It will all be good, once it all feels normal.

After what both boys described as their "best summer ever", they went back to school last Wednesday. And I went into overload, trying to drop them at school, go to work, pick them up from school, cook dinner, make them do homework, clean, shop. None of it felt good.
Summer came to a crashing halt and so did my good spirit.

All morning in Yoga class, my mind went over the last week's events and why I was so stressed.

And I realized I am a creature of habit, like to know what is going to happen and when. But when raising children and watching them do new things over and over, my need for the continuity must be compromised. As hard as it is, they will not remain 10 and 6 years old forever. They will each struggle in their different ways and I must learn to watch, help when asked and ask for help when needed.

And then I realized that everything usually does work out, with a little extra attention. Maybe the hardest thing is knowing that once again it will all be good, once it feels normal. For a little while at least.

Now for the rest of it

So, my man, who shall remain nameless, as he does not believe in Social Media, outdid himself. For my 40th birthday, he arranged a small surprise dinner party of my closest, most favorite people in all the world. The party was truly a surprise as the majority of my friends traveled many miles (on a Wednesday night in the summer). Two came from New Hampshire, en route to France, two from lake Ontario, 2 from milan (new york) and two from Brooklyn.

The dinner party was described as "warm and raucous", which is how i would like to live the rest of my life. May I always be surrounded in spirit by the people I love. May we always be a little reckless and not follow all the rules. May our hearts lead us where we need to go but always bring us home.

Apples make me cry

Early Wednesday mornings in the summer when I am motivated to do my walk, I round the southwest edge of prospect park and tears seep out of my eyes. It is the sight of the Apple Farmer and his daughter setting up their produce at the small green market.

I have seen the daughter working with her father at the Saturday green market for the past six or so years. One fall she was not there, she had gone off to college.

I am reminded of working with my dad at the commercial fishing store. From the age of twelve I worked with him every Saturday and during the week in the summers. I learned accounting, customer relations, how to cut chain and rig up a shrimp net, but most importantly I learned to work hard. Those years I was closest to my father. I understood him and he understood me (although I would never have admitted it then). The closeness is gone now as I moved 400 miles away. I sometimes forget how much I miss him but always remember when I see that farmer and his daughter. It is all really so precious and that is why sometimes apples make me cry.

Ocracoke

There are few places in this world I love as much as Ocracoke, and island off the coast of North Carolina that feels like the end of the earth. I grew up on Roanoke Island two and a half hours away; and my parents bought a cottage there when I was in college 20 years ago. Ocracoke is largely park service land so much of it has remained undeveloped. Within the last ten years (since have having children and moving up north) have I really grown to love it. It is a place where me and my boys and my extended family can gather, go to the beach, go out on the boat to dig for clams or fish, cook together, eat together, and play cards and games. Both my boys have learned to ride a bike there. This year we took a trip in April. It rained half the time and was a little chilly but Ocraoke still worked it magic. We all left renewed and more in love with life, nature and one another.

A New Venture

You can take the girl out of Carolina, but you can't take Carolina out of the girl.

Whenever I forget where I am from and what I am made of, the universe lets me know. Thursday was one of those days. I woke up with a list of a thousand things to do; no time and a sick kid staying home from school. Thankfully my good friend BC was in town from North Carolina doing some carpentry work for us, so Sam was able to be home with him while I was running errands. BC and I grew up on the Outer Banks together and we both went to UNC.

I first ran to the Park Slope Food Coop http://foodcoop.com/ to do my weekly shop. The food coop is a member run organization with 13,000 + members with members working a 2 and 3/4 hour shift a month. It is Brooklyn and quite a melting pot. I quickly did my shop and got to the check out counter where a Hasidic man was checking me out and chatting a little too much for my taste. He asked where I was from. When I replied North Carolina, he was overjoyed. He had been the rabbi on UNC's campus from 1997-2001. We talked on and on about Franklin Street and the pit on campus.

Then I ran to the kids school for Parent Teacher conferences. One of Sam's teacher's family is originally from North Carolina and he attended UNC Charlotte. He mentioned how one of the women that lived in his co-op reminded him of me, sweet (?), fair skinned and from North Carolina.

I went back home to check on Sam and found him and BC watching the Carolina -Radcliffe basketball game on the computer. It brought a tear to my eye to see one of my oldest friends watching the game with my son. Both screaming and clapping.

Then I had to get ready to go out to meet Bud at the Four Seasons for a wine dinner with members of the New York Building Congress. Now this is not a normal occurrence. Neither of us had ever been to the Four Seasons and we were given tickets to this dinner and felt like we could not pass it up. That said, I always get nervous about what to wear, if I am going to be able to have real conversation, or that I will be bored out of my mind. Off I went, met Bud, had a glass of champagne and took my seat at our assigned table. A young woman sits next to me. I say hello and ask her what she did, thinking it is something with construction. She says that he is there with the wine people. We continue to talk and low and behold, her family is from Little Washington, North Carolina and she attended UNC four years after I did. At that, we clinked wine glasses and threatened to show the other guests how Carolina girls party. We talked the entire event, about how much we missed having our grandparents in NC, partying at Bub's and Trolls in Chapel Hill, Driving and Crying, the Cat's Cradle, and how all of us that went to UNC are connected.

I am grateful for all that North Carolina has given me and how it unites me to others I meet. You can take the girl out of Carolina out of the girl, but you can NOT take Carolina out of the girl.

Graffiti

Not really sure the reason, but I really love some good graffiti. Maybe it's the bubble letters or bright colors but probably more the whole f*&k you attitude. Walking home from taking Sam to a friend's house, I came across this masterpiece, one and a half blocks from my house. I rarely go down that block and was blown away when I looked up, lost in my thoughts, and saw it.