I am a terrible friend who will interrupt a good story to ask a follow up question. I am an even worse wife, who will guess at his punch line before the joke has been delivered. In seeking to hone my listening skills I have found myself spending more time in silent prayer. I guess sometimes called meditation.

Every time I prayed about my friend Jenny I felt the need to extend my interest in organizing and maybe somehow she would receive this rather than feel insulted. This seriously took months of prayer. As soon as I offered help and time and extra hands I knew this was real.Today, I can say, we made a dent. Seven trash bags later, a car loaded for give away, a closet rearranged, and a home office I hope she can work with. She put up with my teasing and urge to toss it all. There is a distinctly empty shelf and a wooden floor to admire. The space cleared under her window where she is hoping to purchase shelving. I am so proud of the team we made today. She opened her doors and in turn I gained some serious listening skills. All of my motivation came from wanting to create breathing room in the place where she works (I have no idea what working from home is like, I have a classroom for all “that” clutter). I want her to access her stamps for card making and save some crafts for projects with her boys, but put it within arms reach rather than a pile that took much effort to dig through.

Plus, Jenny is so much like me. She had containers stuffed with containers. She likes pretty paper, saving letters, filing systems, children’s artwork, and all the “I might use that someday” items. I guess that is what we like about our friends, the similarities and ways we think the same. Jenny and I could talk your ear off, if you let us. But we also know our limits, can ask for help, and learn from one another.

In case you are wondering, I have five more weeks left of summer. Can I come over and help??

We decided to brave the crowds and do both on Saturday:The Getty Center in Los Angelesand The Getty Villa in Malibu.Not too fast, or too slow. The weather was warm enough to crave the shade and water, but nice enough to enjoy the scenery.Like me, Goonies has them wanting a penny to make a wish in the water.
Thanks for the photo of just the two of us, Paul.The drive was worth the view and art (Joe loves the illuminated manuscripts and I love the photography). I like being spontaneous like this, we woke up and decided to just go.

I don’t know if it is more her or me lately. I feel like I look over at random moments and she is being so silly (like at bedtime putting on her boots because they were within reach)

or while taking a bubble bathshe starts making goofy facesand I can’t get enough of this littlest one with her big eyes and baby face.

I believe that some of my material possessions carry with them baggage I am no longer willing to carry.

I am learning how to let go a little more every year. Summer has become my season for clearing out and taking the time to make the choice of saying good-bye, combined with possibly saying hello, which I have found has helped in the entire process. Starting with this phone book:I have had this book for years. I love the design. But it has become a reminder of people who have passed away, couples divorced, or friends that have moved so many times I no longer have their current address and have lost touch with. It was depressing and keeping me from calling and writing letters, because I hated the little reminders that fell out or the names I came across. I started to avoid and noticing this quality in myself  felt overwhelming—-until I spied this: Of course , like the one before: published by Chronicle Books. But even better: the tabs were thicker, the bind was spiral, the images were colorful, and so I bought it on a whim in Portland. Then honestly, placed them side by side, unwilling to transfer the information for over a month. However, this week, I finally worked up the courage to go page by page, after the kids went to bed. And the old one has been tossed. Surprisingly, this process was not as painful as I thought. Whew…so maybe I am on a roll.I jumped on the feelings of motivation and opened my stamp collection. I have lugged this one box from my mother’s, to SF, around multiple apartments, to Long Beach, and still it sits. Every time I open this box I am flooded with memories of my first found love in mail. My aunt would mail me stamps from Montana. I spent hours, as a young girl, on my bedroom floor, with this stamp collection. As you can see in the photo above, I painstakingly alphabetized every country I had stamps from into individual sealed envelopes.

The dilemma has been: What do I do with this junk? Pass it on to my children (how awful and boring), sell it (as if these little paper pieces are worth gold), or toss it  (I can’t bear the thought). In my state of being overwhelmed I did what anyone does, held on. Carrying these stamps everywhere I moved and having no idea why. They clearly don’t inspire the same interest in me. Until I walked into an antique store last week and saw a beautiful jar filled with stamps. I was inspired:The box is gone.

The envelopes were carefully opened and emptied.Each one taking away some guilt and anxiety. We are currently enjoying them, noticing the details, and saving a single jar, rather than a box full of treasures.

And then there is my living room. Furniture I have found rather than chosen. Furniture that has done its job but am willing to let go. Furniture that doesn’t seem to fit with the beautiful, wooden pieces I inherited last summer from my grandparents. Good-bye Ikea chair

Hello chair with more structure for my back (I hope to keep you for years).You are no longer big enough to hold all five of us side by side, we have loved having you aroundbut we are learning we like darker fabric better and pillows are nice. Now we can all fit during story time.

Piece by piece I am seriously learning how much these decisions matter. I keep telling my mom, the main issue is I am embracing my identity as a grown up more. I want to be a grown up without so much baggage. I don’t want to hang on. I read somewhere about asking questions like:

Is this lovely? Can I live without this? Does this make me smile? Is this practical? Is this serving a purpose? Is this adding to my life? And if I can continuously answer “yes” then I can buy it or keep it. If not, maybe I can give it away, repurpose it (desk – that’s you), toss it (stacks of papers everywhere), or sell it (books- one by one to Gatsby Books and the library).

Last week we headed to the bay with cousinsand there was plenty of play,until we decided it was time to go to the Farmer’s Marketand just ran around until the shadows were longand our tummies and our baskets were full. We love these guys.

He knows she can’t read, but nevertheless he has this sign posted on his bed.Maybe he knows the rest of us can read it, but he understands there is power in words. I love that he is finding ways to express himself in words. I also love the invented spelling of this age.

I walk the aisles and can’t help but remember my grandfather. This is a place he could wander around in. My children have the same excitement. We spent close to three hours just walking and looking.

My grandfather could bargain. He never paid full price. I am all about the one dollar items (check out the swim mask-all her own and her new snail).

A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Everywhere I turn, my family is in waterand they can’t seem to get enoughof swimmingand playing.We can do a lot less laundry if these three are going to live in bathing suits.I am lovin’ it!

My grandma is a woman whose body no longer keeps up with speed of  her mind. We drove down to Oceanside to see her and welcome my cousin back to Cali (he’s been in Texas for years).I sat listening as she would call out “How Cute!” and hearing Olivine imitate her. We spent time talking about heart ache, because it is clear when you are as old as my grandma is that she has lost most of her friends and some of her family. She told me about her first born William, who she lost after five days. The heart break of loosing such a tiny, new face. She expressed the same sort of heavy sadness in talking about the passing of her grandparents. I sat their crying and realizing that the pain won’t necessarily every go away, entirely. She spoke openly and confidently about being ready to die. She is ready to greet those who she has missed so much.For now, she is surrounded by her great grandchildren. Or as my kids say “no, my gramma” and I say back “no, my gramma.”