proof of life

"reducing art to proof". i was on the treadmill or elliptical or the stairmaster listening to a book when i heard those four words. it struck such a chord that i jotted it down. 

the author, david sedaris, was regaling me {and anyone else who reads his latest collection of essays let's explore diabetes with owls}about his excursions, writing about life rather than living it. he conceded that he is better at the former than the latter. his honesty chaffed me. made me sad for him and then ultimately shined a light on me and my penchant for not so much writing about life, but photographing it.

and i thought, have i reduced art to proof? am i too busy photographing the happenings that i am not living them? 

i remember once a cousin of mine who was chided by her husband for never taking video of their bustling, growing family. this wise cousin closed her eyes and said dreamily, "i am living it once-enjoying it the first go 'round rather than trying to capture it to relive later." i will never forget her words. almost 20 years later, it still sticks in my craw as i hungrily and greedily take more photos of my life and loves than should be allowed. 

and i wonder to myself, "girl friday. are you there?" am i so concerned with forgetting the nuances of my boys that i feel compelled to document their hands, their mannerisms, their habits as mundane and pedestrian as they are. eating a bowl of cereal. writing a note. looking out the window.

for anyone who sees my photographic endeavors knows that i lean more to the unplanned, unposed snaps that embody the person more than a "give us a smile" variety. i want to capture their essence, but in so doing am i spending more time capturing than living in it?

this is not a rhetorical pondering. i am trying to get to the bottom of this. 

yesterday our basement flooded. we had inches of standing water. the only thing i could think about was all the photographs down there. so with the help of the 12 year old, whose school was canceled, we heaved up boxes and boxes of filmed reminders of happy faces and inconsequential moments that are documented with such care and love that if ever i was going to claim an earthly treasure, it would be the papers found in those bins. years and years of archived evidence of living a life. proof that i lived and noticed and loved.

perhaps i have reduced art to proof. photographing the museum masterpiece rather than just sitting before it, engulfed with its beauty. but if i don't photograph it, where is the proof that i was ever there? i guess in a way that is why i write and snap shots. so someday, if they ever feel so inclined, my boys will read and see-and know on which side i fell. 

yours in the wondering, 

xo gf

hi, school.

back in 2003, after a brief jaunt in private school, the lad wearing the backpack came home to school for 10 years

the virtual trash can is full from many failed attempts to write this blogpost. the first go, as well as the fifth, were wrought with self righteous anecdotes and stories that contained more detail than my own mother would care to know. so in keeping with brevity and an overall sense of common good, i will try to write.

they, the 14 year old and the 12 year old, chose to walk through a different educational door this year: public school. this is after years of schooling at home. 

when they came to us a few months back, they had in their minds an arsenal of compelling reasons for trying out this new endeavor. 

they were curious to see what it was like. they wanted to experience more independence. they wanted to feel the weight of responsibility. they wanted to feel challenged in a way that can only come when they are bumping up against people who are not like them. these were their words. and i listened, along with the Mister. then i spoke. 

"there are so many things to be curious about. some that are not edifying and some that are just fine. i think being curious about public school is just fine."  

i could try to scare you with information about how my naive firstborn is attending a rather unlikely and overlooked neighborhood high school. and how the 12 year old is attending a school that serves 90 percent free lunch and 100 percent boys who speak with such urban vernacular, that i threatened, "you keep talking that way, and i'll show up to lunch with linen napkins and china plates." but the real truth is, it has been really, really uneventful and downright delightful. 

the 9th grader's confusion and enchantment over "the principal speaking to the entire school at once and not being in the same room" has to be my favorite story to date. i think the title of my homeschool to public school book needs to be titled a foreign exchange student in my own country.

2013, the lad wearing the blue bag, along with brother, decide to try public school.

it's only been a few days, so i don't pretend to be the expert on transitions. stay tuned. there will be many stories and lessons learned. schools in session: public and otherwise.

the ever curious,

xo gf

seven and forty-one

these two. born on the same day. the last day in july. thirty-four years apart. the Mister still deflects on this day saying george was his best birthday gift. and i really can't argue. a human gift. really is there anything better? does hallmark have a card for that? "for the man who has everything-give him a kid".

happiest of birthdays to the first in my life, my Mister and to the last {but not least}, my baby boy. may you both know how very deeply yet imperfectly you are loved by the likes of me.

now excuse me whilst i frost a chocolate birthday cake with kit kats and m&ms. it's tradition.

a grateful, 

gf xo

From the library of:

he wanted to stop by the library to see if he could find a book. and when this struggling reader of mine mentions those four letters b-o-o-k, i move heaven and earth to get him one-stat. 

so i casually {and with much exhaustion after a day of doctor appointments and failed errand running that sapped the last of my juice} pulled into the drive of our local and very tiny library. 

every time we visit the library{which isn't nearly as often as we ought}, i am reminded of how extremely fortunate we are to have such a wealth of written words at our very fingertips. free. it's really embarrassing the privilege and decadence. to walk in off the street and have the latest best seller there. waiting. free. 

and even though i definitely don't know what the latest best seller is because i am unfortunately not as much of a reader as i would like to be in addition i am a profoundly slow reader {which must be why i love, love, love reading to my children} i still appreciate finding books like little bee and the latest anne lamont work sitting pretty on the accessible shelf. 

so there we were. me and him. looking around a bit overwhelmed. he had a title he had his heart set on-and wanted it. desired the next in a particular series. but the shelf didn't bear the fruit of such a craving. i picked up my library holds and noticed a book with the words that i knew would get his literary engine revving. first name sherlock. last name holmes. i tossed it his way. 

his impatience is from my side of the family. he wasn't interested and kept looking through other books. picking up a clive cussler. i kept trying to point out he was in the wrong section. he's 10, not quite an adult.

i checked out my books and added a couple that were recommended reading from my well read friends. giddy. still awestruck that i was able to take these treasures on loan for 3 weeks just cause i have a flimsy library card. by that point this young lad of mine had read through the first few pages and decided that this was indeed a worthwhile venture. and yes, i gloated-to myself-and danced a little jig-to myself-{the 12 year old had already chided me earlier about my lack of social skills when it comes to impromptu breaking out into dance-in public!!!}

so off we set with our books and a grateful sense of excitement. for the rest of the day, this not-so-lover-of-literature boy of mine sat confined to this piece of cardboard and smyth sewing engrossed. "i've already read 4 chapters!" 

let me shed a little light. this is the same boy who didn't catch on to reading til he had cleared the height requirement for most amusement park rides. he's the boy whose frustration and impatience have kept us in one little science book for going on two years now. but he is also a boy whose mother knew that eventually like eeeeeeeevvvvvvvvveeeeeeeennnnnnnnnttttttttuuuuuuuuaaaaaallllllllyyyyyyy he would make his way to the wonderful world of reading. and he did. fiiiiiinnnnnnaaaaaalllllllyyyyyy. 

his favorite way to read-lying on my back

just in time for the next in line to commence. and like a really good book that begs to be reread, i will begin to teach the youngest to read so that he can be unleashed into the land of imagery and imagination. wish us well on our travels, will you? with our newly minted nashville library cards, the sky's the limit. and speaking of nashville, 
if you live in the area, come for a visit. we have a little pink wagon filled to the brim with free books that we no longer need. free to you. no 3 week return. no library card required. 

yours in the written word,

xo gf

are you there, blog? it's me, girl friday.

hello. it's me. the long lost writer, girl friday who took a hiatus from writing-here. i call it a creative pause. 

in these months since our move i have been afforded the opportunity to savor solely and souly my surroundings. and as much as i wanted to jot down my thoughts in paragraphs and prose, i was just too selfish with my time. o, that fleeting-never-enough-priceless commodity. 

time. a four letter word that can be used and abused. i have tried to do the former. purposefully. 

using my time to reconnect with long-not-lost friends. mourning. listening. laughing. sipping. watching. wondering. crying. resting. traveling. gazing. and grabbing the last bits of summer before life turns upside down. from an easy unscheduled pace to the sound of alarm clocks {for the first time ever}. the bustling of book bags as two of mine leave the homeschool nest. more on that later.

so dear ones, who have written and stopped me in person to ask, "where are you, writer friend?" i am here. looking around. thinking. culling more material to process and ponder and eventually share. and boy do i have loads to share. i have two months of stories and happenings that are begging to be written and a phone teeming with photographs i will gladly force upon you. 

happy to be back. 

yours still, 

xo gf

a tale of two fathers

one never graduated from high school. one graduated with a masters from vanderbilt. one grew up extremely poor and set out early to work hard despite all he had working against him. another grew up without a mother and set out early to find family, to make a place to belong. one was blessed with two daughters. another blessed with four sons. 

these two men. the most important in my life, may seem very different at first blush. they have seemed almost like opposites to me for the past 20 years. it's only in the last few years i have been able to understand how very similar they are. 

both love their children dearly.  both have moved heaven and earth to create a beautiful place to call home. both love a good adventure. both would rather be outdoors than anywhere else. both have that entrepreneurial streak in them something strong. 

both have worked fiercely, often to their detriment, so that others could eat, sleep and dream. both are reminders to me that imperfection can be honed and whittled and fashioned in a way that shows the Creator's genius, not ours.

happy father's day to the first man in my life, my father.

and happy father's day to the last man in my life, my Mister.

xo,

gf

home sweet home

i should be up unpacking boxes. but instead i am listening to itunes and savoring so many things that have my heart overwhelmed. a feeling of having my head dunked in icy cold water that is both invigorating and frightening all at once. 

we made it to nashville unscathed. a peaceful drive with four boys and two dogs. a mister behind the wheel of a moving truck and loads of stops along the way. only one little fight. when we arrived to our cottage in the hood, the builder was in full-on-get-it-done mode. somehow he was under the impression we weren't moving for another week. what? so he and his trusty sidekick hustled to get my dream kitchen up and running by the next day when we would unpack boxes.

now let me stop right here to bring you up to speed. this little cottage in the hood sits on just a little over an acre in an urban area of nashville. we scored big time when we found this house 8 years ago, but it has taken a lot out of us too. mostly money.

when we decided to venture northward 4 years ago, we kept our house knowing it was a diamond in the rough. so for four years we played the role of landlords{and sometimes house parents}to a host of characters who lived in our brick and mortar residence{so many lessons learned!!!}

if the mister has it his way, he'll live here til he moves to heaven. and living in a 1940's dwelling may just get me there. don't get me wrong. i loooooove living in a charming{code for how do these faucet handles work}cozy{code for small, not by third world country standards mind you}cottage. and now that our fence is up and our dogs can play unsupervised{until our jack russell learned to jump the fence}, it's been so sweet.

our driveway is visited by friends and neighbors who believe that an invite is obsolete{and i ADORE drop ins-seriously!}

so i am off to unpack more, settle in, grasp our new{old}life. reacquaint myself with why i deeply, deeply love living in such a quirky, kind and eclectic community. and fire up the oven and dust off the pans for some serious baking. i mean, i've got a rocking kitchen after all. {thanks to the remarkable and patient john cox!!!}

o, and i would be remiss if i didn't sincerely invite you for a visit. our back porch awaits. and the bar is set up. wink-wink

xo,

gf