Bits and pieces

Some favorites from the past few weeks:

This new podcast. Because there's no such thing as too much Modern Love.

This book, by one of my all-time favorite authors. Some other good reads: Little Victories by Jason Gay, Lila by Marilynne Robinson, and What She Knew by Gily Macmillan.

My 16-year-old daughter, Kate, turned me on to this vlog on YouTube, and now I can't get enough. I especially love this one about snowboarding through the streets of Manhattan.

This family of six sold their house in London to travel the world for a year. I've been following along on Instagram.

And this poem, which I find myself reading again and again:

Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here. ~ Wendell Berry

Photo: National Geographic

A book, or four

I know I'm a little late to the party, but I picked up The Girl on the Train from the library the other day, and now I'm in the thick of it. I have the same sort of feeling I had when I read Gone Girl: a bit of dread, knowing it likely won't end well, and the desire for at least one character to make a good choice.

The Boston Girl would make a good beach read. Migratory Animals is gloomier but so well-written. And as a break from my usual fiction, I just read Selfish, Shallow, and Self-Absorbed: Sixteen Writers on the Decision Not to Have Kids, mainly because I liked the title and was intrigued. I'm glad I did.

Meanwhile, some of us around here are ready for summer. The other night when I was saying goodnight to Livvy, she said she didn't think she could go to school the next morning because her lips hurt.

Just 31 more days.

(Photo: Conde Nast Traveler)

#choosebeautiful

In the latest Dove campaign, the company put up two signs - one saying "Average" and the other "Beautiful" - above the entryways of shopping centers around the world. The women approaching the doors have to choose which one to go through. Most walk through the average door. Some make a different choice. Watch above, if you'd like.

"It was my choice. And now I will question myself for the next few weeks, maybe months."

"I went through the average door. I didn't even hesitate."

"Am I choosing because of what I'm being told I should accept? Or am I choosing what I really believe?"

"I wanted to go through the average door, but my Mum pulled me over to the beautiful door."

"Given another chance, I would choose beautiful."

"It was quite triumphant really. It was like telling the world I'm beautiful."

"Beautiful is a great word. So why not see what's on the other side of that?"

Bits and pieces

Some favorites from the week:

This hand lotion, which has changed my life (or at least made my horribly dry hands more comfortable.) It's not perfect - it's pricey and the scent is a little strong - but after many winters of searching, I've finally found something that's not greasy and really works. (And I don't have a humidifier, but if I were to buy one, it would be this little one.)

This quote, which I try to keep in mind whenever I listen to the news.

This lesson from a 10-year-old. Livvy stayed after school to help make Valentine bags for a group of homeless children. When she got home, I asked how it was. "Guess where they live?" she said. I couldn't guess. "At the hotel where there was a fire!" (Once, when we drove to a store in a nearby town, the parking lot of an adjoining motel was filled with fire trucks.) "The children live in the motel?" I asked, with what must have sounded like concern in my voice. "But, Mom, they're lucky," she said. "They've got someplace good to stay."

Have a happy weekend.

Hello and goodbye

When Kate and Holt and Livvy were little, no matter what they were doing, they would jump up and shout with happiness when Web walked in the door. It was as though they hadn't seen their dad in weeks and he had finally come back to them. It was the reaction rock stars get when they walk on stage, and all he had to do was walk through the door.

Web (and even I) still get a pretty good greeting from Livvy, but the older two are more subdued now, as you might imagine. Which has made me think quite a lot about the act of saying hello. I make sure to say hello to each of them first thing when I (or they) come in the door, and I make sure they say it back. To be honest, I'm not sure they always would, without a little prodding.

But now I'm also thinking more about goodbye, thanks to a lovely photo essay I came across on the blog Sho & Tell. I say goodbye when Kate, Holt, or Livvy leave, but it's sometimes from another room, or called down the stairs. Sometimes it's just a wave if I'm on the phone. I love how photographer Angelo Merendino says, "There was never an 'I'll just let myself out,' it was always, 'We'll walk you to the door.' " Since his father died, he says, his mother stands alone by the door and waves. You can see the photos here, if you'd like. Meanwhile, I'm going to try to do better with goodbye.

Just a quick shout-out to the New England Patriots from a fan who tunes in only on Superbowl Sunday. It was an exciting game, to be sure, with some good commercials. My favorites, unsurprisingly, were Dove's #realstrength ad and Proctor & Gamble's "Like a Girl." Here's a full-length version, which makes me cry every time I watch.

(Photo by Angelo Merendino.)

Bits and pieces

Some favorites from the week:

This book. I couldn't put it down, and I now I can't stop thinking about it.

I skipped the final season (and season finale) of Parenthood so I'd be able to watch it in one fell swoop. It ranks up there as one of my all-time favorite series, and I will miss the Bravermans terribly.

Remember Felicity? As I waited for the end of Parenthood, I began to spend a few late nights re-watching this other favorite, which ran from 1998 to 2002. Back then, it reminded me of my own time in college. Now, it makes me think of my children, and what's just around the corner. Eek.

Hometown pride.

So it's been a little snowy around here. There were two days off from school, much shoveling and blowing, and a dog in snow heaven, but now we're getting back to normal. As I was driving Holt, who's 12, to school yesterday for his first day back, he reminisced about his unexpected vacation. "I needed that," he said. I had to agree.

(Photo: My 24/7 Media).

Bundle up

Until this past weekend, when a storm blew through, and tomorrow, when a blizzard (!) is expected, it's been a winter of almost no snow, and that's been a beautiful thing. I like snow, I really do, but I also love the ease of no-snow (with apologies to the ski resorts). Even the cold hasn't been too bad, with just a few stretches of bone-chilling temperatures.

It was during one of these stretches recently that my daughter Livvy had an early-morning hockey game in a rink I'd never been to before. There were large gaps in the siding of the barn-like structure, with birds flying in and out, to say nothing of the howling wind. We saw little of the game because the plexiglass surrounding the rink was iced over. The only thing left to do was to try not to freeze.

Which leads me to blankets. The smartest hockey parents come bundled up in down coats, mittens, and hats, of course, but they also bring armfuls of blankets, which they wrap around themselves or cover the benches with, or both. They carry all kinds of blankets, but the ones I love best (and look at most longingly) are the wool camp blankets - the kind that used to be in my attic. There was a blue one, a pink one, and an olive-drab one, all a little scratchy but dense and very warm. My sister and I brought these blankets to camp, but my own children protested when it was their turn to go and begged for softer, fluffier fleece. And then, in a moment of needing to clear out, I got rid of them (the old blankets, not the fleece and not the children). I'm horrified and wish I could take it back.

I also wish I knew what happened to another childhood blanket - plaid, the wool not as scratchy, with fringe on either end. On days I stayed home from school not feeling well, I would lie on the couch under that blanket and braid the fringe. Hour after hour of braiding between naps, reading, and whatever was on television. That blanket is gone, too.

So the other day I went on ebay and found a blanket to keep in my car and take to the rinks. The wool isn't as thick as the ones from the attic, but I think it will do the trick. I bought another one to cover the bench or throw over the couch at home. It has fringe on either end like the one I remember, just in case anyone needs practice braiding.

(Ebay is a good source for wool blankets at low prices. For more of a splurge, I like this, and this, and this. And now Target has gotten on the warm-wool-blanket bandwagon with its collaboration with Faribault.)

Photo from curiosities.tumbler.com.

Bits and pieces

I'm going to just jump right in and pretend my last blog post was yesterday - not June 3. Good lord. My early New Year's resolution is to do much, much better.

In my long time away, I kept a list of thing I could - and wanted to - write about, i.e. books read, products found, articles loved. So here are a couple of those thing to kick off the start of a new commitment to blogging.

It feels like a million years ago now, but over the summer I read, among other things, Big Little Lies, The Arsonist, and, most recently, And the Dark Sacred Night by Julia Glass. I hated for this last one to end, so I'm now rereading Three Junes and plan to go back to I See You Everywhere, two earlier Glass books I loved. Quick tip: And the Dark Sacred Night revisits characters from Three Junes, so if you read Three Junes first, it helps (but isn't necessary).

I was chatting with a friend on the playground not long ago about the death of Boston Mayor Tom Menino, which led us to how we keep up (or don't keep up) with the news, and she told me about the skimm. Have you heard of it? It's a daily email highlighting the news stories of the day (or, really, the previous day) and - more important - explaining those stories in simple terms. Whoever writes the skimm is funny and smart and keeps things brief, and I love it.

I'm also loving a new-to-me blog that has nothing to do with the daily news. It's called The Mom Edit, and it's a fashion blog, but a kind of everyday, mom-ish fashion (in the best sense of the word), with articles such as "Seven Ways to Style a Basic Grey Sweater Dress," "How to Tie Your Scarf Like the November J. Crew Model," and "That Time I Wore My Mom's Dress to New York Fashion Week." "The Mom Edit" is really for new mothers trying to get back to their more stylish selves, but Shana Draugelis writes in such a down-to-earth, fun way that it works even for those of us whose babies aren't babies but who still need help getting dressed each morning.

My youngest daughter, Livvy, who is nine, asked the other day if iPhones were invented when I was little, and she was shocked when I told her there were no iPhones when she was born. Imagine. It reminded me of this fabulous article in The New York Times Style Magazine about how - despite what we might tell our children - life wasn't really better in the old days, when we didn't carry our phones with us and there was no Internet to keep us connected 24/7. "We can't become hostages to the romantic notion that the past is always a better country," Andrew O'Hagan writes. "There's a few million girls with flatirons who will happily tell you the opposite."

Photo: Free People

Of birds and babies

We are having a little wild kingdom moment outside our tame, suburban home. Somewhere on our property - under the house? behind the garden shed? - lives a particularly smelly skunk. This skunk is not just visiting, we believe. It has set up permanent residence. We know we should call animal control, but have we? No, we have not. Instead, we live with a sense of daring (or dread) every time we open the door to let Clementine the dog outside. She's been sprayed before. We know the drill. And recently, when I was weeding in a particularly fragrant part of the yard, I expected each time I looked up to be staring into the beady eyes of a furry face. So far, thankfully, he (or she) has not made an appearance.

Meanwhile, in the front of the house, in a small tree by the side door, a soon-to-be-mama bird has carefully built a nest and spends most of her days tending her eggs. The egg part I can only surmise, because I haven't yet brought out a chair or step-ladder to look in. And that's because she's always there. The only time she flies away is when I walk out the door, and then she swoops down in front of me and swoops back up into a different tree nearby. Startled, I give a little yelp every time.

Some background: When I was small, we visited friends at a farm in Maine. They had several outbuildings, and we slept in one. One afternoon, I went back to the room, closed the door, and immediately realized there was a bird trapped inside that was frantic to get out. It flew back and forth across the room, flapping its wings. I was terrified. I don't remember who got out first - the bird or me - but I do remember that feeling of being trapped myself. As a result, I've never been the biggest bird fan. I'm more of a bird-avoider.

Which is why it's ironic how happy I am about this mother bird sitting in her nest outside our door. I could do without the swooping, but she's so patient to sit there each day, with her little beak pointing toward the sky. She's so motherly. And what skill to build that nest! I'm impressed with the whole operation. Sometimes, before I get in the car or do whatever it is I've come outside to do, I stand for a moment and watch her, and I think she might be looking at me, too. I suspect she won't stay long after those babies are born and learn to fly, but for now I'm glad she's here.

Update: She did it! The babies are here! They hatched soon after I wrote this post, and no step-ladders were used in the taking of this slightly blurry photo. Instead, a friend of Holt's climbed up on his shoulders and snapped away. Welcome to wild kingdom, baby birds.

Congratulations!

And so it begins - or ends, as the case may be. I have a niece graduating from high school (and moving from China to college in NYC) and a daughter moving the much shorter distance from middle school to high school.

So I'm thinking about graduation gifts and trying to channel the mind of an 18-year-old (the 14-year-old is easier, since I live with her). What I've come up with are all things a certain 40-something also wouldn't mind having. Isn't that the sign of a good gift - something you'd want for yourself?

Jewelry, of course. I love this navy brass bracelet and its straightforward name, 'Love This Navy Brass Bracelet' from Isabel Harvey.

In case my niece (or yours) is more of a necklace girl, there's this 'I Heart You' necklace, because I do love her, and I'm sure you love your graduate, too. Also from Isabel Harvey.

I'm a pushover for aviators. I particularly like these new top-bar shades from Madewell.

I haven't yet read Congratulations, by the way: Some Thoughts On Kindness, but I'm a George Saunders fan.

David McCullough, Jr., an English teacher at the high school my daughter will attend, gave a graduation speech in 2012 called "You Are Not Special," that was picked up by media outlets around the world. He turned that speech into a book of the same name, and I'd like to both read it and give it as a gift.

Both my daughters have these cameras (like the Polaroids of old), and they love them. My 8th grader often brings hers with her when she stays over at a friend's, and the photos she takes are very fun. I think a freshman in college might like one to help document the year, so I'm putting the Fujifilm Instax Mini 8 camera on the list as well (and adding a box or two of film).

I got into the graduation spirit last night when I read a speech given this month to graduating seniors at the University of Texas at Austin, called '10 Life Lessons From a Navy Seal' about what we all can do to change the world. You can read it here, if you'd like.

Remembering

"It is time for parents to teach young people early on that in diversity there is beauty and there is strength." ~ Maya Angelou, 1928-2014

(Photo by John Chillingworth on BBC.com)

Bits and pieces

Some favorites from the week:

Going outside for the very first time.

I loved Maine and Commencement, both by J. Courtney Sullivan, so now I'm reading The Engagements, and yes, it's a good one.

Some thoughts on age and beauty.

A nanny's love.

And a reminder that it's never too late to start.

I hope you have a happy and fun long weekend, with lots of down time and good things to eat.

(Photo by Jessie Webster for Smitten Studio.)

Mother's day

I'm a teary mess every time I watch a P&G "Thank you, Mom" ad, such as this one called "What I See," about a mother who was told her daughter would never walk or talk. "I never saw the things my child couldn't do," the mother says. "I only imaged what she could."

I also am a sucker for any kind of "Life Lessons From Mom" list. There are endless variations as we approach Mother's Day, including "25 Things I've Learned About Being a Daughter in My 50s," "7 Pieces of Unsolicited Advice for New Moms," and "7 Things Mom Taught Me About Living," from The Huffington Post. (Why so many lists of seven? I have no idea.) In any case, I read them all.

Last night, I had my own, very small "what I learned" moment or, like the Oprah column I sometimes used to read, an "aha"moment. My son, Holt, got an invitation to a Bar Mitzvah for this coming Saturday. (This was a last-minute invite because he has just gotten to know this boy from his baseball team, and the original guest list was put together months ago.) He may know a couple of the kids at the party, but most he won't.

To understand this "aha" moment, you should know that I am not a big-party kind of person. I love small get-togethers (my husband likes to joke that I prefer parties of two people or fewer), and I love the kind of socializing that happens spontaneously on the playground, on a driveway, or on a walk with friends. But giant gatherings of people I don't know? Not so much.

After reading the email invitation, I went to find Holt and ask him what he wanted to do. There were a few logistics to figure out, but when that was done, he said, "I'd like to go." And before my "what I learned moment," I had a bad-parenting moment.

I said, "But will you know anyone?"

He said, "I might know a few."

I asked, "Do you at least want to think about it?"

He said, "No, I'd like to go."

And then - at long last - the aha moment kicked in. I realized that a.) he's not me. He doesn't share my dread of big parties full of strangers, and oh, how happy I am he doesn't. B.) Never project (an offshoot of "A," and one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn - over and over again - as a parent). And c.) he's brave, and I could and should be braver, too. I could be more like him, instead of the other way around.

So this is my list. Not seven or 25, just these "Three Things I Learned From My 12-Year-Old," in honor of Mother's Day.

I hope you have a happy one.

Bits and pieces

Three things I'm loving right now:

1. The idea of hot-cross buns in the morning. Did you know hot-cross buns are a traditional Good Friday food? I did not know, and we're not having any (!), but don't these look good?

2. This book by one of my new favorite authors. Also this one, which a friend recommended, and this, which for some reason I put off reading but then couldn't put down.

3. These Chicago White Sox players wearing 'Boston Strong' T-shirts in their game against the Red Sox gave me a lump in my throat. We'll be in our usual spot on Monday cheering loudly for the runners in this year's marathon, and without a doubt I'll have another lump in my throat as they go by.

I hope you have a very happy (long) weekend.

(Photos by londonbakes for Food52 and AP photo/Charles Rex Arbogast)

For sale

For two years (OK, three), I've been talking about having a yard sale. There are corners of the basement and attic where I've stored throw rugs, dining room chairs, art prints, a bed frame - all things we no longer have need of or room for. And yet, that yard sale hasn't happened. Partly it's finding the time to organize and execute; partly it's feeling unsure about pricing; and partly it's the idea that there's a better way. There are so many online marketplaces beyond craigslist to buy and sell, and I'm intrigued.

My latest intrigue is Hunters Alley (affiliated with One Kings Lane). Have you seen? It's like poking around a great flea market where someone has weeded out the bad stuff. As a result, I'm making very little progress on the real-life corners of the basement and attic - the art prints, the chairs, the throw rugs are all still there - but I'm having a wonderful time imagining the buying and selling I could do.

And so winter turns to spring.

This will happen, someday.

(Guanajuato Knoll Tulip Chair on Hunters Alley).

Bits and pieces

Some favorites from the week:

This story from the Huffington Post about a boy who's finding his own path.

This article from Vogue Magazine about how maybe Frenchwomen don't always do it better.

The Vogue article led me to this collection of short stories by the same author, Danzy Senna.

This high-octane moisturizer. My sister told me about it a few months ago and said it worked wonders for her feet. I tried it on my dry, cracked hands, and it's as good as she said. It was used originally by dairy farmers on cows' udders.

The J. Crew April style guide that arrived in my mailbox. Now that it's officially spring.

(Photograph by Charlie Napier for Gardenista.)

Wake up!

This is our morning: When his alarm goes off at 6:30, my 11-year-old jumps in the shower, dresses, comes downstairs to make his lunch and eat his breakfast, and is out the door at 7:10 for a 7:50 start time. Clearly, he has yet to enter his teenage years.

Meanwhile, at 6:45, I knock on my 14-year-old's door until I hear her say she's up. At 7:00, I call up the stairs until she calls back down that yes, she's up. At 7:20, I walk upstairs to confirm she's out of bed and in the bathroom. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. At 7:35, if we're lucky, she flies down the stairs, grabs her backpack, runs back upstairs for whatever she's forgotten, and is out the door by 7:40 for the same 7:50 start time. No breakfast, no teeth brushing, a still half-asleep 14-year-old.

And then there's my 9-year-old, who has the luxury of sleeping until 7:45, eating a leisurely breakfast, and walking to school for an 8:30 start time.

Three different scenarios based largely on age (and a little on temperament).

So I was fascinated by this article in The New York Times about the shift in some high schools - finally! - to later start times. Why, I've always wondered, is a first-grader starting school at 8:30 while a Sophmore has to be there an hour earlier? According to the Times, researchers have found that teens who get eight to nine hours of sleep a night learn better, are less likely to be late, get in fights, or be injured while playing sports. Another variable? Fewer car crashes in schools that start later. And for those who say, "Get these kids to bed earlier," (and that would be me), the research also shows that teens tend not to be drowsy until around 11 at night (and of course their pinging screens don't help).

A later start date may not happen for my older daughter when she's in high school, but it certainly seems logical. Imagine the calm that could be our morning. I'm even going to pretend for the moment that the bedroom in the photo above is hers :).

(Photograph from countryliving.com).

Reinvention

As soon as I heard about the new book Still Life With Breadcrumbs, I reserved it online from the library. It's the story of 60-year-old Rebecca Winter, a famous photographer whose career has floundered and whose bank balance has dwindled. In an increasingly desperate effort to fix her financial situation, she rents her lovely and loved apartment in New York and moves to a less-than-charming cottage in the country. Her only choice, she realizes, is to start again.

Anna Quindlen has been a favorite author of mine for years, and I must not be the only one: When I picked up the book, the librarian told me I was the first to check it out but that there were 497 "holds" on it. In other words, many, many people were waiting for me to finish. So I read quickly and enjoyed every minute.

"When Sarah was gone Rebecca looked in the mirror. She realized she hadn't looked in the mirror for several days. Her hair reached to below her shoulders, and she'd taken to wearing it in a stubby braid down her back. She sighed. 'I look like one of those women,' she said to the dog, who looked as though he understood what she meant, although she wasn't sure what she meant herself. One of those women who let themselves go, who paid no attention to how they looked? One of those women who had given up, like the ones she saw in the market in the city sometimes with their canvas shopping bags, buying one grapefruit and a box of eight tea bags?" ~ from Still Life With Bread Crumbs

Following

I have a like/like much less relationship with Instagram. I enjoy it for myself but have decidedly mixed feelings about it for my two older children. I'll save that discussion for another post.

Among those I follow on Instagram are photographers, lifestyle and fashion bloggers, several food stylists, many new mothers, a publisher of an online travel magazine, and one English farmer. What they all have in common is a wonderful way of looking at their world and sharing it with the rest of us. Here are four favorites:

@sundaysuppers

@tinyatlasquarterly

@mamawatters

@Benjaminhole

Bits and pieces

Five things I'm loving right now:

1. I am not much of a cook or a foodie, but I'm loving the website Food52. Have you seen it or, even better, do you get it as a daily email? I love the clean, stark photography and its simple presentation. To be honest, I have yet to buy any of the kitchen items for sale or try a recipe, but I look forward to reading it every day.

2. The Husband's Secret by Liane Moriarty. A good beach reach while it's still very much winter here.

3. My current Facebook obsession is Susie's Senior Dogs, spotlighting elderly dogs around the country that have been abandoned and desperately need homes. Thousands of people are seeing this page and, best of all, adopting these sweet, gray-faced pups.

4. An opinion piece in Sunday's New York Times about what people learn in their 40s. My very favorite: "There are no grown-ups. We suspect this when we are younger, but can confirm it only once we are the ones writing books and attending parent-teacher conferences. Everyone is winging it, some just do it more confidently."

5. Ellen DeGeneres as Oscar host. She may have gotten some mixed reviews, but I loved everything about her performance, from her opening monologue to her Glenda the Good Witch costume change to ordering pizza without money to pay the delivery guy. She made me stay up hours later than I had planned.

(All photos from Food52.)