February Mail

Diana, who reads along here, commented in January that she had found a rock with a heart painted on it, and recently, said heart arrived in my mailbox.  What a treasure she's passed along here!  Sweetly packaged with tiny heart-shaped beads and a pendant and the dearest letter. . . .This made my day.  Thank you again, Diana.  ♥  This little package has been one of the bright spots of this winter. 

On Its Way to a Neighbor

While out walking a couple weeks ago, I noticed the heart-shaped Ivy leaves growing along the front of a house.  I paused to take a few pictures of them, and while crouched down to get the right angle, I heard someone call out, "Is something interesting?"  I felt a momentary flutter of panic then realized I could hear a smile in the voice.  I looked up and saw a woman backing her car into the house's driveway while she waited for my response.  I explained that the Ivy had heart-shaped leaves and that they were too striking not to photograph.  Still smiling, she said she was glad to hear that something on her property was photogenic.  She had been living there for more than forty years, she went on, and it was nice to hear that other people saw things they liked about it.  The property is beautiful, so I easily found more than a couple other "photogenic" things to mention about it.  "Are you a professional photographer?" was her next question.  I explained about my walks and how the camera makes them more fun for me, and as I gestured to her Ivy again, she commented that the picture would make a nice Valentine.  She was quite right, so after making a mental note of her house's number, I had the photo made into a greeting card last week and I mailed it out to her address this morning.  I have been wrong about things like this before, but I am guessing this pleasant person will not mind the surprise. 

Valen-Christmas 2014, or Kindness Toward Self and Others, or Issues: I Have a Few

After Mike and I exchanged cards and gifts Valentine's Day morning, he left to spend the weekend with his family.  Since he hadn't been able to visit them in December, the weekend became a combined Valentine's Day-Christmas (that I deemed "Valen-Christmas") for them.  I had packed a couple gift bags for Mike's family into his rental car, enjoying the opportunity to mix and match Christmas wrapping paper and handpainted Christmas ornaments with Valentine's Day flowers, heart-printed tissue paper, and heart-shaped cherry pies.  Two of my favorite holidays rolled into one this Friday.  

Mike returned Sunday evening with a car full of our Christmas presents from his family, and while our Christmas-in-February was fun, I was more grateful for the gift of his having made it home safely after a few hours of driving on slippery roads.  We usually take advantage of our once-or-twice-a-year car-rentals by heading to a local shopping plaza and stocking up on some things that are easier to bring home with a car, and we had planned both to do that and to enjoy a belated Valentine's dinner out, but when he called to let me know he was back and temporarily parked across the street, his first words were "I hope you're not disappointed, but the roads are awful. . . ."  No, I was not disappointed.  I was relieved, not really feeling like being out on them, or even away from home at all.  He returned the car, ordered a pizza--extra cheese with mushrooms, my favorite--we opened our presents, and we called it a day.  With his being gone and our plans abruptly changed, Valentine's Day didn't feel like it usually does here anyway.  I had sent the Valentine's Day bib to my niece but had mailed only a few cards.  I didn't even bake a cake, having expected us to eat out.  Due to my work schedule and energy level, this past Thanksgiving had the same play-it-by-ear feel.  Sometimes it's just like this. 

When I was younger, even a couple years younger, I would have beaten myself up a bit about these things--I should have made a cake and cookies, I should have knocked his socks off with some beautifully-creative impromptu dinner for us, I should have gotten more mail out, what happened to the homemade heart-shaped gluten-free cookies I was going to send to Mom--but ohhh noooooo.  One of my wishes for my thirty-sixth birthday was to be kinder not only to others, but to myself, as well.  It wasn't just words randomly typed into the text-box here; It's something I always need to work on.  I'll eat junk food in my packed lunches for a few days and spend my lunch money on a gift for someone instead.  I'll skip an extra couple hours of sleep in order to catch up on emails or get a long letter written.  I'll treat Mike to a book or cd he's mentioned but will rarely do the same for myself.  I go through phases and sometime long stretches of taking the time to watch movies and go for my beloved long walks, but spending this time on myself usually takes a backseat to looking out for my loved ones.  (I always make the time for journal-writing and that kind of reflective and prayerful quiet time, so that's in my favor here, at least.)  There is always more (and more and more) I want to be doing for people--and I love doing it--and I'm better at taking care of them than of myself.  It's just one of my issues.  When I mentioned this to my mom years ago, she seemed almost puzzled by the fact that I didn't "get it" and just said, "Well, Vally, there's always more that it would be nice to be able to do for people"--with an implied "???" clearly heard at the end of her statement.  And she's right, but I can be hard on myself and this runs deep with me. 

Almost a year after declaring that I wanted to do better in this regard, though, I can say that I'm getting somewhere.  I'm more likely to allow myself to sleep when I need it.   If I send ten Valentines instead of twenty, life goes on.  My loved ones know I love them even if their cards arrive a day late.  I am finally, in my late thirties, becoming gentler with myself.  I splurged last month and treated myself to a bottle of long-wished-for L'Air Du Temps perfume.  I recently bought myself a couple nightgowns.  I've been watching more movies.  Owning a camera now that can take good pictures outdoors should help me stay on-track with my daily walks.  Slowly, I am finding ways to balance showing love toward others with showing love toward self.   (Why is it just sooooo fun to give to others, though, and such work to take care of myself?!)  When I say that I like growing older, this kind of learning is one of the reasons why.  It is fascinating to me to see how issues that were so big to me ten years ago are no longer things I even think about, let alone "get hung up on," and how characteristics I accept as simply being my personality end up, given enough time, having been just quirks or the way I was during certain stages of my life.  Finding these patterns and putting these sorts of puzzle pieces together:  That's so much of the beauty and benefit and fun of aging. 

After all that, it will likely not surprise you to hear that while I nestled a number of mini heart-shaped pies into tissue paper for Mike's parents on Friday, I also set aside a few for myself.  And that a Valentine's Day that began with wrapping presents for others ended with curling up in a granny square afghan watching movies with Stuffed on my lap. This balance, even if it needs to be re-calibrated from time to time, has been one of the great gifts and lessons of my thirties, and I am most thankful for it.  ♥

Two Pictures of a Pretty Baby

My younger brother sent me the picture above of my newest niece last week, and his wife sent the picture below on Friday.  (I found the bib online and had it delivered as a Valentine gift.  Bianca wears it well.)  Ideally, my niece will grow to become kind and good and strong and funny.  In the meantime, she is the prettiest baby I've ever seen.  I get to see her again next week for the first time since Christmas, and I'm so looking forward to it.  She was three months old yesterday--already!--and looks gigglier and happier in each photo my family shares.  

Darling girl!  ♥

Last Valentine's Day

I pass an elementary school on my walk to work and thus encounter a few crossing guards along the way.  One acts as though she can barely be bothered to return a hello but eventually mumbles one in response as she marches her charges across the street.  Another ignores all pleasantries outright.  "Good morning!" I'll greet her with a smile, adding "You must be so happy it's warmed up!"  She will stare back as though I've offended her and then mutter, "Okay, walk now."  ("Chatty gal!" Elaine would sarcastically comment on "Seinfeld.")  Mike passes the same women the days he walks to work, so he knows. . .and when the subject comes up between us can usually be counted on to say something like "I wouldn't even bother.  You know she's not going to be friendly.  Just cross the street!"  I would rather know that I made an effort even if it went unappreciated, so we agree to disagree on that.  Also, the older I get, the more I seem to possess a perverse determination to be especially nice to people who seem annoyed by it.  One of the local crossing guards makes up for the others, though, taking the time to talk about the weather and traffic and pointing out any icy patches she knows I'll pass in the next block or so of my walk after she guides me across "her" intersection.  Such cheerfulness and thoughtfulness in a job that requires her to be outside and on her feet in all kinds of weather!  When either Mike or I have an anecdote about our walk to work, we know to whom "The Nice Crossing Guard" refers when we say it.  She's just one of those nice people in the neighborhood.  

I didn't have to work last Valentine's Day and finished buying Mike his traditional sweets that morning.  A peanut butter cup heart would have been enough to make him happy, but I added a few other things to my stash for his little treat bag:  A small packet of peanut butter cookies, a chocolate-covered marshmallow heart, and whatever else.  As I headed toward the apartment with my bag of candy in the drizzly cold, I realized "our" crossing guard was likely still at her post, and on the spur of the moment, I decided to find her and wish her a happy Valentine's Day.  When I reached her, I suddenly felt shy and stupid, wondering if she would think this a bit over the top or odd since we only knew each other as crossing guard and pedestrain.  I handed her the marshmallow heart and said whatever I said to wish her a good day, and she was so touched and got such a kick out of it.  "I always take a break mid-morning and sit in my car awhile with coffee I keep in a thermos," she told me as she tucked the little red foil package into a coat pocket.  "Today I'll have something to eat with my coffee!"  Hearing that made me feel better again--in the vein of "Whew!  I'm not an idiot!  She understood and just enjoyed it!"--and even now, a year later, it is one of only a few Valentine's Day moments I've ever experienced that are memorable.  

I am neurotic enough to wonder as I write this if maybe the bolder and more generous act would have been to surprise one of the two cranky crossing guards with the marshmallow heart, and if I had, how that would have played-out--"What happened then?  Well. . .in Whoville they say, that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!"--but giving it to "The Nice Crossing Guard" seemed the right thing to do.  I found a quote awhile back attributed to writer Robert Brault that I love:  "Inner beauty, too, needs occasionally to be told it is beautiful."  That's my defense.  :)  The crossing guard is pleasant to everyone she encounters every day, and that alone is beautiful and marshmallow heart-worthy to me.  

2013's Valentines

I've always thought of Valentine's Day as the highlight of post-Christmas winter.  Just when the season seems endlessly cold and bleak, Valentine's Day arrives with its cozy reds and warm pinks and its gifts of love and flowers and pretty sweets and kind words.  A little girl in my care at work last week put two and two together while we were making cards and exclaimed, "Hey!  Val!  Valentine!  VALentine!"  I told her that the fact that my name is in it was part of the reason I loved this holiday so much when I was her age. 

 I love it now for better reasons, rest assured.  Since I didn't have my first boyfriend or even date until I was 24, my love for the day was never about dolling up for a romantic dinner out or finding the perfect present for a man or any of the other things we're too often told are the point of Valentine's Day.  It is for me a whole week of finding and making cards, catching up on letters, looking up recipes, deciding what to bake and which tablecoth to use, admiring the stores' displays of flowers and sweets, and marching through snow to the post office to send my stamped and stickered greetings.  I set what remains my own record my freshman year of college by mailing 44 Valentines, but even years like this one, when payday was the day after and the holiday was a more low-key affair, simply sitting down with a cake recipe and a few cards, stickers, and stamps before me was enough. 

 I mailed out Aunt Laurie's card and then realized I'd forgotten to include a frog somehow, a Valentine's Day tradition she has graciously come to accept over the years, so I created a second little card and walked back to the post office with it so it would arrive on time.  

Aunt Laurie's own card arrived Thursday and was more of her amazing paper art.  Remember the incredible scrapbook she made for Mike's and my first anniversary last April?  Lately, she has been crafting these house cards--"Cottage Cards by Laurie," she labels them, inside a heart-shaped tag that hangs from the chimneys--with windows and doors that open to reveal images, the recipients' names, and other little surprises.  

 This Valentine's Day's sweetest surprise came from my friend Tina, who is also my friend Sommer's sister.  In a big red heart-covered envelope was not only a long letter, but also recent pictures of her and her family, a handmade fabric Valentine card, and a puffy cinamon-scented fabric heart to hang.  Tina and I have shared the most heartbreaking moments over the years, so to be exchanging happy hearts still twenty years after we met is now the sweetest gift of all--and one that likely delights Sommer.  ♥  Life is such a wild ride. 

 An exchange of cards and a small carrot cake for us here Valentine's night, leftover cake the next few days, and Valentine's Day/Week has now come and gone again.  Love to you all, and here's to a happy March.  ♥

A Giveaway and Six Years of Pretty Little Rough Patches

Six-Year Blog Anniversary Giveaway  ~  Click to enlarge pic.

This month marks six years that I've been writing here.  It was only a mere six months ago, though, that I made the blog public and findable by online search engines.  I Struggle with Shyness:  A post for another day.  :)  It was especially fun and rewarding this past fall and early winter, then, to find comments from new readers in my email inbox--I have all comments emailed to me--and to notice each time another person had found the blog and hit the "Follow" button.  When I learned that big-hearted at Vicki over at 2 Bags Full would be hosting an online blog party today, right before my blogging anniversary, to express her thanks for what blogging has brought into her own life and to help other bloggers meet, I asked to be added to the virtual guest list.  Blogging, even if I've done it quietly and kind of under-the-radar for so many years, has been a sweet thing in my life too, and I share her appreciation of it.  Thank you to Vicki ♥  and welcome to everyone who's visiting here via her party.  :) 

You know how people joke about visiting someone only to have to sit through his/her slide shows of vacations, pets, and family outings?  I'm a person who is thrilled by such things.  Tell me about your best friend from elementary school, your best friend now, the first person who broke your heart, the work you do and the work you want to do, the language you'd love to learn and the lesson you need to learn, the last movie you loved and didn't want to end and the last book you hated too much to finish, the flowers that most remind you of your grandmother, the birthday cake you always bake or buy for your wife, your funniest memory of your grandfather, the dress you'll save forever because you once had a perfect day wearing it, those songs that take you back to high school, that one dog who was your Best Dog EVER, the craziest neighbors you've ever had, and the kindness a stranger showed you the day your child died.  Give me your tired, your poor, your fridges covered in magnet-held family pictures and your scrapbooks bursting open with saved mementos. . . . ♥  Where did you find the piece of driftwood shaped like a seal?!  I love it.  ♥  Is that photo you and your sister when you were kids?!  ♥  Oh!  Your dog by the fireplace Christmas morning!  Look at his FACE!  ♥  Is that sketch of the house that you told me about?  ♥  That has to be your mom's photo above your chair--You look just like her.  ♥  My seventh-grade English teacher always had us spend one class period a week writing journal entries that we would hand in to her to read.  She said that we could write about absolutely anything and that that there was really nothing she didn't think was interesting.  I remember thinking, when I heard her say that, "Well, yeah, I'm the same way."  I hadn't known it until she articulated it, so that realization stuck in my memory.  And now I live in the Age of the Internet and get to see your slide shows and hear your stories this way, and every day, I find someone--and something--else that interests me.  And I love that. 

To celebrate six years here and to thank you for following along, I'm hosting my first-ever giveaway.  Everything (but my beloved old green check tablecloth) in this post's photos will be packed-up and shipped to the winner after I draw his/her name February 1st.  I had fun shopping for all the prizes and love putting care packages together, so this has already added some fun to my own week.  ♥   

The winner will receive: 

• Real Simple magazine's hardcover book Celebrations:  Easy Entertaining for Every Occasion, a big book that's full of ideas for gifts, meals, parties, invitations, and just thoughtful ways to make "everydays" into holidays and "special" occasions even more special
• one of my favorite books, Betty Smith's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn  ~  If you've read it, you know what a treasure it is, and if you haven't, I envy you the fact that you still have your first reading of it ahead of you.  Follow Francie as she grows from an eleven-year-old girl to a post-high school young woman.  I love this girl and her story.  
• the "love issue" of Sandra Lee's magazine, filled with recipes, tablescape and party ideas, Valentine-ey thoughts, and the most beautiful photos  ~  Her magazine is always a feast for the eyes and heart.
• a little book of 23 friendship-related stickers 
• 20 paper napkins covered in cupcakes-decorated-with-hearts
• 8 heart paper plates, also perfect for either Valentine's Day or any day
• 48 pink and red floral die-cut cupcake wrappers
• 4 packets of hot chocolate, each a different flavor
• 3 thinking-of-you-type cards with envelopes 
• 3 Valentine cards with envelopes 
• and 2 red-ink pens because, as some of you guys already know, I add red hearts to almost every piece of personal mail I send.  It's not just a "blog-thing."  ♥  :)

To see larger versions of the photos here, just click on them.  A reader mentioned the other day that it would be helpful if my blog's photos were bigger, but when I post extra-large versions of photos with this blog design/layout, their sides get cut off a little bit--and I really love this design/layout.  (I tried, Jenny!)

To enter, just leave a comment on this post--and please make sure that either your comment or profile gives me a way to contact you if you should win.  Any comment with a date of January19th-January 31st will count, and I'll randomly choose a name and announce the winner here on February 1st.  You don't need to "follow" to enter.  I hope you'll follow if you want to, though, of course.  :)

Good luck!  And a truly warm welcome to you new readers and an equally-heartfelt thank you to those who have been with me either from my very first post in 2007 or since earlier this week.  I've loved sharing the past six years here.  Keep telling your own stories.  Make time for your friends.  Finish and mail the letter you keep meaning to write.  Offer a piece of gum to the person sharing the elevator with you.  Keep putting yourself out there.  Say thank you.  And remember that even when it's rough, life is good and beautiful and worth the effort.  Ride it out.  Find the silver lining.  Go hug your cat.  ♥

xox♥, Val

Happiness is itself a kind of gratitude. ~ Joseph Wood Krutch

I had the pleasure this weekend of cooking breakfast at the restaurant for a dear elderly couple. Friday morning, I answered a number of questions for the woman about what we offered for breakfast, what I could cook for her and her husband, and where she could find various items at the buffet. She was so pleasant and appreciative, but she apologized nonetheless, "I'm sorry. My husband isn't well, and we just need to be careful about what he eats." She would find another potential breakfast item for him and walk back to their table where he was waiting and report her findings, then come back to the buffet and either add it to his plate or return to their table to ask him about something else.

"They have scrambled eggs," she could be heard telling him. "How about some scrambled eggs and an English muffin?" She made the trip back and forth from the table and buffet-area a few times before they decided on his breakfast, and I talked with her while she arranged his plate. She and her husband were in the city for his appointment at the cancer center, she told me. She hoped the center wouldn't be too hard to find, since they had arrived in the very early morning in the dark and during an ice storm. I explained where the center was--right down the street--and wished her and her husband well.

Yesterday morning, the woman and her husband were back in the restaurant, and this time, the husband was well-enough to visit the buffet-area and fix his own plate. The fact that he reminded me so much of Mike's dad made seeing him walking around on his own even sweeter. He, like his wife, was such a pleasure to talk with and help, and when I told him that I could make pancakes, French toast, or waffles if he didn't feel like eggs again, he smiled and said, "Oh, a waffle sounds good! I don't know if I could eat a whole waffle, though." I explained that I could make him a tiny waffle, or a couple tiny waffles, and he turned to his wife and exclaimed, "We should get waffles, then! This is a celebration, after all!" I told him I'd bring the waffles out to him, and as he made his way back to the table, I smiled and said to his wife, "I take it his appointment went well yesterday, since you're celebrating?"

"He's terminal," the woman quietly explained. "We come here for his chemotherapy so we can buy him some time and get our affairs in order. But yes, it did go well yesterday." We talked a few minutes more as she got her own breakfast, and I felt close to tears as I listened to her. I told her I'd keep her and her husband in my prayers, and my mind was filled with thoughts of Mike and his parents and marriage and commitment and love as I made the silver dollar-size waffles.

I arranged a couple of the tiny waffles with still-smaller bowls of maple syrup, strawberry topping, and butter and margarine pats and took them out to the couple. The husband laughed in delight at the presentation and thanked me so kindly, and about an hour later when he and his wife got up to leave, he stopped me as I walked by and said again, "Thank you very much for that. That was really something, really very nice." I thanked them too and wished them well, and my choked-up feeling stayed with me quite awhile back at my cook-station. People are always so much stronger than they think they are, and I have lived through enough broken hearts to understand that life goes on, but there is such sweet wisdom in knowing what that couple knows and still celebrating with waffles.