Crazy Fast

My little sister is engaged.  And for that, I think this sentiment...most excellent.  I also think this...life is fast.  Crazy fast.  She's the little nugget of the family and here she is, adding a milestone event to her being.  Sister Pister is engaged to be married to a wonderful man who I couldn't change one thing about to make better for her.  Cheers!   

Little Versions of Big

Look!  It's a mini Karen and Amy.   

Having Firecracker stay with me on Sunday night was the good stuff of life.  Seeing her giggle with Karen's girls and then having her cuddle in with me for a story and looking down to see that she carries a unicorn with her and getting ready with her in the morning and making sure she had a pack the punch kind of breakfast followed shortly by a Sbux treat in the car ride to school with the soundtrack of 1989 blaring...the good stuff.  

I love that these little ladies are growing up to be bigger and are starting to really take on and make their own some things like dancing silly and talking about accessories and being adventuresome and brave.  

 I love that I get to be a part of it, as an aunt and as a pretty much an aunt.  

Missing those 4th Grade Chicken Wings

Part of my job has placed me in rooms with people much smarter, the kind who say nuggets of truth that make you go yes, why hasn't everyone thought of that?  All the while nodding along. 

There was one man in one room I was in who wrote a book or something - I'm not the best with details like that, just ask my friends and family if I can quote a movie.  The answer?  No.  Heck no.  So, he wrote a book.  I can't remember the name of it.  Nor can I remember his name.  But I do remember vividly him saying this, "Fences are perception and there's always that one cow who understands this and gets outside of them and always will." 

Now, you might be thinking I've become a veterinarian or a professional cattle tamer, but no.  Heck no.  He was using an analogy to make the connection between his growing up on a ranch and becoming an educator.  We put fences around students.  The rules of school.  Here's how we learn.  Sit here and listen to me.  But there are always those few who need outside of those fences - those perceptions.  They need a different reality and they will get out and always will.  Just like those cows.  

I think this hit home with me because I also grew up around stubborn cows, those cows.  There was one red lady bovine who would literally shut her long eyelashed eyes and simply walk over you.  She would.  All with this air of, watch this.  I'm bigger and I'm stronger and I will get to where you think I shouldn't go.  

Oh how I wish I could give this same power to those students, the ones who need different fences than the norm.  I wish I could tell them to shut their long eyelashed eyes and walk on through.  

Tell them that one day, someone will get them.  Someone will understand they need something different to discover their own genius.  

The one thing I miss the most about being a classroom teacher?  Getting those kids in my room, I loved those kids.  

If I could hope one tiny morsel of something it would be that in all of this running around and standing in front of groups of other educators, that the notion that it's our responsibility to change the fences would stick.  And stick hard.  I believe we have to sometimes let our adult preferences go in school and do what is truly best for kids.  

Kids?  They aren't the same anymore.  Captain obvious speaking here.  

They can't be taught the same way as fifty years ago, thirty years ago, ten years ago...they almost need to be taught more so than academics, the things that used to be assumed.  The things that go like this - I care about you as an adult in your life.  I will teach you that you won't touch your cupcake until everyone has one.  I will teach you that you will look at each other when you speak.  I will teach you that you will not be afraid to say your opinion.  I will teach you that you have to try hard things and do hard things until they are done.  I will teach you that I will not rescue you from your mistakes but rather let you figure those items out on your own.  I will teach you that you are not entitled to one thing in these four walls of my classroom, but rather that you will earn them - including my respect.  I will not fluff and buff you - when you fail, you fail and when you succeed, you succeed big.     

All that?  

I miss that.  

So I hope that when I stand in front of a large room with my cowboy boots on and my arms flying that it might mean something.  A tiny morsel of something for a kid out there somewhere.  

Because kids are where it's at.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about the academics too.  I just think they fall in place a bit more when we care about the kid behind the pencil first.  

"Yesterday, I was clever so I wanted to change the world.  Today, I am wise so I am changing myself."  Rumi

All kids are someone's daughter, someone's son, someone's sister or brother, and someone's niece or someone's nephew.  Love them up.

Waiting Graciously

Taylor Swift's 1989 album is currently jamming through my house as I sit here in this flower chair in the middle of my living room.  I said jamming, I'm that cool.  I'm also so cool that I'm willing to admit I'm a big fan of T. Swift.  She did it again with this one I tell you.  It's not country and it makes me think I'm invincible and can write words right now that will make you give a double clap and a foot stomp and can run an extra seven minutes on the treadmill at the gym in the morning.  Isn't that what fantastic music is supposed to do?  Create inspiration.  Makers going to make, make, make...or shake, shake, shake.  Whichever.

I don't know what I want to say but my fingernails are painted and I have a cup of hot water next to me and my one leg is crossed over the other and there are dangly earrings hitting my neck and I feel that even though life is absolutely a wild/unpredictable ride right now, I'm happy.  Love a duck, I'm happy.  

My mom and I just had a chat on the phone.  Yes, I talk to Momma D. frequently.  She's a smart lady after all.  We talked about many things - small things and big things.  Mostly we just talked about whatever which happens to be my favorite kind of talk.  It came up at one point about my tendencies to always want to know every detail.   

For many years, my life has been rather routine.  High school - college - teach a classroom - work in the school - they are all structured - and now?  Now my life is not in the least bit routine.  Each and every single day is different.  This town, that town, this meeting, those people, this road...it's a continuous ball of change.  Which causes me to throw my hands up and yell a little, "I love this!" to the sky and at the same time, causes me to go into mild anxious fits of curling in a ball and whisper a little, "Well what's next?!"  

It's pushing me to grow and adapt yet again, which I'm ever so thankful for because I want to always be striving to be different than I was before.  To be learning and grooving and jamming to T. Swift's new album.

Momma Debi gave me some of the very best advice a few weeks ago when I was having an anxious fit.  She is my mom after all so it's like she knew one day that I happened to be home, she knew I needed a little grounding and a little something from her.  So, she drove in without a real reason.  She drove in and showed up at my door all like let's visit.  I didn't tell her it was a day of curling in a ball but she came.  I kid you not, sometimes moms are really something.  

"Amy, we can all have patience.  But real patience means not just waiting, but waiting graciously."  

Yes.  I will wait graciously.  

It's a mantra I have on repeat.  

Along with the song Wildest Dreams - Taylor nailed that one. 

These pictures are from a drive on the Beartooth Pass in Red Lodge while the fog rolled in, followed shortly by hail, and him proving his steady being yet again as he navigated us and his sense of adventure as he pulled over to let me capture, "This is actually where the unicorns live, I just know it!" 

We ran.  Ran through the rain to the edge of the lookout point, laughing and carrying on until the thunder hit and we both had the look of we need to get the hell out of here before we are struck down by lightning.  The drive down from that top lookout point held feelings I hope I never forget. 

ALIVE.  

Happy.

Content in the not knowing what's coming around the next foggy bend but being ready to tackle it when it does.   

Looking over and thinking yes, this guy is kinda good.  The kinda there being a big word.

The Flower Chair

A few minutes ago, I was sitting cross-legged on my flower chair by the fire with a zebra coffee cup on the blue table and a book in my hand. 

 

It's the same scene that played out early last Saturday morning as well.  Before the text to Karen that sent off the day of random. 

 

You see, that flower chair doesn't really belong in the living room by the blue table and the fire.  But it's still there.   

 

It's still there a week later after a random Friday night in which four friends held wine glasses in their hands and pushed chairs as close as possible to visit in a way that hasn't happened for so long.  Life gets busy, crazy, and in the way sometimes.  So when the life crazy parts briefly and allows for talking until past midnight, you embrace it and squeeze hug it.  Right after you set out the cheese, apples, dates, olives, and other wine night musts. 

 

 

While you sit with music floating in the air, you send up a how did I get so lucky to have these kind of women in my life.  The kind that just say whatever it is that's on their minds.  The kind that are happy for you and all that's going right.  The kind that share where they are and it makes you a better person for it.   

 

Then, the next morning you wake up and walk out to living room to see the effects of the circle of talking and you leave it - just as it is and grab a blanket and a cup of coffee to keep the feeling. 

 

The rocker was moved back to its spot on Sunday but that flower chair is still sitting there in the middle of the living room.  Last night it was a landing spot for parents who were taking their littles trick-o-treating in the cold.  They warmed their hands while I let their kids run wild and encouraged the wild by adding to it myself.  You want another piece of candy Brooks?  Sure thing buddy.  You want me to flip you upside down and tell you in a silly voice, "Love you Hazel?"  Sure thing.  You want me to pull all four of you in close on the loveseat to tell you a whisper story about your Auntie Em?  Sure thing. 

 

I think that flower chair in the middle of the living room is just right.  It begs to be sat on and it makes for the best kind of circle visiting.  Yet another reminder of the perfect tends to come from the imperfect.   

 

It also makes for a win of a spot to drink Saturday morning coffee out of a zebra cup. 

 



Acting Not My Age

Last Saturday I was home, in my house.  That seems obvious and redundant all at the same time but I have really taken on the belief that home is kinda wherever you and your people are.  Maybe I've actually adopted a traveler's heart.  Or I'm just mildly crazy.  Or both.  It's hard to tell really.  

I woke up in my house on a Saturday morning for the first time in ages.  I stood in my kitchen with a coffee cup in hand and weighed my options.  A cycling class?  Running outside?  

A text went to Karen that read something like this...let's drink slow coffee and do nothing.   

Then I found myself sitting on her couch with a coffee in hand and nothing in the air other than visits and sunlight streaming in.

  

Then, with more caffeine than would sufficiently fuel a giraffe, we proceeded to have an Amy and Karen Saturday reminscient of summer style.  There was boot shopping and kitchen dance party-ing to Taylor Swift's shake it song and homemade pizza on the grill and two batches of pumpkin dark chocolate chip cookies and sunshine on our faces. 

 

Her girls made us water complete with fruit garnishes.  Made us water.  That sounds funny but that's really what I would call it, they were so cute and proud.   

 

Then, we went to go for a walk and after a quarter of a mile I said, "Let's drive out to see Summer."  Karen said, "Okay."  So off we went to see Sil and the kids which led to me getting this idea stuck in my head that I had to learn how to do the sideways jump click your heels off to the side thing that looks like oh so much fun.  Karen could do it right away and I had to work on it.  But work I did and soon was clicking right along.  

And then?  Then I pulled a classic acting not like my age stunt and started wrestling the kids.  After a sneaky leaf tickle move in which I felt rather helpless, I took a kick to the face and stood up with, "I think my lip is bleeding."  That's what I get for acting my not age and I wouldn't have it any other way.  

Once back in town, we walked.  Got our lungs moving while the sun went down, which was how I orignally planned on starting the day.  I'm sure glad all that happened in the in-between happened first though.  The in-betweens tend to be where it's at.   

Friday Afternoon in October

"Kiss the sky!"  And then her little yet mighty voice gave a best ever muah as her hair whipped in the air and our laughter filled in the moment.  

There are things I hope to pass along and kissing the sky is definitely one of them.  On the list, it's right in between there are no rules about wearing too much jewelry and there's no such thing as hugging too often.    

They Collided

A few weekends ago, I met my mom and dad out by the farm where my dad grew up.  The mission was to take pictures of the sunflowers as they go on for miles and miles this year.  It never gets old seeing my parents in their element.  Never.  

And my favorite pictures are always the ones when people have no clue you are taking them.  The ones where it's just someone doing what they do.

It's been raining pretty much since that weekend and rain during harvest is like a cat in my house, never a good idea and really not a good thing when it actually happens.  

Which makes me even more thankful that on a Saturday night in August, I met my parents and we spent a couple hours looking at the fields against the setting sun.

This morning, it's drizzling again after a steady rain all during the night.  This morning, the prognosis is a bit sad.  Yesterday was a day of finally looking like maybe it was turning to more normal - they combined barley, I mowed the farm yard, my sister and I smooshed in the grain cart tractor cab with Momma Debi, I ate part of my brother's lunch while we waited in a semi (it's amazing to me how we revert back to being ridiculous non-adult siblings in about two minutes), and sister-in-law late night visiting with texts coming in they finished the barley capped it off.  Normal.  It was a normal and full fall day.

Before they left for the field and before I spent the afternoon getting dirt in my eyes, Sister Pister and I packed Dad's lunchbox for the day.  I drizzled olive oil on baby tomatoes before sprinkling with pepper and salt and she made homemade bars and then we wrote a note.  Like the old days.  A have a great day Dad note.  Hopefully he still has that note today.  

Back on that mid-August Saturday evening, as the sun was just about to dip all the way, I heard from Dad, "Right here.  You need to stand right here."  And he was right.

The above picture was from that exact moment in that exact spot he was standing and it is now hanging on my wall as a reminder to me - to take the time when the time is there. 

This sounds corny but sometimes I am corny.  I believe we all have gifts.  It's not vain to notice your gifts or to use them, rather it's why you they were given to you.  My family has the gift of growing in fields and I have the gift of capturing with my camera.  It was more than special to me they collided together while Dad and I stood on the back of the pickup, him commenting on the crop itself and me commenting about the angle of the light shattering through.