I had a disaster today. I inadvertently deleted 2/3 of the pictures from Grace’s birthday party without getting them onto my computer. I am happy to report – amazed, even – that I got them back. Click here to find the downloadable software that brought them all back. After I got over my elation I started thinking it’s a little creepy that an empty memory card actually still has 200+ images on it … odd to consider all the things you think are “erased,” gone, and are still salvageable. Anyway, just wanted to share my delight at the recovery, and thanks to all who helped. Grace’s birthday party pictures are here on tabblo.

I’ve been listening to Christmas music all day. I blame my passionate fondness for Christmas carols on my Dad, in whose house the British eunuchs warble constantly from Halloween to Easter. The air had the crispness of winter in it today and I looked up and realized that most of the leaves are already off of the trees. Where has this autumn gone? Tomorrow morning is Grace’s birthday party so I will surely have some stories to share from that.
This morning the birthday girl and I had a dance around the kitchen to one of my all-time (non-seasonal) favorite songs: Josh Groban’s You Raise Me Up. That song gives me shivers every time I listen to it. Isn’t this the very definition of love – in our finest moments, to make each other better than we would be alone.

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.
You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up… To more than I can be.

Halloween. Yep, still hate it. My aggravation that it’s an excuse for women to dress up like whores has morphed into an irritation that it’s an excuse for boys to be violent. One mom told me her son said he didn’t care what he was for Halloween as “long as he had a weapon.” Ohhhh-kay. As I escorted my female firefighter around Beacon Hill, I was also surprised at how little progress we’ve made. She was met at almost every door with a perplexed series of comments: “A fireman! Oh, no, a firegirl … a fireperson?” … does it matter? But, Grace and Whit had fun, and that’s the point, I guess. (now what to do with the enormous bag of candy?).

More substantially, lately I’m definitely feeling that whole life-without-skin feeling. I swear these little people have made me even more emotionally aware and vulnerable than I was before (and those who know me well know that’s a tall order). I often feel like one of those people who have issues with sensory overload; mine is just emotional overload. The smallest and most unexpected things bring me to tears and give me that pit of the stomach sensation. I was at a private school open house last weekend and as the headmaster told the story of Orpheus and Eurydice I sat there with tears rolling down my face. Viewing the kindergarten classrooms and hearing about the school’s pedagogical philosophy made me want to sob. I can’t quite explain why; somehow Grace and Whit have made me feel the passage of time a hundred times more keenly, have provided a tangible marker of how quickly life flows by. I am so aware that this is a blessed and unique moment in my life, and somehow I am not experiencing the moment enough, not living with as much joy as this time should merit. The cliche is right on the money: the days are long and the years are short. And, with my predisposition towards introspection, it doesn’t take much to throw me overboard into the ocean of considering what I want to do with my short time here; where I want to spend and focus my one precious life.
As usual I rely on the words of those more articulate than I:
“Put your ear down next to your soul and listen hard.” – Anne Sexton (near and dear to my heart, she is)
“Your heart often knows things before your mind does.” – Polly Adler
“We cannot tell what may happen to us in the strange medley of life. But we can decide what happens in us, how we take it, what we do with it – and that is what really counts in the end.” – Joseph Fort Newton
“The unendurable is the beginning of the curve to joy.” – Djuna Barnes

The Wedding. Wow! What a beautiful ceremony. The children acquitted themselves fairly, I would say. They started down the aisle alone, and about 1/4 of the way down Whit decided he’d rather be sitting in a pew. Grace did her best to keep him on course but I had to step in and walk with one of them on each side, holding hands. This worked for another 1/4 of the way until Whit suddenly wiped out and was lying on the floor of the longest aisle in Manhattan under the watchful eye of 200 congregants. Apparently the reason he fell is he was busy flirting with and waving to a beautiful woman in the pew to his right. I finally scooped him up and walked to the altar with Whit in one arm and Gracie holding my other hand. Me as flower girl. Nice! As Dux said later, well, at least nobody cried. The reception was beautiful and the toasts heartfelt. My favorite moment was Jim’s, when he threw off a fabulous quotation from Measure for Measure: “Our doubts are traitors that rob us of what we might dream to attempt.” The theme of the remarks, and indeed of the evening in general, was persevering when something – even something profoundly uncertain – seems right; of being brave enough to take the risks required to pursue a possibility both thrilling and frightening. Gloria and Jim are together because of their willingness to do these things, and it’s extraordinary to see the result: a tangible, visceral love that inspires all who witness it. I am so delighted to have Jim join our extended godfamily and look forward to many more times with both of my favorite foreign correspondents in the years ahead.