I’m here to talk about the Word of the Year, but first I think I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you about these cinnamon rolls. On a whim, I made them for Christmas morning, then again for New Year’s Day (today).  They have changed my life, in a very bad way because now I am obsessed with cinnamon rolls.  I am determined to make an orange version, similar to those pop-the-tube-on-the-counter sweet rolls from my 80’s childhood.  I have however, taken a liking to the Swedish tradition of fika in the afternoon, with a cinnamon roll and a hot cup of tea.  Really, what could be better than that?

The holidays were nice, even though I experienced them through the fever-riddled haze of a sinus infection. The week between Christmas and New Year’s is always my favorite time of the holidays.  Rather then feeling a big let-down, I tend to breathe a huge sigh of relief, as the pressure of the holidays seems to fade into a nice, slow, easy pace of nowhere to be and nothing to do. I love it. And this year I managed to stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve, something I haven’t managed to do since having the kids. It was fun staying up late drinking wine, listening to The Daddy Monkey play guitar, and visiting with an old, old friend who may as well just be family by now.

In a tradition I’ve borrowed from my dear friend The Bird, rather than making New Year’s resolutions, I tend to choose a simple word to live by for the year.  I’ve been putting a lot of thought into what my word of the year ought to be this year.  Many words rose to the occasion: lovingkindness, gratitude, and peace. But really, I think for me it’s going to be about simplicity this year.  Simple meals, simple home, and simple schedules.  Keep it simple.

In 2012, I’d like to spend more time in this space, but less time on the computer as a whole.  I’ve been away from this space for longer than I would like.  Sometimes life just gets away from me and I’m not quite sure how.  I also would like to enjoy cooking again.  My cooking has been so strained lately, I’d really like to see some joy come out of my kitchen again (see cinnamon rolls, above). I’d love to learn how to play an instrument. The ukulele to be specific. I love how it sounds, and everyone keeps telling me it’s easy, even though in my many attempts to learn an instrument over many years, music just doesn’t come easily to me. I’d also like to spend some more time sewing for myself.  Make some new clothes which would allow me to  simplify (!) my wardrobe. I’d like to get back to some of my old cameras, and play around with film photography again.  It’s an old love of mine, and I miss it.

2012 was a pretty good year for us. There were some struggles for sure, but overall, it was good. I’m looking forward to The Girl’s fourth birthday this month, getting back into the swing of our normal rhythm of school and life, and enjoying the unbelievably gorgeous Florida winter we’ve been having.

Life is good. Happy 2012.

I’ve always been a great sky lover.  It’s always changing.  Always different. Always beautiful.

It’s one of my favorite things in the whole world.  When things are making me crazy, I like to look up at the sky.

Kind of ironic, being grounded by the sky.

The Monkey Family spent the last week in Florida’s panhandle, visiting with family and recharging our batteries.  The Boy and The Girl spent several days with their grandparents, and The Daddy Monkey and I had our first ever kid-free getaway, in seven years of parenting.  It was pretty nice.  The photo from Friday’s this moment is a photo from beautiful Wakulla Springs, where we stayed.  While I would love to say that it changed my life, it did not.  It was lovely, and relaxing, and we had a fine time.  Except for being booked in a room directly next door to a loud family with lots of kids.  Oh the irony.  We switched rooms, and all was well.

I would like to say that we slept in very late, ate room service, and forgot about our children.  But the truth is that we woke early due to the thin walls of our old hotel, and that there wasn’t even room service offered.  And while I can say that I didn’t exactly miss my children, I did think of them a few times, even though I knew they were having the time of their lives being spoiled by their grandparents.

But–I can say that we enjoyed a little breathing space.  A little time in which we didn’t have to referee fights, wipe behinds, make fifty thousand snacks, and make sure everyone’s hands were washed.  We enjoyed the quiet of nature, took a wee hike and a peaceful boat ride, and enjoyed several fantastic picnics under the enormous pine trees.  The enormous wheel of brie we bought turned out to be a good investment, and the weather at the park was just cool enough to be able to sit outside. We enjoyed the song of dozens of cicadas, took the scenic route, and had fun playing tourist in a place where boiled peanuts are considered a delicacy.

The best part of a vacation?  Coming home.  Home to your own bed, where you know the sounds and smells by heart, and you can go to your own kitchen and make yourself a cup of tea whenever you like, instead of having to search the GPS for a Starbucks that is 20 miles away.  Where you know where you are going when you get in your car, and you can drive to the local organic farmer’s market and happily buy fresh, beautiful produce (even if it did cost $45).

Even though having a break from the children for a few days was nice, it wasn’t the earth-shattering experience I had expected it to be.  The effect was much more subtle.  I came home gladly.  To the home I have created for my family.  Whereas before we left, I found myself in a serious funk about motherhood and homeschooling, I came home and remembered why I’m doing this. Why I choose to live with such intention.  Feeling refreshed and ready for a new school year.  Looking forward to autumn and the cooler temperatures, a fall garden, and second grade.

It’s good to be home.

In Amanda’s words: This Moment – 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.

In Amanda’s words: This Moment – 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.

Day two of my personal retreat was just as good as day one, in its own way.  In the morning, The Daddy Monkey took the kids to his parent’s house for a swim, and I had a quiet house all to myself. Inspired by yesterday’s meditation retreat, I took the morning to clean and declutter my meditation space.  With a nice clean space to call my own, it’s much more pleasant to bring myself to practice.

After they returned, I went out yarn shopping and bought some lovely sock yarn and some jeans for myself. (Only had to try on about thirty pairs, but easy to do when you don’t have two kids with you!) I stopped for a few dinner supplies and headed home.

It felt good to come home to three smiling faces.  I really love these people that I have chosen to share my life with. What a difference it made to have some space to realize that. Taking this time for myself has made me realize how bad I am at making myself a priority.  I am committed to carving out this space a little more often, and asking for help when I need it.

We had a lovely dinner, the four of us, and decided to go for a swim.  The boys played in the waves, and The Girl and I sat on the beach after our swim.  I knitted while The Girl played in the sand.   It was really nice to reconnect with my family at the beach after taking some time alone.

And here I am in a quiet home again.  My three loves sleeping in their beds.   As my meditation teacher said yesterday, “I have everything I need.”

I began by getting some much needed acupuncture on Thursday evening, to help soothe my over-taxed adrenals.  It felt soooo good.

I started my day today by sleeping in, then enjoying a quiet, solitary breakfast.

Afterwards, I had the great pleasure of taking a half-day retreat at my local Buddhist meditation center.  I contemplated inviting a friend or two along, but decided that being by myself was what I needed to focus.  As it turns out, I ran into a friend there.

Just being in such a beautiful place filled my heart.  Hearing the words of a wise, young, vibrant, soft-spoken Buddhist nun filled me with not only a small sense of peace, but also gave me encouragement to take better care of myself.  Today’s experience deepened my understanding of mindfulness, lovingkindness, and even the task of ordinary household chores!

I wanted desperately to take notes during the teachings, but realized that in the two (!) bags I had packed (wallet, phone, keys, knitting, zafu) I did not have a single pencil. I felt a bit twitchy that I couldn’t write anything down. I decided to focus on listening rather than writing, and letting go of my attachment to always writing everything down. During our break, I asked my friend for a pen, and took a few notes on the back of my knitting pattern.  Ironically, when I left, I left both my knitting pattern and her pen on the chair next to me.  How’s that for releasing attachment?

I purchased a book and a lovely art card, and left feeling peaceful, rested, and relaxed.   I headed out for a roll of sushi.  I enjoyed my salmon roll (alone!) and read my book (with no interruptions!) in a lovely, sunny window.

I got home, read some Curious George, and took a nap.  Then I stayed in bed and read some more of my new book.

We plan on ordering in some Thai for dinner, and I am looking forward to it!  What a great day it has been.  Thank you to the Daddy Monkey for giving me the space to work on myself this way.

One of the tasks of meditation is to allow your heart to sustain a certain feeling for an extended period of time. Now if only I could sustain this wonderful, relaxed feeling every day.

Yesterday, as the Daddy Monkey was tucking the kids into bed, I stepped into our back yard to enjoy a glass of wine and watch the three small owls that have appeared every evening for the past few weeks. Each night at dusk, they call to each other, fly from tree to tree, and eat lizards and bugs.

Soon after, The Daddy joined me, and one of the owls landed on a branch about ten feet in front of us.  She had a loose feather on one of her wings, and we could see it sticking out.  I said to The Daddy, “If only that feather would fall out, I would the the happiest person alive.”

The Daddy, in way of a reply, said to the owl, “Owl, why don’t you drop that feather?”

A few minutes later, the bird flew across the yard, swooping down about two feet from my head!  She landed on a tree behind us.  I turned around and watched her for a few more minutes. Then she flew off, out of our yard, dropping the feather.

I could not stop smiling. And it got me thinking.  The last time I saw these small owls in our yard was when The Girl was still swimming around in my belly, three years ago.  I did some research, and The Owl is a symbol of death and rebirth, and also of wisdom.  The last time these birds appeared, I had lots to let go of, and much to learn.

Today, I am far happier and perhaps a bit wiser, than when these birds first appeared to me. And the magic of last night’s experience lingers.

It’s hard to believe that summer is already upon us.  In some ways (the culinary ones), I am delighted that summer has arrived.  Temperatures in the mid-90’s make me not so glad that summer has arrived.

It’s about this time of year that I begin to get twitchy, thinking about how much worse the heat is going to get.  Heat that makes me want to leave the state.  Forever.  I haven’t been shy about my love of upstate New York.  And how, when I am there, I feel like I belong there.  But I’ve just recently come to terms with the fact that my little town in Florida is a pretty amazing place.  Filled with lots of interesting places, incredible beaches, and the people I love.  In the immortal words of Colette, “What a wonderful life I’ve had! I only wish I’d realized it sooner.”

Colette, I am trying to realize it.

Yes, the heat makes me feel like my head is going to explode.  Quite the opposite of my Northern friends, this is the time of year that it is easy for us Southerners to get cabin fever.  When it’s too hot to even think about going outside.  That said, I am bracing myself for the challenge of what lies ahead, while mentally preparing myself for it.

Rather than replace the home I am in, I’ve decided to love it again, and all of its 100-year-old quirks.  I don’t need a new home to be happy.  What I need is a home filled with love, light, and good food.

I was originally thinking of homeschooling year-round, because really, we are always reading, always learning.  But I’m going to mix things up a bit.  Let go of some expectations, and give myself a break from worrying if I am doing it right.

And so, inspired by Shari’s Spring Manifesto, I bring you my Summer Manifesto:

This summer I will:

• Take my children to the beach as much as possible.
• Allow myself to take a nap in the middle of the day.
• Escape Florida for at least a few days.
• Revisit old summertime favorites: To Kill a Mockingbird and Huckleberry Finn.
• Knit, knit and knit.
• Enjoy cooking again.
• Daydream.
• Plan my fall garden.
• Wear skirts and go barefoot.
• Make ice cream from scratch.
• Cut my kids some slack and say “yes” more often.
• Ride my pink bike.
• Prepare my home for chickens.
• Eat more fresh fruit.
• Celebrate more.
• Worry less.

What’s your Summer Manifesto?

Oh hello there.  I’ve missed you.  I am still here.

We went tomato picking at our local farm today.  One dollar for a full plastic bag.  That equates to about 14 pounds of tomatoes for a dollar.  How could I pass that up?! I spent a total of five dollars on 73 pounds of tomatoes, which I still cannot believe.  So now the tomatoes sit on my kitchen floor, awaiting their canned fate.

In addition to 73 pounds of tomatoes, I also have very dirty fingernails which no amount of nail-brushing will scrub out, and a complete respect for the migrant workers who pick most of our nation’s produce.

When we arrived home from the farm, I was hot, exhausted, and hungry.  I managed to muster the strength to make this sandwich, and it was a miracle: grilled yogurt-marinated chicken, provolone, fresh-picked tomato, alfalfa sprouts, red leaf lettuce, and a schmear of mayo and horseradish mustard on a bakery roll. Homemade pickles and a glass of my first batch of kefir water, to wash it down.  Just thinking about it now makes me want another one.

My near-religious experience with a chicken sandwich could have been because I was so hungry, but it also could have been because I spent the morning communing with a field of tomatoes.  Somehow, being on a farm always makes me so happy, and leaves me feeling inspired in the kitchen. I am determined to find a way to garden.  I’m desperate to.  We are contemplating drastic measures to make that happen in our own yard. For now I have some herbs in pots, and I am registered for a chicken-keeping class, and that will have to suffice until fall.  Of course in this Florida heat, fall is about a million years away, which leaves me plenty of time to plan.