A Robin Williams Cure

I just sat down to write for the day and saw on Twitter that Robin Williams died this morning.

Last Saturday (two days ago) all four of my children were suffering from one of those End of Summer colds and I declared it a movie marathon day--mainly so I could wipe their noses all in one location. I knew the only way a movie marathon day would work was if Christopher and I participated, so we all set up little spots in the den and watched a succession of Robin Williams movies on Netflix.

It was a really enjoyable day, actually. And I have decided to declare movie marathon day more often. We all shrieked and laughed together. We paused and asked questions. We spent hours together in one room and nobody fought and we all snuggled and it was delightful. In the end, we watched four movies and had one meal and everyone felt better that evening.

But during that time, I sat amazed at Robin Williams. Amazed that his work as an actor was so generous. He allowed himself to act wild and utterly mad for millions of people's entertainment. I imagined him doing take after take to shoot these scenes and I wondered how tiring and taxing that work would be. And his funny had layers. He was funny and manic, but sweet and empathetic.

I can see how this work could drain someone completely.

Two things I appreciate about Robin Williams: his work as the therapist Sean Maguire in Good Will Hunting and this quote I think about all the time in my life--a brilliant idea that makes today's news all the more sad:

You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it.

RIP Robin Williams.

Literally Watching the Grass Grow

I'm seeing an Intuitive Eating dietitian because I've never understood the art of moderation. A diet to me isn't just restricting carbs. No, a diet to me is not eating at all. If I feel passionately about something, I feel all the way passionate. The middle road is a very foreign country to me. I don't speak that language. I don't understand the customs.

At our first appointment I was straight up honest with her, "I am an extremest," I said, "I feel the most comfortable firmly set on one side or the other." This ranges from politics to daily antics. When I schedule out my day it's rigorous pattern of appointments. If I plan out my weekly meals, no part of the plate isn't plotted. If I clean, it's down to the minerals that make up the spaces I scrub. If it's parenting I'm restricting sugar and screen-time. If I am blogging I am aiming for daily posts, or it's no blogging at all.

But my dietitian is holding my hand, pulling me into the waves of moderation and asking me to bobble around in it. This experiment has moments of relief and moments of great anxiety. Moderation has an uneasy fit in my life. Exercise for example, is something I fight to NOT do every day. I fight to NOT to do it every day because ultimately I will run out of steam and slide to the other side of the spectrum where I will not do it at all. I pat myself on the back for three or four days a week.

I fight every single day to not turn to dieting, vegetarianism, veganism, breatharianism, to control my life. I fight every day to sit in that spot where food isn't a battle, it's just a means of energy and sometimes enjoyment. I fight to sit in that moderate place and not run away. And when I feel my legs start to spin in their restless ways, I have to pin myself down and just sit in the spot I am in.

And yesterday, as I battled with myself, I decided to drive up the mountain behind my house. I watched the tall grass sway back and forth for fifteen minutes. I noticed the furry edges of each blade ripple in the breeze. I noted how yellow the grass turns in early August. I saw a grasshopper hurdle over a bundle of dry weeds. I stopped thinking about what I was aching for in my life, and just noticed life.

I realized, moderation is the art of being present. It's about noticing what I feel: the emptiness in my stomach, the anger I hold, or if I really even care about an issue at all. It's not about being passionateless, it's about being aware of your real existence, and rejecting some fantasy you've created to compete with life. Practicing moderation is learning to feel imperfection, powerlessness and vulnerability and accepting it without regret.

I have so much more to say about this...but I'm fine stopping here for now.

Greetings from Provo, Utah!

I am in a love affair with my neighborhood these days. I am constantly amazed at the people I get to associate with every day as we raise our children, tend to our lawns and work out our existence together. We have Cory the contractor, Chauncey the famous Mormon philosopher, Jessica the Political Science professor, Erin the contemporary dancer, Jamin the Urban Lit professor, Lilly the book maker,  Simy the baker, Susan the mother, Taysom the quarterback, Zina the head nurse, Mindy the singer songwriter, the list goes on...

Jeff the curator of contemporary art at the BYU MOA has introduced me to the artist Kim Schoenstadt. Her creations use architecture, math, 3d images, sculpture, cubes, history and lots of interesting colors. They really interest me.

Sightline Series: La Jolla, Ca., 2012, Photo with collage mounted on bristol board, 19 x 24 inches.

And the great news is that she is here at the BYU MOA to create a landscape of Provo! AND, she's looking for volunteers to help her paint it. There are still some shifts left (see below). If you don't live here, or you can't help at this time, you can follow her blog about it here. You"ll also note that this mural will include some beloved Provo landmarks present and past--like the Ream's turtle shell store and the Startup Candy factory in south central Provo.


I've said it before, I'll say it again: it's a good time to live in Provo. The only problem is trying not to be the boring/talentless/uninteresting one on your street...good luck to us all!

Hip Hop Week: Grand Finale

I read a comment recently where someone asked, Aren't mommy blogs places you go to read about what someone is planning to do for the weekend and then for a week read about that weekend?

I keep laughing about that.

So, about my weekend...


Me with my nieces Lindsay and Emily. We're holding hands. Cute.

Thank you for your wardrobe help (and kind words!) on Friday! It was thoroughly entertaining to read your feedback. After much contemplation and conversation with my real life stylists (Jacqueline, Camille and Lucy) it was decided that although outfit 3 was a clear winner on this blog, the gray shirt might reveal my perspiration on stage and thus be a disastrous piece of clothing to entrust my reputation for the night.

We went for the black widow top, and because I love boots just about as much as I love a good thunderstorm, I wore the boots. For me. You know.

(I wish I would've worn the black skirt too, I'll be honest. Because I look at these photos and think, Who is that person in those paaaaants? But the moment has passed...)

Here's what I learned: talking about, thinking about, and reading about my appearance left me a vapid mess by Saturday night. I really believe what those smart friends of mine Dr.s Lexi & Lindsay Kite of Beauty Redefined preach: women are more than their appearance, and a steady study of one's reflection doesn't create a happy, healthy life.

Amen.

But the concert! It was stellar. I can't stop thinking about some of the best moments. Thanks to those who came and danced and waved their arms and screamed for more. Thanks to those who performed and danced and waved their arms and gave more.

Mimi Knowles made the crowd swoon as usual.
 

House of Lewis brought a funky, high-energy, vibrant set with costume changes, crowd surfing and plenty of  twerking.


Can't Stop Won't Stop brought their best beats--some of them still ringing in my ears.


And the audience was full of love.

This was community at its best. I was really proud to be on that stage.

Me with DJ SkratchMo when I popped on stage to dance during the House of Lewis set.


Throwing out tons of spoils to the crowd.

One more thing, last week in my efforts to invite everyone I have ever known to get into the hip hop spirit I crossed the line into the waters of culture appropriation. I am very sorry. I am grateful to those of you who gave me the benefit of the doubt by assuming I didn't mean to make anyone uncomfortable or belittled. I have deep respect for this culture, and I am learning how to express that appropriately. So, a very huge and sincere thanks for your patience with me now and forever.

I love the Rooftop Concert Series. Can't wait to do it again in September.


All great photos by Justin Hackworth. All the others, my cell phone.

Hip Hop Week: Poseur

Will you help me choose what to wear to the concert? As the concert host I have to get up on stage a lot and it's always really intimidating (you know, me and a couple thousand people). So I thought maybe I could crowd-source some opinions about what to wear this time.

I always like to go for flare and drama, and I sorta try to dress to the mood of the concert. This month I am looking for hip and maybe a little hop. Which I don't really know what that means at all.

I'll stop writing now and present my choices as follows.

1. The Black Widow:

I've wanted to wear all black to the concert since we announced it. I feel comfortable in this. I like those flirty sleeves.

2. Biznezz Az Uzual:

Still black, but with a pop of royal blue. That shirt is very cool. Cool, as in not hot. But still hot, as in day-um. I'll stop.

3. Kashul:

Really non-fussy. I love the shirt, and I feel like once a year or so I should probably wear pants. Those are some fresh minty shoes too.

Well, those are your choices. Please don't reply with: NONE OF THE ABOVE. That is not helpful. The least you could do is pick the one you hate the least--didn't your mother teach you that?

I'll take a photo of me at the concert wearing the winning outfit. That is to say, my fate is in your hands. So don't do that American Idol thing where you vote for the worst. That's just terrible.

 Also, I trust you. (I think I trust you.)(I hope I can trust you.)

Thank you in advance.