All posts by Kirsetin

My Favorite Christmas Letter

December 13, 2011friendship, holidaysKirsetin

Fewer friends send them every year, but I relish the envelopes that are a little thicker, the ones that promise news in addition to a beautiful photo of your clan

I enjoy your tales from far away, your moving sagas, your job transition stories, and especially hearing about your precious offspring and their myriad talents. No really, I do.

But one letter wins, every year. These friends of ours have four children, as quirky and individual as all kids should hope to be. Our friend has a true gift, as his letter paints an appealing picture of family life without once describing his children’s accomplishments. There isn’t a hint that his kids might be smarter than mine (and they’re smart!) nor that they’ve achieved that coveted parenting status most of us can only dream of—raising a teenager whose uniform doesn’t consist of a hoodie and earbuds.

Instead, their letter includes a list of 12 sure-fire ways to embarrass your teenager and the confession that their 2^nd grader doesn’t know how to tie her own shoes.

How can you not love friends like this?

And yet, I don’t wait for their letter with anticipation simply because they share more than their successes. I wait for its arrival, I wait for the day it fills my mailbox with its beauty, because they tell their story with significant grace and humor. Behind every word I read, every year, there is a palpable sense of love for their family.

And that, my friends, makes for a lovely start to my Christmas season.

Let the letter writing begin!

A Dog’s Life

November 28, 2011UncategorizedKirsetin

This pretty, pampered dog is staring at me right now. He’s peering at me from his princely perch onmy sofa and waiting for me to pet him. Or serve him. Or whatever it isthat princely dogs expect.

And this dog? He’stired. He just wants to sleep. Willyou people cut out the racket, please? Hesaid that, he did, I swear.

Wait. You didn’t knowmy house was a kennel?

Ah, well. This week it smells like one, but the truth is that out here in suburbia we are limiting thepack. These lovely dogs are just visiting for the holidays.

We do have one sweet pup of our own, one year-and-a-half bundle ofenergy and goodness who’s feeling a bit down right now. Here he is, hiding in his kennel.

Why the dog reclusiveness, you ask? No one can be sure, of course. But I’m going to venture a guess, an I’ve-had-dogs-for-years guess: He’s pouting. Look at him. It’s a classic puppy pout: the big dog won’t play (too old, too tired) and thelittle dog is allowed on the couch (spoiled pretty-boy). Nofair.

Life’s tough sometimes, isn’t it?

I have so much more to learn.

November 21, 2011academics, balance, lifeKirsetin

photo by armatoj

How can it be? Howcan I be this many years into life, and marriage, and friendship, andparenthood, how did I make it all the way through high school biology,trigonometry, and AP English to the hallowed halls of my lovely university, andstill come out on the other side just beginning to learn?

If you glanced around my house right now, here’s some ofwhat you’d see: Buy-ology, from the library, on my kitchen counter; dog-earedcopies of Blue Nights and Unaccustomed Earth proudly taking the top spot on thepile of books beside my bed; Sunday’s paper, still unread, resting onedge of the kitchen table. So there’sthat. The book learning.

But there’s so much more. There’s the thinking, the wondering, the understanding—or wantingto. There’s the nuance and the subtletythat I sometimes miss, and sometimes can’t avoid. It’s the whys and the hows that trip me up,that call to me, that keep me coming back, reaching, grasping for more.

I could’ve stayed in school forever, maybe. For the book learning, yes. But more for the thinking, the lengthydiscussions with others, the swirling of ideas, the ‘discovering’ ancient ideasthat are new again, the contemplation: why are these ideas back again, or not.

I have so much more to learn.

I’m linking up with Heather: check it out to find lots of writers thoughtfully writing in the moment.