watching Olympics

So far my favorite things to watch, besides the gymnastics and swimming, are the views of the UK--Tower Bridge, Parliament, the Globe, Piccadilly Circus, Stonehenge, the White Cliffs--make me almost wish I were there. Except that when the Olympics were here, we didn't go--didn't make any attempt to go--avoided the venues--and when we were in London for the Jubilee we again avoided the crowds (and the rain) and watched on tv. But seeing London so beautifully captured makes us a bit homesick (London-sick?). Not our kids, who have repeatedly commented, "Been there, done that," but are very happy to be home.

color blind Greeks?

Just heard a blurb on NPR: Expert says, "All the Greeks were color-blind. They saw everything in black and white, with maybe a tinge of red." How on earth would we know this? Unless he was speaking figuratively. Seems likely, except that the context was a preview of a segment on how people see colors.

Middlemarch

One of my new favorite books. I avoided it for years because it's sooo long (about 800 pages, depending on the edition), but am glad I finally overcame my reluctance.  George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) develops a great cast of characters, but what's particularly refreshing/interesting to me is that the book focuses more on marriage than courtship.  If you haven't seen the movie and don't want to read 800 pages, I recommend the movie as excellent and very true to the book. 

bury the guns

How many people will be shot before we embrace gun control? (I fear the answer is "all of us")
Who, having read a book, watched a movie, or visited a museum about war, would engage in war?
I'm trying to imagine a world without guns, hate, war, disease, hunger, fear, poverty, worry. Kinda hard to imagine, actually.

insecurities II

I've been thinking that my insecurities probably stem from a need to be achieving, and I can't point to many major accomplishments lately. Setting little goals and achieving them helps. I could devote all my time and energy to helping my kids become accomplished, and I do devote considerable time and energy to my kids' development and well-being.  Maybe I should have forced them into more sports and lessons than I have, but other than early swim lessons and piano lessons we've mostly presented them options and let them choose.

As far as comparing ourselves to others, I need to watch what I say to my kids. Take, for example, a recent conversation with Anna (age 12) in which I'm trying to convince her to take swimming lessons. After arguing the advantages of not drowning, I resorted to, "You're going to swim in 7th grade p.e.--do you want to be the worst swimmer in there?" To which she wisely replied, "Mom, someone's got to be the worst. I don't see the point in working hard just so that someone else has to be the worst." Bravo, darling, but you still need to learn to swim.  A second example: we often play on our 4 year old's vanity to get her to get dressed or do her hair ("Your friends are going to think you're so cute"). Probably another topic altogether.
 

insecurities

We all have them--right?

1. We're surrounded by adults who run marathons and 5-year-olds who ride bikes, swim, ski, play tennis, soccer, and baseball.
2. Outside of Utah, my husband's colleagues think our family is huge. But here, big families are a virtue and I don't know if I'm virtuous enough. I feel a kinship with mothers of four or fewer children, and oddly threatened (or something) by mothers of five or more (overachievers).
3. My house is not spotless. The shelves and drawers aren't organized. My neighbors' houses are clean and organized.
4. My neighbors are nicer than I am.

I was surprised when beautiful, talented, amazing, mother-of-five, friend said that growing up she never felt pretty enough, talented enough, smart enough, good enough. Growing up, outside of p.e., I felt plenty smart, talented, and pretty. It wasn't until I went to college that I started feeling average. But, then, what's wrong with average? And we should all experience being terrible at some things. I've thought that if I were to write children's books (not likely) I'd write one about a little girl who loves to dance at home, where she twirls and boogies, and her parents love her dancing. But when her mom signs her up for dance classes (evil mother), she doesn't like having to do what the teacher says, she's no longer the center of attention, and she wants to quit. The question is, how does the story end?

I love my neighbors. And on good days, I see their positive qualities and want to emulate them. But if I compare my weaknesses to their strengths, or even some of my strengths to theirs, I feel like a slacker. I could decide to surround myself with people who are less fit and accomplished than I, but instead I'll try to enjoy more, compare less, and remind myself to do things because they're worth doing, not because I'm trying to impress people.

home again

6:30 am Thursday we left behind London--the theatre, the parks, the museums, the markets, the bakeries, the mature cheddar, the rain, the 2 bedroom flat, the tube, the double-decker buses, the 1000-year-old castles and cathedrals--checked our 8 large pieces of luggage (having prepaid the $160 for our 2 extra--grrr), hauled our 12 carry-ons (including 1 pink and lavender unicorn pillow pet), and, 19 hours, 4 movies, 3 meals, and 2 snacks later, landed, exhausted, in Salt Lake at 6:30 pm the same day. Around 8 pm (3 am Friday, London time) we came home to friendly neighbors, a green yard, blooming flowers, a charming front porch, a clean house (we think someone came in and dusted), food in our fridge (thanks, amazing neighbors), Christmas mugs, flannel sheets, peppermint soap, weeds in the flower beds, a swampy garbage bag mouldering under the kitchen sink, four bedrooms, and more bathrooms than I care to admit. Feels as though we've never left. In a few hours we'll be calling friends, making appointments, unpacking rain jackets and sweaters, assessing our summer wardrobes, filling the pantry, and pulling up weeds.