{Originally Posted at Generation Cedar}

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” (John Lennon)

Is it possible, in this noisiest-of-ever-century, that we hardly ever hear, hardly ever see anything much?

Have you ever noticed your world when the power goes off? It’s not just that you can’t check your email… it’s a deafening silence that might drive some crazy if it lasted long enough. All the hums and quiet roars are dead, and we are left with much less–or is it more?

I think if we don’t live on purpose, we won’t live at all. If we don’t see through the daily whir, and hear through the daily buzz, we might just miss the life we were intended to live.

If you’ve lived very long, you know that life isn’t that long. Can we say as someone did,

“I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I have just lived the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.”

It’s not hard, really. It’s not sky-diving and Rocky-mountain climbing…

It’s another warm hug today; choosing to cast a gentle glance in the direction of one you love, rather than a day-worn scowl.

A walk outside, closing your eyes, and raising your face to the warmth of an autumn sky. Saying out loud to your children…”Isn’t this world glorious–the one our Lord created?”

Curling up to read Dr. Seuss again, ending with a tickle. Speaking words of life into someone’s heart.

All these smallish things, woven together over a lifetime make a life well-lived.

{Originally published on T with Honey and titled A Moment Almost Missed}

The little curly haired girl crawled out of her mother’s lap and headed over to the box of toys. It was time to pick out a special friend to take to bed to be cuddled through the night. After careful consideration she picks up Baby Bop.

As per her usual habit she lays the toy on its tummy, finds a little blanket and begins to tuck Baby Bop into bed. The blanket doesn’t go down right the first time so she lifts it up to try again. As she does the little girl notices that Baby Bop has a friend. In the pocket on the front of Baby Bop’s outfit is a little stuffed piggy.
The little girl picks up her toy and asks “What this?” Her mommy repies, “It’s Baby Bop’s toy.”

“Oh, what this called?” she said pointing to the pink toy. “It’s a piggy”
The little girl is curious about the piggy. She wants to pull it out, look at it and ask more questions. Her mommy just wants her to crawl in bed and go to sleep. It’s getting late.

The toddler’s inquisitiveness takes a stronger hold. She points at the little animal and asks for the fourth time, “What this called?”
The mommy flatly states, “It’s a piggy.” Then with more than a little exasperation in her voice she says, “Princess, it is time for bed. You need to stop this. Lay down and go to sleep.”

The little girl’s arms sag and she glances at her mommy’s face. Her mother’s eyes meet hers for just a fraction of a second but the girl’s frustration and sadness comes across in that look and stab into her mommy’s soul.

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Originally published on Deb on the Rocks

I have a theory that humans take a fancy to the things that keep them in a perpetual state of foreplay. Not in a perpetual state of pre-orgasm, because as we have established, constantly living on the edge of a volcano could be a bit too much. But foreplay, a continuous state of desire, arousal, exploration and craving, that is the human preference.

Baseball, politics, film, cooking, eating, organizing, Viggo Mortensen,
aquariums, god only know what you are into. I’m betting that if we
could start in the part of your brain where your love of whatever it is
you love resides and follow the sparking and frayed wiring past where
it crosses the blue synapses and the firing yellow connections and that
knot of red wire, we would find a glowing hotspot in your neural
network that’s throbbing and straining to break through a zipper.

That said, I love the roller derby.

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Originally published on Kellan Studios.

We booked Kristen’s wedding last fall, for the upcoming fall. Not
only is she incredibly funny, but she gets the award for most patient
“bride to be”. I say that because during our consultation she got a
phone call from her fiance. Not unusual, except that he was calling
from Djibouti, Africa. Charles was finishing out his last few months
with the military over in Africa. I am constantly amazed at technology
that she was chatting away with him in our living room and he is almost
1/2 way around the world!

We were so excited that they wanted to book an engagement session so
we could meet the illusive Charles. He was just how we expected him to
be, incredibly witty! We had soooo much fun with this couple shooting
around downtown and Old City Cemetery. We did not have to try hard to
get them to laugh. In fact, it was just the opposite, trying to get
them to be serious!

Can I make a personal note? This couple is TALLLLLLL! Charles is
6’4” and Kristen is 6’0…but had four inch heels on and Ryan is 6’6”. My
vertical is 5’2”. I felt like the little sister that was tagging along
16 inches below! Luckily, they let me play too.

Here are some of my favorites from our blisteringly hot session.

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Originally Published on Velveteen Mind

Suburban Oblivion recently complained that her two year old had been replaced by demon spawn. She welcomed any interest in buying him on eBay.

As luck would have it, someone took her up on the offer. Someone that apparently can not have children. Sara responded with an exercise in gratitude, expressing that it sometimes takes getting bitch-slapped in the comments to remember how good you have it.

What followed was a discussion in Suburban Oblivion’s comments that touched on a topic that I take very personally. The topic of gratitude and our right to be ungrateful some days. This is something that I’ve been meaning to write about for some time, but always back down. Sara is a great fire-starter, so here goes.

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Originally posted on Bitch Ph.D.

So here is the biggest, most annoying problem with having a feminist marriage:

No matter what you and your partner have agreed on, other people will cling to their antiquated notions.

It’s the biggest evidence to me that marriage is not just a
contract between two people; it’s also a kind of social contact (for
better or for worse). Like, if you and your partner decide to reverse
conventional gender roles–you work the day job, he stays home with
kids and kitchen–and you are perfectly happy with this arrangement
(ok, reasonably happy). Lovely! You win! You and your partner have done
all the hard work necessary in arriving at this decision, you have had
principled discussions about division of labor, you have made sure that
neither one of you is feeling coerced, that this is how you both want
it to be, blah blah blah and now you can sit back and enjoy your
domestic life. WRONG. Because now you have to deal with constantly
explaining to everyone around you that, “no, this really is what we both
want, no, I am not an emasculating bitch, actually this was his idea,
no really you can ask him, no, he isn’t doing it “for” me, no, we’re
not doing this to “prove” something, really, we are doing this because
it works for both of us, individually and as a couple.”

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Originally published at Mommy Pie.

I own three bridesmaid dresses. I’ve been to countless wedding
ceremonies. I’ve happily purchased hundreds of dollars worth of gifts
for my friends’ celebratory passages into traditional family life.

Most of those unions have lasted. Some have not.

With my 40th coming up in just a few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot
about about time, and fate, and the very different, and sometimes
unexpected, paths our lives all take.

However I got here, this is my life. I embrace it wholeheartedly.
And I wonder, where’s the ceremony for singles who have found in
themselves the one they’ve been looking for all along? What about the
ones who, for better or worse, never do marry another?

(editor’s note: absolutely hilarious photos after the jump, so seriously do continue reading)

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