wide open space

The very first dance studio my mom took me to, was in an old house. I remember the steps going up through a porch and into the living room - where a check in counter and couches were.
The bathrooms were across the hall from the giant clean room with that had golden wood floors, tall mirrors, and smooth wood bars attached to the walls. I also remember windows. Tall windows.

Since that first class, I've danced in many studios.

A small one room studio in Coronado CA
a giant three room dance studio in downtown San Diego
A gorgeous old building in the historic part of San Diego
The spacious rooms of the dance department at the UW
A lovely little studio two floors about Pine Street on Capitol Hill.

And I've loved them all. The space that is the studio.

Regardless of where.... some facts always remain the same:

mirrors, wide open floor spaces, ballet barres, tall ceilings, and light.

I think I love most the way the light bounces off the mirrors and slides across the floors.

I realized that this is also my ideal home. What I love most are hard wood floors (but even the tile floors in my house... when left open and exposed, seem beautiful to me - it's the open floors, uncovered by rugs or carpet that I love), tall ceilings, big giant roomy rooms that I can leap around in, mirrors, and tall windows.

When I was old enough, I begged my mom to put up a floor to ceiling mirror in my room and install a ballet barre. She did. And I practiced in my room just like I loved practicing in the studio.

There were things I didn't like about ballet.
I hated the competition, the drive to be thin, and the quest to do things perfectly. All three, not such good matches for my personality.
But even more, there were things I loved.
I loved dancing, the music, the routine of a class. The discipline of it, fit my personality to a tee. I especially loved the room we danced in. A sanctuary really.



There are bits of my ballet memories that will stay with me forever.

I loved getting to class early, putting my towel over the barre, and sitting on the floor by myself and stretching. I'd watch the other people come into class. The pianist, the instructor, the other students. I could look in the mirror and watch them get ready and still be in my own quiet space.
I loved putting my foot on the barre and resting my head on my shin. Just listening to my own breath and the hush of other people in the room.

Maybe someday... I will build my own lovely studio right in our backyard and my family and I will ignore the crazy things about ballet.
We will just grab hold to the really fun things and we will dance in a giant wide open space.
And feel really really good.

Paris Sweet

Living in a relatively small house, I love looking at what other people do with small spaces.
This teeny tiny Parisian apartment is only 279 sq. feet.
I can't even imagine.
Hubby and I lived in a 600 sq. foot condo and I still can't believe we made it work for us.

But if I had the flair of this wonderful woman, perhaps I could have fit all 5 of us in that teeny condo.
I absolutely love how she has the bed all cozily tucked in by books.

You can see the whole story on decor8blog..... here.

because

Sunlight streaming in
on an uncluttered table
makes me feel very very good

Cant' you just smell the lavender?
and lemon? I smell lemon.
Don't you just want to sit there all day and enjoy the view?
Or stare into your child's eyes?

And eat healthy things?
And drink really strong coffee?

Inspiration to cleanse my kitchen

thanks apartment therapy

sweet

I always imagined that my little girl would be a raven haired- brown eyed lovely. That is just how I pictured her when I found out we were having a girl.

My husband has dark hair, my middle boy has dark hair.... it just made sense.

I imagined that she'd look like my mom.

And I was delighted by that thought.

Of course I think my blonde sweetie is absolutely gorgeous and I'd never trade her in.

But this lovely picture from Stephanie Fizer, reminded me of my mental images of little plum before I actually got to meet her.

There is something magical about fairy tales. I love this image of Snow White with her apple.

So very sweet.

she sleeps and I have more time for my obsessing

Little Plum has decided to take a monster nap.
Going on 2 hours.
The fridge is cleaned a re-stocked.
The mess is somewhat cleaned.
The boys are still not home.

So I have plenty of time to do what I do fairly well.

Obsess about things.

It is near the end of October and the kids have been in school for almost two months.

I am still a giant ball of indecision about my first son's school.
And yes, we are talking about elementary school, not graduate school. So what is my deal?

Here's the refrain that goes through my head:

did we make the right choice to move him?
should we have left him at his old school?
Everyone loves the third grade teachers there.
He is missing a year with a teacher who everyone raves about
He is missing getting the second language.
Have I totally #$%^ed things up?
This lovely photo is Cornell law school... again, not measly elem. school. In 10 years, this struggle I am having will seem like a joke. It's just elem. school. But today, to me....it seems like a huge crazy decision.

You see, 1B loves his new school. He has made some wonderful friends. He is at one boy's house right now. A boy I really like. 1B is blossoming.

But, everytime I go to his old school (where 2B is), parents tell me about what he is missing by not having this amazing third grade teacher. He could have done this amazing field trip, he could have had this amazing experience, etc., etc.

I get it. She is great. The thing is, she really really is. I get a teeny bit jealous about all the cool stuff she is doing that my kid is missing. She is a stellar teacher.

Therefore I feel terrible.

I wish someone could clear my head. He is only 8. No one teacher is going to change his life that much...right? He is happy. But I think.... could he be happier? Could we have had just one school to drive to, instead of two? Could I have one PTA instead of 2?

Today, I feel like I failed him. We should have stayed at his old, wonderful school.
But... he loves his new school.

And I continue to drive myself crazy with the choices I am given in this world.

quality time

I promise not to sit for hours reading other people's blogs
I promise not to sit for hour typing a blog post for my blog
I promise not to open up Facebook and get sucked into it's craziness
I promise not to check my emails.

Little Plum sleeps
1B is at a playdate
2B is playing soccer with his team
Hubby is playing soccer with 2B

Yet my time is not my own.

Our fridge has broken.

I have every counter covered in melting food.
I have a dirty (but working) refrigerator from the garage
that needs to be cleaned
and then filled.

Shoot.

Once upon a time....

There was a little six-toed baby boy
When he was brand new....he had to stay in the hospital in intensive care for three very very long days.

Then that little six toed baby boy grew and he grew.

His had giant chocolate colored eyes

He was quiet around people he didn't know
But noisy where he felt comfortable.
He was a dare devil who loved swimming and sports and fast cars and hip hop music
and all things utterly cool.

He made his sister laugh and was his big brother's best buddy.

That little boy grows and he grows.

He's my little dude whose story keeps unfolding
My little black-eyed-boom-boom-pow - multi-layered-dressing-stuffed-animal-loving-bird-drawing dude