Last week, my older son texted, I need relationship counseling. My office is open, I wrote back.

For nearly two hours, he perched on my dresser, his heels hooked on the hanging-open bottom drawer, while we hashed out his relationship with his girlfriend, my relationship with my husband, core values, personality differences, decision-making methods, life goals, etc, etc. The two of them had a good thing going, we both agreed. Also, it’s okay to take things slow, I said. 

The next night they came out for supper and announced they were getting married.

Um, WHAT?!?!

I actually wasn’t surprised — from the very beginning, our entire family has thought (and hoped) this was where the relationship was heading — but I was shocked. My son’s getting married. Our family is gaining a new sister/daughter/WIFE. What the what?!?! 

Gradually, the news is settling. I’m beginning to wrap my head around this seismic change. Our family now includes another person. My son’s loyalties are shifting . . . and so are mine: for all these years, I’ve had his back; now I have their back. This switch is so strange— and terribly scary: vulnerability, risk, and hope are inextricably intertwined— but it’s also liberating. I’m free to love her now.

My husband and I have been spending a lot of time processing, thinking back to our few whirlwind months of long-distance dating and our seven-week engagement when I was twenty. We were so young, we marvel, shaking our heads. That two people can decide to do life together — it’s audacious, really.

Aren’t they radiant?

This same time, years previous: a hernia, hip-hip!, the big finale, the proper procedure for toweling off after a shower, the quotidian (9.7.15), regretful wishing, how to clean a room, Saturday, the big night.

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

“STOP TAKING PHOTOS AND OPEN THE DOOR.”

New thing I learned: cheddaring is a verb.

Dessert sampler to go.

Also: rice, grilled chicken, blackberry cobbler, and ice cream.

Last week in the bakery: and now I’m sick of chocolate pie.

August this year: hazy, hot, and horribly humid.

Feed me?

And then the rains came.

Twenty-five years.

Sunday afternoon: my view.

This same time, years previous: made it, Southern sweet tea, five-dollar curtido, blueberry muffins, in my kitchen, in my kitchen: 5:25 p.m., the cousins came, the quotidian (9.2.13), a laundry list.

Saturday afternoon, we threw a spontaneous corn party.

My brother’s family was here for the week, so that morning we’d all gathered at my parents’ house for breakfast. When lunchtime rolled around, everyone (minus my parents who opted to stay home and snatch a breather) transitioned to our place for lunch. 

On the drive home, I checked my phone. A local farmer had left a message: they had seconds of fresh corn — did we want it? I followed up with her for details — 25 dozen ears, picked that morning, $2.50 a dozen (!!!) — and then phoned the rest of the family. Anybody up for doing corn? I asked.

Sure, why not, they said.

So that afternoon, we hauled out the big cook pots and the knives and a gazillion bowls and threw ourselves a rolicking three-hour corn party. 

There was even live music! Here’s a snatch of a song that I filmed and sent to my older daughter, the only person missing from the festivities, as a passive aggressive ploy to make her come see us.

Hope I didn’t make you too homesick, hon (wink-wink). We love you!

***

A few weeks ago, out on an early morning walk with a friend, I noticed she was wearing soft, slip-on shoes. Hold up, I said, stopping in my tracks. Your shoes. Are they even comfortable?

Oh, yeah, she said. They’re great. More like slippers than shoes, actually. And since they’re made from washable wool, I just throw them in the machine every few weeks to clean them. 

Wool? I was aghast. Don’t your feet sweat? 

Nope, she said.

So I bought a pair!

Now, they are pricey (mine cost nearly $80, and that was with a discount) but they are even better — way better — than I imagined. Even in this hot weather, I wear them constantly. (UPDATE: Today, in 93 degree heat and sky-high humidity, I did notice that my feet were sweating a bit. So yes, feet will sweat in them, but in normal weather they’re peachy.)

They’re more comfortable than going barefoot, I raved to my husband.

And then one of the Merino ads popped up on social media: Better than bare feet, it declared, and I was like, See? I told you.

***

Have you seen Julia Sweeney’s talk about loosing her faith?

My mother sent the link to me, and then my husband and I watched the two-plus hour live performance over the course of several days. Both of us loved it, probably because we appreciated Julia’s persistant questions and identified with many of her observations about religion and faith.

Only problem: it left me wishing I was part of a book (or video) group so I’d have more people to discuss it with! 

***

My brother and sister-in-law recently released this music video along with their new CD Coffee & Cake.

Each time I watch it, I can’t help but get a little emotional. Something about the beauty of the mundane: kids running around outside, grating carrots, conversation with a spouse.

Precious stuff, the ordinary is. 

xo!

This same time, years previous: sixteen miles, the quotidian (8.27.18), the quotidian (8.28.17), peach crisp, bezaleel scenes, the quotidian (8.27.12), fresh tomato salad.