A Wildwood Story

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” -Dumbledore

Letters to Candace

Letter 11 {Awkwardness & Poetry}

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Dear Candace,

There is an odd jumble of things I experienced this week, but I feel helpless in explaining them to you. I could talk about how, when asked by intelligent homeschooling moms, I couldn’t for the life of me recall which math book Caleb was in (Algebra? Pre-Algebra?), or what shoe size Drew required. Or there was the time I blindly drank out of my host’s cup at a dinner party, even after picking out my own vessel and beverage. She was very sweet and nice about it, not seeming to mind since we have shared food off each other’s plates before, but still. Drinking out of her straw was not the classiest thing I’ve done all week.

This has not been my classy week.

I discovered a lovely poem which you probably already have memorized, since you’re classy, but is new to me. When I read it aloud to Drew before his language arts lesson one day, he just looked at me stone-faced. He did not appear to appreciate my new favorite string of verses, or my passionate recitation. He is 10 and thinks farting is hilarious. I am 34 and drinking out of other adults’ cups. Suddenly we are sounding not so dissimilar. I digress-and here are the charming lines which somehow helped soothe all the oddities of this week:

The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd*
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,
To wayward winter reckoning yields,
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,
The Coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
 But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
♥
Not to be dramatic, but I think I’ll read The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd every day for the rest of my life,
Rachel
*This, after The Passionate Shepherd to His Love which you must also read

Letter 9 {Unicorn Ions, Sanity}

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Dear Candace,

I’m sitting in front of my new sun lamp. The manual claims that using the light with the negative ionizer* will make me feel as if I’m at the beach on a blue sky day.

I mean. Those are some big claims. It’s terribly gray and cloudy outside, so now is as good a time as any to spend 30 minutes with an anti-depression light.

Along with my fancy new happy light device, I did end up purchasing a wake-light alarm, too. I found it on sale for $20 cheaper than the normal price! #bargainbabe

I thought perhaps it would help me wake easier as well as wean me from relying on my phone for an alarm. I’m trying to get my phone out of the bedroom completely in the evening.

I’ve busted all previous alarms, so part of waking up is trying to keep myself from slamming the thing to the floor. The light really makes a difference. In addition to helping my body out of it’s sleep cycle, when I turn the alarm off the light stays on which makes it easier to actually roll my booty OUT of bed instead of rolling over IN the bed.

I’m slowly getting back into exercising. As in-I started up again and then got massively ill and commenced laying around for days while preserving my winter body fat layers. My phrase for this year-”Do the Next Thing” aka “Just Keep Swimming” in the words of Dory-is an appropriate reminder to just pick up where I left off and keep forward motion.

My two youngest siblings spent the week with us while my parents vacationed in Florida. That meant a total of 5 children including two 14 year old males**  in the house. That meant dozens of muffins disappeared, a huge pot of chili snapped up, too many dirty socks to count, smelly shoes errywhere and really loud outside voices inside. To say nothing of the knives, BB guns, skateboards, and trampoline tricks that had me banning half of them and double-checking the fastest route to urgent care because WHEN I’M THE ONLY ADULT AROUND I’M SCARED.

Some of the spring trees are blooming around here! A vague shimmer of green buds can be seen in this wave of brown…

I will survive,

Rachel

*Negative Ions. Apparently these are found naturally in air, forests, waterfalls, the laughs of babies, and unicorns. Harmless and tasteless, they are said to lift one’s spirits. I know nothing about ions, but I’m putting my trust in them.

**For those who don’t know: my son. my brother. my sanity, oh my….

Letter 8

Letter 10

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Letter 8 {Waffle Fries, Goals}

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Dear Candace,

Something very big happened. I still can’t believe how blessed I am. I thought being within 30 minutes of IKEA was enough to make me content for the rest of my life, but this is like the cherry on top: A new Chick-fil-A opened a mere four miles from my home!

It’s located right next to our library, which is undergoing an enormous expansion and remodel. So when I’m in the library, I can look through the window directly at Chick-fil-A and think about how wonderful waffle fries and frosted lemonade is. And when I’m in Chick-fil-A I can gaze into the Library and think about which next true crime book I want to check out. It’s a perfect marriage.

If you come to visit I will take you there and if we want to be good, we can have a salad. The salads ARE yummy. I think with the accountability of a companion I could overcome the fries and just stick with a salad. I’m going to have to think this through.

Growing up in a small town, then living in rural Missouri through my teens and twenties makes this whole suburban experience a novelty I’m never tired of. I CAN WALK TO A STARBUCKS HALLELUJAH.

In contrast to this wonder in my life, I’ve been sick all week. You’d think I put “BE SICK” on my 2017 list of resolutions with how often it’s happened this year. I’m pretty much wasting away what little youth and beauty I have left. When company dropped by, they skirted around me very carefully, their eyes wide. And I HAD put on a little foundation and mascara, even.

Perhaps I should see my current circumstances as a gift. All this illness and melancholy probably means I’m about ready to write an epic, tragic love story. It will be so movingly written that even I, the stone-cold non-crier at the movie theater, will shed a tear when my powerful tale of love and loss is told onscreen. Aren’t some of the best things borne out of difficult times? If not a novel, surely these bouts of illness will at least produce a poem in the vein of John Keats. This could be the fever talking, but I doubt it.

Please make sure my book gets published should I die as soon as I finish the manuscript,

Rachel

 

Letter 7

Letter 9

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Letter 7 {Snakeskin Boa}

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Dear Candace,

My recent weekend in Chicago reminded me that, due to my laziness in the exercise department, I have gotten very winter-weak. My legs are sore from all the walking I was ill-prepared for. I ate doughnuts and dumplings while in Chicago, which cheered me considerably, but something must be done about my muscles. They just WILL NOT tone themselves.

I’m writing this outside on the back deck at my patio table which sits out in all weather because a) nowhere to put it and b) if it survived the last 50 years I’m not about to coddle it now. It’s a 74 degree day in February! I decided to wear shorts today-even though it’s not sunny, the warmness is wonderful. It seemed a safe thing to do, since I’d be home all day and scandalizing no one but my children with the whiteness of my legs. I jumped on the trampoline with Drew for a few minutes. “Your toes are really white, Mom, whiter than mine.” I’m going to paint them soon.

Beside me on the table is a snakeskin. This weekend Caleb’s corn snake, Mango, shed his skin and the children are quite proud of the result. Caleb says it indicates how healthy his reptile is, how well he takes care of it, and is using this fact as leverage to wheedle for another snake. Drew picked up the intact shed to drape it lovingly around my neck. “No!” I exclaimed, extricating myself. “Always ask someone for permission before you drape a snakeskin around their neck.”

The things I catch myself saying in this household.

This is random, or maybe it’s the feeling of spring in the air, but I want to do something fabulous with my front porch. I don’t know what, or how, but it needs a makeover. The old, stained concrete floor is impossible to clean and a past experience with painting concrete makes me leery to paint it. Right now I have a couple rugs out, which help, but I’d love to completely redo this space. Having a covered porch on a small house feels like an extension of our living space which I want to capitalize on more.

This desire is probably also influenced by my reading of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair and the work of the architects, landscapers, and designers who made such a remarkable event come together. I’d like to Grand Exposition my front porch.

Spring dreams,

Rachel

 

Letter 6

Letter 8

Letter 6 {Coffee Memories}

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Dear Candace,

I had an unexpected memory sensation this week. After reheating my remaining day old French Press coffee (made by the ten year old as part of my special served-in-bed Valentine’s breakfast) I leaned over to inhale the delicious strong blackness and was immediately seated at my grandparents’ kitchen table. Grandpa and I were across from each other, coffee in hand poured from the always-on percolator. Grandma floated around the kitchen in her familiar manner. Never was there sugar or cream. I would sip slowly out of an old train-car coffee cup leftover from Grandpa’s days as a conductor. Sometimes when I visit diners in St. Louis I’m reminded of those cups-perfectly thick, not tall.

I’m wistful about those coffee conversations. Tuesdays with Grandma while Grandpa went bowling and shopping. Coffee before he left, coffee after he returned, Pepsi with Grandma and watching the Ellen show in-between. Fish and fries from Long John Silver’s for dinner. It was tradition-Tuesday was fish day for Grandpa! The ordinary and hardness of those Tuesdays is missed.

I’m thinking, too, about all the conversations we’ve had over coffee. Tears and laughter in our cups.  A lot of life has happened around coffee. I’m all nostalgic and grateful for that coffee-life right now.

Short but sweet and definitely sappy,

Rachel

P.S. If we ever have to stop drinking coffee because of some bizarre health reason or shortage in the world let’s try this instead. It looks strong and delicious enough to handle whatever we may throw at it.

Letter 5

Letter 7

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Letter 5 {Super Bowl}

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Dear Candace,

Monday

The Pride & Prejudice soundtrack is perfect for days when the sky feels like a weighted blanket. My candles are lit, my coffee is hot, and the house is blissfully quiet while the children are at their classes.

I should be cleaning. I should be grocery shopping. There are always so many shoulds, aren’t there? Instead I will take this opportunity to read, pray, reflect, write, and perhaps pour myself a second cup.

Last night Tom and the boys watched the Super Bowl.* The Fox Sports app was streaming it live so they were able to watch it for free, yay! As you well know, I have not an athletic bone in my body nor do I follow sports, much, but I am always okay with snacks and family time and the commercials are kind of great.

I put on comfy clothes and worked in the kitchen all afternoon and evening. I don’t usually tackle big jobs on Sunday afternoons, but on Saturday Tom installed LED lighting and the kitchen had vomited into the dining room. Several cabinets had to be emptied while he worked on the wiring, and naturally I decided to reorganize. If we’re gonna have a mess anyway, why not make it a bigger one, right?!? I found those espresso beans you gave me, hidden behind boxes of tea. My limited counter space caused a series of conflicting emotions as I determined what could stay out, what must be stored in a cabinet, what must go. It’s like pulling on a pair of too-tight jeans: I…WILL…MAKE…YOU…FIT…

Being two steps away from the living room meant I was present for the whole Super Bowl event even though I didn’t actually sit down and watch it. That’s the good thing about being in a small house-you’re only two steps away from everything. That’s the bad thing about being in a small house-you’re only two steps away from everything.

Favorite commercial? Definitely Christopher Walken’s bai ad because, well, three things: Christopher Walken, Justin Timberlake’s velvet jacket, cleverness.  Runner up? The celebrity Honda commercial because: sweet, sappy, just-keep-swimming inspiration.

Friday

I made it! This week included 60+ degree weather, -30 degree weather, my kids developing a fascination for skateboarding and begging to do it on the daily, the house across from us being condemned due to structural unsoundness, and my left eyeball swelling nearly closed because of an infection. In other words, the usual.

As part of his school, Drew was required to write a letter to the president. I remember doing the same thing as an elementary student, and the excitement of getting a letter back from the White House! Drew had a hard time deciding what he would write, but in the end he chose to include this in his letter:

“Do you like Harry Potter? The Harry Potter books are my favorite. If you have never read them you should.”

I suspect our Commander in Chief has NOT read them, and this is part of his problem.

Have a great weekend,

Rachel

*Using Amazon’s fire stick which is new to us and quite handy

Letter 4

Letter 6

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Letter 4 {Simply Tuesday}

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Dear Candace,

Everything has been chilly this week. The political climate, the weather, the man who didn’t hold open the door for me when my arms were full at the UPS office.

We have had a bit of sunshine, but only enough to raise one’s hopes before they are crushed down again. I think I need more vitamin D. I’m beyond Irish girl white now, I’m vampire flesh white. Do you think scrubbing with sugar scrub and applying some sunless tanner would help or no?

It’s possible I’m Winter Exaggerating again but I doubt it. How can one be thankful for the gift of each day and also beg for it to be over? This is my paradox.

I started the book Simply Tuesday. My eyes were welling up just reading the introduction.* Me, the non-crier. {It’s Winter Crying.} Anyway, I haven’t even made it to the first chapter yet I’m completely in love with Emily’s lyrical words (we’re friends now, her and I) and gentle offering of sweet water in days which feel dry, dull, listless.

“Someone once pointed out to me how, even though we always think of heaven as up-beyond the clouds, above the weather, and over the rainbow-it may actually not be far up.

‘What if,’ this person wondered, ‘heaven is simply one inch above the ground?’

It’s still up, but it’s not so far away. Instead the kingdom of God exists right here in the moments where we live.”

The kingdom of God exists even in the grayest Midwest.

All my love and some cheerful red lipstick,

Rachel

P.S. Our Christmas tree did not come down when I declared it would. It was almost a full week later before it got put away, and that mere moments before Edward arrived. In fact, he watched me organize and pack away the ornaments. Then I saw a friend post a picture of her cozy tree on Instagram-she leaves it up all of January and enjoys the lights, it’s very hygge-and I stopped feeling irritated at myself. Bless that tree (it’s now stuffed unceremoniously under the basement steps).

*Do you read Introductions? I feel obligated to do so, and usually enjoy them very much.

Letter 3

Letter 5

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Letter 3 {Fried Fish Hair}

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Dear Candace,

It’s quite late and the people in my house should be asleep but they are not. There is shifting and resettling and creaking. The whole house seems to sigh when our nighttime rituals are underway. I can hear Tom upstairs praying over the boys tucked in their bunk-bed.

I settled here on my bed to finish this letter to you and realized… I never started it! Between Tom being ill for a few days, extra office work demanding my attention, and all the Usual Things, I’ve been caught up in a small but consuming whirlwind. From Friday to Friday, it has been rather constant. I’m looking forward to a slower weekend, puttering around the house, enjoying family time. Tom is much better, too.

A friend from Indy is staying with us for a couple nights, and when I checked to make sure our guest bed was satisfactory (Hosanna’s bed; she usually sleeps in the basement when we have company) I noticed something odd. I had forgotten that, needing to store a box spring, we’d temporarily stacked it on a platform bed under a tall mattress directly beneath the slanted 1930’s attic ceiling. It gives the effect of “The Princess and the Pea.” Edward, our guest, is over 6 feet tall and sleeping atop that monstrosity. I hope he doesn’t hit his head on the ceiling when he turns over at night.

The whole house smells like fried food right now. I pan-fried tilapia in butter in my cast-iron skillet, which is my favorite way to cook fish. A liberal coating of salt, pepper, and garlic is best. Caleb fixed Tom’s garden potatoes for frying.* Fried potatoes and fish were one of mom’s famous meals she prepared from fresh rainbow trout a generous fisherman regularly supplied our family. Naomi joined us for dinner, too, and we reminisced about our well-loved fish meals growing up. It also made me think of London, with fish n’ chips served hot and salty sizzling in a paper cone. Happiness.

In the craziness of last week, I did manage to get rid of piles of kids’ clothes we no longer needed. Some I was able to sell, some I gave away. My house feels lighter, though my heart feels a bit misty. I can hardly keep up with the changing sizes of my children; it’s ridiculous. Caleb is almost taller than me!  This growing up needs to stop a moment. Time for them all to jump in bed and snuggle while I read a book, and they aren’t allowed to grow while I read. I’m too young for my kids to be getting this old. I’ll pick a really long book.**

Goodness, I’m tired. I’ll wash my fried fish hair in the morning and open the windows a bit.

Happy Friday,

Rachel

* I served vegetables to my family as well, so I get points for that, right?

**Are they too young for War and Peace? I’ve been meaning to get around to it eventually…

Letter 2

Letter 4

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Letter 2 {Sinuses & Laundry}

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Dear Candace,

I am writing to you in the depths of despair, as Anne would say, since my impacted sinuses are giving me no relief and I’m considering applying a small hammer to my cheekbones in order to loosen things up a bit.

Never am I so grateful for modern conveniences as when I’m sick. Tom can run to our nearby Walgreen’s to get whatever OTC meds I desire as well as the lotion-est of tissues. Additionally, my essential oil cache is being put to use as I frantically google, “how to transform your face from The Hulk into something more human with a drop or two of magic oil.”

{Later…} The apocalyptic ice storm turned out to be quite mild in our area, but we were happy to remain at home, drinking hot tea and being cozy. I was sick and lazy- Tom, on the contrary, his usual healthy and efficient self. He continued remodeling in our laundry room, and thankfully the power never went out during the Midwest Ice Event of 2017. Our hot water heater needed to be relocated, new drywall finished and painted, carpet tiles put down, all the things.

I’m no longer scared of my dungeon basement laundry area and might actually do laundry more often. {I’m trying to trick myself into believing that with the addition of white paint and turquoise jars, the whole thing can be a spa-like experience.} This week I’ve been working on tackling the enormity of  laundry piled up from when the room was under construction. We had an abundance of winter wear to be washed, too. (Ugh, wet gloves.) The kids are going to be responsible for their own laundry entirely. I really mean it this time.*  I’m redoing our whole system-out with the broken plastic hampers! No more dim lighting! Empty your pockets or suffer the consequences! Be cheerful and turn those socks right side out!  I’m getting over my passion for hating laundry and ridiculous OCD washing habits. You are going to be so impressed.**

What else? What else is that I’ve left the house only once in the last week. I’m feeling a little stir-crazy, but it’s also sort of wonderful after such a busy holiday season. I’m not sure how, but we keep eating leftovers. I feel like reinventing myself and my house this month. Winter nesting mode, I have arrived! You know what else is really getting to be kind of embarrassing? Christmas tree is still up.***

Please do not get the nasty cold I’m still trying to shake off,

Rachel

*Caleb has been washing all his own clothes this week. BOOM

** I might even mix different kinds of darks. Deep breaths.

***It’s coming down this weekend. Today I asked Caleb to pull the Christmas containers out of storage so I could pack everything up properly first thing tomorrow morning. JANUARY I GOT YOU

The First Letter

Letter 3

The First Letter

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Dear Candace,

You know that feeling of rising early on a cold, dark January morning and getting a few quiet hours of accomplishment in before the kids wake up?

Me neither.

I suspect I’m still experiencing holiday hangover-all the company, traveling, and late nights has affected me. I’m not besties with my alarm right now. In fact, I’ve gotten really good at turning it off and not realizing I’ve done so. Then I wake up much later than I intended, with a jolt, as if I’ve forgotten something important. It’s a case of my left hand not knowing what my right hand is doing. Literally.

I’m seriously considering moving my alarm far enough away so I have to physically get up in order to turn it off. That sounds like a lot of potential for accidental self-injury, though. I can’t risk another badly stubbed toe. I’m still commiserating over my last toe injury. Update: I don’t think I’m going to lose the nail, after all. No pastel nail polish for me; it’s all deep purple and blue shades the next couple months.

I should invest in one of those wake-lights. The kind that slowly bathes the room in a glorious, warm light, simulating a sunrise as the distant sound of ocean waves fills your waking consciousness. Perhaps a bowl of sand on my nightstand will add to the affect.

This reminds me of The Barisieur! Remember? It’s only the best invention ever-a bedside alarm clock which, besides having great style, synchronizes with the alarm settings to brew a cup of drip coffee right by your sleepy head. I’ve been following the project probably too obsessively since its inception. Apparently I’m not the only one who would love to wake up to coffee brewed directly on my nightstand since the kickstarter was a success. It can still be pre-ordered before it debuts fall 2017! I wonder if my husband knows this?

I’m rearranging the living room again. When Linda* was here, I began asking for her advice on what kind of book storage I should put in the one remaining usable corner (floating shelves? bookcase?) and by the end of the conversation we had moved and readjusted a few small pieces around the room that had been bothering me in their current placement.

There’s not a lot you can do in a small rectangular space lined with windows and door openings and only one spot for the piano, but I’m tweaking it again. Tweak.

Linda and Naomi** both encouraged me to choose white storage over black since it will tie in better with the rest of the room. It’s so agreeable when people tell you exactly what you want to hear. I’m feeling desperate about organizing the rest of our books. They need to get OUT of the basement.

Drew’s birthday is here! 10! The party last week for him and Sophie was perfect. What happened? We blinked, and now they’re both a decade old and reading fine literature.*** He wants homemade chicken pot pie for family dinner. My kids never pick easy stuff like frozen pizza for their birthday food. It’s all elaborate “steak with 6 sides and let us toast with sparkling juice” kind of meals.

Christmas tree is still up. Almost set Drew’s gifts underneath it.

Come inspect my living room when it’s done,

Rachel

*my sister-in-law

**my sister

***A Series of Unfortunate Events, Elephant & Piggie books, THE BIBLE

Letter 2

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