The wind is trying to tell you something

Something beautiful:

Driving in the downpour, in the loud, cozy darkness of gray, windows shut tight everywhere, doors closed, people tucked in at home. Neko Case's "People Gotta Lot of Nerve" is on and it's the perfect soundtrack for this day. We drive by the Hudson Family Barber Shop, and it's a warm, glowing gem in the gloom, packed with men getting haircuts in old-fashioned barber chairs. The barber shop pole by the door spins blue, red and white.

Else:

My head had just settled into my pillow last night when the name for the novel I have yet to write popped in my head. And the first line of the novel. And the opening scene. Lights have been dim lately. It's a good time to start something.

And:

Madeleine ran to me this morning, holding her hands up. "Mama!" She shouted. "I can't open the door! My hands are too shashy!" "Shashy?" I echoed. "Yeah," she said. "They can't open the door!" Why the word "shashy" doesn't already exist in our lexicon, I don't know, but I'm glad Mad invented it.

Listening: The Coach and Four, "girls arms redux"

Borrowing beautifuls

Something beautiful I experienced today:

Hands down, it's Dallas Clayton's "An Awesome Book." You can read the whole thing at that link, but here's a page:

It made me cry it was so good.

Plus:

Best birthday party EVER.
Blue Sky + Balloons.

Listening: Still Flyin', "Good Thing It's a Ghost Town Around Here"

My mom says I should keep an eye on it.

Something beautiful I experienced on Easter Sunday:

It was late in the afternoon and neither of my girls had napped, so they were acting a bit erratic -- thrilled to be alive one second; the next, they were bemoaning the misery of existence. I was sitting on the couch with both girls clamoring at my knees. Violet let out a sudden cry of frustration and rubbed her face into the top of my thigh, then bit, HARD. I yelped (loudly) and said sternly (also loudly) "Violet! NO! BITING!"

She promptly wailed, mouth open, vicious little chompers gleaming, eyes full of fat, woeful tears, and tried to climb into my lap. Mad, too, burst into tears, face squinched with despair as she successfully climbed into my lap, knocking Violet out of the way and crying in my face, "Mama, are you HAPPY? Maaaamaaa! Are. You. HAAAAPYYYY?"

I stared for a second in bewilderment, wondering where to even begin. I decided Mad was the easiest to calm, so I looked her in the eye and said (falsely), "Yes, Mad, I'm happy. See? It's okay!" And she stopped crying.

I grabbed Violet and pulled her into my lap, and after a moment, she calmed, too.

Less than a minute later, they were both settled comfortably, Mad at my left, Violet on my right. Mad said, "Lightning McQueen," with a contented sigh. (Lightning McQueen is currently my alter ego, according to her.) Violet was fast on her way to dozing off.

I decided this was the perfect metaphor for motherhood, all pain and angst one second, all tender and sweet the next. Sometimes all at once. It's a wonder we don't split at the seams, too full of extremes. It's a wonder that these threads that tie us are strong enough to withstand that, the constant flux of great and terrible, of that middle ground where nothing is sure except that you are theirs and they are yours and it's enough to keep you going. More than enough.

Later, I checked the bite and saw that rabid little monster drew blood with that bite, THROUGH MY JEANS. This is the same little girl that spins in circles in the living room, saying, "Wheeee" over and over again. What are you gonna do?

Listening: happy apple, "Calgon for Hetfield"

Nothing could be prettier than this

Today was tough.

One beautiful thing I experienced today:

Typing out everything that sucked about today, then deciding none of it really matters, and deleting it.

Because there was a dearth of good stuff today, I will borrow the rest of my something beautifuls:

How to be an explorer of the world.
Pink dresses.
Yours and yours and yours. Encores.

Also:

Orange dresses.

Listening: Kate Micucci, "Walking in Los Angeles"

Easy enchiladas

One beautiful thing I experienced yesterday:

The phrase "crippled summer" and the lyric "anatomy to me is a homesick stomach and a broken heart" from these guys. See also: "naked swan-necked girls, your arching backs to the sun."

Plus:

The lying spring day. From the inside, all you see is deep blue sky and an abundance of green. Outside, it's all cold wind that makes you gasp and little daughters laugh at the way their hair whips in the onslaught.

And some more:

Wild onions dotting side trails at the park.

Also:

Enchiladas for dinner - leftover mesquite-roasted turkey, onions, salsa and cheese. So easy and so very yum.

Listening: Hexes & Ohs, "Wildfire!"

Small dreams too big

One beautiful thing I experienced today:

The cashier at Target, who had to be some kind of clairvoyant. As she rang my items, she said, "You have two kids, yes?" Since I was flying solo just then, I stared at her in surprise. "Yes, how did you know?" She gestured vaguely to my items, as though they had clued her in. I had purchased a package of empty Easter eggs and some candy.

A few minutes later, she was handing me $10 cash back. As she pressed the bill into my palm, she said, "You aren't going to cook; you're going to buy some food with this." Again with the shock, because I had gotten the $10 so I could buy a hot dog from the cafe.

I wanted to clutch her hands and beg, "Tell me, how does it all end?" But I decided it was better not to know.

Other:

We took the girls for a walk today and navigated the rocks and mud to traipse in the creek bed. Where the dirt was dry, the ground was cracked and dusty; closer to the water, the ground was thick and sticky. Grasshoppers flew all around us; little aphids scattered. Tadpoles and minnows mingled near the shore of the creek and little frogs jumped everywhere. Baby snakes slithered from the shore and cut fluid, winding lines through the water.

I lumbered awkwardly to the ground, walking boot thrust in front of me, already caked with mud. I had planned to look for "shark" teeth, those tiny little fish teeth that hide in the sandy ground near creeks just like this one. I pulled a rock from the ground for digging, and as the dry dirt flaked in clumps where the rock was, a smell wafted up to me, a low, sweet smell of decay, of dirt, of stagnant water, and for that second I was nine-years-old again, alive with the possibility of finding something amazing there in the dirt, maybe a petrified jaw with many teeth on it, maybe a tooth as big as the bed we were standing on.

Listening: Samantha Crain and the Midnight Shivers, "Rising Sun"

When spring is cold and uninviting

Beautiful things:

Winds so strong baseball caps are snatched from heads; a bald man chases his through the parking lot.

Other:

When I asked my daughter what she wanted to have for dinner, she thought for a moment, then shouted, "Gummy worms!"

And then some:

Listening: Buck 65 feat. Jenn Grant, "Paper Airplane"