Jonathan just looks at me and says, “That’s amazing. Beautiful.”
I look at me and start singing, We’ve Only Just Begun … and silently worry about how I am going to have room to eat as they really start to grow. Right now they are just a couple of pears.
Pears I can handle. It’s the basketballs I am worried about.
It’s taken me awhile to write this week because my mind has been swirling and my heart has been simultaneously heavy and full.
Heavy from all of the devastation in Oklahoma and full from all the uplifting stories I am reading about the Helpers. When I read all of the stories showcasing the goodness in people it does lift my spirits.
Always look for The Helpers. They are there. And this week, I have seen lots of them.
Watching the stories coming out of Oklahoma has really made me think about community and how important it is to have it. I’m also questioning its presence in my life. It’s one of the things I have never really found to my satisfaction in Los Angeles. I’m not blaming Los Angeles — it could very well be me. It could be the places we are living or where we are in our lives. I have no idea. Everyone keeps telling me we’ll have an instant community when we have kids.
But is that what I should be waiting for? The community that comes with having children. Is that my community or is that just a bunch of people talking about potty-training at the same time? I’ll be honest — I know me — potty training is going to be an interesting topic of conversation for about five minutes before you lose me.
I’m a tough nut to crack in the community department because I am an introvert who happens to be very social — which makes absolutely no sense, I know. I love to get to really know people. Acquaintances that do not move beyond the initial meeting bore me. I love small gatherings. I hate large, loud gatherings. I love drinking bottles of wine (not right now, of course) and talking until all hours of the night about all sorts of things. I hate idle chit chat and would almost rather sit in complete silence than have to endure a forced conversation about absolutely nothing. I love going out to places that feel like home. I hate going to clubs unless Carly Ritter is singing — and then I will endure a stamp on my hand and stay up past midnight just to hear her sing Princess Of This Prairie and The Ever Loving Kind.
We have lots of friends. We have lots activities. And I would say I have definitely developed a yoga community which is why it is so important for me to go all the time. But the neighborhood community I knew as a child is absent from my life.
I keep wondering if that is gone because of the ways we communicate now? Our communities can expand so far outside of our neighborhoods and onto our Facebook pages … which a part of me loves. I don’t want that to ever go away. I am connected to so many people across my life because of our virtual connections, but sometimes I miss more of the face to face community. I’ll confess, I like looking into people’s eyes.
We know one of our neighbors. When I was a kid I knew most of the block. I always wonder what would happen here if an earthquake erupted right though Woodland Hills, California. I like to think we would seamlessly come together like the people of Oklahoma, but only knowing the neighbors across the street … I’m pretty sure they would ALL rise to the occasion, but not knowing any of them … I really have no idea. I hope I can be one of the Helpers should a Helper be needed.
Today the Dumplings and I went to yoga. I started going to my prenatal yoga class a bit reluctantly, but being in there with all of that pregnant baby energy is nice. I’ll confess, I love it. By the end of every class the Dumplings are definitely awake. It’s not like I can feel them kick or anything, but I can tell when they are awake and moving about because of the pressure they cause.
It’s been a rough week as the allergies outside are causing my asthma to act up. I hate using my inhaler, but I guess it’s important for me to keep breathing.
Saturday I went shopping at Whole Foods and made some Green Soup. I wrote about my diet woes, but I did not take a picture. I did not post an official recipe because I think the greens in your green soup should be personal preference. I have determined that Green Soup is not quite as bad as wheat grass juice, but it is far from something I would recommend you serve for dinner. However, it is packed full of nutrients, which I need. I have managed to enjoy a bowl every day with my other healthy foods.
Food is still basically uninteresting, but music is very interesting. I highly recommend Darius Rucker’s new album, True Believers — I love Wagon Wheel, of course, but Take Me Home and Shine are becoming fast favorites. The new Steve Martin & Edie Brickell album, Love Has Come To You is also wonderful. I love bluegrass.
I’ll confess, learning to play the banjo is on my bucket list. Yes, my current bucket list.
Of course, I should probably learn how to swaddle a baby first.
Can we go to the Kenny Chesney concert in Anaheim for my birthday on July 27th?
You want to go to a concert in a baseball stadium 28 weeks pregnant? Seriously?
What’s a matter, you don’t like Kenny Chesney?
Jonathan laughed at me. He does have a point, but I was not going to give into his assessment of my concert going limitations.
The Dumplings would love to hear Kenny live. They told me.