I'm a little obsessed with Supergirl.
Entries from February 1, 2008 - March 1, 2008
a love letter to the lone star state
Dear Texas,
Today is your day. From the panhandle to the coast, from El Paso to Beaumont, proud Texans are celebrating you on this special Go Texan Day. There are other official state holidays, but c’mon, this is really your big day. We’re especially excited in Houston, because Go Texan Day means it’s time to rodeo! We will make trip after trip to the largest rodeo in the world. We’ll swoon at the sight of folks like Tim McGraw and Faith Hill, we’ll dance to Tejano music and eat too much funnel cake at the carnival. We can’t wait!
Texas, you’re not the only home I’ve ever known, but you’re the only place I’ve ever called home. Like my parents, I was born here and I’ll die here. Steve and I will explore you with our children, like we did with our parents. We’ll camp in Big Ben, fish in the Gulf of Mexico, wade through creeks in the Hill Country, chase tumbleweeds in Amarillo, dance at Gruene Hall and count the stars from tents in our backyard.
We’ll visit the State Fair in Dallas, we’ll smash cascarones at Fiesta in San Antonio and we’ll take Ellen and Charlie on lots of road trips to Austin so they can see why we love the University of Texas, live music and BBQ from The Salt Lick.
Texas, you really are one of the great loves of my life.
And, for that reason, I have to tell you that I’m struggling. I’m drawn to your fierce independence, but ignoring the truth of interdependence is dangerous. You seem to refuse to accept the fact that we are all inextricably connected to each other. The Eyes of Texas need to open wider and focus more clearly on our shared humanity.
We have the largest prison population in the country and lead the US in executions. Our most vulnerable Texans – the poor, the sick and elderly – are hurting. Texas almost always has the highest number of uninsured children and working poor families in the US. Across the state, the serious shortage of mental health services has turned into a real crisis. We're not taking care of our own.
And now, just today, I read in Newsweek that if Texas were a country, it would be the world's eighth-largest emitter of the greenhouse gas carbon dioxide. The stars at night may be big and bright, but how long we’ll we be able to see them from the heart of Texas?
These are NOT problems that we can back-slap, belly laugh or “Aww shucks” away.
I love you, but things have to change.
See that little cowboy at the top of the page? See him right here, sitting in my lap this morning at his school's Rodeo Round-up? I’m raising him and his beautiful sister in this great state.
I’ll do my part, but I need your help. We are big-hearted, kind and capable people, so, as we say in these parts, “Let’s grab the bull by the horns!”
Love,
Brené
born in San Antonio
schooled at the University of Texas-Austin
married at 100-year-old honky-tonk on Cibilo Creek
make a living at University of Houston
birthed two kids at Texas Medical Center
raising a family in Houston
playing in the hill country
I’ll do my part, but I need your help. We are big-hearted, kind and capable people, so, as we say in these parts, “Let’s grab the bull by the horns!”
Love,
Brené
born in San Antonio
schooled at the University of Texas-Austin
married at 100-year-old honky-tonk on Cibilo Creek
make a living at University of Houston
birthed two kids at Texas Medical Center
raising a family in Houston
playing in the hill country
fishing in Port Aransas
finding faith, hope and love under the Texas sky
finding faith, hope and love under the Texas sky
Brené Brown
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Printlove thursday
On this Love Thursday, you'll find us knee-deep in cookies and singing about beluga whales.
Earlier this week, Charlie came home from school singing, "Baby beluga in the deep . . . grunt, pout, frustration. I don't know mama. More grunting. What is that song?"
I tried to find our old Raffi CD, but no luck (it's hard to keep track of these things when your kids are six years apart). Right when I was ready to give up, Ellen said, "Google it!" We found this great video on YouTube, with real beluga whales, no less. I took several pictures of Charlie watching, but my favorite is this one. I love how his little mouth and cheeks gear up for the "ba-looooo-ga."
Ahhh, perspective.
photo school drop-out
A few weeks ago, I wrote a post on giving up my fear of photography for Lent. I'm not sure what I was thinking, but it was something along the lines of cultivating joy and reconnecting with my creative side, blah, blah, blah.
I took the first of my four classes last Saturday. It was six hours of apertures and f-stops. The theme for this Intro to Photography class was "Shoot in raw. Only in manual. Always with a tripod."
My mom and I sat in the back with the other icon-dependent Sweathogs: “Ooh-ooh-ooooh! Mr. Kotter! Can I use the running man icon at my kid’s soccer game?”
I left that class thinking, “It's a frickin' miracle that I've ever taken a decent picture in my life.”
When I got home, I put my camera away (I thought possibly for good) and stuffed my homework in my overflowing "to be filed" basket. On Monday, I called and cancelled the rest of my classes.
Where is Frankie Avalon when you need him . . .
Your story sad to tell,
A middle-age ne'er do well,
Most mixed up non-crafter on the block!
Your future's so unclear now,
What's left of your creativity now?
Can't even get a trade in on your smile!
Angels: (La lalala lalala lalala...)
Photo school dropout,
No graduation day for you.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way in a classroom. But, I guess it’s been a long time since I’ve been a student. As a college professor, my class experiences all happen from the other side of the desk. I had lost touch with the feelings associated with “not getting it.” I forgot what it feels like to have your enthusiasm and eagerness crushed by the awkwardness of being new at something.
This was a good experience for me. Teaching is incredibly important to me and I believe that classrooms are sacred spaces, regardless of what is being taught. My experience as a struggling student was a good reminder that honoring eagerness and excitement is as important as imparting information.
More than anything, it’s good for me to be new at something. I need to be in that miserable place where I want to rationalize away my desire to learn and push back the temptation to just quit and go back to something I know. Being new at something can suck. But, it also serves as a great reminder of how hard people work at their craft.
It’s easy to get frustrated when I go visit the Shutter Sisters site and see all of the beautiful pictures. I need to remember that they are artists at work. Yes, they seem to really enjoy it, but that doesn’t discount those two words - work and art.
I spend hours admiring the work of people like Ali Edwards and Amanda Soule . I want to wake up and be able to put something together – anything – that looks like they've had a hand in it. But my stuff is terrible. I just bought my first glue gun (yes, that’s sad). Every single crafty thing I’ve tried to make looks crappy. There’s glue drool everywhere. It’s good for me. I need to remember how much work and talent there is in their craft. I admire it because it’s wonderful and artful. That’s work.
I want to jump on SquareSpace (which I love) and whip up amazing things like Krystyn Heide does on her site. I get frustrated when I can’t make things work and wonder how she does it. Then I remember, oh yea, she’s been doing this for years. She works at it (it's literally her job). Everyday.
We had a lovely spring preview in Houston on Sunday – sunny and 85. I pulled out the camera, put away my fear and crawled around the yard taking pictures. At one point I was actually lying on my stomach, camera in hand, yelling, "Shit. It's a bee," while Farrah was on the other end of my cell phone explaining (for the third time), "No, the hole gets smaller as the numbers get bigger." Farrah (my good friend and photographer extraordinaire) is helping me learn in a way that feels fun and exciting. She’s even posting her lessons. Check it out!
I put together this little spring mosaic of my favorite four yard pictures (I took over 30 pictures and it took me 2 hours to figure out how to use Flickr). 4 out of 30 isn’t very good and the blooms are still small, but at least I know there’s somewhere for all of us to grow!
I'm grateful for the artists like the Shutter Sisters, Ali, Amanda, Krysten and Farrah who share their work and their ideas. Their blogs are also sacred classrooms.
Before I sign-off, I need to thank Jen Lemen and Rachelle Mee-Chapman - two teachers who are strangers, but have managed to be very supportive as I attempt to reclaim my inner crafter. Their Small is Beautiful Manifesto is so powerful that I decided to join the movement (see my Passionate Blog badge on the left navi bar).
Here it is:
We believe stories are valuable, no matter how many people read them.
We believe following your passion is more important that watching your site meter.
We believe in the handmade, the first try, the small start, and the good effort.
We believe that small is beautiful.
We believe stories are valuable, no matter how many people read them.
We believe following your passion is more important that watching your site meter.
We believe in the handmade, the first try, the small start, and the good effort.
We believe that small is beautiful.
Today I'm grateful for surviving being new at teaching, writing and running. Those were all so scary and painful (and can still be).
And, I'll reconsider trying the things I'd love to do if I didn't have to be new, like yoga, scrapbooking and photoshop.
Care to share? Are you grateful for not being new at something? Your survival story might help us!
Is there something you'd love to try if you didn't have to be new?
a tale of two lovies . . .
"It was the best of mom ideas, it was worst of hiding places,
it was the age of being independent, it was the age of needing his Night-Night"
I normally wouldn't mess around with Dickens, but it is Love Thursday!
Here's the story. When I was pregnant with Ellen, my dad bought her a squishy, pink, cloth doll. She grew to love this doll, and she named it "Soft Baby." She has slept with Soft Baby every night of her life, including nights at Oma's house, sleepovers, and zoo campouts.
Several years ago, before Charlie was a glimmer, we lost Soft Baby in the Phoenix airport. For one hour, we scoured restrooms, concourses and waiting areas. Several times during the search, Steve had to grab me by the shoulders and say, "Pull yourself together! She's watching you." I was devastated.
As I crawled under chairs and tables, I kept thinking about an article that I read in graduate school. The article, written for folks working in the area of child abuse and neglect, explained how important it is for parents to show love and respect for their children's special dolls, blankets, and lovies. It made so much sense to me. I'm a sucker for connection, so I think (and hope) I would have done that intuitively, but understanding it from a research perspective has really helped me in my parenting research.
Of course, I’m not talking about emotionally investing in every Webkinz that makes it way into our house (although I do have a thing for the chubby penguin). But, I really do believe that those special dolls, and the relationships that our children establish with them, should be respected and valued. It sends children the message, "If it's important and valuable to you, it's important and valuable to me."
Luckily, we found Soft Baby stuffed in the zipper compartment of my carry-on bag. Ellen thought she had “smothered to death” so I re-fluffed her and gave her CPR (seriously). Reunited and it felt so good.
When we got back to Houston, I set out to find a back-up Soft Baby. The idea of losing her again was just too stressful. I looked high and low, but no luck. We ended up taking Soft Baby to the veterinarian’s office and having a GPS tracking micro-chip implanted. Relax, I'm kidding.
Fast-forward to Charlie and his love affair with Night-Night, the monkey lovie. Somewhat traumatized by what we refer to as the Arizona Soft Baby debacle, I bought a back-up chimp.
Steve went along with the understudy monkey on one condition: "The monkeys must live in parallel universes. They must never be out at the same time and, for God's sake, man, Charlie must never know." Yes, Captain.
Two weeks ago, Charlie found the back-up monkey. The three little guys are as thick as thieves (and equally mischievous). Last night I tried to explain that we only need one Night-Night, but Charlie set me straight, "Charlie loves two Night-Nights. Not one. We friends. We nice to friends, right Ma-Ma?"
Anyone got a barrel?
As I crawled under chairs and tables, I kept thinking about an article that I read in graduate school. The article, written for folks working in the area of child abuse and neglect, explained how important it is for parents to show love and respect for their children's special dolls, blankets, and lovies. It made so much sense to me. I'm a sucker for connection, so I think (and hope) I would have done that intuitively, but understanding it from a research perspective has really helped me in my parenting research.
Of course, I’m not talking about emotionally investing in every Webkinz that makes it way into our house (although I do have a thing for the chubby penguin). But, I really do believe that those special dolls, and the relationships that our children establish with them, should be respected and valued. It sends children the message, "If it's important and valuable to you, it's important and valuable to me."
Luckily, we found Soft Baby stuffed in the zipper compartment of my carry-on bag. Ellen thought she had “smothered to death” so I re-fluffed her and gave her CPR (seriously). Reunited and it felt so good.
When we got back to Houston, I set out to find a back-up Soft Baby. The idea of losing her again was just too stressful. I looked high and low, but no luck. We ended up taking Soft Baby to the veterinarian’s office and having a GPS tracking micro-chip implanted. Relax, I'm kidding.
Fast-forward to Charlie and his love affair with Night-Night, the monkey lovie. Somewhat traumatized by what we refer to as the Arizona Soft Baby debacle, I bought a back-up chimp.
Steve went along with the understudy monkey on one condition: "The monkeys must live in parallel universes. They must never be out at the same time and, for God's sake, man, Charlie must never know." Yes, Captain.
Two weeks ago, Charlie found the back-up monkey. The three little guys are as thick as thieves (and equally mischievous). Last night I tried to explain that we only need one Night-Night, but Charlie set me straight, "Charlie loves two Night-Nights. Not one. We friends. We nice to friends, right Ma-Ma?"
Anyone got a barrel?
How 'bout a good lovie story?
what's your six-word memoir?
If you haven't heard about the six-word memoir, you need to check out Smith Magazine and their latest book, Not Quite What I Was Planning. There's also a great story on the six-word phenomenon on NPR.
After giving much thought (and too much time) to my six words, I came up with these:
My personal journey:
I am my only unique contribution.
My work:
Telling our stories changes the world.
My truth:
Writing keeps my head from exploding.
My day today:
Finding six words instead of working.
I'd love to read your six-word memoirs! I will warn you that this exercise can quickly turn into an obsession and suck away as much time as a Law & Order marathon.
Leave your six-worders in the comments or a link to your blog if you've posted it there!