And, between the 3 of us, our tastes vary a lot. A.LOT.

So, when one of our favorite podcasts started the project of finding the albums *everyone* likes, we listened.

And that’s how Saturday Night’s Dinner was made to Paul Simon’s Graceland.

And how we ended the evening with Dark Side of the Moon.

And how the day started with Bob Marley, Exodus.

And how tonight’s dinner was cooked to the soundtrack of Once.

Wow. In today’s digital music world, it’s been a long time since I’d heard an entire album, from beginning to end. And, they’ve got it right. I LOVED listening to Graceland with Abby. And laughing when she said Dark Side “isn’t my kind of music.” And remembering how many Floyd laser shows I went to in high school (holy crap, they’re STILL playing Dark Side!!!!).

It’s amazing to me what’s changed and what hasn’t. The way we listen to music is entirely different than how we did when I was a kid (Um, soundtrack to Annie on the Record Player anyone?!). But, what’s considered ‘good’ is still the same.

Mmmm. . .making those Spring Rolls while listening to Graceland will be forever a favorite memory for me.
Sometimes it’s simply the company, the food and the music that makes a moment.

I think my husband has seen me wear mascara 2 times in the entirety of our 12 years together. And, no, our wedding day was NOT one of those times. I am “earthy”, “crunchy” “tom-boy y”, and “natural.” Whatever all of those things mean.

I am also a feminist. The kind of feminist that thinks it rocks that my mom was the first female firefighter in our district. The kind that believes staying home with my kid, canning the food, volunteering in the schools and sometimes cleaning the floors is powerful work.

I went with two girlfriends to see the documentary Miss Representation last night. One is a liberal lesbian. One is a conservative Coast-Guard wife. (Those are such horrible pigeon-holing descriptions of my dear friends. . . I hope they’ll both forgive me. I’m just illustrating that women are women and no matter what our backgrounds are, we have womanhood in common). We watched this film that shows how women and girls are represented in modern media. We watched how our bodies are sexualized, our worthiness marginalized, our intelligence minimized. And then we went to drink beer at a local pub and laugh together.

So, when I looked at my 7 year old’s face and saw the first signs of blackheads today, I felt icky about feeling like I needed to show her how to wash her face. I mean, I’m a feminist, right? Who cares about some blemishes?! I should pshaw in the face of blemishes. . . right? And yet, I know my kiddo. She’s “girlier” than I am. She wants her hair to match her friend’s hair. She wants to be “pretty.” She’s ecstatic to try out the sparkly fingernail polish I got for her (total hippie brand). I realized that I’ve been shunning the girlhood she’s experiencing. Not outwardly, but in little ways: by grimacing at the barbies she wants to play with, by shrugging off her interest in ballet, by trying to push her into baseball and soccer.

Being a feminist does not mean that we can’t be feminine. . . heck, even *I* shave my legs in the summer and try to get my hair to do something “good” on most days. We are not immune to the beauty industry’s hold on what being a woman MEANS, but we are also not immune to the natural curiosity and interest in embracing our girlhood.

So, I took a deep breath today. I showed my girl how to pull back her hair and wash her face with soap, how to get all of it off so it doesn’t sit in her hairline. I clipped her nails and showed her how to clean under them. And while she sat and read, I painted her toes and fingers and then brushed her beautiful hair and braided it to the side.

She giggled with joy.
She beamed with pride at how clean her face and nails were.
She bonded with me as only two women can.

And when I hugged her, I thought about what’s to come for my girl. There will be so much anguish, I can’t protect her from that. But, I also can’t attempt to hide her away from the feminine side of being a girl.
I can only support and love her unconditionally. Love ALL that she is.

When I hugged her, I also felt as though I was embracing her girlhood and all that encompasses.

Breathe….
Take it in.
Don’t fret.
It’s alright.

You can dissect a daffodil that’s past it’s prime.

So cute to watch the scientist hard at work.
Tongue out in concentration!
After the petals were removed, we could see the pistil and stamen clearly.

This is the part she was most excited about:
cutting open the ovary and checking out the ovules! 

 We both learned a ton and had so much fun being scientists dissecting the “specimen.” She has such an inquisitive mind. . . I love it.

Flashback. . . Abby and the daffodils at age 2

 Across the lawn.
Until the end of the arrows.
Where she’d left me a bouquet.

I had to hunt all over the yard to figure out what she was up to NEXT.
Busy spreading joy and color to the whole neighborhood.

and then this: 

So, I’d been thinking about the “sweet spot” in terms of the work I do and though I liked the Venn Val shared, I was inspired to create my own based on a few other ideas I had floating around in my head. Here’s the finished diagram:
So many of the other diagrams I’ve seen either leave out money or leave out values. . . and I really felt like both were important.

Years ago, I put my B.A. in Psychology to work and was a social worker/case manager for at risk youth and then for at risk families and then for families trying to pull themselves out of bad places. It definitely was something I’m good at. . . it definitely served the world, but I was not valued with the cash and I really didn’t like it. I burned out. . . horribly. I was unhappy and guilty. I’d somehow gotten the idea that since I was GOOD at it, then I SHOULD do it. I’ve since given myself permission to focus on things I’m passionate about.

Just because you’re good at something does NOT mean you HAVE to do it!

This was a life changing idea for me. The ultimate goal for me is to hit my new version of the “sweet spot.” And, last week, I had it DOWN for about 3 hours.

I got paid (decently) to teach (which I’m good at AND love) adults with Developmental Disabilities (or Developmental Differences? not really sure what the term is these days) to make shepherd’s pie with 98% local ingredients from our farmer’s market.

Talk about hitting the sweet spot!!! All 4 elements were in full swing. I felt so.flippin’.great. all day. And now, a week later, I’m still shaking my head and trying to figure out how to be in the sweet spot ALL of the time!

So, what is it for you? The Sweet Spot? Are you doing work that fulfills you? How can we all do this sort of work at least most of the time? I’m inspired, how about you?

Some steeping.

Some sun soaking.

Some patient waiting.

Some earth day cleaning.

Noticed the damp pattern on a neighbor’s shed.

Spent some time with soggy flowers.

Generally enjoyed a slow and gray day.

Easter Egg hunt for littler kids by Abby Sanford

Dear Friends, 
I am doing an Easter Egg Hunt for kids under 5.
I was wondering if you could come!
Kids 5 and older can be helpers to set it up.
It will be at the 5th and Oak St. Park.
It will be at 11:15am tomorrow, Easter Sunday.
Helpers can come at 11am to put the eggs out.
Bring a basket.
Bring your own snacks.
We will have some fun on the park after the hunt is done.
Your Friend,
Abby

After I sent it off, I had a lump in my throat. I know little kids nap and families go out of town and it’s the end of Spring Break and there are TONS of things a family could do on Easter Sunday at 11 am. . . and it just killed me a little bit that there was such a slim chance anyone would actually be available for her little hunt.
She set to work. . . packing up her own pennies into eggs, decorating some hard boiled ones, setting up prizes, even getting her bike horn to blow to announce the start of the race.
We got up this morning and aside from a quick bite and doing her OWN hunt that I’d set up, she spent the entirety of her morning thinking about the little kids she hoped would attend.
It was the sweetest thing to watch.
In the end, a friend brought her two little sons and Abby had her hunt. Then she rolled in the grass and played kitties with the boys for another hour.

In the afternoon, we planted some flowers and hung out in the yard.
 What a sweet day and a sweet kid. ♥

I have 3 kinds of favorite weather.
Number one: Sunny days.
Number two: Snowy days.
Number three:  Rainy days. But, I don’t really like the rain because it makes my hair all wet. I just like rainy days because they make flowers and grass and trees and everything grow, and I like flowers.

Note: Tom and I both snickered when she said, “Number Two” and teared up when she said the bit about liking rain because it waters plants.