the peacoat papers

fish face

On days when there’s nothing to do, why do I try to impose a schedule?

We are enjoying a wonderful, lazy week with The Gorilla’s family. There isn’t much on the agenda. There are now 22 of us total, with more on the way. It seems like there are a bazillion kids running around, barefoot and wet and none of them sprung from my loins.

So my job here should be easy. Make sure there’s enough to eat, that towels are clean. I should be sitting on the porch with a tall glass of lemonade just watching everyone enjoy everyone.

I am sitting mostly. My condition keeps me from doing anything that requires being pulled behind the power boat. But even when I’m sitting my mind is racing.

For a half hour this morning I watched my husband fishing with his nephews off the dock. He patiently baited the worm on the hook, praised their good and bad casts, and talked them through reeling in the tiny fish on the end of the line.

I watched the scene for a bit, noting how cute it was. Then I stood up to remind him that he had wanted to take the boat out before lunch. Control freak, much? I sat back down.

Why couldn’t I just let the time pass as it may? I want them to have fun, sure, but there was no sign that they weren’t. The only one discontent here was me. And I wasn’t discontent for any other reason other than that he had mentioned this morning he wanted to take the boat out before lunch. And I wanted to stick to that plan. For no reason. Other than I like having a plan and I like sticking to it. The lake is not a good place for a plan.

I’m learning, l’m learning…

(and here I am, eating my words after I said we didn't fish.)

i'm not praying for you.

I stopped telling people that I was praying for them. I stopped writing it in reply emails when I received sad or hard news. I stopped saying it because I wasn’t praying for them. I had no intention of praying for them. I wasn’t praying period.

The sentiment wasn’t insincere, but what I meant was that I was thinking of them. I was fretting for them and hoping things got better. But I wasn’t praying. Maybe I prayed, sort of, when I heard something particularly devastating. Death or disease or tragedy. But that prayer was more of a last ditch effort, tossed towards the sky hoping that when lumped together with all the other (more holy) prayers that a miracle might occur.

It wasn’t actual communion with God. I stopped praying in that way so long ago. If I was going to actually take time to be with the Lord – which I wasn’t about to do – I probably would have prayed for myself. Not for you. There is too much work to do in here before I can get to asking favors.

But this summer an urgent desire to pray has returned. Sometimes these things come back on their own. Not like a nervous tic, but more like an old hobby you forgot you loved.

As I’ve barely dipped my toe back in the prayerful pool, I’m learning that prayer is often a reminder TO me instead of a reminder FROM me to a big God. That’s something I don’t think I understood back in my old life of daily, mindful prayer.

Give me some time, but soon you may hear me say or write that I’m praying for you. And if I do, then I’ll mean it.

photo by shooh via flickr

wet in wal-mart

Mommy Mondays are the day I've set aside to chronicle the minutia of my first pregnancy.  Fascinating stuff.  As if no woman has ever done it before.

I peed my pants in Wal-Mart on Wednesday.  I thought that the whole lose-bladder-control thing happened after you pushed the baby out, and things down there were still "adjusting."

But no, this particular pregnancy myth - which turns out isn't a myth at all - starts as early as six months apparently.  I wish someone had warned me before I stumbled into the detergent aisle with a sneezing fit. 

I could feel it happening, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.  With each sneeze came a fresh wave of, you know, pee.  I was in my swim suit and cut off jean shorts (don't judge - I'm in lake culture mode), thank heavens because both of those layers were, um, thicker than usual.  Otherwise we would have had quite the embarrassing run back to the car. 

I did quite a bit of peering between my legs (that spectacle alone probably gave a few other shoppers pause) to make sure that no great wet spot was appearing through the clothes.  Because as embarrassed and uncomfortable as I was, I sure didn't want to abandon my basket and go home.

On my way home I speed dialed my mom.  When something like this happens to you, you must tell someone immediately lest a whole 'nother dam burst.  My dad answered the phone and informed me dryly that mom had been at our hometown Wal-Mart for three hours.  Like mother like daughter, I suppose, although she presumably wasn't scrutinizing her pants for pee evidence. 

So I threw caution to the wind and told my dad the story.  My, how he laughed.  Guffawed.  No sympathy.

It seems people just love these embarrassing pregnancy stories.  As long as they're not happening to them.  And, probably, most of you aren't peeing in Wal-Mart.   

photo by Monochrome via flickr   

flags and tiki torches

What a Fourth of July!  I don't know if it's just where I am, or if it's the people I'm with, but this was the most festive Independence holiday I can remember in a long time.  There were fireworks all over the lake for two days, and the general spirit is so high. 

We spent most of the weekend on the boat and/or eating.  Or both at the same time.  It's a rough life.  We watched fireworks and lit tiki torches.  Friday kicked off a full ten days of friends and family at the lake, so it's the best kind of mild chaos. 

I took a million pictures with the new fancy camera I got for my 30th.  I am a disaster with this camera in my hand.  Lots of learning to do, but I'm thrilled even with the "auto" results.

Here's my hot boat captain.  I can't imagine life without him.

twenty songs i love

Remember my list of Twenty Songs That Mean Something To Me?  At the same time, I also made a list of Twenty Songs I Love, without any meaning attached to them, just songs I say "oooh" to when they come on the random shuffle. 

I remember that I hadn't ever posted the second list when one of favorites popped up yesterday.  It's listed first below.  Especially appropriate for this weekend, though I play it year 'round. 

I steered clear of universally loved songs like "Total Eclipse of the Heart" or "Stay" or "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" or even "Mama Says Knock You Out."  Who doesn't love those songs?  Classics.  I was hoping to give you a few nuggets that might send you clicking over to iTunes. 

Here's to a fun, hot, sweaty, music-filled holiday weekend!

Twenty Songs I Love, in no particular order:

1. Fourth of July by Shooter Jennings – This song gets me singing at the top of my lungs every time. Guaranteed I’ll be singing it all weekend. “You were pretty as can be/Sittin’ in front seat lookin’ at me/Tellin’ me you loved me and you’re happy to be/With me on the Fourth of July."

2. My Love Is Your Love by Whitney Houston – Whitney can bring tears to your eyes singing Itsy Bitsy Spider but the sentiment behind this song makes my heart thud. “[When] the Lord asks me what I did with my life/I will say I spent it with you.”

3. The Old Apartment by BareNaked Ladies – I can’t pinpoint why I like this song, other than it reminds me that nostalgia can be almost painful.

4. Landed by Ben Folds – I partly don’t even understand this song. Sometimes those are the best. When you don’t but you do. It’s like The Wasteland.

5. West Coast by Coconut Records – This is good style. Runner up from Coconut Records: It’s Not You It’s Me.

6. The Blowers Daughter by Damien Rice – I first heard this song in the movie Closer (which I loved), but it has always stuck with me.

7. Songs About Rain by Gary Allen – For a long time this was the most played song in my iTunes. I realized that in my old apartment I would put it on first and then hit shuffle. It’s a good kickoff song.

8. Still by Macy Gray – Her voice is so distinctive. Her lyrics so good.

9. High Hopes by Neil Halstead – Sleeping On Roads is such good writing music, but this is my favorite. “You’re beautiful enough to make me stay.”

10. Beauty Mark by Rufus Wainwright – I mean, Rufus. He’s so great. This is the first song I loved by Mr. Wainwright and the song is big enough to overshadow the circumstances where I first heard it. And for a song to surpass what it was tied to, well, that’s a good song.

11. Dear Chicago by Ryan Adams – This song is short and almost every single time I hear it, I play it over again. “She picked me up on Friday/Asked me if she reminded me of you/I just laughed and lit a cigarette/Said that’s impossible to do.”

is a shiny fiberglass fish "home decor" ?

After today, when entering the lake house you may expect to be greeted by large laminated menus.  Or possibly the Free Credit Report guys singing in their pirate costumes.

Because this is what arrived and was hung with great pride over the television.

The Gorilla ordered this thing months ago from a man who specializes in fish replicas.  We do not fish.  There is no pretense that we caught it.  This particular fish only resides in cold northern lakes and we, my friends, are on a very southern lake. 

Look at the teeth!  (The thing does have nice detail, I will give it that.)

Still, I feel like we're in a restaurant.  I should brush up on my cheese biscuit recipe.

change the knobs, change the world

The lake house is still a work in progress.  All good houses are, I guess.  But the lake house provides a particular challenge to me because I'm not really a new-construction kind of gal.  And this big 'ole salmon palace is most certainly new construction.  We stumbled upon it even before it had beautiful wood floors or southern-style shutters.  We've been trying to drape our personality all over it since it will take years to soak up all the new memories.

Poor lake house has been saddled with many of our hand-me-downs.  Mostly the hand-me-downs from my various Los Angeles apartments, and most of them weren't exactly new when I acquired them.

I bought this green dresser from an LA thrift store on Fairfax for about $50.  It's kinda crappy.  One of the drawers is cracked on the inside and the green color I so admired is really just a faded stain job now.  But it still holds clothes, and that's all that is required. 

I decided to spice it up to match the rest of this guest bedroom and was pleased to stumble across these knobs at Hobby Lobby.  They are exact replicas of the knobs at Anthropologie, but they were $3.99 each instead of $12.99.  I am practically an Anthropologie expert, and I tell you there is no discernible difference.   

Here is the green dresser after:

 

A spunky difference, right?

It goes better with the rest of the room:

Isn't that wallpaper fabulous?  I just love wallpaper.  I got this one at Walnut Wallpaper in Los Angeles.  Taking the trouble to bring wallpaper samples across the country doesn't help much when you order the wrong color.  Which I did.  So we had to paint the opposing walls to match my mistake, but all's well that ends well. 

The other side of the room is exact symmetry to this side, with another queen bed and another wallpaper wall.  It's lake-y.  Good for guests.  Here is a closeup of the wallpaper:

Still working on adding those personal touches, but this bowl from Target (yes, Target!) helps out: 

Lucky for us, the inexpensive stores are jumping on the woodsy bandwagon.  I should take advantage of that before trends move on to something else.  Woodsy never goes out of style at the lake.

i've seen your point for two years now

Yesterday The Gorilla and I had an argument over something we long ago resolved.

I use the word argument because “fight” sounds serious, which it wasn’t. The Gorilla and I very rarely fight, but we do occasionally argue. This time old feelings and old scripts fell into place like butter.

The subject only came up because we have friends currently struggling with almost the identical issue.  I probably started it.  Even though The Gorilla and I made our compromise years ago, we each had to make our points. Loudly. Under the guise of defending this other couple, you see.

I found myself needing validation on my perspective. The Gorilla kept defending our decision from years ago, since, to be truthful, it heavily favored him.

I finally stated that it didn’t matter if we arrived at our ultimate compromise via different mindpaths. What mattered was that we reached a decision we could both live with, and have moved on. That bothered him. He wanted to believe we had made the decision together, staring at the same bigger picture.

But just because you can see what someone else is seeing doesn’t mean you’re standing where they are. Even a slight shift in placement makes a difference in the landscape.

Why would we spend an entire dinner tense and irritated over something we hadn’t thought about in years? Oh yeah, for that other couple.

Well, they’re just going to have to work it out for themselves. And my advice would be to put a let-it-go clause in the treaty.

**shadowy photo of us on the boat a few weeks ago.  so far it captures us this summer.

am i killing the baby?

Just daily carrying this baby around in my womb produces the most serious anxieties. Activities I didn’t think twice about before are suddenly as lethal as a grenade.

Spray tanning? It’s basically lotion. Will it hurt my baby? You betcha I googled it. Or checked the oh-so-reliable message boards at babycenter.

Taking a sip of my husband’s wine at dinner? Formerly the non-mommy in me would have rolled my eyes big as Dallas at such a concern (and my logical brain still does), but don’t think I didn’t glance around the restaurant furtively afterward, wondering if anyone saw me commit the offense.

Hitting big bumps on the boat? In between shooting my husband dirty looks for his driving style and clutching my sore chest that has now officially outgrown my new swimsuit, I wondered more than once if I was giving baby girl brain damage with all the jostling.

If we could record the airwaves of a pregnant woman, it would make for an excellent presentation on hysteria. The thoughts that race through my mind regularly are best kept under wraps.

Now don’t mind me as I sip my Dr. Pepper and balance this laptop on my bump for the next few hours. I have lots to wring my hands over.

photo by karine*imagine via flickr

programming note

Is now a good time to mention the lack of schedule here at the lake?  Summers should be lazy.  Lately I haven't even been sure of the day of the week. 

So if you've been looking for some of my regular features like Sunday In The Canyon or Friday Links, you might be disappointed for the next eight weeks.  Sunday In The Canyon will definitely be on hiatus, since I'm not in the canyon this summer.  Friday Links may pop up from time to time.  

Mommy Mondays will stay firmly in place (as long as I can remember what day is Monday!), and I'll continue to post regularly.  Thanks for reading! 

photo by pasotraspaso via flickr