Remember that One Time?!

Here is a fun little game...Leave a comment on my blog of a memory that you and I have had together. It doesn't matter if you've known me for a short time, or a long time, anything you remember! Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you.On your mark...get set...blog your memories!!

Today

Today I rode the bus with a blue ironing board into the city. People sort of half smiled at me. Got to the place I had previously decided to register voters when a nice police man told me I needed a permit to be on the square. So I picked up everything and sought new territory.

At a street corner, a voice said, "Hello girl with an ironing board!" And I met him. Name was Breece. He worked for Green Peace, an organization devoted to saving the environment. "Every day a football field of the boreal forest is chopped down to make kleenex. And one box of kleenex took 90 years to grow," he told me. And his kindness couldn't be shrugged away so as he led me to the next hoppin' corner I agreed to save the planet with him.

Registered 9 new voters on that corner. Met a Pete and a John and some European teenagers (all of whom cheered over my Obama pin!). Gave away oreos and humored many with my blue ironing board. I couldn't not smile. Oregonians are so fabulous. People gave me the thumbs up all day. Several people checked in on me. "How's business?," they'd ask after walking back my way. One man told me my set up was the best he'd seen in 40 years. Maybe he just thought I was cute. But maybe it had something to do with the character of an ironing board and a hand made sign, a big smile and a plate of oreos melting in the sun.

It's grass roots. It's the change coming from the bottom up. And today I couldn't help but think of the future (something I'm trying really hard not to do), when I can tell my grandchildren that I stood on street corners with a blue ironing board, registering voters to reclaim our country. When I can say I volunteered with the Barack Obama campaign and the children think wow and know in their hearts that that means something special.

Journeying home, I caught a refracted bit of myself in the bus window smiling about it. Ah, today. Not just a turn of earth but a time of life. A time of life never to be forgotten. A time of life to ever love.

People I Miss and Love Beyond Measure

These guys

Sisters

McConks

Ali

Mom and Gaylen the Beloved

I Like This Stuff

These are sweet, huh?

I found a majority of these pictures on a blog of a stranger. I love what she writes and posts. This comes from a great post on simple baby clothes. "The simpler, [they are] the better," she writes. I agree. I'm in love with the look.

I adore this black piano, even though I've never played.

My kids will though.

And maybe I will too!

I like how organic and tender and stylish this looks.

It's granola chic.

A Room Full of Strangers

Today I spoke to 50 people about America.

This country means justice and liberty and living dreams.

We are remembering who we are.

And in the process I'm discovering myself.

Happy Birthday dear USA.

I've never really realized how much I love you until today,

the day I tried to verbalize it to a room full of strangers.

To Home and Heaven

We are selling our beloved house. But our beloved home travels with us; she's called mother.
I will miss the claw foot tub. That's where my sweet heart washed my feet. I will miss the porch swing too. That's where he and I wished on rose petals and talked about the universe. I will miss the green sofa by the windows in the sun. That's where we read novels and watched Cars.

Perhaps in those memories lies the reason why I dread moving this time around. I love change. But moving has never really changed things for me. I've always had the same home. She makes our house into our home.

But this house means Marc to me I think. Every little room is painted with our old laughter, prayers, and thoughts. I hear the echoes of our voices there and just knowing that he used to be in the same space seems to make him more real to me.

But let go! Let go! Houses are interchangeable. Homes remain in our souls. My mother makes home. My Marc makes heaven. They are both welded to my heart. And I find comfort in the truth that they both go on forever.

I love change. But mostly I love those people and places that never can. So here's to Home and Heaven!

Road Trip!