Climbing two by two.

Celebrate we will

Because life is short but sweet for certain

Hey, we're climbing two by two

to be sure these days continue

Things we cannot change.

~ Dave Matthews Band

Anyone who is on social media quickly learned that today was "National Siblings Day" according to somebody. And look, I'm not even hating on it since I'm all for any chance to celebrate my brother and my sisters while I'm alive to do it. Heck, turns out I even posted about this alleged Sibling Day in the past since I had a label already for it. Chile, who knew?

Ha.

I guess technically yesterday was the official national sibling day since it's now past midnight. But you get the picture. Hmmm. That's actually a perfect segue for what's on my mind--the photograph above.

Mmmmm hmmm.

Okay, so check it. This photo was taken roughly 24 to 36 hours after Deanna passed away. We were sitting in Will's kitchen and, I'm not sure why, a camera was aimed at us and we decided that we weren't ready to be photographed without Deanna. So we weren't.

Nope.

That photo has become like the Mona Lisa to me. I mean it. I can study it for hours if given the chance. The more I look at it, the more I see. Sometimes I just study one face. Sometimes just our eyes. But most times, I look at each one of us and marvel at how accurately this photograph captures how we were coping during that time.

Yeah.

JoLai's eyes were wistful, wise, knowing. Her expression serious, but decidedly not morose. Her hand around me is protective. And I'd bet you my life that her other hand was firmly placed somewhere on Will. She is the baby sister, yes. But I learned during the time that she is perhaps the most protective of us all.

Will describes himself as "still in shock" when this photo was taken. He fought to be brave at first but then, through the love and support of so many people who came to his side, he'd learned by this point that it wasn't necessary. Maybe his eyes are the ones I study the most. Some days I see them as sad, forlorn. Other days I see them glimmering with an intentional fight to wrestle sorrow to the ground, proudly holding up his sister's photograph and proclaiming: "Love lives on. We win. Sorrow loses." 

Yes. That.

I used to be bothered by the fact that I was smiling. Like, who does that? I'd always ask myself. Who freakin' smiles like that less than two days after losing her sister? Yeah. I used to feel self conscious about this picture for that reason. But I'm not anymore. Those who read here or who know me know that losing my sister was a life-changing spiritual walk for me. As crazy as it sounds, my soul had just opened up during that time. I'd prayed fervently during that time for peace that surpasses understanding. That is exactly how I was feeling in that moment. Weirdly peaceful. My mantra--"More glad than sad"-- blanketed me. Seeing how many people loved my sister and the outpouring of support for our family gave me solace. Plus, I knew that my Daddy was the one who usually handled logistics during times of loss in our family. When I prayed, I asked God to help me be able to do the things that he'd normally do. I'd need peace for that to happen. Which is precisely what I see when I look at myself on this photograph.

Yep.

Today I noticed some new things. I noticed the reflection of one of our closest family friends, Bert, taking the photo. How apropos that he's wearing a Tuskegee University shirt--the alma mater that all four Draper children have in common. Bert was one of Deanna's favorite people in the entire world. It makes me even happier that it was him. He's my brother's best friend. Now I will have a whole new set of thoughts when examining this photo next time with that in mind. We were looking at Bert. Will was looking at Bert.

Yeah.

Remember Bert? He's the one that took a shot of Jack Daniels in the pulpit while speaking about Deanna at her memorial service. To which my brother responded to with a standing ovation. Ha. To this day Harry says Bert's "shot heard all over the world" was quite possibly his favorite thing he's ever seen in his life and perhaps will still be at the very top of his top ten most awesome moments ever when he's an old man.

Ha.

The scarf covering us was one of the last ones Deanna had crocheted for me. Zachary's football team that year--his very first football team--was the Ducks and their colors were green and yellow just like the Oregon team. She'd made me that scarf to wear to Zack's games because he'd asked her to. Of course, Auntie did as her nephew asked. She never missed one of his games. Okay, maybe one weekday one. But if you ask Zachary? Never. I like that this is his memory, too.

I'm not sure how the scarf got all the way over from JoLai to Will. I don't recall there being a big production before that photo was taken either. It all just sort of happened. We came together. Someone grabbed her photo. And Bert captured a moment in time.

Yup.

I guess I especially love that the photo of Deanna that we are holding was a photo from a very happy day--my wedding day. She'd been so supportive and helpful. And she always had a special connection with Harry, too. Deanna had this way of making everyone feel at home and alright with being themselves. Her smile in this photo is genuinely happy. She liked this photograph of herself, too.  I know that because she told me so. So I guess I like that, too.

Yeah.

So how did I spend my National Siblings Day? Well, I spent it in the most perfect way. First, my brother and I binge-watched on some television in the morning. Then we sat on the beach sipping margaritas, listening to music, and laughing out loud well into the evening. We looked on as our own children built memories near the ocean with their own siblings and silently celebrated through knowing glances that they, too, would know what we know: Life is better with siblings.  It just is. 

Yeah. 

This song from the favorite band of all time of both Will and JoLai says it best so I'll leave it here:

Celebrate we will
Because life is short but sweet for certain
We're climbing two by two 
To be sure these days continue

Things we cannot change.

Yes. That.

***
Happy day after Siblings Day.

"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, 

will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." - Phil. 4:7

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . 

Celebrate we will.

"Celebrate we will
Because life is short but sweet for certain
We're climbing two by two
To be sure these days continue
These things we cannot change."

~ Dave Matthews Band's "Two Step"

I live life with more gusto now. More intention, more vigor. Matter of fact, I'm climbing two by two.

That is, I want to take it all in. Not two by two like I want to rush it along or anything. But just in big sweeping steps to get more of it.

Hmmm. Does this even make sense? Probably not. Oh well. Feeling rambly.

(That's a warning.)

Today I ran 13.1 miles with an old and dear friend. But before that we spent the weekend laughing out loud and talking about everything and nothing. We ate healthy-healthy and terrible-ish, too. We walked down the streets of Chicago going somewhere and nowhere. And the whole time, I savored it all. Every sight, every sound.

This would be my third half marathon. My third--whoa. I met up with my college sorority linesister/pledge sister Glencia who lives in Chicago. Being around her felt easy and natural which was good. Very good. But, still, I didn't take it for granted. I squinted my eyes and took it all in.

Isn't it good to have easy friendships? Non-heavy and non-pressured? That's what I think. 
 

We hit the expo which is where and when you get your race number and packet. Glencia inspected the route to let us know what we were in for. All I knew was that we were in for 13.1 miles of running. It was hard to ignore that fact, even if part of it was along a lake front. Ha.

One of Harry's best friends, Derrick, was kind enough to chauffeur us to and from the expo, too. He's the only person I know that's even more easygoing than Glencia. So hanging out with both of them at the same time was awesome. Plus I loved telling Harry that Derrick was looking out for us.

That reminds me--I love that my husband has very good and very old friends. That says something about him if you ask me. They all seem to have this code where they look out for each other and take care of each others' "people."  Derrick took care of us.

Plus he's not hard on the eyes and is ,as Harry says, "a smooth brother."  Even if he's like a real brother to me, I can say that, right?

So yes. The expo was cool and Derrick was great. He dropped us off and we had some lunch at a swanky spot in the thick of it all. So Chicago, man. The city had a pulse and it was thumping. I loved it.

Then we took the L. Just because I wouldn't feel like I was in Chicago unless we did. So we did.

We got up early this morning. Started it off with simultaneous yawning and laughter just like we did when we were Delta pledges hiding from our big sisters. Ha. And that part was wonderful.

I had even laid all my stuff out the night before like a good runner. Yup. This is either "good runner" practice or "corny runner" practice. But whichever, that's what I did.

Once we got there, I let myself notice things. And notice people. I can't say that's so unusual for me, but I feel like I do it more now. I take it all in two by two, you know? No, you don't? Oh well. Anyways. I made friends in the crowd and asked people where they were from. I heard their stories and smiled with them. And since I love people, that part was good, too.

Three best friends from Minnesota, New Jersey, and Illinois met up for the race.

This woman, Peg (in purple) ran with her husband and their two daughters. Peg beat them all.

A little pre-race shenanigans never hurts

The race was tough. Surprisingly so considering how flat the Chicago course was. I'd heard that having no hills hurts more since you don't have to switch up muscle groups. And man was I sore. Well. It could have been that or just the fact that my training wasn't fully up to snuff. My guess is that it was a little of both.

And. My GPS devices were all going cattywompus. ("Cattywompus" is such a JoLai word. Ha.) I had no idea what my pace was or what mile I was on. Like two seconds into the race, my Map My Run app said, "DISTANCE: 1 MILE. PACE 5 MINUTES PER MILE."  For two seconds I was excited. I thought I'd turned into that dude Meb who won the Boston Marathon.

Or not. Ha.

I still had fun, though. And despite being GPS-sabotaged, I finished in quite a respectable time, if I do say so myself. Not far at all from my personal record--or "P.R." as us runner-people call it. Nope.

*brushes off shoulders*

So yeah. That was fun. In fact, all of it was fun, actually. Wait, can you say that? "In fact" and then "actually?" Oh well. You get the picture.

Glencia's coworker braved the crowds and met us down at the finish. He had cupcakes, too. But even sweeter was his big smile and the fact that he'd gotten up so early to be there.

Very cool.


Oh! And they even gave out beer afterwards. Beer! You know, to replenish the ol' carbohydrates.

Ah hem.

So I was super happy and ultra giddy. Not even because of the Michelob Ultra beer, either. Then I got hit with that wave of melancholy that always hits me after a long race. I originally started running in memory of my sister Deanna and as a way to tell heart disease to kick rocks. I run and I think, "Take that, you thief!" and sometimes I even say out loud, "BOOM! In yo' face, heart disease!" I actually do. Yup. And so. I always dedicate the third and last miles to her. Usually, I run and weep for the final mile and it's fine. People are usually so dog tired that they don't even see me. Or they just think I'm super sweaty or just emotional. But for whatever reason, this time I didn't cry on mile 12 like usual.

Nope.

It happened after I was sitting in a Thai restaurant with Glencia a few hours later. I had just sent a text to Will and JoLai telling the that I'd finished the race. And then I ended it with this:

"Turns out not where but who you're with that really matters." ~ DMB #runfordeanna

Now. That quote comes from the lyrics to an old Dave Matthews Band song and writing that to them immediately put the song in my head. It also made me hear the next stanza after that line in the song:

"And hurts not much when your around."

Which made me cry. And is making me cry again. And will make me cry anytime I think of it.

Uggh.

Glen was awesome. She let me cry and she understood. She knew Deanna personally and was keenly aware of the hole that was left behind when she departed. And as much as a buzz kill as it was to have me with leaky eyes after her first (awesome) half marathon, she was patient. It was a sunshower, fortunately. And before we knew it, we were back to laughing.

Will and JoLai love the Dave Matthews Band. Deanna and I have always just sort of gone along for the ride with them. Later on, I started listening to Dave Matthews Band a little more and though I didn't fall in love like my eldest and youngest sibs, I did start to hear the lyrics differently. They spoke to my spirit a lot more and I let them. That felt good since I know how much Jo and Will love that band.

Anyways.

I did listen to lots of Dave Matthews on my playlist today. And, specifically, I played "The Best of What's Around" and "Two Step" just to connect me to my siblings. The running part feels spiritual and like I'm connecting with Deanna and the Dave Matthews music part feels like a hug from JoLai and Will at the same time. And all of it together felt good which made me feel strong.

You know what else?

I was with a good friend. A sorority sister, no less. Which made it even better.

Here's what I'm thinking right now: My life is good. It is rich and wonderful and full of love. I have legs that can run strong for 13.1 miles and a heart that can sustain my body when I do. And family and friends that I wouldn't trade for the world.

And so. Celebrate I will. Because life is short but sweet for certain. I'm climbing two by two to be sure these days continue.

And if that doesn't work? I'll make the best of what's around.

***

"See, you and me
Have a better time than most can dream
Have it better than the best
And so can pull on through
Whatever tears at us
Whatever holds us down
And if nothing can be done
We'll make the best of what's around

Turns out not where but who you're with
That really matters
And hurts not much when you're around."

~ Dave Matthews Band's "The Best of What's Around."

***

Happy Sunday.

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . ."Two step". . . 



and my favorite DMB song that always makes me cry. . . "The Best of What's Around."



(I blogged about this song before. Here and here, in case you're interested.)

Alls well that ends well.

This is a feel good story here:

A mother takes her child across town to camp. After taking her other child across town to where he needed to be first. And also while trying to get her own ass to work where she has to take care of sick human beings.

Wait. This isn't me, so like, sick. . . . um. . . marine life. Yeah. That's it. Marine life. Ah hem.

Okay. So said mom pulls up at across town camp and camp kid says, "Hey mom! I don't see my lunch box with my snack and lunch! Is it up there?" At which point said mom looks around her passenger seat knowing FULL WELL that it is likely sitting back across town where she sat it on the table. Just before saying, "ZACHARY! MAKE SURE YOU GET YOUR LUNCH BOX AND YOUR WATER BOTTLE!"

Whoops. I mean. . .errr. . .SMACHARY. I mean, since this is like, not even about me. Not even.

But Smachary totally didn't have his belongings and said mom was already late for work. After she mouthed the F-BOMB three times in rapid succession, she tried to call husband, also known as Smachary's dad. Well. Smachary's dad had worked late so he was knocked out and not answering his crappy cell phone. Smachary starts crying and stuff and lamenting about how he is LITERALLY going to STARVE TO DEATH and become DEHYDRATED. Which is actually what he said and only partially untrue if you know how hard these kids play in this camp.

So said mom frets. And frets some more. She calls in the heavy artillery. Grandma. And Grandma being Grandma, that is, mad helpful and such, agrees to come even further from across town and across counties even to bring Smachary a lunch. But as for a snack, he'd be in a bad way.

Mmm hmmm.

Then said mom starts feeling all bad about Grandma driving over the river and through the woods. She then remembers that one of the members of Team S.J.G.R. lives right, right, right by the camp. And since the team is more than just work out motivators, they are a true team, said mom said, "What is there to lose?" and sent a text to Jill Joyner. Whoops. I mean, SMILL SMOYNER. Yeah.

So SMILL SMOYNER, who is cooler than the other side of the pillow with the AC up on high, says, "Of course I'll bring Smachary some vittles." And that is what she did.

Let me just say this:  Said mom met SMILL SMOYNER originally as a reader of her blog. (Yes, said mom blogs, too.) And from there--like two years after they'd only known each other through the comments section--they became real life friends. In fact, they even have kids at the same school. But that doesn't mean Smill had to have said mom's back or anything. But she did. And how cool is it that said mom has increased her village in this awesome, awesome way? Through a blog of all things?

So shout out to SMILL SMOYNER who saved SMACHARY SMANNING from DYING OF STARVATION AND DEHYDRATION at his camp. And also shout out to every person who has ever had somebody's back and who gives of themselves without making it seem like you owe something.

*ting*

(That was my feel good smile.)

'Preciate you, Smill Smoyner.

Smimberly Smanning aka Said Mom

***
Happy Friday.

Celebrating the B.H.E.

*Caution: Major gagworthy, nonmedical mushiness ahead. 

Proceed at your own risk. Or have a barf bag handy.

"I don’t think we ask for much 

more than we deserve

for more than we’re worth

People say we’re out of touch 

and that dreamers will always 

crash back to earth
but you plus me

still we dream

Through valley deep and darkness wide 

I’m stronger with you here at my side.
Call us foolish

Call us young

but we’ve pledged our allegiance 

no matter what comes.
You plus me is everything

Yes I believe in love
Yes I believe in love
I looked for a reason 

and you are my reason

Because when I saw you I saw the light 

I’ve been waiting for all my life

Yes I believe in us tonight

I believe in what I feel inside
I believe in this love tonight 

Yes I believe in love
Yes I believe in love
I looked for a reason and I found a reason
Because when I saw you I saw the light 

I’ve been waiting for all my life

Yes I believe in us tonight."

~ David Ryan Harris 

_____________________________________

Man, I just love my husband. How many times do you have to hear me say this? Even I don't know that answer. I do, however, give you full permission to roll your eyes and move on to another blog, if necessary. I won't be hurt in the least; mostly because the stars in my eyes and hearts swirling around my head make it hard to notice much else.

Yeah.

Today is December 20. My husband, Harry, was born this day and, as far as I'm concerned, it might as well be a national holiday where they close all the banks. No. He's not famous and he doesn't have a Nobel Prize. But if they had a way to make a man famous just for being a good dude and a fancy medal in Oslo for the man who makes his family feel special then Mr. Manning would damn sure be a front runner.

Yep.

Okay. So here's the thing I always make sure to say out loud. Before I met Harry, I was not--I repeat--was NOT lucky in love. It was like I always had the wrong porridge. Too hot or too cold. Or mostly no porridge at all. The ones I liked didn't like me in the kind of way that I wanted them to. And the ones that liked me just didn't do anything for me. So mostly, I spent time as a single woman. And while I can't say that I was a miserably unattached person, I would be flat out lying if I said that I didn't spend a significant portion of time longing for someone like Harry and a life like the one we now share.

No. Not the shiny, twinkly parts. The ordinary boring-on-a-weeknight parts. That's what I wanted. I remember when I was a resident in Cleveland, Ohio and one of my best friends, Jada, was living in Columbus with her husband. I visited them often and they always made me feel at home when I was there. That meant card games and dozing off on the couch. It meant picking collard greens and cracking jokes over kitchen table dinners. And you know? It was wonderful that they made me feel so welcomed. But I remember that often I'd cry for the whole drive back. I'd cry because of the sweetness of their ordinary, the tenderness of their mundane. And, you know? The many weddings I attended back then were never what got to me. It was the "pick up some eggs on the way home" and the "thanks for grabbing the dry cleaning." It was always that.

I felt the same way when they had kids. Always happy for them and others at the baby showers and baby dedications. Yet admittedly a bit melancholy after witnessing simple things like bathtime and nursing. The ordinary stuff, you know?

I suppose that's why I was cut out for marriage. I say that because the meat and the potatoes of it doesn't involve people throwing confetti or dressing in black tie. It involves chatting with a mouthful of toothpaste only to find yourself disgusted because your husband has accidentally used your toothbrush. It's taking a deep breath and acting interested in Pawn Stars or Storage Wars. And listening while your wife reads an entire blogpost out loud to you and being sure to keep an engaged look on your face.

You know what else? It's realizing that in the middle of a sucky recession that losing a few points on your credit score or even something more extreme like losing your home is not more important than things like mental, physical and emotional health. And having a great spouse is -- I swear -- like having a built in very-best-friend who happens to be your lover and co-pilot living right in the same house. And like any good co-pilot, there are just days where one has to take over for the other. And that's just fine. That's what we do.

It is.

I will never, ever take that man for granted. Not a single second of a single day. I know what it felt like to long for him and I try my best to love him with the same zeal with which I fervently prayed that he'd enter my life. I look at him and touch his face with both hands. I put my cheek against his and laugh out loud with him as often as I can. And when we disagree? It's always clean. We say our pieces and then squash it. Five minutes later it's a request for me to see what the Swamper dudes are saying on A&E. Or the Oregon Gold Rush dudes. Hmm. Or Man vs Wild. 

As Ms. Moon would say: "Ah lah."

Ah lah. The sound of ordinary bliss and not sweating the small stuff. Ah lah. The sound I made this morning when I realized that the bottoms of the biscuits were overdone and that my Christmas cards still hadn't come from Shutterfly. Ah lah.

Today is December 20, 2013. And on this day more than ever, I believe in the us called Team Manning. I'm not afraid to say it. I don't fear that he will turn out to be a mere mortal, either. Because I already know that. And fortunately, he accepts the same about me. Which is really, really cool.

Yeah, it is.

Oh. And before I forget: This song. This perfect, beautiful song that I've been obsessed with for weeks. Yes, it was shared with me by a fellow Grady doctor-friend named Francois R. The artist, David Ryan Harris, is his good friend and a pretty damn awesome singer-songwriter. Admittedly, I'd never even heard of this song or of Harris in my life. But after a simple text message sent on an ordinary weekday I became an immediate fan. I've downloaded several of David Ryan Harris' songs and haven't found one that didn't move me in my soul somehow.

Yep.

So. Since I can't get this song off of my mental iPod or the B.H.E. off of my mind, I pulled together some glimpses of our ordinary yet groovy kind of love. . . .and let this treasure of a love song serve as the soundtrack.

Oh yeah. One more thing. 33. That's how old I was when we married. But now that I know what I know, I would have rather waited for him specifically than get the chance to wear a frilly dress and twirl around a fancy ballroom with the wrong person sooner. Meaning, yes. If I had to wait five more years for him versus some other dude who didn't treat me as kindly, I say give me the five years. And the ones want some parts but not the full package including my ordinary? I now know that it's better to tell them to kick rocks as SOON as POSSIBLE. So what if you have crows' feet when that special one comes along. The better to SEE you with, my dear. Hell, that's what I say about it.

Mmm hmmm.

I keep saying one more thing but having one more thing. Ah lah. Look. There's definitely not any real secret to any of it except, I think, one. Keep the slate clean. Don't allow your heart to be confused and cluttered by . . . well. . .porridge that is clearly cold. Or that is overly hot. Or better yet--let me be even more concrete about this: Don't let anyone come tipping in and out of your intimate life just because you're bored. Because that's just enough to create a blind spot that causes you to miss your BHE or BWE or BPE when they come along.

Oh, and this. Harry told a friend who was trying to figure out a relationship these wise words:

"Look, bruh. When you wake up in the morning, you pull back the curtains and you know? It's either sunshine or it's not. Then you step out on the porch and it's either warm or it's cold. It doesn't take long to figure it out. And the minute you figure it out, stop standing there waiting for it to be what it's not."

Say word.  The man doesn't say a lot. But what he says? I'm saying. It's worth listening to, for reals. Mmm hmmm.

I have rambled for the seven trillionth time about the BHE. I know, I know. But it's meant to be more than just indulgent and giddy. It's meant to be hopeful for someone who is confused by the hand they've been dealt. And a real true testimony for somebody to read that if it happened to me--the one who was always the third place setting--it can damn sure happen to anybody.

And. If you DO have someone special? Don't take that for granted. Even if you aren't a Bible reader or follower of Christian faith or any other for that matter, consider this Psalm:

Teach us to number our days,
    that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

~ Psalm 90:12

In other words, live and love like you mean it. With intention. Savor the days and people before you. Elevate them and fall asleep each night knowing that they know for certain where they stand in your heart.

And no, it doesn't have to be a full on blog post or some expensive gift or any such thing. Sometimes it's as simple as sitting quietly next to him on the sofa and smiling while he rewinds American Pickers or Diners, Dives and Drive-ins for the seven trillionth time.

Ah lah.

Yeah.

***
Happy Friday, y'all. May it be ordinary and full of the things that amalgamate to create a true happiness that you never take for granted.

Now playing . . . .this one's for you, Mr. Manning. Oh, and shout out to the production team: The Brothers Manning, Inc. They're a full service team -- complete with calypso singing and impersonations, too. Oh YEAH!

Happy Birthday 2013 from Kimberly Manning on Vimeo.

And for those who are new and/or who have nothing better to do but read random things, peep this oldie but goodie post about When Harry Met Kimberly. One of my favorites to reread--the story of the night we met. Yes, people. He had me at "Ohio." 

And one more thing. . .ha ha ha ha. .  . seriously--this clip of David Ryan Harris playing live and singing a song he wrote about the bond between a mother and her son.  *sniffle* Feeling. This. Song.

Things I like.

I like the sunrise

'cause it brings a new day

I like the new day, yeah

It brings new hope

they say

~ from "I like the sunrise"

_________________________________

Here is something that I think:

When you dwell on negative things, you drown in them. Conversely, when you focus on the good things around you, they seem to take center stage. This morning I am sitting at my kitchen table reflecting on some of the things that I like.

Simple as that.

I like early mornings. My house is quiet then. Runners are out and dog-walking folks, too. I sit at my kitchen table and watch them, usually lost in my own thoughts. It's one of my favorite times to write. To pray. And to just be.

I like tomatoes in the summer. Particularly those big beefsteak ones. And especially if they're room temperature. A little pepper and kosher salt makes it one of my favorite meals.

I like it when my mother-in-law visits us. She's such an easy guest to have. Her way is easygoing and her heart is good. She cooks things and, despite me asking her not to, she cleans things, too. I've never had an unpleasant interaction with her. She's not "extra" or needy as a guest, either. Almost always when she comes, I wish she'd stay for good.

I like the way I feel after a run. I feel strong. Like I could do anything.

I like reading some of my old blog posts. Like, a lot of times they represent a period in my life and going to those posts reminds me of that time. I blogged a lot when Deanna passed. I'm happy that I did. I like knowing that my thoughts were chronicled there. The comments also exemplify the kindness of human beings. On days that I worry about the world, I can find solace in some of those old posts. I do.

I like our nurses at Grady. They are hardworking and smart. They make me laugh. I like that every time I see them, they seem happy to see me. That's good because I'm happy to see them, too. Our nurses are actually one of my absolute favorite parts of my job.

I like Maybelline GreatLash mascara. In the old school pink and green tube. It's cheap. It's everywhere. And it makes you look good.

I really, really like my husband. He's such a cool guy. You know? I always say to him that if he were not my husband, I'd very much want to be his friend. His confidence and self image blow my mind. He's such a go getter and is so decisive. Tough yet tender. Selfless and serious yet ridiculously silly. I like him so much. And as time goes on, I am realizing what a blessing this is. Not to just love but LIKE your spouse. I am learning that a lot of folks have people in key areas of their lives that they don't like. I have mostly arranged it so that I don't.

I like talking to my kids. And I especially like how emotive and open Isaiah is when talking to me. Yesterday we were reading at bedtime and in this novel someone said that their parents had gotten a divorce. He started to ask me a few questions about what divorce meant. I explained what it was and he just stared at me without blinking. After that, he asked me if divorce was "bad." I told him that sometimes people decide that they want to not be in a couple and that a lot of really, really nice people come to that decision for a lot of reasons. And that "bad" isn't a good word to describe it. So he said, "I bet it isn't any fun if you are married but you don't feel happy together like holding hands and stuff." And I told him that I agreed with that and that he is wise. "But if they are a mommy and a daddy they just work as a team but sometimes in a different house, you know?" That's what I said. Then he just kind of gazed off somewhere distant. And his face started looking sad. "Do kids feel sad if their parents get a divorce?"  I answered him best I could. "Probably sometimes. But if the parents just keep on talking and hearing how they feel and treating each other nice, it probably gets better. I think."  "I think I'd be sad if you and dad got a divorce." To which I replied: "You know what, Isaiah? I think I would, too."

I like popsicles. Nearly all kinds. They make me happy.

I like my red, patent leather pumps. They automatically make me feel fierce.

I like Community Coffee (the brand from Louisiana.) It's inexpensive yet delicious.

I like coffee period. Except for Starbucks regular coffee. But I will drink it in a pinch.

I like writing. It feels good and right.

I like this picture because I think I look like JoLai in it. And I like JoLai so seeing her face in my own makes me happy.

I like my parents and my family. They're awesome.

You know?

I like my life. It's good.

***
Happy Thursday morning.

I like this song, too.

More of The Best of What's Around.

 

I have a friend who is having a very hard week. Today is the anniversary of something very hurtful for her and I am really, really thinking about her. Funny that I posted about that Dave Mathews Band song last night. I woke up this morning on this day--the day that really, truly changed her life forever--hearing that same song on my mental iPod:

"The Best of What's Around."

So. Even though it isn't "Music Lyrics Monday," I am sharing these lyrics today. I am playing this song and thinking of my friend.

And you know what? I'm thinking of a few others, too. Like you. Because many of you have listened to me and laughed with me and made things feel alright on icky days, too. Even though you have your own crosses to bear and your own icky-day things to contend with. Still you've come to me and said, "Hey, my friend."

So thanks for that.

You know? I kind of think I'm playing it for me, too. Because sometimes all you can do is just make the best of what's around. And even during the hardest of times,  there's still a lot of good around, you know?

________________________________________


The Best of What's Around

Hey my friend
It seems your eyes are troubled
Care to share your times with me?
Would you say you're feeling low and so 
a good idea would be to get it off your mind?

See, you and me
Have a better time than most can dream
Have it better than the best
And so can pull on through
Whatever tears at us
Whatever holds us down
And if nothing can be done
We'll make the best of what's around

Turns out not where but who you're with
That really matters
And hurts not much when you're around

If you hold on tight
To what you think is your thing
You may find you're missing all the rest
Well she ran up into the light surprised
Her arms are open
Her mind's eye is

Seeing things from a
Better side than most can dream
On a clearer road I feel
Oh you could say she's safe
Whatever tears at her
Whatever holds her down
And if nothing can be done
She'll make the best of what's around

Turns out not where but what you think
That really matters
We'll make the best of what's around

~ Dave Matthews Band

________________________________________

Last night at the concert we bonded over lyrics like these. We each shook our respective tookus and yes, we made the best of what's around. Which is each other and life and love.

Yeah.

Will and JoLai love, love, love the Dave Matthews Band. Yesterday was JoLai's thirtieth DMB show. And Will? I have no idea how many he's seen. All I know is that they love that band and I love them so I was glad to be there. Fran and our friend Steve came, too. So all of it was very, very good.

Will got a stretch SUV limo for us. Partly because it would add to the swankiness of the affair. But mostly because he thought Deanna would like it. See, he had originally bought those tickets for all four of us to go together. Deanna had expressed something at some point about having a driver for such nights so Will had already arranged that. And interestingly, JoLai had already had her ticket to be here in Atlanta because of this concert -- long before November 15 changed the reason.

But. We still we went to the concert and still had a blast. And, just like Dave Matthews likes to croon it while strumming his guitar, we'll make the best of what's around. Which is each each other and life and love.

Admittedly, I'm not much of a live show kind of gal as much as they are. But it's all good. We were together and laughing and dancing. It does not get any better than that. It does not.

My friend knows both how I feel and how my mother feels. She lost a sibling when she was a young adult and later, her adult child. Today was the day he left her. 

Today, I am thinking, "Hey, my friend." Not much more than that because there aren't any words really. But there is always each other and life and love. There is that.

So, my friend, we'll make the best of what's around.

Or at least we'll try.

***
Welcome to 12/12/12, people.

And in case you aren't familiar with DMB, please--take a listen here. This song is a perfect DMB introduction if you ask me.