Grrrl Meets Boy 1979

Now I have loved you like a baby
Like some lonesome child
And I have loved you in a tame way
And I have loved you wild

Sometimes there’s a part of me
Has to turn from here and go
Running like a child from these warm stars
Down the seven bridges road

(Lyrics excerpted from Seven Bridges Road written by Steve Young. Song made famous by The Eagles. Listen by clicking the link.)

August 18, 2008

Story of a grrrl

Somebody's Baby

 

 

Somebody's Skinny Kid Sister

 

Somebody's Home Grrrl

Somebody's Prom Date

Somebody's College Roommate

Somebody's Bride

Somebody's Top Graduate

Somebody's Valentine

Somebody's Mother

Somebody's Partner

Somebody wondering about what comes next.

Reflecting on the passage of time, the people I belong to, and the challenge of learning to belong to myself.

August 16, 2008

Cautious Man

A great narrative and song by Bruce Springsteen, from the album Tunnel of Love

(Listen to this cover)

Bill Horton was a cautious man of the road
He walked lookin' over his shoulder and remained faithful to its code
When something caught his eye, he'd measure his need
And then very carefully he'd proceed

Billy met a young girl in the early days of May
It was there in her arms he let his cautiousness slip away
In their lovers twilight as the evening sky grew dim
He'd lay back in her arms and laugh at what had happened to him

On his right hand Billy tattooed the word love and on his left hand  the word fear
The hand in which he held his fate was never clear
Come Indian summer he took his young lover for his bride
And with his own hands built a great house down by the riverside

Now Billy was an honest man he wanted to do what was right
He worked hard to fill their lives with happy days and loving nights
Alone on his knees in the darkness for steadiness he'd pray
For he knew in a restless heart the seed of betrayal lay

One night Billy awoke from a terrible dream callin' his wife's name
She lay breathing beside him in a peaceful sleep, a thousand miles away
He got dressed in the moonlight and down to the highway he strode
When he got there he didn't find nothing but road

Billy felt a coldness rise up inside him that he couldn't name
Just as the words tattooed 'cross his knuckles he knew would always remain
At their bedside he brushed the hair from his wife's face as the moon shone on her skin so white
Filling their room with the beauty of God's fallen light

Cosmic spankings

A number of years ago, my friend Mike had a series of accidents.  After being rear-ended three times, Mike (a newspaper columnist) wrote a very funny piece on why he was receiving Cosmic Spankings from the universe.

I'm convinced I enjoyed that article a little too much. The sound of my laughter rose to the heavens and attracted the attention of the gods who decided I was a Bad, Bad Grrrl for snorting over Mike's misfortune. So as penance, the gods made sure I was rearended three times in five months. Bam, bam, bam. My own Cosmic Spankings. Um, not so funny. That was in 2004.

Now 2008 has been marked by a series of Things Gone Wrong. There was a big bureaucratic and logistical mess trailing our move from Belgium back to America, including an accounting error made by Mr. V-Grrrl's employer in Belgium that has had a huge financial impact on us.

Weeks after arriving in Virginia, our finished basement flooded and we discovered our new house had major structural issues that would cost tens of thousands of dollars to fix. Plus, the chimney was cracked (cha-ching), the heat pump failed (cha-ching), a massive dead oak tree close to the house had to be removed to the tune of $2,000, and to fix the structural damage in the foundation, we had to pull out all the professionally done landscaping and remove the sidewalks as well as pull out all the carpeting and half the paneling downstairs (cha-ching).

Our living space was reduced by half, much of our stuff shoved back into cardboard boxes after it had been carefully upacked, and my 12-year-old son and 10-year-old daughter have spent most of the last six months sharing a tiny cramped bedroom, first in a Brussels apartment, then in our house here after the (Not So) Great Flood in May. We have been humbled. The financial planner who told us we had too much money in savings has been humbled too.

And then just as the structural repairs are nearing completion on the basement, we had the car accident.

But I'm not depressed. No I'm not! The way I see it, Mr. V-Grrrl and I are the ultimate economic stimulus package. Thanks to us, immigrant tree cutters got a big paycheck in April, the chimney guy can afford to go to the dentist, the masonry contractor can pay the hospital bills he incurred when he had his first ever construction accident, two guys who had been laid off by their employers found work repairing my house, and the people at Lowe's love me, just love me. Plus, we are earning many, many points charging things to our United Airlines credit card. Woo hoo!

Why save money when you can spend it on your fellow man and relieve his economic suffering? It's the duty of those of us who have jobs during this recession to spend not just our income but our savings pulling everyone else out of the economic abyss.

Yes sirree, I'm mighty proud of my family for doing its part to help our fellow Americans be able to afford cable television, Friday night pizza, and gasoline. And the more our money circulates, the more taxes it generates, providing much needed funds for the federal government to spend rebuilding the countries we've flattened in recent years.

So you can see we are good, good people here at Chez V. Good, good people. Really, we are. So please, no more Cosmic Spankings. And Mike, if you're reading this, don't you dare laugh!

August 11, 2008

Slam, bam, in a jam

We were in North Carolina, eagerly anticipating crossing into Virginia and drawing closer to home. Traffic picked up and then slowed and as Mr. V-Grrrl responded, we found ourselves mashed between a tractor trailer truck and a pickup truck with pieces of the car hitting the pavement.

We were lucky we weren't hurt, nor were the occupants of the pickup. The tractor trailer didn't stop, just kept driving, unconcerned by our crunched bumper, fenders, and front end, the door that wouldn't open, the broken mirrors.

Well, if we had to have an accident hundreds of miles from home, we did it with the right people. The pickup driver was a Southern gentleman who first checked on us, didn't lose his cool, and best of all, opened up a cooler in the back of his truck and offered us all ice cold Pepsi Colas while we waited for the police to arrive.

The accident was not his fault, and he was mighty kind.

Sitting on the side of I-95 with my butt planted in North Carolina pine needles and traffic crunching over the broken glass we left in the road, I counted my blessings and tried not to stress over our car being turned into a Crack Mobile.

Mr. V-Grrrl leaves on a trip tomorrow and begins a period of frequent business travel that will last until the end of September.  Structural repairs have been completed at Crack House, but now we have to refinish the basement, replacing everything that was torn out while repairing the walls and foundation.  And we have to deal with Crack Mobile repairs and accident paperwork.

But we're all OK,  and everything is going to be JUST FINE. Really. Any minute now...

August 9, 2008

Taking a break...

...I'll resume posting in about a week. For those of you on Twitter, I'll be around. : )

August 1, 2008

Pete has his portrait done

Earlier this spring I took a photo of my cat Pete gazing out the window. It served as inspiration for this painting. I left out the bench because I have difficulties with linear perspective and was afraid that I'd ruin the painting trying to get it in at the end.

Weekend at the pottery

 

www.beaumontpottery.com 

When I was a teenager, I spent a memorable summer living with my sister and her husband, JB. I worked in JB's pottery in the historic village of Strawbery Banke, New Hampshire. He and my sister later divorced, and I lost track of JB for almost 20 years. Facebook put us back in touch again a few months ago.

He recently invited me and my family to come visit him and his wife, J, at their place in Maryland, and we drove there on Saturday afternoon. We had the most amazing weekend with JB and J.  Any concerns that it might be awkward to see one another after so many years dissolved within minutes of arrival. Our families connected, and we all felt at ease with one another and happy to be together. The home and life JB and J have built together are a testimony to their faith, and there's a life-giving presence there.

Nine years ago JB was homeless and in debt, a man who had lost everything: his business, his family, his success. The journey from that dark day to the place he is now is remarkable. He shared several stories of Divine Providence, of needs being met in unexpected ways by strangers, friends, and family who stood by him in his lowest moments. Truly his life was thrown on the compost heap, broken down, and made new. 

We were only there for 24 hours but I felt as refreshed as if I'd been on a long vacation. JB built a big bonfire Saturday, and we sat around it talking long into the night. The house he and his wife live in is a big country farmhouse, much like the house I lived in from the time I was 12-16. I loved its imperfections--the sloping floors, peeling paint, and worn woodwork--as much as I loved its beauty--the tall bay windows, high ceilings, and hardwood floors. We had a huge country breakfast Sunday morning, went on a tractor ride to a buffalo farm, spent time in the pottery studio making pots, enjoyed a cookout,  and sat on the porch while a storm blew through and sent rain rattling down onto the tin roof.

 

When we left, JB and J loaded us down with gifts--pottery from his studio, scented soaps, photographs. It was like Christmas. My kids are already plotting our return, and I'm eagerly awaiting the restoration of Crack House and the chance to reciprocate their hospitality.

 

July 28, 2008

Misstep

Descending

the stairs

she misses

a step

and the world

beneath her feet

rises up to punish her

with a series of smacks

and thuds

that send her

tumbling into the cellar.

The concrete floor

is cool and gritty under her cheek

stars rise before her eyes

bumps bud beneath

tender flesh

bruises bloom

like pansies

Purple. Blue. Black.

Green.

Darkness sits beside her

and whispers in her ear.

She accepts the heavy covers

it lays on her shoulders

and closes her eyes,

waiting for Strength

to call.

July 24, 2008

Bonnard's Nudes

by Raymond Carver

His wife. Forty years he painted her.

Again and again. The nude in the last painting

the same young nude as the the first. His wife

As he remembered her young. As she was young.

His wife in her bath. At her dressing table

in front of the mirror. Undressed.

His wife with her hands under her breasts

looking out on the garden.

The sun bestowing warmth and color.

Every living thing in bloom there.

She young and tremulous and most desirable.

When she died, he painted a while longer.

A few landscapes. Then died.

And was put down next to her.

His young wife.

July 22, 2008