tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-123154992024-03-23T13:54:44.415-04:00My WoodsA Quiet Place For Thoughts and PonderingsRuthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.comBlogger184125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-5199244732754771772011-11-02T23:46:00.000-04:002011-11-02T23:46:51.070-04:00AwayWhile I was away.<br />
The trees have been stretching<br />
still growing<br />
reaching upward, leaves loosing,<br />
crumbling underfoot,<br />
a minuscule mosaic of crackling tiles<br />
blending with earth and grass<br />
and me<br />
needing this space more than<br />
I knew.Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-78508648923746554122011-03-17T23:52:00.001-04:002011-03-17T23:53:47.650-04:00I've been on a blogging haitus of sorts, so once again, pardon my pause.<br />
<br />
Spring often brings me full circle and I find myself writing more, needing to come back to this wordy life. Sometimes I wonder what in the world I'm doing, a 36 year old mother of four, finishing an English degree, to what? Well, as I've said before, my admittedly crazy dream is to write. I am duly self-depreciating, knowing that my dream is a long-shot, so I stealthily cover my tracks lest I end up doing "something else" with my degree. For whatever it's worth, I'm doing this for love, for love of words and story and humanity, because words and story are about humanity. Books stores are undoubtedly overcrowded, but among the throng are the gems that really say something important about people and the world and life. If I live long enough or feel deeply enough, suffering or joy, perhaps my words, the ones on the page, will reflect the life of wisdom, compassion and creativity that I long for in my real world. <br />
<br />
So here's to life, learning, dreams, the written word, and whatever comes next...Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-10390503091239368392010-08-12T12:10:00.005-04:002010-09-11T20:00:19.194-04:00Sonnet to Sylvia's Lost LoveYoung Sylvia, the earth beneath her soul<br />
And mourning dew all wet between her toes,<br />
She walks beyond the trees and up the knoll<br />
To secret haunts lit by the dawning glow.<br />
There a breeze moves so soft to lift her hair.<br />
There a mist of morn adorns her glist'ning<br />
Gaze, alight with golden rays; eyes aflare.<br />
Yet heart all still, she waits with longing; list'ning<br />
For one soft voice upon the knoll to rise,<br />
Ascending as the breath of fragrant blooms,<br />
For one stayed hand to dry her swollen eyes,<br />
And sooth the ache where lover's spirit looms.<br />
Here is his hand; it lights upon her cheek<br />
As wildflowers, sweet balm of love do speak.<br />
<br />
R.A. Wittum<br />
August 2010Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-85388555450586364672010-08-12T11:55:00.001-04:002010-08-12T11:55:31.393-04:00Ode To a Fairy Wood Beyond the GraveyardBeyond the graveyard rests a quiet wood<br />
That in the day is still except a stream<br />
Spilling lithely o’er smooth glist’ning pebbles.<br />
Here and there broad footstones mark the path<br />
From daylight to the place where elf-folk play<br />
Lit by soft moonshine ‘neath a fairy oak.<br />
Many a night this sylvan maid joined in<br />
Revelries of dance with nymph and dryad,<br />
Loving the woodland home near as her own.<br />
But youth in time is seized upon by age<br />
And fairy woods where oft’ the maiden strolled<br />
Calls stronger to her own small tow-head sprites.<br />
And sylvan mother treads more slowly now<br />
To honor sleeping souls laid here to rest,<br />
Who walked the fairy trail long years ago;<br />
Mere infants drawn to fay and make-believe.<br />
But stepping ‘neath the leaves time bids farewell;<br />
Twilights filled with child-joys come racing back.<br />
And mother calls to willow o’ th’ wisp,<br />
As little ones step stones to fairyland.<br />
<br />
R. A. Wittum <br />
July 2010Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-81646522983173494032010-05-19T21:23:00.000-04:002010-05-19T21:23:53.138-04:00todayThis is the question:<br />
toothpaste smeared on my bathroom sink<br />
This is the answer:<br />
thank youRuthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-12412487007006436412010-04-15T09:51:00.003-04:002010-09-11T20:03:11.152-04:00Reading the master bard this week...Sonnet 29<br />
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,<br />
I all alone beweep my outcast state <br />
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries<br />
And look upon myself and curse my fate, <br />
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, <br />
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,<br />
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, <br />
With what I most enjoy contented least; <br />
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,<br />
Haply I think on thee, and then my state, <br />
Like to the lark at break of day arising <br />
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;<br />
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings<br />
That then I scorn to change my state with kings. <br />
<br />
I have relished in reading Shakespeare for class this week...I never miss a chance to enjoy such classics...or a chance to respond in sonnet :) So just for fun, here's my contribution to class discussion on Shakespeare and human nature, by way of an ode to the bard himself, enjoy!<br />
<br />
Full many a ponderous work of art I’ve read <br />
From poets lauding life and love and dame, <br />
But the man, the master here with insight led <br />
Birthing poems of human heart untame, <br />
Plunging to dark depths wherein truth doth lie, <br />
Spinning woeful tales of vanity arrayed, <br />
Stripped of throne and mind, then left to die; <br />
Or else compare thee to summers day, <br />
When Juliet fair sun through window yon <br />
Doth lay her Romeo upon her cheek; <br />
Ay me! Romeo in grief sees no more dawn, <br />
And neither she whose love did faithf’ly seek. <br />
Who else like Shakespeare plumbs human nature, <br />
Baring hearts, not sparing earthly stature. <br />
<br />
~ R.A. Wittum :)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://enanoslivo.blogspot.com/2010/04/poetry-wednesday-vol-38.html">Poetry Wednesday</a>Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-40553136223434889422010-03-31T11:16:00.000-04:002010-03-31T11:16:20.565-04:00On a day when I am uncommonly aware of noses...My children are home from school today using an extraordinary amount of tissue to blow and wipe and sneeze. I don't usually think much about noses, but today, I thought this poem would be fun to read with my kids:<br />
<br />
<br />
Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face<br />
<br />
Be glad your nose is on your face,<br />
not pasted on some other place,<br />
for if it were where it is not,<br />
you might dislike your nose a lot.<br />
<br />
Imagine if your precious nose<br />
were sandwiched in between your toes,<br />
that clearly would not be a treat,<br />
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.<br />
<br />
Your nose would be a source of dread<br />
were it attached atop your head,<br />
it soon would drive you to despair,<br />
forever tickled by your hair.<br />
<br />
Within your ear, your nose would be<br />
an absolute catastrophe,<br />
for when you were obliged to sneeze,<br />
your brain would rattle from the breeze.<br />
<br />
Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,<br />
remains between your eyes and chin,<br />
not pasted on some other place--<br />
be glad your nose is on your face! <br />
<br />
Jack PrelutskyRuthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-815011855861543332010-03-24T23:34:00.006-04:002010-03-26T15:21:15.737-04:00Poetry Wednesday: a hobbling start...I scoured my poetry books for a favorite to initiate my entrance into this Poetry Wednesday circle. My children had been absently tucked into bed, shuffled off to read and fall asleep. And I settled myself into a comfy place to consider this post. I won't attempt a lengthy prose tonight. I am tired and stillness seems more fitting at this moment. But I will suffice to say that two sets of little girl feet incessently made their way down the steps steeling into my quiet space for their typical delay schemes. Waining patience was the theme of our discourse. And admittedly, I did not feel quite as set on high and lofty poetry after sending my girls off with short words and tears to wet their pillows. We are all in need of a fresh start, a new morning.<br /><br />Tonight I'll share again a poem written by my daughter, Sophie, on a night similar to this one. <strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>My Mother</strong><br /><br />My mother puts me<br />in her warm hands<br />and I smile.<br />I love her<br />more than the world.<br /><br />She is the one<br />with the warm smile<br />always on her face.<br /><br />She is the one<br />to smile deeply<br />until you<br />smile deeply too.<br /><br />I hug her<br />and she hugs me back.<br />I feel as if<br />there was magic<br />in the air,<br />and there is;<br />it is the magic<br />of love<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Sophia, age 8</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br />Here's to teacher as student, mother as child. And tender, returning hearts.<br /><br /><a href="http://enanoslivo.blogspot.com/2010/03/poetry-wednesday-vol-35_24.html">Poetry Wednesday</a>Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-46349162298966238832010-02-03T15:54:00.003-05:002010-02-03T16:35:48.173-05:00Palpable Life and Bungee JumpingI am absolutely fascinated with life--with the experience of it. Not that I am one who lives for high thrills like sky-diving, bungee jumping, eating hot peppers or anything having to do with barrels and waterfalls. Pursuing experience and just showing up are two different things. My main goal is to possess an inner-presence to my own life and to really see the people around me. It means walking slowly, developing an awareness and sensitivity to life.<br /><br />Stop for just a moment and let yourself just be; silent, still, aware. You'll feel it--palpable life. Let all the other distractions and perceptions drop away for just a moment and become centered on your own being and you will realize that this is more real than the hard wood or carpet pressing against the soles of your feet, more real than the chair beneath you. This is what remains when everything else is gone.<br /><br />This presence is the truest you, the you aware of Spirit, connected to the Divine. Usually we move so quickly, so preoccupied that we bare no resemblance to our true selves. We are driven and defined by quirks of personality shaped by genetics and environment, yet still imbued with this spiritual self, often squelched by layers of what I like to call "me-ness."<br /><br />The 'me-ness' is Ruthie. Sometimes I like my 'me-ness', I think she is cute and funny and quirky and clever, soulful and smart. Sometimes I do not like my 'me-ness', because I see that she has a tendency to be lazy, selfish and impatient and too worried about perceptions. Then I fall into that trap of self-loathing and beat myself up for not being a better me.<br /><br />But if I'm quiet enough, some gentle, Inner-Nudging will push at my pity-filled heart. This is when I remember grace. Divine grace is easy--thank God. Learning to be graceful with ourselves is not. This is the moment when my spirit takes my 'me-ness' by the hand and strokes my worried head. This is when I step back and grant myself compassion, love myself for the silly fledgling I am and open my arms to Grace. I smile and shake my head at my own youthfulness and remind myself that I'm still growing and <em><strong>that</strong></em> is good. In fact, it's a little bit like bungee-jumping.<br /><br />Life. What a thrill.Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-77596020576528817372009-11-13T10:37:00.009-05:002009-11-15T22:14:45.363-05:00A Few Words on Dancing and such...Do you ever dance in your kitchen? The kitchen is the best place in my house to dance. I haven't been great about yoga lately and getting out to walk just hasn't been happening. I am very imbalanced right now, just not getting this school vs. rest of my life thing down.<br /><br />So this morning, I danced in my kitchen. I pulled the rug back so I would have a nice smooth surface and I danced--okay it was sort of a yoga/ballet/free-form kind of self-expression type of dance. No music involved, just feeling. And it was good. I needed that.<br /><br />Have you ever thought of how interconnected our minds and bodies and spirits really are? Sometimes when I'm feeling all balled up and stuck, a good dance or a few minutes on the backyard swing , maybe a brisk walk, seems to open everything up. My body, spirit and mind feel energized. My creativity feels nourished and ready to go! And I feel happy.<br /><br />This whole experience reminds me of an excerpt from a paper I wrote earlier this year about the body-mind connection in learning and the impact of play and the kinesthetic arts (movement arts) have on our over-all well-being:<br /><br /><em>In fact, movement and exercise play a significant part in whole-body wellness and the learning process. The body responds to exercise much in the same way it responds to laughter, by releasing neurotransmitters and increasing neuroplasticity--the brain’s ability to thrive and evolve through new experiences and stimulation (Weiss, 2001). This is even more fascinating in light of the discovery that movement and thought are both initiated in the same area of the brain. Jensen asserts that even the inner ear, one of the first sensory organs to fully develop, plays a critical role in the processing of movement and balance. He goes on to praise the “values of playground activities that stimulate inner-ear motion, like swinging, rolling, and jumping” for enhancing brain activity (2005, p. 62). Like active play, the kinesthetic arts push the intuitive mind to its utmost potential. Dance, gymnastics, martial arts and theater are all movement arts that make a dramatic impact on the body and brain as a whole, boosting “emotional, physical and cognitive abilities of the student” (Jenson, c2001, p. 76). Movement arts increase feelings of happiness and self-confidence. Activities that involve a high level of stimulation to both the body and mind, accelerate neuron production and improve the student’s ability to learn and retain new information...Kinesthetic arts and play integrate the body and mind, stimulating the production of new neurons and increased neuroplasticity in the brain along with inducing feelings of joy (Jensen, c2001). </em><br /><br /><br />Take a few minutes today to play, move, dance. Spinning in circles is also great for the brain and spirit. :) So try it and tell me how you feel!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">______________________________________<br /><br />Jensen, E. (c2001). Arts with the brain in mind [electronic resource]. Association for<br />Supervision and Curriculum Development. Retrieved June 28, 2009, from Ebrary.<br /></span><a href="http://site.ebrary.com.ezproxy2.apus.edu/lib/apus/docDetail.action?docID=10044809"><span style="font-size:78%;">http://site.ebrary.com.ezproxy2.apus.edu/lib/apus/docDetail.action?docID=10044809</span></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><br />Weiss, R. (2001, September). The mind-body connection in learning. T+D, 55(9), 60. Retrieved June 28, 2009, from Academic Search Premier database</span>.Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-87288090891040618272009-06-21T08:52:00.008-04:002009-06-22T00:37:47.720-04:00Logic and Real LifeHi all. I know I've been a slacker when it comes to keeping up here lately. I started college classes recently in attempt to finish the degree I started before getting swept up in married life and mommy-hood. It's been good, but incredibly challenging to get back in to the swing of college life, especially with adult responsibilities on top. So I'm working on balance, and realizing that I need some down time to relax and to write or I'm going to burn out quickly. So here I am.<br /><br />Balance has never been easy for me, even before my days of four children and a husband. I tend to jump from one exciting idea to another, easily entranced by anything I find inspiring. School has had my most enchanted attention for the past 3 weeks, while my children have, admittedly, been relegated to "distraction." Sad, I know. Not that I've totally ignored them, only that I'm really struggling with figuring out how to balance this whole thing. My house gets super loud in the Summer anyway: four kids, free to play pretty much all day, not always getting meals on time because of my inability to structure my new adventure, not to mention my own lack of rest and the sibling arguments that are just an indelible part of having everybody home all day every day. Yes, my children are as imperfect as me, only cuter--if that's a word.<br /><br />So I've been studying logic this week. Oy...talk about brain-stretch. All day long, statements like "<em>If p is true, then q is true.",</em> stream through my consciousness. It seems to not matter what I'm doing. Even before I opened my eyes this morning, <em>"If this is true, then this is true." </em>Then, in those waking moments, it dawned on me, <em>"If my children are behaving in a negative way (n), then they are most likey emulating my example (e)." W</em>hat has been simmering beneath the surface for days, what I have seen reflected in my children lately and been frustrated to know how to deal with, surfaced in the<em> Conditional Statement: n-->e </em>or<em> If n is true, then e is true. </em><br /><em></em><br />This whole realization is bittersweet. (It makes me feel like crying; and I do...it's just my way. Like writing, the way I make sense of the world, crying is how I feel it. I laugh too, but that just doesn't seem fitting for this instance.) It's bittersweet--bitter in it's scathing review of my behavior lately, sweet in it's discovery and application.<br /><br />Humility is freeing, because it's truth. It brings us back to square one. For me, that means no matter how many other things I have going in my life, <em>this</em> is more important.<br /><br />Last week I was studying Set Theory, another math concept that crept up on me and pounced. I had no idea math would impact my spirit so severely. Set theory is all about clearly defined items grouped together. If My Family is the universal set <em>(u),</em> then my husband and I--as parents <em>{p}</em> --are a subset of the universal set, My Family. My children <em>{c}</em> are another subset of My Family. <em>u</em>=<em>{p, c} </em>I could come up with many more combinations of well-defined subsets of the universal set, My Family, but these are all I need. Where the truth lies is in how these subsets intersect in My Family. <em>{p ∩ c} = {p,c}. </em>I know, mathematically it doesn't make sense. Mathematically, {p ∩ c} should = Ø. But the truth is, in the real world, it works differently than that. This set isn't so rigidly defined. Sometimes, I feel very much like a child, and I cannot begin to count the times my children have parented me, been my teachers. Sometimes it just comes down to p<-->c. And the set definitions start to melt together; we are no longer bound by narrow definitions. The universal set becomes All That Is.<br /><br />That's how humility works. It brings us all back to square one, makes us realize that we're all here together, to grow, to learn, to love and to be loved. And that's the most important thing.<br /><br />And that's my Logic/Set Theory lesson for today.<br /><br />love,<br />RRuthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-3505766436376543912009-05-22T14:11:00.006-04:002009-05-22T17:13:27.867-04:00The Art of ParenthoodToday I was blowing bubbles with my two-year-old daughter. She was catching the shiny orbs, yelling "Pop, pop, pop. Mama I pop them!" Then she exclaimed, "I'm happy!" I asked, "Do bubbles make you happy?" "No," she said, "<em>you</em> make me happy." That's medicine for a mother's heart.<br /><br />Yesterday we were wandering around in the local Salvation Army Thrift Shop when I ran across a little plaque with a quote by Wilferd A. Peterson. I bought it for 5o cents to hang in my newly painted kitchen. I want to share it because it's so good...a reminder I need everyday:<br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="left"><strong><em>In practicing the art of parenthood an ounce of example is worth a ton of preachment. When we set an example of honesty our children will be honest.When we encircle them with love they will be loving. When we practice tolerance they will be tolerant. When we meet life with laughter, they will develop a sense of humor. Our children are watching us live, and what we ARE shouts louder than anything we can say.</em></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">love, love, love...</div>Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-12075061405164823892009-05-18T11:21:00.005-04:002009-05-18T12:29:24.677-04:00Being a ParentBeing a parent is 1/3 wondering how you will ever make it through this, 1/3 sighing with relief that you handled that one with grace, and 1/3 sitting on the edge of your bed, baffled at how your 8-year-old can sometimes be more wise and mature than you.Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-60751823773930541452009-05-15T11:36:00.003-04:002009-05-15T11:53:24.320-04:00One ThingIf I could leave my children with one thing, I hope that it would be something I have learned in life as well. I would gift them with the capacity to love, to laugh, to express compassion. But above those virtues, I would hope to instill in them <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">RESILIENCE</span>, the ability to learn from failure and success alike, and in that, kindness toward themselves and a sense of honor for life as a teacher. For whatever their path, this is what I would give them.Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-8863861729999570042009-04-15T14:35:00.010-04:002009-04-15T16:45:58.106-04:00All that from a visit to the dentist?My dentist's office is situated between two grassy, sparingly tree-speckled lots. The chair I sit in to have my teeth cleaned faces a window framed by an evergreen on either side, looking out towards grass and trees. During a few routine dental x-rays today, a chickadee flitting about on the ground and a passerby robin caught my attention.<br /><br />It doesn't take much to find that spacious inner place...usually those experiences happen in the most everyday situations...the instant when we notice and something inside us wakes up, we remember. Something takes us home, inspires us, opens us to oneness, and we just want to hug the whole blessed world, suffering and beauty all at once.<br /><br />Then the hygienist asked me something about my children. I leaned back to set in for a teeth cleaning and a view of an advertisement featuring a young woman with an unnaturally white smile. Those moments don't last. I don't live perpetually there. But the sense lingers, that knowing. Even in the everydayness, something deeper, lasting, connecting remains...and it's peace, it's wholeness. <br /><br />But we don't often notice, so we go about our lives believing that we are just at the dentist getting our teeth cleaned and polished. After all, first impressions are important. Though perhaps, if we looked a little deeper, we'd find something more, <span style="font-style: italic;">something more.</span><br /><br />This is the place where the path and the woods converge. This is both the journey and home.Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-66619221765949270972009-03-21T11:15:00.004-04:002010-03-26T07:57:31.701-04:00A poemA link to a <a href="http://www.mostlypoetry.com/2009/03/19/the-rose-without-thorns/">great poem written by an old friend</a>....Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-28713824662965024262009-03-19T21:52:00.002-04:002009-03-19T22:11:34.182-04:00Thankful Thursday: You know, that feeling...I'm not sure how to start this post. Mostly right now all I have is a great gush of feeling filling up in my stomach and chest... that feeling of love and hope and anticipation. That feeling you get when you are going to see a loved one you haven't seen for a long time and then they walk into the room and you catch your breath when you see their face...that familiar face. And you just want to run up and throw your arms around them. That's how I've felt the past couple of days. And to put it simply, I'm thankful.<br /><br />I'm thankful for the beautiful souls who honor my life everyday with their presence, for the people who I get to share this journey with. I am thankful for the opportunity to learn the lesson of true friendship and to be blessed with those who stay.<br /><br />You all are my teachers.Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-58809300235321405382009-03-17T13:04:00.003-04:002009-03-17T13:13:47.475-04:00Thankful Thursday must be revived.I know it's not Thursday. And I have been hibernating. But the sun is shining today and Spring is awakening my senses to gratitude. So, if nothing else, Thankful Thursday. Thankful everyday....but Thursday to write it down...because I like the aliteration.<br /><br />But today, thankful. Just because. Because gratitude <em>now</em> is opening to what is...being in it. That 's all for today.Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-7029899601588346922009-01-12T15:00:00.001-05:002009-01-12T15:54:23.360-05:00Ruby and the Squirrel<span style="font-style: italic;">I have no idea how I missed posting this. I was going through my drafts today and came across this one that I wrote on November 3, but somehow never posted! This would be Ruby at about 26 months:</span><br /><br />Periodically, it's good to step back and explore the interesting conversation potential of a little person who still refers to her toes as piggies. Today we were walking home after getting Sarah from school, when Ruby noticed some squirrels darting up a tree.<br /><br />"Oh no,<br />squirrels.<br />Come here <br />squirrels.<br />Oh no,<br />I can't<br />get them!"<br /><br />I asked why.<br /><br />"They're too<br />fast.<br />I can't<br />climb<br />the tree."<br /><br />Again, I asked why.<br /><br />"It's too<br />slipp-<br />erwy."<br /><br /><br />Slippery. A new word.<br />I get this little delight nearly everyday now.Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-83392601958518837262009-01-07T23:09:00.001-05:002009-01-07T23:12:04.786-05:00Just to let everyone know, I'm still here...just taking a much needed break. Hopefully I'll be back to blogging soon!<br /><br />Happy New Year!<br /><br />~RRuthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-48120903367709900242008-12-14T11:00:00.005-05:002010-03-26T16:31:07.276-04:00The Quilt Maker's GiftYesterday my son and I went to our local high school dance class' performance of the children's storybook <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Quilt Maker's Gift</span>. Just what I needed. The kids did a wonderful job. The music, the dance, the story...wonderful. Even taking in the faces of the different girls performing was moving, some apparently wondering why they had taken this class, some gracefully caught up in the dance, others giggly and self-aware...together, a beautiful composition. But the story brought me to swelling tears more than once...a reminder of the true spirit of the season and the surest path to happiness. An ode to compassion and selflessness. Inspiring!<br /><br />If you have never read the storybook, you must, you must...a wonderful story to share with your children during the holiday season.<br /><br />love and joy to you all!Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-83798213594556632692008-12-07T22:01:00.013-05:002008-12-09T22:56:53.332-05:00PerspectiveThis is what it's all about:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhnobHi5oMSY4A43UCYexjNrEu0qvrqSE4bZb-owZ5X_eCglcLfTUiE2BDkedSYcKbhIO1v2Xgtyp_Io0ZR45OOObzGx2-X6hGwiXs7QAThqTjYN3QC3pJp2z4_dltBl9fqAc/s1600-h/Image_00074.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhnobHi5oMSY4A43UCYexjNrEu0qvrqSE4bZb-owZ5X_eCglcLfTUiE2BDkedSYcKbhIO1v2Xgtyp_Io0ZR45OOObzGx2-X6hGwiXs7QAThqTjYN3QC3pJp2z4_dltBl9fqAc/s320/Image_00074.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278002245079181634" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb19lV0SYv1wUgMr_oABcsRu1DhjYpg1Tu90RVLJ3Swzc7j9c9Sn5MBbMl5kfKXCYmCVjp-eCTmQmwIr6GW-wFQpTFTyOMHTdWYnKObKqV_RWJFo4RMm5TVq4rGqFfiQHGw0PA/s1600-h/Image_00065.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb19lV0SYv1wUgMr_oABcsRu1DhjYpg1Tu90RVLJ3Swzc7j9c9Sn5MBbMl5kfKXCYmCVjp-eCTmQmwIr6GW-wFQpTFTyOMHTdWYnKObKqV_RWJFo4RMm5TVq4rGqFfiQHGw0PA/s320/Image_00065.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278003333408647474" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xdwPXymp8EAz6oBzsHuAlrZzcJt693WAa71K7tsOGxmzaVMY6cw2YFtoY3Hce4ukMZOJtGRODGWj0WyDZZT11jp3P7Xzr1hCUCcH-yidzCFFq1JEubiHa_5b0tqcZ0QlAXbD/s1600-h/Image_00046.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xdwPXymp8EAz6oBzsHuAlrZzcJt693WAa71K7tsOGxmzaVMY6cw2YFtoY3Hce4ukMZOJtGRODGWj0WyDZZT11jp3P7Xzr1hCUCcH-yidzCFFq1JEubiHa_5b0tqcZ0QlAXbD/s320/Image_00046.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278001599316344754" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sn5u25ooKhPJMA1SLe-u9ZD6XfxCi4WBuac0hD3VoI6pmehea7sB4qKI6TgnX4FGaQtGLtivFXrA_ZbMgTPKN1UeXQKyDAP6KLrXjCxct9y0RobY69Rpyy-vJg9FW5ABSKHU/s1600-h/Image_00069.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sn5u25ooKhPJMA1SLe-u9ZD6XfxCi4WBuac0hD3VoI6pmehea7sB4qKI6TgnX4FGaQtGLtivFXrA_ZbMgTPKN1UeXQKyDAP6KLrXjCxct9y0RobY69Rpyy-vJg9FW5ABSKHU/s320/Image_00069.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277999454801990450" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpeOVehFUownZLcZjC67LrAT81WkoqWkXHaya8mN8I_4GqjJwag63r8SzLNeCgqFojqAheoHaOuZXHhmCoe5cEeVVw68Qx8VqRATiH1pK8F9NbBV8PeZKU1o3v4RhLKeiDsq1M/s1600-h/Image_00049.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpeOVehFUownZLcZjC67LrAT81WkoqWkXHaya8mN8I_4GqjJwag63r8SzLNeCgqFojqAheoHaOuZXHhmCoe5cEeVVw68Qx8VqRATiH1pK8F9NbBV8PeZKU1o3v4RhLKeiDsq1M/s320/Image_00049.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277998910857753586" border="0" /></a><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy-C5IIf33SFmyQYkAgIHlT-t-7ZS0ncHCA8KGtiEUNfLvqm-vsi4c8CzVUCww0hAPOcwopI39be5k' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /></div>Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-68834401112846969052008-11-23T09:45:00.005-05:002008-12-12T20:13:55.330-05:00Read this while I weep<h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><a href="http://radiantsophie.blogspot.com/2008/11/your-mother.html">Your Mother</a> </h3><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">My mother puts me</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">in her warm hands</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">and I smile.</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">I love her</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">more than the world.</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">She is the one</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">with the warm smile</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">always on her face.</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">She is the one</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">to smile deeply</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">until you</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">smile deeply too.</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">I hug her</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">and she hugs me back.</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">I feel as if</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">there was magic</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">in the air,</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">and there is;</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">it is the magic</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">of love.</span><br /><br /><br />Sophia wrote this for me last night while I ranted about my girls' messy messy room. Need I say more?Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-32609747681095475922008-11-20T13:42:00.007-05:002010-03-26T16:05:10.247-04:00Thankful Thursday: blog deficit and everyoneI probably should be in the kitchen right now washing dishes, which are legion. After a morning of errands and snow flurries, all I want to do is get my little ones a warm meal and have some quiet time, reading and writing and sitting.<br /><br />The 30 posts in 30 days experiment has been interesting. Between both blogs, I have been posting fairly consistently, but certainly not everyday! No pressure, though. One thing I have noticed is that I am definitely more concerned with worthwhile content than posting everyday. Perhaps my enthusiasm has waned or maybe I've just found a better way.<br /><br />The past several months have been an interesting journey into authenticity...something I definitely want to explore on a deeper level. My writing outside of the blogosphere has evolved and pulled me in. Other artists and relationships have been an increasing inspiration. I am discovering more about myself and the fascinating connections within humanity as a whole, how we communicate, learn, grow together and from each other, how we all need each other.<br /><br />One of the most beautiful quotes I have read on the topic lately is from<a href="http://blog.allisonmack.com/2008/11/11/how-to-be-creative/"> </a><a href="http://blog.allisonmack.com/2008/11/11/how-to-be-creative/">Allison Mack's Blog:</a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">“Compassion is the emotional glue that keeps you rooted in the universality of the human experience, as it connects you to your essence and to the essence of those around you. It is the act of opening your heart”<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br />What a pressing role compassion plays in the expansion and maturing of the human soul. How deeply the connection and empathy we feel toward others effects us individually and as a whole, finding that our inward experiences are not so different, finding that whatever our earthly existence, the essence of our being relates deeply with the experience of others, even in our vast differences. This compassion, this connection, could change the world.<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12315499.post-2351224915537375702008-11-17T15:09:00.007-05:002010-03-26T16:06:52.635-04:00Neglected jobs and tea partiesToday is apparently a day for neglected jobs: cleaning trash cans, scrubbing the floor under large appliances, decluttering the top of my dryer.<br /><br />The advent of Halloween and sticky gunk stuck to the sides and bottom of the trash cans is a sign that it is time. I only use a bag in the kitchen trash (the one all stickies are supposed to be tossed in), trying to be kind to our landfills. (or in attempt to off set the guilt of all the disposable diapers we've sent there over the past 91/2 years.) In spite of the yucky factor, it's a surprisingly rewarding task,creating an entirely new appreciation for the void and sparkling trash receptacles.<br /><br />In the past, it's been customary to pull the big appliances out (washer, dryer, fridge, stove) in the last few weeks of my pregnancies. The hidden floors probably deserved to be scrubbed more often, but at least I was consistent. Since the whole nesting thing is a past chapter, I'm thinking a new routine will need to be established. I haven't figured that out yet, but the trash cans just put me in the mood, so maybe chewed and discarded gum is the trigger. At any rate, again, quite a rewarding job...can't see it, but you just know it's clean. That's nice.<br /><br />The laundry room in our house is also the downstairs bathroom, and where I store cleaning supplies. The dryer has become one of the many collection spots. It collects spare change, combs and brushes, a variety of hair accessories, baseballs, empty detergent bottles awaiting rinse and recycle, nail clippers, plastic recorders, buttons and dust, among other items. The plan is to declutter this area and wipe it clean, but I've been side-tracked by a lovely tea-party hosted by my Sarah. <br /><br />The dryer can wait...Ruthiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158548929527472515noreply@blogger.com1