284, 285

284: Here's a funny thing. On the cover of Mary Margaret Mary Christmas, Mary Margaret's eyes are blue. On the cover of the other three books, her eyes are brown. No one caught this until I had that cover added to the loop of covers that runs on the front page of my website, and that's when it became obvious. I'm pretty sure it's too late to change her eye color on the actual cover (the book is already at press), but Ruth, the woman who updated my site, said she could make MM's eyes brown on the cover on my site. I'm grateful that Ruth, through the wonders of technology, was able to restore MM's eyes to their rightful color.

285: My sister Margaret's flight arrived--and not even that late! I'm grateful she made it. One sister down, three to go, before everyone gets here for the Saturday wedding.

282, 283

282: Our church has been without a co-pastor for about a year. I'm grateful that today the congregation voted to offer the job to the leading candidate, and I'm grateful for some of the words the candidate spoke during her sermon. She said it's natural to be afraid, but we shouldn't give fear more credence than we give faith. That's when we lose our way.

283: When we dropped M off at camp this morning, her friend was already there waiting with a big hug and a big smile. I'm grateful for this small kindness that made all the difference in easing the transition to a week of nothing but creative fun.

A bonus post!

An extra something related only to writing and not at all to gratitude, a quote from James Jones: "I do think that the quality which makes a man want to write and be read is essentially a desire for self-exposure and is masochistic. Like one of those guys who has a compulsion to take his thing out and show it on the street."

279, 280, 281

279: Every day, my kids have to do one chore of my choosing--cleaning a few sinks, vacuuming the stairs, scrubbing a toilet, helping prepare dinner. Today was another gorgeous day (we've been in a stretch of exceptional cool, dry, sunny weather) and I told C his chore was to come with me to the tennis courts and be my ball boy as I practiced my serve. After my arm got tired, we just hit some balls to each other often laughing at our ineptitude. As we got on our bikes to go home, he said, "Thanks, Mom. That was fun." Simple words, I know, but they came from a 14-year-old boy who'd basically been coerced into going, and 14-year-olds who are forced to do things they don't want to do often feel they have the right to be surly. I'm grateful C chose to acknowledge he had fun. It made me want to give him that "chore" again.

280: Tons of things to be grateful for today--another gorgeous day; M mastering getting Rocco to canter; a friend who was willing to play tennis in the afternoon with me since I missed the 'hood tennis outing in the morning; catching up with my friend Lois; finding something to wear to the wedding of a friend, when I was positive it simply wasn't possible, given the state of my wardrobe and my closet.

281: B mentioned this morning that he'd inexplicably gained about five pounds in one day. "Me, too!" I said, incredulous. I'm grateful the scale is broken. I'd thought that the middle age weight gain everyone talks about had happened literally overnight.

278

At M's urging, I took a riding lesson today on Rocco. She wanted me to see that riding him is harder than it looks. I discovered that it is, but not for the reasons she thinks. Her reasons have to do with getting him to do what she wants; my reasons are all related to having a body that's neither as flexible nor as muscular as it used to be. Regardless, I rose to the occasion, except for when it came to posting (ha ha); apparently I have no sense of rhythm. The day was sunny and cool and the hay had just been cut, and while I was riding I didn't think about the tentativeness of life or the limp economy. I was completely present in the moment, concentrating on keeping my knuckles together, my elbows relaxed, my shoulders back, my heels down. The smell of horse and hay and the sun at my back. . .the whole experience was better than therapy. Cheaper, too.

276, 277

276: Bark! goes the Bad Puppy at the stray cat. Bark-bark! goes the Bad Puppy at kids biking by. BARK-BARK-BARK! goes the Bad Puppy when the mailman comes to the door. ON goes the bark collar. The Bad Puppy skulks to her favorite chair, unaware that all her barking sets our teeth on edge. I'm grateful for the bark collar, which only beeps rather than shocks the dog into submission.

277: C is home from the Appalachian Trail hike. The mosquitoes loved him this time around and the heat wore him out, but he doesn't seem to be any worse for the wear (in fact, I swear he grew another inch) and he has some great stories to tell. I'm thankful he's home!

273, 274, 275

273: I'm grateful for Tim Russert's life, and sad that he died today. B and I always enjoyed watching him, especially during election years. He genuinely loved his work and it showed.

274: M finished writing her first novel today. It's a faerie love story, 32,000 words long (just as a point of reference, my Mary Margaret books tend to be around 35,000 words). I'm grateful that now she knows how to do it--how to begin it, how to stick with it, how to finish it--and that she has experienced the satisfaction that comes from doing it. Nothing can take that incredible feeling of accomplishment away from her. And she learned how to do it 28 years sooner than I did!

275: Today I'm grateful for fathers who hang in there and just love their kids, no matter what.

271, 272

271: After seeing C off on his A.T. adventure, M and I hit the beach with our friends. For some reason, it was harder saying goodbye to C than it has been in the past. Now that he's so man-like, the reality of him moving out in-the-not-that-distant-future hit me. I enjoy his company, and I miss him when he's gone. I'm grateful for good friends and a change of scenery to distract me.

272: A piece I wrote about the future of work for Juggle went live yesterday and today I got some reader comments. Not all of them are favorable, but that's fine with me. It's always interesting to see what people take away from something I've written and regardless of the nature of the reaction, it energizes me. I'm grateful for the readers who have taken time to post their comments. I get a charge out of them!

269, 270

269: It isn't easy for a 14-year-old to get a job these days. But today C got one--one that's perfect for him. He'll be working for a man he knows and likes, and he'll be working with his arms and back. The job has regular hours, a little flexible, and not too many of them, so he'll still have time for summer fun. And it's pretty good money; in fact, he'll probably have the most disposable income of anyone in our household this summer. I'm grateful C found not just a job, but this job.

270: Last week I overlooked something I'm incredibly grateful for: Barack Obama's finally winning the Democratic party's nomination. I've liked this man since he gave the keynote of the Democratic Convention last time around, but it was Andrew Sullivan's piece in the Atlantic, as well as Obama's book, Dreams from my Father, that convinced me it has to be him and no one else this time around. Here's an excerpt from the Sullivan piece:

"Sometimes, when the world is changing rapidly, the greater risk is caution. Close-up in this election campaign, Obama is unlikely. From a distance, he is necessary. At a time when America’s estrangement from the world risks tipping into dangerous imbalance, when a country at war with lethal enemies is also increasingly at war with itself, when humankind’s spiritual yearnings veer between an excess of certainty and an inability to believe anything at all, and when sectarian and racial divides seem as intractable as ever, a man who is a bridge between these worlds may be indispensable.

We may in fact have finally found that bridge to the 21st century that Bill Clinton told us about. Its name is Obama."

267, 268

267: Long ago when my parents still lived on the farm, my sister dug up flowers from Mom's flower beds and drove them across the state to her own backyard, where she cheerfully planted them. I thought she was crazy for going to the trouble. But once my parents moved off the farm, I understood, and a few years ago I asked my sister for a. . .whatever you call it when you divide plants and make them grow again. I planted that in my yard and now, every year, I get to see Mom's irises--which just popped over the weekend. I'm grateful for my sister's foresight in collecting not just flowers but all things related to our family's history.

268: The entire length of the pillowcase was ripped beyond repair, and still I continued to use it for. . .well, you don't need to know how long. But for a while. Over the weekend we bought new sheets (found them at a really great sale price); today I washed them and put them on our bed. When I slid between them, I felt like an heiress or a princess or somebody else really special. I'm grateful for a new set of sheets.

265, 266: Two two-fer days

265: Project term open house night is always slightly overwhelming and overstimulating, as it calls for all the kids in the school (hyper because it's the end of the year) plus all their parents and even some grandparents racing pell-mell from room to room to see posters, reports, three-dimensional models, and live demonstrations. I love seeing my kids' projects, but the pace is frenetic. I'm grateful I didn't get a headache, for once. Afterward, the ladies all walked or biked downtown to celebrate Deb's birthday. We sat outside at the restaurant and gave Deb little gifts, some silly and some serious, and got recharged. So I'm thankful for that, too.

266: My BIL works in the field of cancer research and he's an expert. My friend has cancer. I introduced them a few weeks ago and they talked cancer for a while, so he's familiar with her situation and course of treatment. This week he attended some big cancer convention and came home with the latest info on a drug that's part of my friend's toxic cocktail and shared it with her. This is not the first time Al has helped out someone I love. I'm grateful for Al, his knowledge, and his willingness to share it.

Also, C "graduated" from middle school! I'm the grateful, and slightly anxious, parent of a high-schooler. Let summer vacation commence!

263, 264

263: C signed up for stage crew for the school's production of "Cinderella." He expected to work hard. What he didn't expect was to be drafted into dancing on stage--the kind of dancing you'd see in a movie version of a Jane Austen book. But in last night's production, dance he did, wearing a bright orange ascot. Half a dozen other kids from the hood were in the play, too, and afterwards there was a little party for them at Lynn's house. I'm grateful C had a positive theater experience, even though it stretched him in ways he'd rather not be stretched.

264: My friend had a pain-free port hook-up today. I'm grateful for that moment of grace.

261, 262

261: Friendships can be tough at any age, but particularly at 12, when hearts are tender and wide open and it's inconceiveable that a friend could break the trust. I'm grateful for M's lifelong friend E, who knows how to be a good friend. Today she came, she played, and she restored M's belief in friendship.

262: The Bad Puppy was stretched out on the couch try to snooze, but she couldn't quite get comfortable. "The princess thinks her pillow isn't in the right position," I said. Meanwhile, B was watching the Wings lose a heartbreaker; I wasn't even sure he heard me. But at the next commercial, he got up and rearranged her pillow and flipped it so the soft side was up. The dog lay her head down and sighed with contentment. This is the kind of guy I married--someone who will go out of his way to spoil the dog--and I'm grateful.