Skip to main content

thirtyeight

 I had a fabulous birthday- sweet and simple and surrounded by my two sweet boys.
Owen and Bodhi helped make me gluten free Brownies and Owen made Aunt Bertie's lemon curd sauce to go with it...YUM.
For my gift, the two of them (with ample mama support) made me a magical Italian feast in honor of my Grande' Cia and in celebration of ME.
Bodhi decorated the table with hand made drawings and name cards and they took turns saying a blessing for me on my birthday.  Next, we feasted on polenta topped with kale, puttenesca sauce, capers and Parmesan and ate a homemade mozzarella salad (We helped make the mozzarella with Ricardo at the Deli Italia, click here to read about it).
The boys sang me several renditions of Happy Birthday and Bodhi did all the dishes!!!  Then he had the brilliant idea to take all the blankets we could find outside and snuggle together on the hammock looking at the night sky with its bright stars and round moon.  We toughed it out for over an hour, huddled beneath a thick pile of wind-shifting blankets, before the wind and freezing temperatures drove us, laughing, back into the house.
It was a perfect day.

Comments

Karuna said…
Yay happy birthday, to my fairy godmother!
i love you.
<3
karuna

Popular posts from this blog

a story recently shared by a friend

 Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment. When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help. Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you." Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!" "I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself...

He is no longer here

Another day has begun.  I have lit my candles and incense.  Sat in silence. Worked up a sweat at the gym.  Eaten breakfast.  Straightened house.  Answered mail and dropped my man off at the airport. It is eight in the morning and the world stirs with wakefulness.  The sun climbs in the sky.  The birds sing.  The squirrels chip and chur in tree branches.  A dog barks.  And I look with dull eyes at the long day ahead, contemplating a single phrase, "My father is dead." What strange words. My father is dead. The man has been leaving for as long as I can remember and yet his death robs the wind from my lungs.  My chest throbs and throat tightens.  He isn't coming back. My mom and dad had slipped out of one another's lives before I'd barely begun mine.  Two weekends a month my brothers and I stood on a saggy porch, bags packed, eager for our hero to arrive in his old blue Ford to pick us up.  We vibrated with hope...

shame

I was recently asked why I blogged or engaged in a continual reflection on my thoughts or feelings.  Wasn't I at least a little ashamed to indulge my continual, narcissistic, self reflection in a world full of genuine need, suffering and pain.  This came at a time when I really had nothing left to battle with. I went belly up with shame.   My old answer didn't suffice.  I no longer blog for the same reason  that I once did.  There wasn't an adequate answer.  Shame asked, "who do you think you are to put your thoughts, ideas and writing out into the world?" Brown  defines shame as the "intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging".  Shame kicked my ass.   I thought of deleting the blog.   I felt ashamed of who I am, how I think, how I feel, how I live.  I came face to face with my own darkest self. Who am I to occupy space?  Who am I...