11.26.01

family togetherness moment at chez young - 

(looking at amaryllis bulb in pot from last year)

dad - "wow! i can't believe how that amarillo plant is growing!"

mom - "god, john, an amarillo is an animal."

hours later in the kitchen, my brother and i were snickering over scotches. (it's our thing) 

mom "you two are eventually going to have to let that go."

sure.

11.20.01

meeting this morning, must look nice and be on toes. i carefully chose the charcoal suit and the camel merino turtleneck, selecting the nicer hose and the new pumps. hair pulled back, makeup in "lets get some serious work done this morning" tones, and the new silver hoop earrings. 
i arrived at my office and began preparations for the meeting. scuttling papers, checking messages, making coffee. i am humming, mulling over the schedule for the day, feeling good, feeling confident, feeling productive.
feeling like i have two hello kitty stickers on the back of my calf, under my stockings. 
hello career mommy.

11.15.01

last night, i re-watched the PBS program War Letters. i watched it twice in one week, and was moved by so many things.

i was listening to am radio on sunday afternoon (am talk radio is an amenity not available in my area. it's not a good as Wisconsin Public Radio Ideas Network, but it's different. i like different.) a man was being interview about his book, War Letters, and his project. (the man is Andrew Carroll.) that evening, i watched War Letters, in between Saving Private Ryan. the eerie serendipitous part of the of the importance of the letters, of the correspondence in both left me shaking.

i wept through both, because i need to. i watch these things because i never want to be anesthetized to them. i want to be horrified because it challenges me to have a moral position.

what touched me was the deep sentiment in each of the letters, where everyman becomes poet and philosopher, reaching out from the depths of uncertainty to someone representing certain solace. 

it was too late to call the man to tell him that i didn't want to wait for something terrible to happen for me to say how i feel. that in moments like saturday afternoon when we were playing cards and you were sitting on my feet and the afternoon sun was coming through the trees and changing in patterns on the wall in the room and the toys and coffee cups of the last few days were strewn about and you kissed me i didn't say anything because i could not find words big enough.

i won't ever have to write a war letter, yet i don't want life to move forward without saying the things that matter. everyone has something in life they love - the other one, or the children or the past or even an ideal. write one today.

the love letter project.

11.12.01

first of all, I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW. but wait! i have excuses! 

really, thank you for the emails and the IM's and the nagging about the lack of updates on the site. but here is how the creative process works for me personally.

this space is for placement of my brand of observation and utterance, which i try to impart with some modicum of wit. this task becomes more difficult when things are not particularly funny.

but i have moved on. i can once again share about the challenges of my career and parenting and self-examination without leaving the reader with a horrifying sense that we are all being perpetuated toward some ill defined black hole of destiny. 

actually, i could simply pre-warn people that i am not particularly fond of the end of october, or the beginning of november for that matter. and it takes me a little time to writhe from the grasp of clutching remembrance.

but i did it. happy day, then.