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Twisters, Lakes, and Studios
My mom has always wanted to learn
to kayak. Just paddle away into the
distance on her own. And this weekend,
she finally did. She said "if not now, when...
I'm not getting any younger." And I just
smiled and watched her strap her new
kayak to the car, drive it down to the lake,
and shove it in. She then paddled to the
other side without even looking back.
It was a proud moment. And it made me
think...this growing and challenging
ourselves thing never ends. We just keep
making new wrinkles. I really like that.
I brought VInce with me to the lake to
see her paddle off. He's never been to
a lake before and was fascinated with
all the seaweed-covered rocks, minnows
and snails. And he was properly introduced
(I think they liked each other):
But the weekend didn't end there. Oh no.
Driving home, the weather wasn't looking
so good. The sky was dark and fickle.
It rained. It stopped. The wind pushed us
around. It went away. It was very unnerving.
We arrived home safely and watched out
the windows as the sky grew darker and
darker. The winds picked up and and the
trees started dancing violently. The lights
flickered on and off and suddenly the
streetlamps blew out with sparks flying.
We ran to the basement just as a tornado
trampled down our street, pulling out trees
by the roots.
We were so lucky. There was no structural
damage to our house. The only thing we
lost was our flimsy gazebo in the yard. It
was struck by lightning and mangled like
it was a rubberband. Up the street, our
neighbors weren't so fortunate. Holes in
their roof. Trees uprooted. Powerlines
down. Luckily, no one was hurt. But it's
frightening what nature is capable of
at a whim.
Last (and kind of least), the rest of the
weekend was spent cleaning up after
the tornado and working on the house.
I also worked on my studio plans
a little bit. It's coming along slowly, but
I'm sure I'll come up with a space where
I want to be and work...let ideas flow.
Yesterday evening I sat outside at a little
corner cafe and read a book, wrote in my
journal, and listened to the bustle around me.
There was a table of girls sitting near me who
were screeching and squeaking congratulations
to each other. And for some reason, it didn't
annoy me. It made me happy that they had
something to celebrate. A little further away was
a table of old men who had already tipped a few
and were being loud and boisterous. And at first
I was miffed. But then I realized that they were
just having fun comparing beer bellies and
competing for best Santa-look-alike. And it made
me smile. I delved into my book and just took
in the atmosphere and felt my cares melt away.
It was what I needed.
I love finding and then giving myself what I need.
When I'm so bogged down with an issue or a problem
that I feel like my heart will come out of my chest
and then stumble upon the thing that makes me calm...
it's such a blessing. It's like drinking icy lemonade
on a humid summer day. So lovely.
So, this weekend, I wish that cold lemonade feeling
for you. I hope you find something that makes you
put things into perspective and find peace.
I wan't going to mention this because I thought
it may make other people weary of marriage...but
I decided that I would have rather known that not.
I wish someone would've told me about post-nuptial
depression. Well, I guess depression is kind of a
strong word. It's more post-nuptial slumpiness.
The wedding was wonderful (scroll to May 16th)
(I still don't have pictures back from the photographer).
The reception was lovely as well (I'll tell you about the
pies later). The honeymoon was simply tremendous.
It's not so much that I'm mourning all the planning and
doing for the wedding. I'm actually glad that is done.
I don't feel a void with that...no "what do I do now".
Because, believe me, I'm one busy-lope.
It's the return to normal life. Everyday existence,
Monday through Friday. And it's difficult. It feels wrong
to be trapped by deadlines and "have-to's". It feels
unnatural to work when you don't feel like it.
And I was having a real hard time getting back into
the swing of things. Days felt too long. Too boring.
Too trapped. I wanted to escape.
I couldn't understand why people work so much. They work,
they go home, they stare at the TV, they sleep. They get up
and do the exact same thing the next day. What kind
of existence is this? Flourescent lights. Gray cubes.
Watercooler talk. I felt sick.
But I will tell you...it's starting to pass. I am slowly coming
around and feeling better. I realize it's not really like that
all the time. People have work friends. Find little things in
the day to smile about. Everyday doesn't seem as tedious
and long as it did a week ago. It's not a-ok yet, but I'll give it
some time. And maybe go celebrate something.
Dumb old post-nuptial slumpiness. Be gone.
Just playing around in my sketchbook the other
night and this guy fell off the tip of my pencil.
I don't really know where he came from. I didn't
intend to draw him. He just kind of appeared.
I think I'll name him Billy. Or Trent. Yeah, Trent's
better for him.
I'm really happy because I finally finished my old
sketch book. There is no more room on any of
the pages. I'd even started drawing over older
sketches. So, I get to start a new book. I always
love this. And I always start on the second page.
For some reason that is less intimidating to me.
I can fill in the first page later with a cut out or
a quote or a found object...ooh, the possibilities.
Lately I've had ants in my pants. I feel so energetic
with nowhere to go. I get flashes of inspiration that
make me want to jump up, grab some charcoal
and streak across the room. I get story ideas that
come to me like lightning and leave just as quickly.
I'm having a hard time capturing all of it. I decided
that I would do what I could and just try to write
down the rest for future dry spells (look at me
being all zen-like...ha!).
During the trip to Ireland I kept a travel journal.
It was one of those things that is easier said
than done. I was in the moment the entire trip:
looking at the scenery, taking in the feeling...
It was hard to remember to record it. So, what
you'll see is more of an interpretive travel journal,
drawn mostly from B&B rooms and our tiny car.
I hope you enjoy it.
Click here for the Penelopian Travel Journal
And you?
Letter to myself:
Dearest Penelope,
You have permission to let go a little. Just loosen
your grip a bit. Allow yourself more time. You are
back from your honeymoon for all of 5 days and
already you are trying too hard to get things done.
Let yourself ease back into the groove naturally.
It's challenging to pick up exactly where you left off
when you've had a shift in perspective...a chance
to see how other people live and think and do.
Don't worry about this self-set deadline or getting
that done by this time. There's no rush. It will be
better if you let it simmer for a bit anyway. Think
about it. Swim in it.
The desiderata says "Whether or not it feels like it,
the universe is unfolding as it should." So, while
that doesn't mean sit down on your hands and
wait for it to fall in your lap, it does give you
permission to relax and let things happen.
My advice: Nap when you are tired, eat when you
are hungry, walk when you need perspective, and
for god's sake...relax.
Love,
Your Higher Self
It's hard to get back into one's routine when
one returns from such a long and wonderful
vacation. My mind still floats to the cliffs of Moher,
the green of the hills...the comfortable bed and
breakfasts.
I've experienced a few blows since I've been
back. Some things I wasn't expecting and I
was hoping for that didn't pan out. It's hard to
be slapped right away and just have to deal
with it. So I'm just avoiding thinking about it...
letting my mind go to a better place.
The travel journal is finally shaping up...won't
be too long until you can join me on my journey.
I am still waiting for all the wedding photos to return from
the photographer. I am also still plugging away at scanning
the travel journal (these things take time!). So, in the
meantime, I will tease you with this snapshot of beautious
Ireland. This is Dun Aengus on the Aran Islands. There are
no fences, no gates, no safety signs...It's just you and your
potential suicide face to face. What is that invisible force
pulling you to the very edge of giant cliffs?
The Wedding Day
The wedding day forecast promised bright, sunny,
65 degrees. Now I don't know who's running
the show over at the weather channel, but they
should be fired. Looking out the window, the sky
looked heavy and sorrowful, just pregnant with rain.
And it delivered. A chilled, gray drizzle that never
let up. I couldn't believe it. I stared out the window
as I ate my raisin bran just praying and pleading
for it to pass quickly. But it never did.
As I got ready I kept repeating "this isn't how it's
supposed to be", "this isn't how it's supposed to be".
I proceeded to put my hair up. I slid my veil carefully
into the bun. I applied a little makeup. I burrowed
into my dress and slipped into my flip flops. Lastly I
got out my pink pashmina and put it around my
shoulders (I was hoping I wouldn't need it).
Ready to go. Still raining.
We got the the park and all the white chairs were
set up in their perfect little rows. They were dripping wet.
People can't sit on dripping wet chairs. And I couldn't
get out of the car for two reasons: one, of course, it
was raining pretty hard now; and two, my dress was
so poofy, getting out of the car required a ton of effort.
I was like a giant cotton ball.
I remembered that on the other side of the park
was the pagoda. The pagoda is a pretty structure and
more importantly, it had a roof. We could just move
the chairs over there and dry them off. It was a plan.
My brother and the other groomsmen started stacking
chairs and putting them in all the big vehicles they
could find. Until the park security came around.
"No way can we move the chairs. They aren't to be moved,"
they said. No. They couldn't even be persuaded with
a checkbook.
What else was there to do?
All the guests would have to stand.
We moved the wedding over to the pagoda. Someone
stayed behind to redirect traffic. Guests started arriving,
looking confused and sorry that it wasn't going according
to plan. I was still in the car, closing my eyes and centering
myself. It was okay. Just roll with the punches, right?
After what felt like an hour of waiting and wondering
what was going on, it was time to go. Colin and I quickly
followed the wedding party up the sidewalk and under
the pagoda. All the guests were standing together closely
for warmth. And then I felt overwhelmed with joy. Everyone
I knew and loved was there. They all smiled at me.
Colin and I held onto each other and walked through the crowd.
And then the wedding ceremony proceeded. The celebrant
was wonderful. She made a light-hearted comment about
the cold and asked if everyone could huddle around for
warmth and to hear. And they did. They were only 3 feet away,
and it was like being surrounded by love. There was an
opening prayer and a moment of silence, a short message
followed by a song by our dears friends Evan, Grace and
Charlie. That's when I got teary-eyed. I tried to hold it in
until I looked around and saw my mother. It was over. I let go.
Next up my brother read the Apache Prayer. He had to
pause a few times to regain composure. He's an officer
in the marines, and one of the most tender hearted
people I know. It was almost as if his tears were permission
for everyone else to cry as well. It was beautiful.
My heart was pounding when it came to the vows. All I could
see was Colin's blue eyes. We held each other's hands tightly.
He said them first. I held my breath with every word.
Tears slid down my face and I felt energy surge through me.
I was no longer cold.
I went next. I felt like my voice came from somewhere behind me.
I was almost hoarse with emotion. But I got through it. I pushed
the ring onto his finger and looked into his eyes. I felt like were
were the only two there at that moment. It was silent and still.
I don't remember the celebrant saying kiss the bride.
But we kissed each other and held on as she pronounced us
husband and wife.
Instead of having a processional and walking out then, she
opened up the floor for hugs. Everyone was so close, it just
felt perfect. I turned around and hugged my mom first and
then my brother. Each time I hugged someone I got choked
up again. It was messy and cold and intimate. And so beautiful.
What started off as somewhat of a disaster turned out to be
better than the original plan. It was more intimate and heartfelt
and us... Now that I think back on it, I can't imagine it any other way.
I think it may be telling of my life, and our life together.
There's always a plan or some path in mind. And things
don't always work out according to that plan. And it happens
that way for a reason.
It's beautifully imperfect.
Has it been two weeks already? I have
some serious jet lag as of now. So, after
I get some rest I will tell you all about
the beautiful, romantic, scary-as-hell,
learning experiences of the honeymoon
in Ireland. Oh, and all about the wedding
disaster-turned-wonder.
And I'll show you my travel journal...as is.
Sweet dreams...
I'm off to get married. Be back in
two weeks with more stories to tell.
I'll miss you!
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© Penelope Illustration. Stealing
is not nice. |
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