monday is a warm croissant

Happy Monday! You are hereby challenged to treat yourself to something completely decadent to start off your week. Diet be damned, I'm stopping at the bakery on my way into work!

Thought for the week: Be kind

Lately I've found myself providing a shoulder for some dear ones in my life who've experienced tremendous adversities in their marriages. I can relate. Not that anything I say to them will make a difference, but I know how important it is to just vent in times of crisis. Call me the ventee. In each of their situations, this quote seemed appropriate:

“Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind.” 

― Henry James

Rave reviews:

Journalism at its best pulls at the heartstrings. Andy Rooney's essay on D-Day does just that. He'll be missed!
Justin Townes Earle serves up country just the way I like it: Old school and heavy on the twang.

Brilliant article about romantic comedies. Ordered Mindy Kaling's (The Office) book after reading this.

A tip that affected (not effected) how I handled a grammar dilemma at the mag last week.

Rather late to jump on the Beck train. Kind of obsessed with him these days.
Hurray for Patton Oswalt! This movie looks awesome.
Animal cookies for the holidays! We're so making these.
This quick-drying nail polish has changed my life!

Don't you just love Tuesday night TV? Shoot, that was 1974. It's impossible to get your Anson Williams fix in this day and age!

Photo of my kids by yours truly.

Quote for today ... and all tomorrows

"I must learn to love the fool in me--the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my fool." -- Theodore I. Rubin, MD


Photo by Melissa Mathieson

Beck - Gamma Ray (Modern Guilt)

Good is good. Fun is fun. THIS is both.

guest room

Guest quarters at my mom's house ... Something to strive for!

The sad day my college-bound boy packed his last box and drove to his new apartment had only one silver lining: I'd get my bedroom back.


The three of us have made this lovely two-bedroom rental home for more than four years. Prior to moving here, I'd been desperate to get out of very large house with a man who turned out to be, let's say, not as nice as I thought he'd be. I found this little place and fell in love. But only two bedrooms. I'd give my 14 and 11 year olds their own personal spaces in exchange for my own makeshift bedroom smack-dab in the middle of our living room. Thus has been our existence for the past 52 months.


So when the day came when the room upstairs became suddenly vacant, you'd think I'd make quick work out of hiring able-bodied dudes to haul my bedroom belongings upward. I stalled for a week, then a month. Then one day I woke up and clearly realized the truth: I like it down here. The way my mother's antique bed and chest of drawers looks in this grand room. Being close to the couch, TV, and family computer. Midnight snacks in the kitchen. Who cares if someone walks into my living room and sees an unmade bed where a Lazy Boy recliner should be? I'm so over that.


What I could use, I deducted, was a fabulous guest room for visiting friends and family. It would allow me to be the gracious hostess I've always wanted to be, offering meals cooked with love and lovely accommodations including pristine bedding, lace curtains, and fresh flowers on the nightstand. And even though it would be a total girl's room (are there any other kind of guest quarters?), my son would always have a place to hang his hat. An ideal way to better connect with the ones I love pretty much landed in my lap — the ultimate blessing in the form of 144 square feet.


A few new things, a few old things. The new guest quarters are quickly coming together.


I paid a couple of guys to lift my son's old bed and couch down the stairs and to the driveway for the Goodwill pickup, but to my disappointment I discover Goodwill doesn't accept bulky sleeper couches. The tank sat on the edge of the driveway sporting a FREE sign for over a week. And just when I began devising the impossible scenario of hauling the monolith to the city dump, there was a knock on the door. An old acquaintance who didn't even know I lived here was moving out of her house and making a new start — just she and her daughter now. She asked if the couch was still available.


Who knew furniture — or the lack of it — could be so healing?

from within

"The truth feels like the biggest sucker-punch of them all: it’s not a spouse or land or a job or money that brings us happiness. Those achievements, those relationships, can enhance our happiness, yes, but happiness has to start from within. Relying on any other equation can be lethal."


Laura Munson's book "This Is Not the Story You Think It Is" is brilliant. Her approach to keeping a marriage together wouldn't have worked in my situation, but it might have had I chosen the right guy to begin with. Here's a sneak peek of the book from the New York Times.


This lovely photo collage was created by my talented daughter Melissa Mathieson.

my desert island discs

There's a long-running BBC radio show called "Desert Island Discs"  where guests are asked to list 8 musical selections they would take with them if they were stranded on a desert island. Also one book and one luxury item. Here are my choices ... 

1. Neil Diamond: Cracklin Rosie

My parents hosted fabulous parties when my dad worked at the White House. This record was heavy in the rotation and we heard it in muffled tones from our bedrooms. So cool.

2. Es Ist ein' Ros' Entsprungen (choral rendition) M. Praetorius 

I love choral music. This was played often by my German mother at Christmastime. It brings me closer to my roots and my God and I'll need it on the island.

3. Emmylou Harris: All My Tears

Probably my favorite song sung by my favorite female singer. 

4. Jonatha Brooke: Full Fledged Strangers

Something about her voice does it for me. It'll keep me mellow in the midst of all of the fears and uncertainties I'll encounter on the island.

5. Liz Phair: Extraordinary

The soundtrack to my own personal party.

6. Nickel Creek: Smoothie Song

Gotta have bluegrass. Doesn't get much better than this.

7. My Favorite Things: John Coltraine

Tough to pick a jazz selection, but I could spend hours with this one.

8. The Decemberists: June Hymn

 I've seen this band twice with my family. I love that they love this song as much as I do.

Book: The collected short stories of famous American authors 

Luxury: Toss-up between unlimited supply of good Chardonnay and my guitar. May I have both?

If you could save only one song: Emmylou Harris, All My Tears

Missing the Parade

It's Labor Day weekend. Three whole days to myself since the girl's at her dad's and the boy has entered adulthood and is now out on his own. They are both prominently in my heart this morning because of a parade. And I'm missing it.

This town is a zoo. Everyone with a vacation home is here for the weekend - as are droves of tourists and their grandmothers - for Pinedorado Days. The old-fashioned parade comprised of virtually everyone in town and their dogs made its way down Main Street approximately an hour-and-a-half ago. Silly little procession, really, but I've always loved it. So fun see your friends and acquaintances making complete fools of themselves (i.e. the dancing money bags from the local bank). I adore seeing the kids sitting atop floats and being pulled in wagons by their moms and dads, and marvel each year at how they've grown. This is good ole' Americana at its finest.

I could've gone on down there - crashed any one of groups of friends not actually in the parade who were no doubt lined along the parade route. But I needed to call a good friend who's going through her own personal hell, then do a little housecleaning. Maybe I'll take in a brisk walk later. I think this is the first Pinedorado parade I've missed in the 13 years we've lived here.

As I sit here avoiding housework and half-regretting my absence from the festivities, I realize it's not the parade itself that's getting to me - it's all it's come to symbolize over the years. I've treasured watching my children march down Main Street on this day with various groups they were involved in: Cub Scouts, cheerleading, junior high. We always viewed the festivities in all out hilarity with my then-husband's family, then trekked with the masses to the post-parade Pinedorado grounds where we lifted the kids high enough to toss coins into glasses for the coveted prize of a stuffed Spongebob Squarepants. Through the thick fog of time, even those "leaving the bounce house" tantrums find a place in my sentimental heart. All too much fun and no one wanted it to end.

My children cherish these memories as do I. Pinedorado has come to symbolize a happier time for all of us ... a time when our family was completely intact and all was safe and secure. But drastic circumstances have forced us all to change our very definition of family. As the three of us have discovered, all we need do is go down Main Street for the answer: This town, these people, this parade.