Dancing Grandma

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room. ~Kurt Vonnegut

I can't tell you how much this picture reminds me of my own childhood. There is my Aidan dancing with his grandma, but rewind the clock thirty years and that would have been me and my mom. I still blame my mom for my inability to master social dance as an adult because, although she taught me the jitterbug, the chachacha and the waltz, I was always the "male" to her female. When John and I took a short tango class it was incredibly frustrating because I kept stepping off with the wrong foot, not to mention I was always taking the lead. My grown-up problems notwithstanding, I loved dancing with my mom. She had a song for everything and she would sweep you up in her arms and twirl you around the kitchen while she sang. Now, watching her dance with my two boys, I see that she obviously just can't help but dance. What has been so neat to watch is how her complete lack of self consciousness frees up Aidan to find his dancing feet. And find it he does. We found him doing soft shoe with a cane the other day! What in the world? I hope the confidence he gains from letting his hair down with my mom stays with him for a lifetime.

We ought to dance with rapture that we might be alive... and part of the living, incarnate cosmos. ~D.H. Lawrence

Ahhhh, Lubley's

The above picture is one of the things that I hadn't thought about when weighing all of the reasons why we should move to St. Louis. But if there had been more serious doubts about whether we should relocate, a whiff of gooey butter pecan danishes or cinnamon twists would have sealed the deal, I'm sure. Lubley's, from which we purchased these delectable goodies, was first opened in 1937 in south St. Louis. But in the '50's, a new development in Webster Groves (where I grew up) got the attention of Mr. Lubley and he relocated the business. It is there that they have remained. We have visited them twice now and, believe me, it has taken great restraint to keep from going more often. Our last visit was on Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday and, believe me, I left feeling fat alright. I'm sure this is exactly what the Church had in mind for the day before Lent.

Snow Snapshots

Winter Wonderland

In an effort to make our big move more enticing to our boys we went to great efforts to talk about all of the snow they would get to see and play in once we moved to Missouri. We really started sweating it when weeks went by with no sign of snow. And when we heard that Atlanta, GA got snow, well, the boys were about to pack it up and move back with or without us.
Well, this week the big snow finally came. Actually, the biggest snowfall in one day in St. Louis in 15 years. For three days straight, John, Aidan, August and I played in it in every way imaginable. Sledding was by far the favorite activity, but the boys also helped out with the shoveling, as well. We introduced the boys to the glory of a great sledding hill, not far from my parents house, and a new generation of sledders was born. At least as far as Aidan was concerned. He was relentless in his desire to master the hills and experiment with the different sleds that we had at our disposal. But August, our dare devil August who knows no fear, would have nothing to do with sledding. He was content to sit at the top of the hill and watch us have all the fun. Yeah, no sledding for August. And then we learned what the deal was--he was holding out for a snowboard. There were a couple of young boys who were attempting to navigate the bumps and drops of the monstrous hill and August was taking it all in. That's right. August was not going down any hill unless he was on a snowboard. That's our August. None of this pedestrian sledding business, no. Bring on the reckless, daring snowboarding. So, John found an abandoned, broken down plastic sled, cut it up just right, and fashioned August his own "snowboard." Now we have two snow bunnies. Too bad it's already starting to melt.

Finally, a post

Well, seven weeks later... a post. I've been avoiding this for so long because I felt like I had so much to say but it was too overwhelming to imagine getting it all down in a way that made sense, not to mention in a timely manner. But finally I've realized that I can't keep thinking about the great big everything and continue to compose only in my head all of the things that I want to say--and never actually write it down. The greatest novels are products of small, disciplined efforts, not explosive purgings, except maybe for those writers who are mad. And I am definitely not mad, at least not yet.
So, here I am. Not in the emotional state that I imagined I would be at this point, but nevertheless, I'm here.
"Here" is St. Louis, Missouri. In my parents house. It's kind of strange to be without a home of our own. Granted, we shared a home with one or more families for 8 years while living in community and, thus, did not have a home of our own that whole time. But living with your parents is a whole different ball game. And to be living in temporary quarters in the place you moved to in order to start a new phase of life is just, well, weird. I've had temporary quarters before, just like everyone else, but this is different than summer camp or college dorm room "temporary." It really feels like a holding tank. And just like it works when looking through the thick glass of any tank--everything just seems magnified and somewhat distorted. My emotions, my perspective, my well, everything.
So, I'm learning new ways of looking at things. I look at my parents differently now that we live life together 24/7. I now look at this city that I grew up in from the perspective of my experience in Atlanta. And I now look at our future with a new faith, one that is dependent on God for absolutely everything, not just the things that I can't take care of myself.
I'll keep you posted.

Wow

I can and I can't believe that it has been so long since I've posted anything. I'm having to let go of my earlier dreams of writing everyday and lower my expectations of what I'm able to accomplish as I prepare for this move. One week and three days from today our family will wake up, rev up a moving truck and transfer life, as we know it, to another state.
This is a good thing. This is something that we have thought about, prayed about, and discussed with our friends and family. This move is the right thing for our family to do. But it is hard.
There is the practical hardness--the packing, the organizing, the logistics, the details. And that, alone, is tiring. But then there is the emotional hardness, which I have only recently begun to tune into. This leaving business is hard.
I'm sure writing about all of this would have been helpful, but I've avoided the discipline. Right now I'm just going to push through.

We rode the Pink Pig!

Well, we finally took part in an Atlanta Christmas tradition today. Here's a little blurb to bring you up to speed.

From its 1953 debut as a children’s ride at the downtown Rich’s to its brief stint at the Egleston Children’s Hospital Festival of Trees, four generations of Atlantans have ridden the pink pig into the holiday season. And, millions have worn “I Rode the Pink Pig” stickers with pride. The original Pink Pig – Priscilla – was a monorail giving children an elevated view of the store’s toy department. Later, another pig – Percival – was added and the two could be found on the store’s roof, encircling the Great Tree.

Re-introduced in 2003, Priscilla, the Pink Pig carries on the family tradition beneath a 170-foot, 1950s-themed Pink Pig Tent at the Lenox Square upper-level parking deck. Sponsored by Macy’s, the ride travels along train tracks to carry children and parents through a life-sized storybook that includes the original Pink Pig, greendog and other holiday friends. Macy’s donates a portion of the proceeds to Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta.

A beloved holiday tradition adored by generations of Atlantans for more than 50 years, the Pink Pig was voted Best Holiday Tradition by Atlanta Magazine!!!

We've seen the white tent in the parking lot of Macy's for years now but only this year did Aidan ask to check it out. We hadn't even gotten close to that mall (I can't even remember the last time I went to a mall, come to think of it) but once talk of Christmas began, he remembered on his own accord. Although not the most thrilling ride of my life, it was decent enough and the boys seemed to enjoy it. The graphics and "pink-ness" of it all certainly weren't my style, but it seemed imperative that we take part in something so quintessentially Atlanta before we move.