…what’s got you thinking?

There is a paragraph in one of Don Miller’s books that will always stick with me.  It’s this one:

“I recently read an interview in which Nobel-prize winning novelist T0ni Morrison was asked why she had become a great writer, what books she had read, what method she had used to structure her practice.  She laughed and said, ‘Oh no, that is not why I am a great writer.  I am a great writer because when I was a little girl and walked into a room where my father was sitting, his eyes would light up.  That is why I am a great writer.  That is why.  There is no other reason.'”

That’s not true of my father.  Oh yes, I know my dad loves me more than anything, and I know that he’s has been and continues to be proud of me.  But he’s not the “eyes light up” type of guy.

It was true of my grandfather.  My dad’s dad was just one of my favorite people, ever.  And I was one of his.  He had this way of hugging you so hard that he would shake you and when he let you go, you had to wait a second to find your balance again.

Inevitably, after any holiday meal, my family would split up – women to the living room to gossip, and men to the family room to watch football. 

Not surprisingly, I always went with the men.

Soon after, my dad would fall asleep on the couch and my grandpa would try to explain to me why that team doesn’t get the ball, or why one guy can kick it when the rest have to hold it.  He loved football.  And I, well, I loved my grandpa.

There is  a small shelf in my dining room currently that has only two things on it – an old black and white picture of my Poppa standing in front of one of his first cars – and his briefcase. 

You see, when I would spend the day with my grandparents, Poppa would take me with him on his drives to appraise houses.  I would sit in the car while he measured and took pictures and then we’d drive around Cleveland, stop for a Dilly Bar and he would take his hands off of the wheel and drive with his knees and I would squeal and cover my eyes.  Those drives are burnt in my head and every last detail – down to the Testamints and radar detector – still remains.

The only problem was that for so long I was so short (yes, at one point in my life I was short) I couldn’t see out of his car windows.  So, breaking every child safety law, I’m sure, he would put his briefcase down and set me on it so that I could see. 

When he died, my grandma asked us if there was anything of his that we wanted.  My cousin took his Bible and someone else took some framed pictures.  But I, well, I took his briefcase.

He always wanted me to be able to see everything – he always wanted the best for me.  And that is a large part of why I am who I am.

Happy Father’s Day, everyone.

…these are a few of my favorite things

I’m making it a point to enjoy life where I’m at.  To not look forward to the future with hopeful eyes, but to apprepriate the present and make the most of it.  With that said, a list of things that currently flip my skirt up (so to speak). 

1.  Griffin House.  Specifically the song “The Guy That Says Goodbye to You is Out of His Mind” but really the whole album makes me smile.

2. Modpodge.  What can you not do with Modpodge??  I mean, really.  Pictures of my newly crafted flower pots to come.

3. String Cheese.  I’m reclaiming my childhood.

4. Growing my own food.  I haven’t actually done this successfully quite yet, but I’m well on my way. 

5.  Front porches.  Specifically mine, but I’d spend time on any quality porch.  Back decks don’t count.  I need the front porch to people watch and sip iced tea and spit watermelon seeds off of.  My grandfather perfected the front porch sit and I’m looking to keep it in the family.

6. The Mentalist. What girl doesn’t melt for Simon Baker? 

7.  The Bachelorette.  I’m willing to admit it.

What are some of your current favorite things?