3x3x365

2/26/12

2012-02-27T09:34:00.002-05:00

Asheville, NC

Surely you all travel with chopsticks, a water bottle,

your Johnny Depp mirror, your fountain pen,

and almond butter.

My purse, inside out.

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South Bend, IN

Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
   only a day for people to humble themselves?
Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed
   and for lying in sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
   a day acceptable to the Lord?

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?

Is it not to share your food with the hungry
   and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
   and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
   and your healing will quickly appear;

(Isaiah 58:5-9)

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Richmond, VA

When Buddy was in the 4^th grade,

he stopped doing his homework.

His assignment pad would rule our lives

for the next several years.

His teacher, Mr. Flannigan, was pretty calm about it.

At one parent teacher conference he said,

“Yeah, homework. It’s a problem for Nathan.

Is it a big deal? Yes.

But only because one day something is going to light his fire.

And he’ll need all of these basic tools that we are learning now

to run with whatever that might be.

This drudgery of 4^th grade?

Only important when something matters to him.

But if you can encourage him

to do the work, do the work, do the work,

it will pay off for him.

Because he is smart, and interesting,

and he will be interested in something down the line.

And what he learned in 4^th grade will matter then.”

I want to be ready.

I want to be ready to run.

I want to realize that everything I do

prepares me for everything to come.

I want to learn to value these winter days,

do the work, do the work, do the work,

so that I will be ready.

Even if it’s just for spring.

2/25/12

2012-02-26T09:53:00.000-05:00

Asheville, NC

He makes us laugh.

Flaming veggie corn dog,

a crown of stunned and then delighted giggles.

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South Bend, IN

When in doubt,

go with the plaid.

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Richmond, VA

Sometimes what you need is right there all along.

I have several children’s books written--in my head.

Emma and the Bean.

Goodbye, Shrimp.

Waiting for Home.

To Be Loved.

I Don't Know if it's True or Not.

I have just needed an illustrator.

How could I have not thought of Neil?

These brown paper lunch bags are examples

of how Neil can turn the ordinary into extraordinary.

My stories are just a handful of words,

but Neil’s pictures will make them all come to life.

He said he wasn’t so sure about it

He hemmed and hawed.

He said he can’t draw people.

But I am not really concerned about all that.

I am sending him the words.

And telling him to get busy.

2/24/12

2012-02-25T10:55:00.002-05:00

Asheville, NC

Tess sees the world differently than many of us.

It's a beautiful thing to watch, and sometimes heartbreaking,

and often draining.

Sometimes, as our friend Catherine taught us tonight,

we mistake panic for rage, hers and ours.

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South Bend, IN

You can make your own drum, and bring it to the circle -

but eventually someone's got to start playing.

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Richmond, VA

If you don’t have a family of your own handy on a Friday night,

I highly recommend the Austin family.

Especially if one of them is having a birthday.

Thanks, LaDonna, Neil, Morgan and Jared

for inviting me to come and stay.

And HAPPY BIRTHDAY MORGAN!

2/23/12

2012-02-24T09:20:00.001-05:00

Asheville, NC

After her long doctor's appointment today,

it was too late to go back to school and Tess asked

to go to iHop for lunch.

It was a big day for all of us,

with a Funny Face pancake to mark the occasion.

As I looked at this pancake,

it seemed like it might be the end of a very long tunnel.

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South Bend, IN

Flames and skulls and soccer balls.

This is the work I did from my couch today.

Flames and skulls and soccer balls.

And here I thought I was all fuzzy animals,

flowers, and cupcakes.

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Richmond, VA

As an animal shelter employee,

sometimes work is work.

But sometimes work is PUPPIES.

2/22/12

2012-02-23T08:39:00.000-05:00

Asheville, NC

I saw this old photo today as I scrolled through

iPhoto looking for something else.

And it stopped me.

For all the challenges she faces--and there are many,

and she is aware of them and puzzled by them as are we--

here is Tess' declaration that she loves everything about herself.

We should all be so sure of loving ourselves,

not even in spite of our challenges,

but perhaps because of them,

and certainly with them fully in mind.

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South Bend, IN

The tools of getting better

are often mundane.

But useful.

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Richmond, VA

I saw this receipt on the floor of the bathroom at Target.

I had just shelled out more than $37.00 for some eyeshadow,

and new foundation, and new make-up brushes.

At some point earlier in the day,

probably right after I did that Google search

to see what someone I don’t even admire is up to,

I decided that I really needed to start wearing eyeshadow.

Or something. Make some changes. Somehow.

I walked past the crumpled receipt and into the stall

where I had some time to think

about the reaction it elicited in me.

In the old days, before fancy checkout registers,

receipts often had no more details other than

“Gen Mdse $1.97” or “GROC $2.79” or “DAIRY $1.49.”

Those were The Great Rebate Scheme Years.

My mother, and this guy who sold her a Chevy Citation,

became pros at scamming manufacturers offering mail-in rebates

on items such as razors, laundry soap, paper towels, Old Spice.

She and Chevy Citation Don would voraciously collect

discarded receipts that might have some close-enough price

for whatever item they were mailing their rebates in for.

They would cut the UPC codes off of boxes right on store shelves,

or steal lids, whatever “proof of purchase” they needed with the rebate form.

There were days when the mailbox would be full of checks for $2.50.

None of us kids walked through any parking lot

without scouring our route for discarded receipts.

Thinking about all of this, I decided that this story

would be my blog post.

I needed a photograph of the receipt.

I fished my camera out and pushed my purse aside.

I took one blurry photo. Then I needed another.

I stood there for a long time thinking about

how I got to this very moment.

In this bathroom, 44 years old, with new eyeshadow
I am never going to wear, all these stories making me

who I am at the cellular level.

Comparing myself to the Google search results

I saw earlier in the day, this shhhhhhhhhhhhhh sound

coming from…..from…..my purse.

Target has the kind of faucets that sense

when your hands are in place to be washed.

I had thrown my purse into the sink to take the picture of the receipt.

And it had started filling with water some moments before.

Many moments before.

At some point I stood in front of the mirror

and saw myself head on.

And I could not help but think,

with my thrift store shirt, and wimpy eyelashes,

and all of the floating contents of my purse, “I’ll take it.”

I’ll take all of it.

My make up deficit, my crazy mother,

my own attempts to get even $2.50 back

for all the effort I have put in.

My depression.

I’ll talk all of it.

If it means I can be me.

2/21/12

2012-02-22T08:40:00.000-05:00

Asheville, NC

What I love even more than Tess choosing

this heavy Larousse's World Mythology

as her bedtime reading tonight

is the fact that John gave it to her.

"Where did you get this?" I asked.

"Daddy gave it to me!" she answered,

so proud to be considered

ready for such important reading.

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South Bend, IN

Both hyper and tired today.

Like the early flowers blooming,

confused by the warm winter.

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Richmond, VA

I, Amy D. McCracken, believe in washcloths.

I like a bar of soap. And a washcloth.

I do not like bodywash or scrunchy things

or loofah or bath mitts,

or big, porous sponges from the sea.

I like washcloths.

Since last November, every time I reach for one,

I think of my sisters, washcloth nonbelievers.

I went to Denver for Thanksgiving, and saw a brand new

two-pack of washcloths on my sister’s kitchen table.

How they got there was actually a team effort.

Before I arrived, Stacy and Angela had this conversation:

“I’m going to get the wine and the stuff to make the green beans,

and I will pick up olives and cheese and bread.

You have the turkey”

“Mia wants mac and cheese.”

“Is Seth coming for dinner?”

“I will roast some carrots.”

“Do you have enough forks?”

“Fruit pies AND pumpkin?”

“Can you bring that one folding chair?”

“We should probably get some washcloths for Amos.”

There were many wonderful things about that trip,

but none have stuck with me like that square,

cotton gesture of thoughtfulness and love

from Stacy and Angie.

2/20/12

2012-02-21T08:47:00.000-05:00

Asheville, NC

A woman named Jenn posted this in the online classroom

for my writing class, VerbTribe.

We have been talking about writing

(creating, living, parenting, name your verb)

and making strong offers.

Offers that put the whole of you into them,

without fear of the reception your offer might get.

Because the reception by others is something

you can never control.

But you have infinite choice about the strength of your offer.

I love this photo Jenn created as a strong offer to the group.

Make strong offers. Go.

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South Bend, IN

I don't know how you all are celebrating mardi gras,

but I recommend getting invited to a cupcake bake-off contest.

With a side of nachos (which won the "Most traditional cupcake" award)

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Richmond, VA

After Years

Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.

Ted Kooser

Thanks to Patti and Verb Tribe for pointing me to this poem.

And to Maymont and the snow for this photograph.

2/19/12

2012-02-20T09:44:00.000-05:00

Asheville, NC

I've been in Hawaii all week, soaking up the sun,

smelling the ocean air, thanks to my friend Betsy Blake Bennett

who took me--or a reasonable, rather flat, facsimile of me--with her.

All week, I've gotten photographs showing me in the sun,

on the sand, admiring zinnias.

Ahhhh, what a peaceful vacation to a place I've never been.

My thanks, Betsy, for this respite from the cold.

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South Bend, IN

It's one of my favorite things, being read to.

And it was a great temptation, to see if I could

extend the reading by continuing down these roads

to destinations I kept adding to the list.

If the car kept going, the reading would too.

I know I can't stay in diversion forever.

But still, to travel while one travels.

It always means I will not ever be on these roads again

without some flash of the story I heard while traveling them.

Just like I shouldn't have listened to that creepy murder mystery

on CD when I painted the kitchen cabinets.

I always remember, each opening.

Each road.

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Richmond, VA

Last year on this day I wrote,

“It’s been two years today since she lost her battle with cystic fibrosis.

And just as Lucy struggled for every breath she took while she was here,

her mom, dad, and brother must find it hard to breathe sometimes

now that she is gone.

With love to Beth, Chris, and Jack Saladino today.

Lucy will not be forgotten.”

And here it is three years now.

It snowed today.

Like it did on the day on Lucy’s memorial service.

An unexpected message that maybe she’s okay.

Somewhere. Breathing easy.

2/18/12

2012-02-19T09:12:00.000-05:00

Asheville, NC

Dapper boy.

We have come to the conclusion

that Perry must speak with a British accent.

I think it's the ascot that tipped us off.

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South Bend, IN

I love my sister. I like her too.

I wonder what we would have thought

if we could have had pictures of ourselves now,

at the time when we shared a room.

The birthday sash, the butterfly cupcakes,

and oh, the easy smiles.

We probably would have been worried

about our clothing choices and haircuts.

Good thing we never got a hold of those future pictures -

we wouldn't have known what to look for.

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Richmond, VA

Last February I needed more space than my room allowed.

I slept with the slider door wide open.

Glass and screen pulled back as far as possible.

Every night.

Low of 20 degrees? It didn’t matter.

I felt claustrophobic and panicked,

but lying awake with an unobstructed view

of the black sky helped me fall asleep.

While it was all very dramatic and maybe even poetic,

it made for some ridiculous electric bills.

I'm grateful that I don't find it

necessary to waste that many KWh this February.