Happy Birthday, Daddy! You’re a Beatles song now.
XOXO
You are currently browsing the archive for the Celebrating category.
My words are off somewhere, a bear, hibernating in a cave, or, perhaps, a chickadee, chirruping around the neighborhood, collecting a single morsel at a time. She zooms hither and thither from her cache, a wild, blank canvas that will reveal a marvelous pattern in its own time, not a moment sooner.
In the meantime, I decorate, gathering wind fallen branches, unpacking well-loved treasures, and lighting candles by the score. I knit, needles steadily clicking at scarves and snoods and soon to be hats and hand warmers. Then there are the hours upon hours spent in the craft room, cutting, arranging, and sewing fabric into quilts. Honest. Meditative. Sweet.
I hope that you are well and that your heart is made lighter by all that is good in the world. The light of your love. The voice of a friend. The warmth of an embrace. The things that truly matter.
When I was in Denver, after every single visit with a friend or family member, in that very private place that was my rental car, I would cry. Sometimes they were tiny tears, stopped with a widening of the eyes and a deep sigh. Others were trickier, that salty-sweet spill on my lap and hands as I drove and sang to Radiohead or Iron & Wine. Worst, or best, actually, in hindsight, were the variety that came in a torrent, and I pulled the car to the side of the road while they did their work. I just saw someone special to me! They were right there and we hugged and laughed and talked until my throat was sore! So very many cough drops, my friends.
Then there were the times when the tears could not wait, like with Kelli when she was driving, or during lunch with Hef, and with my parents and grandparents, and when I caught my first glimpse of Wendy in the distance, the very first time since high school (that’s twenty-three years, math lovers).
Then I got home, standing at the curb at the airport, and the hubster pulled up with this light in his eyes, so happy to see me, and we hugged for the longest time before taking the long way home, so I could see the city I love a bit more slowly.
And the other day, to celebrate another year of Colleen Sohn on this marvelous planet circling the sun, I had friends over. We ate and drank and talked and talked. And they humbled me with straight from the heart kindness and thoughtful gifts, but mostly their warm presence in my life.
So the title. All of this makes me think of that story, and how there was enough and more from impossibly little. My life is like that. Every time I think there couldn’t be more kindness or love, someone shows me. Every time I think life couldn’t be more beautiful, flowers bloom. A friend calls. A bird sings. A cat purrs. The hubster smiles. Music plays. I round the bend and there is the Saint John’s Bridge.
Shining examples of how good it all is.
Happy Monday, one and all! We’re in Reed Canyon, enjoying one of Laura O. Foster’s Portland Hill Walks on the sunniest of Earth Days. Gosh it was lovely yesterday, eighty-two degrees, I think, and part of three days of warm temperatures in a row, with sun!
We walked to the walk, which was ever so fine. Short-sleeves and sunglasses and sunscreen required.
As per usual, we learned a lot, despite the location being a frequent destination for us, though we’d never actually ventured into the canyon before, usually taking the bridge over the water.
It was cool to see it from this perspective, to be, quite literally, in the thick of it. Our feet squished in a bottom land full of all manner of plants and flying creatures. There was a cacophony of birds and bees and who knows what else zooming to important destinations.
The air was rich with moss and oxygen, flowers and decay.
On our way home now. People decorate with everything in these parts.
And drive very personalized vehicles. Have I told you about the black van with the “Halen” license plate? Eighties music fans rejoice! Too bad I didn’t have my camera that day.
Upon our return home, the hubster was ever so tired and napped on the patio with Paris. Though he doesn’t really need to be tired for such activity. He is that kind of sleeper. Sometimes I envy him for it, but mostly I watch and smile and sometimes laugh. 
This is from today – look at the sunshine streaming in the window! It was perfect for hanging out with one my littlest friends. We’re spending more time together while his Mommy takes care of her cancer. Today, he watched me hang clothes on the line, hunted cats and gnomes in the backyard, made full use of the laundry chute, threw paper airplanes, ate ravioli, and made a cake.
He was very pleased with the way it turned out. It is almost Brobee from Yo Gabba Gabba!
My name is Colleen, and I like to dance…
Tags: Portland
Good morning, blog lovers!
The hubster and I don’t really celebrate the day, save to say “Happy Valentine’s” before our usual shower of kisses, but as I am one who is a great believer in sharing love, here is a Valentine Playlist, with songs that stand the test of time. You can even play it for real! Dance and kiss to your heart’s content…
