The magic of old friends

Looking up from my book, I watched a humming bird buzz the pool. A bright orange dragonfly Morning view, Tucsondarted after it. I listened to the quiet, a different quiet from a morning at home. No dog snoring gently, no cars on the street outside. The pool filter hummed on and off. Birds swooped and called as they dashed from fence post to cactus.

Still on East Coast time, I woke early in Tucson. While my friends still slept, I sat out on the patio in the still cool morning sipping coffee, reading a bit, daydreaming. It was delightful. It was restorative. And it wasn’t the best part of the weekend.

As the sun rose higher and the temps soared, my friends came out one by one. A short run. Some yoga. Some lazing. We each did our own thing before breakfast. I made the omelet. Aimee started the bacon. Jen flipped pancakes. Heather and Jemma carried plates and silverware out to the shaded seats on the patio.

I met these women 21 years ago, give or take a couple of weeks, when luck put us in the same dorm during our first year of college. I saw two of these women briefly last year after a long hiatus, but the other two? It’s been nine years in one case, eleven in the other. And in all cases, it’s been no time. Old friends are like that.

We settled into conversations that were years of catching up without feeling like recap. We talked relationships and kids and work. We remembered who we were and figured out who we are.

I’ve been looking forward to this trip all summer, because I needed a break and I was excited to see these friends. I didn’t realize how much I needed to see them.

Being with old friends reconnected me to parts of myself that I had forgotten. I came back refreshed from a full night’s sleep and the quiet mornings by the pool. I came back refilled from the conversations poolside and around the dinner table. I came back refilled by laughter and hugs and knowing these people know me, the Sara I was 20+ years ago, the Sara I’ve been since, the Sara I am now.


Reconnect with an old friend today. Call them, message them, write them. Reconnect with an old friend and see what else you connect with.

How do you reset?

High-pitched gull calls came out of no where, lost in the salty fog. I stood in the grayness, the sea and sky blending so there was no horizon.

I love the ocean on a clear day, stretching far as my eye can see, but I’m not really here for the view. I stand on the beach, now all rounded stones. Flies swarm around piles of seaweed, buzz up around my face for a minute, and then I’m away from them.

The waves roar-crash followed by the clatter rumble of rocks shifting, then the hiss and quiet of the foam sliding back along the stones again. I close my eyes to listen and soak in the rhythm of the waves, the rolling push pull push pull. Roar-crash, rumble, hiss. Roar-crash, rumble, hiss. I breathe in deeply. Breathe out.

I come in the summer for the beach—long days of sun and sand and salty breezes, but it’s not just about the beach. I miss the salt air and the afternoon breezes. I miss the changing colors and moods of the water. I miss the ocean’s energy. I grew up with this energy, flowing around me, running through my veins. I don’t live with ocean everyday any more, and I need a dose of it sometimes to refuel, re-balance, reset.


What’s your reset?

Write with Me Wednesday—Write about how you reset

Right now I’m loving {5}

Right now I’m loving:

  • This gift from my neighbor and its reminder that spring will come eventually

Write What You Love: I love this hope for spring

  • Gaiters and long johns (since spring is no where near here yet)
  • My wonderful neighbors—and their snowblowers
  • These cookies (equally good made with coconut oil instead of butter)
  • Seed catalogs (more spring dreams)
  • Anne Lamott’s Small Victories
  • My moka pot
  • Our latest batch of chili (in a bowl with rice, as a dip for blue corn chips, or on homemade pizza)
  • Seeing people joining me for Write What You Love

There’s still time time to join us. We start tomorrow! Sign up here.
Write What You Love is a free, three-day writing practice

What are you loving right now?

 

 

Reconnect with what you love

What do you love? Write about it and reconnect with the things you love to do. The snow was soft, not crusted over despite the cold, as we trudge-tramped over the parking lot we couldn’t enter with the car, across the field, and up the hill. Trudge makes it sound like hard work, and snowshoeing is work, but enjoyable, rhythmic work.

When we reached the hill, the girls moved steadily up up up. At the crest we turned and looked out over the trail and fields, the late afternoon sun shedding that magical, golden light over the tree tops.

My big girl dropped her mittens; the little one flopped on the ground. I pulled out a narrow silver thermos and poured steaming cups of hot cocoa. The dog dashed and darted sending up snow spray. By the time I turned around, the golden tree tops had turned a dusky purple.

I took a deep, cold breath and smiled. I had almost forgotten that I love snowshoeing. My snowshoes have gotten dusty from little use. The secret to enjoying winter was getting out it in sometimes, but that’s been hard. We’d all manage to get dressed to be out only to have a wet diaper or somebody who needed to go potty NOW. We had little ones crying because they couldn’t walk in the snow that was up near their waist but too impatient and independent to go in the backpack.

But this year? My kids worked on their snow fort today waiting for the school bus. Some days I call them in at near dark. We all go sledding. And now we can all go snowshoeing.

We came back with rosy cheeks and chilly fingers, smelling of cold air. I was energized and yet ready for a good night sleep too. The fire felt especially cozy, that other side of enjoying winter.

Sometimes we need to dust off the things we like to do. If you want to do that, join me for Write What You Love next week. Over three days, we’ll explore in writing things we love and get inspired to get up an do something.

Write What You Love is a free, three-day writing practice

What’s something you love to do that you haven’t done in a while?

Tell me in the comments or use this a writing prompt: I used to love to . . .

On snow and slowing down + pancakes

I love a good snow storm.Snowday Pancakes

I love waking to the quiet, sounds muffled by the blanket of white, even the rumble-scrape-clank of the plow quieted.

I love staying in my pjs late into the morning, savoring my coffee, standing at the counter mixing pancakes, listening to sausage sizzle on the stove.

I love too that my kids can get themselves into snowsuits, hats, boots, mittens with maybe just a little help with the zipper and get out the door to make snowmen and snow forts while I sip a little more coffee, read another chapter of my book.

I love getting out for the clearing, the roar of snowblowers up and down the street, talking with neighbors, the way people help others.

I love my girls’ excitement sledding, though bump that they mostly ignore jolts through me.

I love rosy cheeks coming back in for cocoa and snuggling back into pjs in front of the fire.

We had a snow storm yesterday that didn’t live up to the hype, but it slowed us down. Maybe that’s what I like best about a good snow storm, that slow down, winter’s permission to skip our regular routines and hunker in.

Today, we’re back to normal, almost. School starts late for my big girl, which means school is cancelled for the little one. Maybe they’ll sleep in. Maybe we’ll snuggle and read in front of the fire or they’ll practice their magic or work on a project. Maybe they’ll zip themselves up and get out into the snow long before it’s time to look for the bus. In any case, we have a little extra time today, not the full day stretching ahead of us like yesterday, but two hours to play with before we jump back in to school and work and errands.


 

That extra time on snow days always leads me to a special breakfast—pancakes or waffles, something I wouldn’t do on regular school day. This was our treat from yesterday, using the Fannie Farmer griddlecake recipe as a starting point and using the tiny bit of cider that was hiding in the back of the fridge. Butterfly pancakes would have been a treat too.

Snow Day Spiced Cider Pancakes

1 cup milk
½ cup cider
2 Tbsp butter melted
1 egg
1 cup flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 Tbsp sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
dash nutmeg
¼ tsp cloves
½ tsp salt

  1. Melt the butter in a small bowl (I use a four cup liquid measurer). Add the egg, milk, and cider and mix.
  2. In a larger bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and salt.
  3. Add the wet mixture to the dry and stir just enough to combine.
  4. Heat and grease your griddle. Drop batter by the spoonful on the hot griddle. When the tops begin to dimple, flip them to brown the other side.

 


So I love a good storm. What do you love?
Tell me in the comments—and sign up for Write What You Love, it’s fun and free and starts February 11.

Simple Gifts

I think my favorite gift this Christmas season is wrapped up here. It isn’t for me or even from me. It’s from my big girl to her great-grandmother.

simplegiftsIt’s a crudely sewn cardinal crafted of felt because as she told me earnestly, “Big Nana loves birds, and I think a cardinal is her favorite.”

Big Nana who taught me patiently to sew many, many years ago. Big Nana who sews so neatly you’d think a machine did it—front and back, inside and out. I can’t wait to see her open this little stuffed bird with it’s big, uneven, loving stitches.

We’ve had a flurry of projects here lately. Some were done before Christmas, but since we celebrate with my family closer to New Year’s, we had extra time to wrap up some of this gift making.

I didn’t direct any of it. I offered suggestions when asked and helped locate materials. I threaded needles and knotted the ends of seams. I spelled words and read recipes. And when I found myself frustrated by the frequent requests, I reminded myself that this is the spirit of Christmas, thinking of others, offering something you think they will love, giving of yourself.

So there’s been sewing—a penguin for her cousin because it’s her favorite animal and two pillows because my little girl wanted to get in on all this present making too and felt pillows are what she can do right now. We’ve made a book, molded and baked a clay ornament, braided fleece into a snake, and baked coffee bread.

Quietly one day, by herself, my big girl found one of the pearl beads leftover from her birthday party and a scrap of gold ribbon. She used a glue stick and some clear tape an made me a bracelet.

My bracelet makes me smile with the remembrance her excitement watching me open it. The coffee bread, a favorite family recipe, was received with enthusiasm. I don’t know how they the other gifts will be received. I do know they were made with love and thoughtfulness and care, and there was great joy in making and the giving.

May these simple gifts—the love and caring, thoughtfulness and joy—find you in the new year.


What was your favorite gift this year? What simple gifts do you cherish?

 

Follow up:

Not surprisingly, Big Nana loved her cardinal. She was impressed with the sewing. “You can teach her the overcast stitch next.” I remembered suddenly learning the overcast stitch myself, the word sticking with me. I don’t remember what I was sewing, but I remember sitting in my grandmother’s living room and carrying my project into the dining room so she could rethread my needle for me.

The other gifts were met with kind enthusiasm from the cousins. The kitty ornament my big girl made for her little sister was not met with such kindness. The little one pouted that she wanted a sewn cat, not a clay one. “I’m going to color on it,” she scowled. She hadn’t changed her tune by the time we put away the tree. One of the things I love about putting up the tree is telling the stories behind or different ornaments. This kitty in tea cup has a story to it.