I could perhaps write an entire post on Joss Whedon's Firefly, but not tonight. This evening I saw an actual firefly in the front yard.
We don't see many around here, and rarely more than one at a time. But they are mesmerizing! I think I've caught one out of the corner of my eye. So I keep looking in the same vicinity. No...a bit to the right. So I watch that spot. Nope...now on the lilies. Blink. Blink.
It's so fun trying to keep up! They virtually disappear for a moment, then surprise me when they reappear. I think it's a courtship behavior for them. But for me it's pure entertainment.
Fireflies remind me of the magic and miracles that surround us every day. An insect...that blinks...really. That is simply magnificent. And I'm thankful for those moments that remind me how amazing life can be.
I have to remember to not look necessarily for a big, dramatic sign of something. The little signs can sometimes shine just enough light on things.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
My Boy's Growing Up
My son is 15 years old. I should certainly be used to the fact that he's not my "baby" any more. We both made it through his freshman year unscathed and are getting settled into summer vacation. I'm sure he'd rather I didn't write too much about him specifically, but I'm having an incredible "proud parent" moment.
This afternoon he attended a concert by Midsummer's Music, a chamber group based in Door County. I've never had the pleasure of hearing them, but they must be fabulous. After the concert, my boy wanted to pull out his violin and start practicing right away. Now, during the school year he'll practice periodically without much urging. But it's sporadic. I suppose, like a true artist, he needs to be inspired. This group apparently touched a chord in him. It makes me so proud as a mother to see him so enthused about something of his own choosing. Naturally, we encouraged him to try an instrument back in fifth grade. He made his choice and is in his fifth year playing. He's good at it, he enjoys it, and he's voluntarily spending time at it. How incredible to see my child growing into his own identity!
Every now and then there are things that remind me that he's growing up. Oh, they aren't as monumental, perhaps, as first the first smile, steps, or words. But they seem to make me just as proud. Last week one of his friends dropped by and they headed out on their bikes. I've always been on the overprotective side, I admit. But as he matures, so do I. They spent the afternoon just out "bumming around," then came back to the house for a few hands of cribbage on the porch. He's got his own friends, his own interests. He's a regular human being, well on his way to becoming a regular, well-adjusted adult.
I can't take credit for all of it, but I sure enjoy being a part of it.
This afternoon he attended a concert by Midsummer's Music, a chamber group based in Door County. I've never had the pleasure of hearing them, but they must be fabulous. After the concert, my boy wanted to pull out his violin and start practicing right away. Now, during the school year he'll practice periodically without much urging. But it's sporadic. I suppose, like a true artist, he needs to be inspired. This group apparently touched a chord in him. It makes me so proud as a mother to see him so enthused about something of his own choosing. Naturally, we encouraged him to try an instrument back in fifth grade. He made his choice and is in his fifth year playing. He's good at it, he enjoys it, and he's voluntarily spending time at it. How incredible to see my child growing into his own identity!
Every now and then there are things that remind me that he's growing up. Oh, they aren't as monumental, perhaps, as first the first smile, steps, or words. But they seem to make me just as proud. Last week one of his friends dropped by and they headed out on their bikes. I've always been on the overprotective side, I admit. But as he matures, so do I. They spent the afternoon just out "bumming around," then came back to the house for a few hands of cribbage on the porch. He's got his own friends, his own interests. He's a regular human being, well on his way to becoming a regular, well-adjusted adult.
I can't take credit for all of it, but I sure enjoy being a part of it.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Does This Mean I'm a Writer?
As my friend and I were talking about which career paths interest us, and which employers might find us useful, she repeatedly told me that I would certainly be qualified for a position that involves writing.
I thanked her for her confidence in me, but assured her that I was more of a proofreader and an editor. Since my college days, I hadn't spent much time coming up with my own words, but I could be pretty good at correcting and improving the words of others. She has written as part of a job, my other girlfriend has written as part of a job, but my experience was minimal. In spite of my own objections and apprehension, I created my first blog post. Then another, and another...and now, almost three months in, I've published 14 entries. I'm surprisingly proud of myself!
Do I write every day? Not even close. Do I write about "important" political or social issues? Not really my thing. Do I write about my fondness for the Oxford Comma, even if only to annoy those who are opposed to it? Not yet (but don't rule that topic out). But I engage my brain and put my fingers to the keyboard and type. I might let a post sit overnight before I publish it, just to make sure I haven't left out anything I wanted to say. But I don't write a draft, then edit, then modify, then revise... I just write. I'll occasionally make notes about something I might want to talk about, but I don't have a journal filled with ideas. And no one is giving me money to write about their product or service.
I've realized that I was letting the title "writer" hold me back. I figured I wasn't a writer because I wasn't writing press releases or poetry or novels. But just because I haven't doesn't mean that I can't. I think that everyone can be a writer. It's not about making money at it or anyone thinking it's "good" or even having an audience for it. It's just about collecting your thoughts and transferring them to paper (or the electronic equivalent thereof). Heck, I can do that!
So now, I am a writer. And my cheerleader/coach is rediscovering the writer that she has always been. What shall I write about next?
I thanked her for her confidence in me, but assured her that I was more of a proofreader and an editor. Since my college days, I hadn't spent much time coming up with my own words, but I could be pretty good at correcting and improving the words of others. She has written as part of a job, my other girlfriend has written as part of a job, but my experience was minimal. In spite of my own objections and apprehension, I created my first blog post. Then another, and another...and now, almost three months in, I've published 14 entries. I'm surprisingly proud of myself!
Do I write every day? Not even close. Do I write about "important" political or social issues? Not really my thing. Do I write about my fondness for the Oxford Comma, even if only to annoy those who are opposed to it? Not yet (but don't rule that topic out). But I engage my brain and put my fingers to the keyboard and type. I might let a post sit overnight before I publish it, just to make sure I haven't left out anything I wanted to say. But I don't write a draft, then edit, then modify, then revise... I just write. I'll occasionally make notes about something I might want to talk about, but I don't have a journal filled with ideas. And no one is giving me money to write about their product or service.
I've realized that I was letting the title "writer" hold me back. I figured I wasn't a writer because I wasn't writing press releases or poetry or novels. But just because I haven't doesn't mean that I can't. I think that everyone can be a writer. It's not about making money at it or anyone thinking it's "good" or even having an audience for it. It's just about collecting your thoughts and transferring them to paper (or the electronic equivalent thereof). Heck, I can do that!
So now, I am a writer. And my cheerleader/coach is rediscovering the writer that she has always been. What shall I write about next?
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