Life As a Pearl

The premise of this post is going to make you jealous, so feel free to just deal with that emotion right now. Eric and I went to Costa Rica for a week and we did all the cool things imaginable. We went zip-lining and hiking and kayaking and rafting and rappelling and canyoning. We saw just-hatched baby sea turtles find their way to the ocean. We ate so wonderfully much arroz con pollo that we didn't look so great in our swimsuits. So yeah. It was awesome and as much as you're happy for us, now you want to do all that cool stuff too. If it helps any at all, we had to sleep with spiders and scorpions and beetles flying at our heads. And don't even get me started on the way howler monkeys are obviously in some kind of competition with roosters and donkeys for waking folks up at irritating hours. Because the monkeys are winning. Hard. Are we better now? Have I evened things out? Because I'd like to get to the point. Which is this: Have you ever seen one of these ...

This morning, I was listening to a story on the radio about a gentlemen who had been brought up in the family business of undertaking. The meat of the story was about the death of his father, and how he had requested that his sons prepare his body for burial. To be honest, I was only half listening. But a specific line caught my attention, and as I often do, I wrote it down to ponder on a later date: We bury our dead, then we become them . In the context of the story, I believe the man was commenting on the inevitability of his own death. Burying his father brought up all the feelings of one's own mortality that you might expect. Nevertheless, his words struck me as more complex than he had perhaps intended. Maybe because I tend to over think things. Maybe because this time of year is marked with the sadness of loss for my family. Maybe I had a premonition. Whatever the reason, I continued to listen to the story, now a bit more carefully, and turned his words over in my mind....

Olivia and I made this sign and people were like, yeah, we'll do that. So then we had to get ready. And there were lots of dresses. But the photographer wanted to take pictures of them without us in them, which makes a person wonder if maybe she isn't doing her beautiful dress any favors. But there were pretty flowers, so that made things feel a little fancier. And while girls were doing all that, boys were doing this: And then Ayana was like, "I've waited long enough. It's time to get married !" So we did. And Ayana thought she should probably say a prayer for all our souls. Then Eric gave her a bracelet and she forgot all about saving us from ourselves. Sarah didn't think that was funny at all. She was worried about us. Or trying not to cry, because Eric made everyone do that. Or concentrating on not dying in the 85 degree heat. Thanks for cranking up that heater, Dad! B...

You can just shut your mouth right now about how long it's been since I've written a blog post, OK? You and I both know (after reading the title of this post) that I'm getting married. Soon. Like next weekend soon. So yeah, I've been busy. That's a pretty combative way for a thank you note to start, isn't it? Maybe we should try again. Hey, you. I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. That's true, but it feels lame. It feels not enough. It feels empty and rote. So let's try again. Hey, you. Remember that time, like almost 10 years ago, when I got married? Remember how you were there and you were happy for me and your support and your gifts meant the world to me? Yeah. I remember that too. And I just want to say I'm sorry I squandered your well wishes and your time on a man who just wasn't the right one. I'm sorry I couldn't inject your love into a relationship in which love was never an option.  I w...

My mom: What can I say? I sent you three cards already, none of which you'll receive today because you're out of the country. Again. Celebrating the freedom of being a mother to adults. Again. But maybe you'll have a chance to read this, so I'll give you a preview: They're all hilarious, because that's the kind of daughter you raised. Which is funny to me because you're very much the kind of person who buys the card written by the guy who gets paid by the word. You're sappy, sentimental, and you made us watch Breathing Lessons on the Hallmark channel because you wanted us to be like you. Epic fail. But that's OK because my favorite thing in the world to do is laugh with you. Taking a close second to laughing at you. (I've got the Jewel CD and a pair of headphones waiting for you whenever you're ready to sing again.) Eric's mom: I'm 100% sure I don't thank you enough for growing Eric up to be the man he is. Even when he w...

So that's Ayana's new thing--reducing herself to tears over these supposed applesauce holes. I'm less interested in the fact that she sees holes (I've long been aware that my child sees the world as if through Picasso glasses) than I am why she's so distraught about them. What's the big deal? It's a question I ask myself a lot these days. Apparently, the answer is everything. With Ayana, everything is a big deal. And because I'm one of those hippy dippy new age parents who believes in positive reinforcement, I spend a lot of my time trying to put a positive spin on my daughter's propensity to make mountains from the hills of moles. And then bury those mountains in applesauce holes so she can start fresh. To be sure, her flair for the dramatic is an exhausting trait. It's hard to watch the love of your life fall off the horse. Or the cow, as it happened on that particular day. It's hard for my rational adult mind to grasp the si...