A conversation from the back seat.

After dropping Maeve off at gymnastics this afternoon, Hilde and I saw a Ford Flex. 

Me: Hilde, I love that car.

Hilde:  It’s too boxy mom.  You are not boxy, you are more octagonal.

Me:  What?

Hilde:  Your natural shape is an octagon.

Me:  It is?!

Hilde:  Yes.

Me:  Hmmm.  What shape are you?

Hilde:  I am circle.  Maeve is either a triangle or a square.

Me:  Why are you a circle?

Hilde:  Because I am smooth.

Me:  Smooth, huh?

Me:  What shape is Maeve, again?

Hilde:  Either a triangle or a rectangle.

Me: Why? Oh wait, I get that one. 

(Maeve is definitely an equilateral triangle or a square.  That girl is all right angles.  She is the T-square of our family.)

Me: So why am I an octagon?

Hilde:  I don’t know you just are.  It’s just your shape. 

Me:  Hmmm, an octagon, really?

Hilde: Really.

(I am still wondering why Hilde thinks I am an octagon.  For the record, I think she is referring to the shape of my soul.  My body needs work, but I not octagon shaped.

The possibilities are now running around in my head.  Does Hilde think I am octagon because I have many sides?  Does this mean I do too much?  Does she think I am all over the place?  Why do I think that an octagon leans towards busyness?  Maybe it just means I have lots of angles.   Why does this have to have a deeper meaning?  Why can’t I just let an octagon be an octagon?  This is driving me crazy.  Why does my ten year old daughter think I am octagon?  I need to know.  I need to know because maybe it will help me understand who my kids think I am.  Maybe it will help me be a better person or a better version of me.  What if knowing why I am an octagon is some kind of missing link to unlock a vital piece of self-understanding?)

On the way back to get Maeve two hours later, I was still thinking about being an octagon.  So, I continued the conversation.

Me:  What shape is dad?

Hilde: I’ve never thought about it.

(Why?  Why have you never thought about what shape your father is, but you are so sure your mother is an octagon?!)

Hilde: I guess he is mix between a circle and rectangle. 

Me:  What would that be? A crescent?

Hilde: Sure. Why are you still thinking about this?

Me:  Just wondering.

Poem of the Day

Completely lifted from NPR's Writer's Almanac. Enjoy.

The Word

by Tony Hoagland

Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,

between "green thread"
and "broccoli," you find
that you have penciled "sunlight."

Resting on the page, the word
is beautiful. It touches you
as if you had a friend

and sunlight were a present
he had sent from someplace distant
as this morning—to cheer you up,

and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing

that also needs accomplishing.
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds

of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder

or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue,

but today you get a telegram
from the heart in exile,
proclaiming that the kingdom

still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,

—to any one among them
who can find the time
to sit out in the sun and listen.

Great Post

This is an awesome, sentimental, totally sacramental post from Iris this morning.

Love the idea of using turning a wedding gown into baptismal gown.

Inspired

Maeve and Hilde have both expressed interests in parts of my wedding dress. Hilde loves the roses on the shoulder while Maeve hates the roses but loves the beading. I would gladly hack it up for them to use and then make all these sentimental things with the leftovers.

Where did I put that sewing machine? I am going to need to practice.

Thought for the Day

It is by very function of our being, not our doing, that we are the beloved of God. And so we become the love of God, blessing those He loves.

Anne Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts