walking in an october wonderland

ed's dreaming of a white halloween...

or so he sang, according to his wife, yesterday.  when it SNOWED.  

we are talking the kind of flakage movie scenes are made of. the kind where the flakes stick to your hair as if they were spray painted corn flakes (i heard one time that they used that for snow in a movie) instead of chilled-to-perfection percipitation.

it reminded me anne of green gables (of course)-when Marilla, during a snowfall, tells Davy-boy that the old woman in the sky is shaking out her feather bed.  well, that dear old lady was at it again yesterday. 

if you know me, you know cold weather and i are not exactly “simpatico”.  but snow is an entirely different story. i know i know. my love for snow has yet to be put to the east coast test and all of my snow experiences have been novelties. but when those blessed, sparkly flakes begin to fall, my body forgets its’ distaste for the cold and my heart aches to be a part of the beauty. 

when i watch it, i am enchanted; but when i stand in it, and look up to see those crystal feathers twirl and swirl towards me, i am transformed. 

snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

i am a child again, and all of the snowflakes are my friends and we play together in the quiet magic of a snowfall.  one of my favorite poems is stopping by woods on a snowy evening.  

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake

i love the sound of easy wind and downy flake and i could truly enjoy the blessing of this early snow without the fear of irreversible cold weather and the long, dark winter looming before my eyes, because i am going home in 2 days.  in 2 sweet days i will be under my sweet texas sky again, with the star closest to earth warming me from the inside out.  texas will wrap its’ arms around me in all of her 80 degrees glory, and home will pull me to her heart that i might feel the safety of her shelter once again.  praise the Lord for this sweet gift.  



the weekend was blessed.  on friday eve a cold front came to town.  now, as previously and probably futurely mentioned, i don’t love cold. but i do enjoy cold fronts. bubba calls them passionate.  i call them romantic.  i think we mean the same thing.

cold front night

there is electricity in the air when the wind begins a dramatic sweep to and fro betwixt the trees and the temperatures take their first serious plunge of the aging year. the fallen leaves are stirred from their slumber and begin to whisper as they scurry across the sidewalk and take flight again. 

the night wakes up to witness the dramatic scene and the earth breathes in the freshness of the new air.  

everything is in motion and can't you see the cold frontish sky

the Blessed Mother welcomes the cold front with a warm smile

and friday, the Feast of St. Simon and St. Jude,  i awoke with that twinkly Feast day joy to a really cold (winter in texas) day. as i stepped out my door clad in cold weather accessories, i was greeted by a very enthusiastic sun and a gift of hope from the Lord in the form of a little rainbow dancing on my doorstep.

there he was, just for me; happily reminding me of the Lord’s faithfulness in all things as the rainbows cannot help but do.

the day sally forthed (a horrible horrible comic by the way) into another fruitless interview (as in it resulted in a job that i got but didn’t want), the truest consolation of life in Mass, a fall frolic with china

a regular tree hugging hippie

we are into the fall

we got friendly with the foliage

a trip to trader joes (i’m obsessed). why? because they use words like "gerbalicious"...not to mention the free samples never fail to be delicious(ly free).

i had another interview that was fruitful, and i closed the day sharing a kitchen with bubba as he cooked a delicious pork tenderloin meal, and i baked a fall treat of true treat proportions.  a Feast day indeed.
Saturday brought the cloudy skies with the soon to be fulfilled hope of snow flakes, and our first party to go with it.  a “Pumpkin and Poetry” party. 

and if you couldn’t guess from the name, it was a girls only party.  we had so many lovely souls, fall treats, beautiful poems and stories to share, and the backdrop of a winter wonderland just to add some irony to our “autumn” jamboree. 

it was lovely and wonderfully executed, thanks to the many talents of China (the sister, not the country).  the night ended with some dudes crashing, fully equipped with the scotch that, strangely enough, no girl thought to bring.  

we played games and laughed and were thankful for people who don’t hold back in charades.  our next party will be St. Nicholas.  and you bet your bottom dollar there will be dancing. stay-tuned...  





it is now Resurrection Day.  my favorite of all days.  i love the Church being filled to the brim with the Body of Christ.  I love the sunshine giving it all he’s got to warm up the earth.  i love our little nook where the lighting is perfect and there are stripes of sun and shade on the chairs.  

i love bubba being so enthusiastic about the scrambled eggs he just made. he was proud of those badboys. for good reason. 

 it is all so good.  





i have work tonight, hopes of seeing sophia and li tomorrow, a dress-up shift tomorrow night for halloween which i am pretty pumped about, and then it’s home again home again jiggity jig.  i can’t wait to be with my family, my sweet Mimi, my home, my street.  i keep singing that puff daddy song to myself--the only part i really like is the part i sing--”i’m coming home, i’m coming home, tell the world that i’m coming home...” cheesy? probably.  but it gives some words and a melody to my gladness for going home.  





i will close this post with the sweet announcement lianna finally gave me the go ahead to shout from the mountain top.  I HAVE A NEW LITTLE BEAR ON THE WAY. 

lianna is with-child and we are overjoyed.  i cannot get enough of realizing that there is a little heart beating inside of lianna’s body.  a little immortal soul completely known, and infinitely Loved by the Creator being knit together in my sweet sister's womb.  there is nothing better on earth outside of the Sacraments, in my humble opinion, than a new life and soul being nurtured and loved before it is even born.  i cannot wait to meet him (i am convinced he is a boy).  please pray for Lianna to have a blessed and healthy rest of her pregnancy (she is 15 weeks along) and for a healthy little human and a big sister that is so happy to welcome him when he arrives. 

Lianna had sophia answer the door with this shirt on to tell us she was pregnant and it took me a good 5 seconds to realize what it meant and then i screamed with joy and we celebrated the Feast of the Assumption (that was the day they told us) toasting to the new life inside Li that Our Lady loves dearly

our little sugar bear is going to be a beautiful big sister. 


happy almost Feast of All Saints!! only 2 days!

have a happy hope-filled week

betwixt

It was a little while back that i felt a disgruntled discontent for my wardrobe.  there was just something wrong with it.  i have tried to be simple and not excessive in my clothing.  buy what i need and only what i need.  the only problem is, i don’t seem to get the definition of “need”.  and, in the past, shopping has been a less than pleasant endeavor that for the most part i have avoided.  and when i haven’t avoided it, in several cases, i have, to quote the old knight in indiana jones, “chosen poorly”.  impractically, impulsively, impishly...i just wanted to make it a round 3...

the result is an eclectic smattering of summer dresses, a couple of regret dresses that i plan to set fire to...or just give away, a few v-neck t-shirts, 2 skirts that have probably gotten their moneys worth 10 times over for the use they have received, a hodge podge of colorful cardigans, a vietnamese bridesmaid dress (for reals), and a couple of flannel pieces that basically make up my fall wardrobe. and winter clothes, you ask? my closet knows not of what you speak. now, while i am glad that i do not have excessive attachment to clothing, i had to ask myself: “why do i no longer feel that any of these clothes are appropriate for the cover of my life book"?

the answer floated to the surface of my mind in one of my more fruitful car driving ponders.  it came in the philosophy of the airport.  i am going to do my best to not get too convoluted and complicated. here goes nothing.  

i have always been very at home in airports and have loved them since i can remember.  Not even excessive layovers had the might to dim the comfortable feeling i get walking through the terminals, gliding along on the jetson-esque sidewalks while slipping my rosary beads through my fingers and absentmindedly people watching fellow sojourners.  

On the most obvious level, i posit that i love the airport because it is either the beginning of an adventure or the sweet homecoming at the end of one.  an adventure to new beaches, or old mountains; to friends and fourth of july celebrations on the shady banks of a river i love next to people i love; to weddings and bike rides through aspen strewn trails; to San Pietro and the Chair of Peter; to the home of San Francesco and Santa Chiara; to cobble stone streets and really and truly wonderful pizza; to swim in waters upon which the Savior walked; to touch the Rock of Calvary and stand near where Our Lady stood as she watched her Son die for me; to stand near where Our Lady stood when she met her Risen Son on that Glorious Third Day.  and that list rambles on.  

i had to 

and on the other end?  the journey back from whence i flew? well, if you know me, you know i am a home body.  and as much as i enjoy drinking in new panoramic views of this beautiful blue marble we humans call our temporal home; well, toto, there’s no place like home.  i am almost always ready to be home again home again jiggity jig.

this is home

so the airport represents going forth into unknown (and the potential of getting to know again) places that are beloved or shall soon become thus.  it also holds the potential for returning home once again, to warmth, familiarity, comfort, and most of all, family.  to my kitchen and my baking goods, to my media room on my couch, to my street, my sky, and my stars. let’s face it, for elisa, the airport is a win-win sitchiation.  and, let’s face it a second time, i am a PRO chiller.  i could ramble around the airport terminals interminably, and a few times it has felt like i have done just that.  whether flying with a crew or solo, i am an equal opportunity airport enthusiast.  it is the between land.  the land betwixt home and the unknown and the now known back to home.  

the airport is its own little world of comings and goings, but there are a million different places and ways that thousands of people are coming and going to and fro.  it’s a little hub of untapped potential that only begins to be unveiled when a traveler finally takes off down that runway and into the wild blue yonder.  then the journey begins.  then that flower of adventure and unforeseen joys begins to bloom in wild anticipation.  

which sort of segues (that word looks SO weird) into my deeper level analysis (freshmen psych rears its ugly head) of my attachment to airports.  first of all, if i was to apply this airport philosophy to my life, i would say i was currently taxi-ing the stuffing out of that runway.  allow me to elaborate further, dear friends.

basically, for most of my life, and more pronouncedly, in the past 7 years of college life wanderings, i have lived in the safety and comfort of airport land.  the in between world where there is no such thing as child or adult.  there is just this unsure girl that can’t be either.  she can’t be a little girl anymore (i mean she can behave like a child, but be a small child she no longer can achieve--that flew out the window when she hit about 5 foot 11 inches), but she sure as heck can’t be an adult.  because that would mean a decision has been made.  that would mean taking care of myself which, as i already know from not ever trying, is impossible.  that would mean taking responsibility for my life.  ha. ha. a ha.   

so i chose the interminable wanderings of the terminal.  slipping the beads of my life through my fingers and lingering in the land of untapped potential, preferring that to taking the risk of flying into the wild blue yonder of unknown worlds, and unforeseen joys and sorrows.  i prefer to keep company with my comfortable old pains and sadnesses than hope for the unknown and unforeseeable.  

hello there, unknown 

and so i went for those 7 years.  thankfully, the Beloved would not leave me there to wander forever.  and before i knew it, it was august, and i got in line with my boarding pass safely tucked between the already written pages of my life.  and then i did the unthinkable:

i boarded the plane.  

if only it was a plane to the cayman islands

i moved to Virginia.  i left home, i left comfort and the known to stare the unknown in the face.  we are still locked in a frightful, eye-burning, tear streaking staring contest in case you were wondering...

the problemo is that my wardrobe has not caught up to my daring.  and i am still taxi-ing the life out of that runway.  

i would like to stretch my wings and practice flying.  but right now there are some technical difficulties.  it would appear the plane needs some maintenance prior to take off and so we continue to taxi and wait (often times none too patiently).  

it’s too hot.  it’s too cold.  my legs are cramping.  i need to go to the bathroom.
there is a never ending mantra of little discomforts on the runway prior to take off that have me yearning for that blessed terminal with all its well-contained, well-defined, well-known spaces for me to roam risk free and comfy cozy-like. to look out the terminal windows and gaze longingly into worlds yonder, with the comfort of terra firma right beneath my feet.  

but i know i cannot go back.  i know i would be dissatisfied and very displeased with myself for having taken all of the trouble to get on the plane and waited out the taxi-ing only to return to the terminal.  i have too much invested in the potential to soar into that yonder to go back to the terminal.  

and meanwhile, my terminal clothes no longer do the trick.  they are clothes of my past and no longer match me.  we just don’t jive.  some are alright, and by some i mean the Sunday dresses that don’t translate well into day-to-day living, and a few things that i have picked up the past couple of months.  but i would like a wardrobe overhaul. i need some uniformity and decision in my life. and i need patience and grace to wait out this taxi period.

i need that patience for so many reasons.  there is probably a good amount of taxi-ing to come before this plane takes off.  and building a new wardrobe takes time.  so does building a new life in a new place.  life takes practice, trial and error, and time.  and a whole heap of Grace and Mercy and Love.

for now, i shall try to bask in the glow of successfully leaving the terminal, and i need to chill the heck out for a minute and enjoy the slow and steady roll down the runway...maybe i’ll  even have a cold brew while i wait.  

for now, i'm going to try and enjoy the process of learning to fly.

there but by the Grace of God go i.  i am blessed.  

i'm still liking the view from down here

but, sooner or later, it will be ready or not wild blue yonder, here i come.