Our tree twinkles at home and the weather is flirting with snow. I am under the weather, but grateful. I have friends who are looking out for me, family who has gathered ’round and my spirit is lifting. I am ready to let the sorrows of this year rest so that the triumphs and laughter can rise and soften the files of 2011.

Also, I can finally say that the site is live for our shop here in downtown Glens Falls. I am responsible for the words (and typos if you find them, sigh) the designs were all a collaborative effort and a whole lot of fun.

First—the wood was delivered and dumped in my parking spot.

Second—I loved a fire when I watched movies, which was all the time (VHS FTW)

Third—Even though I inevitably happened upon spiders, got splinters and suffered wood bits in my eyes, the act of stacking the wood was almost meditative. It was physically grueling, mentally cleansing and ultimately incredibly satisfying to see what I had made from a mess.

Currently we do not have a wood burning fireplace, though pining for one is one of my favorite activities. What I do have is a Sean and he has, in our 8.5 years of marriage, become an accomplished woodworker. I love working with him on projects and, because he is also wicked crafty with video, design and music, I can show you our latest labor of wood love.

Wil you go take a look and let me know what you think? It won’t take long I promise!

Click here. Thank you. If you have anything you’d like me to check out, just say so in my comments and I’d be happy to return the favor.

Blog post idea: (Designtramp)

We all drink different coffee.

Make the case for yours: what are the reasons you make your purchase decisions for this one thing? Tradition? Convenience? Cost? Quality?

One paragraph. Today, if you can squeeze it in.

Derek: Lox of Bagels

Amy: The Chocolate Mill

Jake: Stewarts

Sean: Rock Hill

Amanda: Starbucks

Trina: Tea? Uncommon Grounds?

Paula: Diet Coke.

After he sent it the responses started coming in little, caffeinated dings. I loved it for how it asked something from us that was purely rooted in what we like. Not how can we make this better? Or if this were happening what would you do? The post went live just as we started a lunch celebrating Amy’s birthday. We were all gathered around the table just talking about family, movies and laughing over 80s references.

It was a great day when work felt kind of like family. We’ve worked hard over the last 6 months and just being together was a treat. Kind of like that first cup of coffee in the morning.

If you’d like, you can get a glimpse of our coffee (and not coffee) preferences over here. You can tell me your right here in the comments. I’ll be honest that it felt weird not being the person hammering home the buy local idea.

We moved. Kindergarten is over. Soldiers are dying. Young.

I have this beautiful life with three daughters, a loving husband and ripples of family and friends that surround us. It is wonderfully complex. I think that this last absence from The Wink as we’ve moved and my timid twitching to come back has sprung from a need to honor each facet.

One area that I don’t talk about too terribly much is work, other than perhaps to say that it is part of the equation that complicates my parenting (Ha! As if there is a scenario in which it’s uncomplicated—nods to single, widowed, unemployed, re-partnered and everyone else making it up as they go.) It’s a huge part of our lives, something that girls adore:

“Can we go to the office?” They squeal whenever we get into the car. “Umm, I don’t think we really want to be at work now,” I say gently. “You can play in back with us…” they offer. Sometimes we go, other times we smile and proclaim it’s time for an adventure without work.

But there is always work. We’ve been at it for over seven years now, sometimes it’s easier than others. Recently we reached a milestone. Our new site is up. A few kinks are being worked out courtesy of the crafty Mrs. Flinger. We’ve definitely taken the sort of elephant pregnancy timeline approach to getting it done.

You can poke around here if you’re in to that sort of thing. Sean put this collage together for my section using copy I wrote. Reminded me of something you’d see on one of those exquisitely over-priced notebooks that you never really use.

Anyway, I just wanted you all to know about our other baby.

“Did they know when I was giving my presentation?”

“Did they know when he sent me that email?”

“Did they know in the days that followed?”

And then it twists and my pondering gets ugly. Angry.

“Did they listen down the hall?”

“Did they know before me?”

“Do they feel bad?”

I mean it’s ridiculous. The decision was made based on certain immutable facts. I have no business feeling resentment toward people that were not involved, or who at least had no say in the matter. But then the wicked side of me chirps, “Are you sure? Are you sure they didn’t throw your name out to save their own hides?”

I want to shake it. I don’t want to be angry, don’t want to be afraid. And yet here I sit, angry and afraid. The emotional pendulum rages and I find myself weary from the force of it all. The truth is I would do it all for free. I want to help and be of service. I want to belong to this place that I have known for five years, but I don’t. I am no longer a part of the team and my way of mourning that seems to be through spite.

I cannot see my way past what feels like betrayal. I am numb. I am waiting and hoping that this fury and despair will fade.

*****

I refuse to end this without light, for despite the clamorous emotions over what has happened, I am surrounded by good. Sean takes my anger, weathers my inexplicable melt-downs about this thing or that as I struggle to come to grips with having something be beyond my control.

The girls are here, demanding and delighting. My temper can run short, but I have found new depths for just tethering myself to their joyous will— bubbles, gardening, walking, reading, spinning til we fall.

I am healthy.

I have friends.

I am gingerly finding my way.

This is not to disrespect those women at all, they were great. Seriously. I was just very taken aback by someone so easy on the eyes being so unabashedly into me. Fast forward 10 years and here we are, a little less taut, inexplicably perkier and together. Unabashedly. It took me a while, but three kids and a thriving business later demonstrate the rightness of it all.

Today we are wrapping up a project that takes me back to North Adams in the early spring of 2000, to a lush backyard in Pownal later that summer, and to the stretch of 2001 that saw me living in NYC and then signing my first lease in Boston. It is amazing how much a little bit of theatre can take me back. I had to share this because this has been where I’ve scribed some of my most precious memories, from welcoming Ave and waiting for Fin, to rediscovering joy and hope.

Tonight into tomorrow we’ll be promoting the creation of a new mark for the Adirondack Theatre Festival, literally rolling it out on their Facebook page. It isn’t where we met, but it’s where we love. It will be the place we go for dates this summer, the place we thrill our girls with the magic of the lights going down and make believe surpassing reality, and the place where ten years from now I hope I’ll be celebrating the difference we made way back when.

So many of you here have made me feel exception, through your comments and emails to packages for my girls. As I reach deep for whatever I can find to make this roll out a success, I find myself turning to my go-to team. I hope that you’ll visit the ATF Facebook page and see the logo we’ve created, maybe even become a fan if you feel so inclined. This has been such an incredible experience for us and, like most of my life, I wanted to share it with you.

Thank you.

-Amanda

I just left a little morsel, a sliver of something that gave me a sense of being blessed. It took 10 minutes and it felt incredible. I wish you’d go over and read it, then if you feel so inclined, maybe you could join us. Couldn’t you use a little bit of calm in your life, a chorus of gratitude?

Created amidst much chortling and guffawing by none other than my Sean.

The bathroom sits, tub and surround in place, with pipes waiting to be set and connected. John the plumber never called.

My contractions have stayed quiet whilst we have toiled on the house.

Tomorrow we are going to the plumber first thing. Mama is going to work the ever-loving-heck out of her belly in the hopes of appealing to the plumber’s sense of pity (or scaring the hell out of him). Then, in my perfect scenario, we’ll take said plumber back to our house, show him the pipes and begin the affordable (a girl can dream) journey to bathing in our own home again.

Healthy plumbing. Healthy baby. Contented Amanda.

You know what?

I take it all back. I just want her to be healthy.