices . . .

Who Does She Think She Is?

Who do you think you are?

Have you heard that said about you?

Have you had someone say that to you?

Worse, have you said that to yourself?

Do you believe that you don't deserve what you have, that you don't have the right to paint, draw, play the piano, dance, write, run, lead a class, gave a talk, publish a poem?

Do you believe that you don't have the right to choose ______________(fill in the blank).

Above all, do you long to transform your life creatively?

In October, Art Is You, sponsored by  Naval Jelly Studios, Dime Store Emporium, Artgirlz , and Artistic Emporium, will give a screening of WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE?,  a documentary film that weaves together the stories of several lives of women artists and the spiritual, emotional, and practical choices they made in order to pursue their passion. In a world that only values profitability, women in the arts are even more invisible and need even greater dedication than men to declare themselves artists to the world - and to themselves.

After the screening, I will be facilitating a roundtable discussion of the movie with our own workshop teachers and participants  of  the challenges we face and the joys we experience by choosing the arts as our authentic path. 

Pamela Tanner Boll, the director and producer of the film writes about why women are inhibited from transforming their lives through the arts: 

And why don’t we?  Well, it is hard.  It is hard to be a beginner, to try to draw, to sing…we are so invested in the notion that only certain of us are talented.  We think that only those who are “the best” at something benefit from doing it.  The rest of us are content to be observers.  Also, even if we think we might want to capture a beautiful sunset in paints, we are afraid to appear foolish.  We are afraid that we will be laughed at, fall on our faces.

 And yet, trying to express our selves in these unfamiliar ways can make our lives so much richer, and possibly more joyous.  Even if we do fall on our face, even if we don’t produce an award winning drawing, if we continue to try, despite the initial failures and feelings of foolishness, then there are rewards. 

The movie is currently being showcased around the country and you can read more about it at the producers' blog.

Another wonderful feature brought to you by Art Is! Click on the link for the full program on my sidebar 

Monday Morning Rain Is Falling

By now, the Easter baskets have been ravaged, the older kids have gone back to school and jobs,  and Mr. Pom and I have reentered the work-a day world. I feel saddest that the dogs had to go back to their doggie day care and dog walker weekdays instead of three times a day outings to the beach where they could chase seagulls and dodge the waves.

The week was glorious and deeply relaxing and too short, as week vacations always are.  The weather started off ominously with cold temps, winds, and driving rain. It softened up into misty Cape Cod days, the days that we are all too familiar with when our hair turns to cotton candy and our hearts are soothed by cups of fragrant clam chowder. 

Soon the sun broke through and the winds came and chased away the remnants of winter. The tumult of spring was in the air as the temps climbed into the high 50's. Everywhere we went there were signs of preparation: ladders propped up against gutters being cleaned; the sounds of saws and bangs of hammers resulting from stores and houses alike; windows unshuttered and being washed; garden beds being dug up; delivery trucks full of inventory alongside shops about to reopen; and the return of sailboats to the harbor.

We made ready in our own hearts for the return of spring. We slowed down, though, instead of hurried up, and swept out the mind's cobwebs. We lingered at the beach with the dogs, our coats zipped up tight but warm from our exertions. We probably wore the poor things out since at the slightest sign of discontent - theirs or ours - we flung on the macintoshes and made for the water. We flung too many balls too count, picked up too many poop piles to remember, and watered, bathed, and toweled off two grimy labs over and over.

By Thursday, the real sun and warmer air came in and we set up housekeeping on the deck. Lobster salad and clam plates and onion rings came in quick succession. Faces turned to the sun like sunflowers, we dozed and pillaged the chocolate Easter eggs meant for home, drank wine, went out for cappuccinos, read books, and listened to music. There were only 6 channels on the TV, so we caught up with our brother in law the banker's appearance on cable news via the internet. We drove to Sandwich and had sandwiches, and checked out every coffee shop from here to there. We engaged in Mr. Pom's famous game, "how much could that house cost", trolled neighborhoods looking for fixer uppers,  scanned all the for sale listings, and decided to come back tot his rental in August only to be told that the owner may reserve the weeks for herself. Hmmpf! No fear, we quickly found someplace else - dog friendly of course - and secured two weeks for more deck sitting and tree gazing.

 

We heard the first peepers of spring by Paine's Creek. We listened to the screeching of an irate hawk overhead on a sunny afternoon. We watched the surfers ride the waves each morning. We collected heart rocks, toured all the bay beaches with the pups, and tried to convince Cucciolo to go across Uncle Tim's plank walking bridge. He balked and cried and could not be budged so I took off with Bella Sera and waved to Mr. Pom and then all of a sudden, the pup relaxed and strode over the planks like he was born on a ship. Seems all our coaxing and dragging only queered him and all he needed to do was survey the scene himself and decide when and if he was crossing. If only we could remember that time and time again, especially with the children.

They were all home, laughing, talking, eating, arguing, sleeping, and causing general riotous mayhem and disorder. The Teen has this day off and I'm sure she will sleep until midafternoon and then wander through her siblings' rooms, a little lonely and sad. Mr. Pom has promised to remain calm at work and I have promised to remain detached from the corporate politics. We both promise to focus only on the end game: returning to the Cape permanently, buying a home, transplanting and reinventing ourselves as we wished to do 25 years ago but did not.

There's still enough time left for us to trade fleece for suits, to give away the heels and hose and stock up on boat shoes, to allow the hair to go grow and wild, and to find the love we had for each other, my blue-eyed boyfriend and build another nest, the latest in a string of 6, together for ever.

No Bunny Till Some Bunny Loves Me

Easter stands alone as the holiday for which there is

only one acceptable gift:

                     ````````````````````````````````````````

 The Easter Basket

`````````````````````````````````````

By law, the contents of the Easter

Basket is

 limited to  only three acceptable

 foodstuffs:

jelly beans




marshmallow peeps




&





CHOCOLATE


*********************

Easter chocolate is specifically

defined, to wit:

bunnies

duckies

baby bunnies and duckies


&

eggs*

(*defined but not be limited to:

• gooey Cadbury eggs

• malted milk eggs,
  





• and

• solid chocolate eggs   

 

 - milk chocolate only, if recipient is

 under 21 - and, if used sparingly as

 a condiment, a crispy rice

"crackle" or peanut butter)<sup>1</sup>

<sup>The introduction of exotic or foreign substances in

 the Easter basket, such as



will result in an unsightly, melted, moldy
residue that will void the warranty.</sup>

Please note that  it is important to balance the Easter Sunday diet with a judicious intake of vegetables:

Remember: get up early on Easter morning

 and check under the dining room table and

behind the living room drapes and find your

 Easter basket. The bunny works hard. Show

 your appreciation!<sup>2</sup>

_________________________________________

<sup>1</sup>(NB: Under no circumstances can "Halloween" chocolate be substituted in the traditional basket, i.e. no Hersheys or Snicker bars nestled in shredded purple grass under penalty of law)

<sup>2</sup> Note: no bunnies were harmed in the making of this post

That's all folks!

Beauty and The Beast(s)

Sister #2 is our Official Family Photographer. If it wasn't for her, some portions of the family would have no pics (not the Poms). Over the years, her photography has gotten better and better.  And now on the Cape, she's gone full circle, from photographing our baby kids to photographing our baby dogs.

All the following photos were taken by her:

The rain stopped, but the wind the filled the vaccuum. Heh, heh, that's funny and also probably scientifically true. I'm not sure but will ask Sis #2 because she's also a (retired) science teacher.

This is the normally quiet Nantucket Sound. We've been at this beach in the summer when it has been so hot and calm that swimming in the Sound is like swimming in soup.  Today we couldn't even get on the beach due to the high tides and wind-driven waves.

But look at the color of the water!  The Carribbean has nothing on us. Except for warmth, of course. We would appreciate it if it would go above 50. Pretty please?

And ma hair would appreciate it.

Ma hair is so wild I am apparently even scaring the new dog.

But if I'm not scaring her to death, Cucciolo is doing a good job.  This week was planned to get the dogs used to each other and us. Seems familiarity breeds contempt. Both dogs have had the runs, haven't slept through one night, and now Cucch has decided that his sole motive in life is to drive Bella Sera out of the house.

I can now add Dog Referee to my resume. And Mr. Pom has become the 3:00 a.m. Dog Wrangler, who is so skilled that he manages to leash them, walk them, and go back to sleep, all without waking the neighbors, or so we assume since the Cape Cod police has not shown up yet.

Must go, Cucch has Bella around the neck and the poor girl just lies there. Gotta google sibling rivalry.

Here's a beautiful good bye:

L'Aquila

To donate to the Abruzzo relief fund, please  click here

.

Our prayers go out for the people in the region of Abruzzo, Italy, and in particular to the residents of L'Aquila, a medieval jewel that is now basically destroyed by 6.3 earthquake last night.

L'Aquila is home to the university physics lab where The Boyfriend worked for several months two years ago. The Princess visited him there and the option was still present for him to return.  Here she is in the airport at the beginning of her trip.

None of The Boyfriend's colleagues were currently in L'Aquila, for which we are all grateful.

We Parent

Therefore We Am.

We are almost empty nesters and are behaving like it.  I have no apologies for it.  One night, one of those dark nights that cause you to question every choice you've made in your life, I wondered what life would have brought if we hadn't had children, hadn't had three at that. Of course it was one of those silly, self-indulgent fits of pique over some triviality of not having it all and failing to see how in fact we had all we needed.

And now, having gotten these two dogs, it's all rushed back to me in a tidal wave of memories: we rushed headlong into parenting and never looked back. It was never a question of if we should have kids, but when we would. Growing a family  tied us to one another, made us better people, better spouses, better marrieds. It filled in our lives and caused us to focus, grow, to wipe noses and change diapers and take them to nature centers and museums and to the beach and their grandmothers and to hold birthday parties in bowling alleys and places with ball pits and baptisms with cakes on the lawn and great aunts and uncles and all the genrations now gone in attendance then, filling our house and hearts in a way that we cannot replicate anymore.

So how silly is it to see us now, scooping dogs in and out of the car, fussing over their brands of dog food, buying matching leashes and collars, paying for doggie day care, and worrying about separation anxiety, not sure if it would be theirs or ours.

We are self-aware enough to laugh at ourselves, to giggle when they pile on and off the bed several times a night, to talk to them in that special parenting voice when they do something good and to be patient but firm  when they do something bad.  We fall easily back to the pattern of planning our day around their naps, meals, and need for entertainment and don't think about how we could be staying at a hotel with room service and fancy dinners instead of a sandy beach house and sandwiches at a deli because they have tables where we can all sit outside.

Laugh if you like,  but we are enjoying it all, feeling like kids again just starting out, remembering the excitement of first steps and now, first days at the beach again. Remembering how patient the other can be with small needs in the middle of the night as well as  the exhaustion of sleep deprivation.

Our kids are wary, a little jealous even, but all we can tell them is, don't you see, this is how much we loved you and now we are letting you go, allowing you to live your lives without guilt and recrimination. You can move away, set up households across the country, take trips without us, and we will smile and be happy and be so proud of your self confidence and independence.

Suddenly we have the time and space and a little extra attention for something else while we wait for you all to be established in careers and marriage and the grandchildren to come. Think our lives are too consumed by these new family  members?  Then imagine just how much we will excel at being grandparents when the times comes.  Your children's feet will never touch the ground as long as we are around. They will want for nothing and we will take them to the beach and Playland and do tea parties on the porch and  buy them Cabbage Patch Dolls like your grandfather did on the day you were born. We don't party, dance, go to clubs, or eat at fine restaurants.  We do parent well, though, at least we think we do.

We're just practicing again, before we forget how to be patient but strict, to enforce healthy eating rules, and to remember to nudge the other when it's their turn to get up at 2:00 a.m. We enjoy feeling the weight of a sleeping head on our leg and soulful eyes needing a pet.  We are simultaneously enthralled, exhausted, amused, exasperated, and in love.

And if you think you're bored by all the doggie pictures, just imagine how you're going to feel when the first grandchild is born.

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(Note to various Pom children: we can wait; WE CAN WAIT)

All's Well in Pomegranateland!

Nauset Beach.

2 dogs.

2 wet dogs.

2 wet, sandy dogs.

2 superbly happy, romping wet, sandy dogs.

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One teen safely arrived in South Carolina.

One Mystery Man watching an exhibition game at the new Yankee Stadium.

And one Princess and Boyfriend entertaining the Teen.

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2 happy, tired grown ups - off to The Sparrow for hot chocolate!

Something to Look At While We Drive

While Mr. Pom and I are enroute to the Cape, head over to The Purl Bee and check out these gorgeous felted designs. These are brooches but I would imagine that just sizing it up would result in gorgeous nests to place on the Easter table!

My art supplies are all packed in a suitcase and waiting to be brought downstairs tomorrow morning. But after seeing this, I have to go find my felt and the little felt balls I bought from Artgirlz  The designer and author of a new book, Betz White, is teaching a class in making this brooches on April 18th. All the details are on The Purl Bee site.

What A Young Girl's Fancy Turns To

Yes, the temps are in the 40's, it is cold, and wet, and damp, but I know it is spring because all the new spring papers have blossomed and are waiting to be picked!

Look at all the pretty new leaves and petals in all the color ways of Mother Nature!  It's time to plant some inspiration and pick some creativity and you can't do that by staying home.

It's time to bust out of our gilded winter cages of tiredness and boredom

and soar!

I'm ready for a road trip!

Well, maybe not a trip as far away as that, but I can pretend I'm there by driving  here:

and visiting Muji!

But what fun would that be without my fellow travelers?

They are always ready to hit the streets from dawn to dusk in search of the rare, the elusive, the whimsical, and the bargains!

Oh, look, the spring vases have sprung!! I want them all - and you can see a little self portrait peek of me right in the midst.

We are indefatigable shoppers, but we are first and foremost girlfriends and that involves always, always, a table to sit at, coffee to sip, and lots of stuff to nosh.

And at the end of the day, we have the satisfaction of knowing that we found bargains, laughed, ate, drank, and made everyone envy our really great hair cut!!!!