KellyQAnderson

Sandy Feet

August 21, 2019August 21, 2019by KellyQAndersonLeave a Comment

A few years ago, I retired…from flip-flops.

Yes, that’s right. I decided I was DONE with cheap plastic tearing up my toes. I bought two pairs of rubber Birkenstocks during my pregnancy with Gus and never looked back (bonus points: you can adjust these! Which came in handy when my then-pregnant feet were swollen).

Since that time (and long after I gave birth to the 4-year-old pictured above), I’ve been walking the Earth promoting these shoes in a loud voice because everything about them is good: durable material, washable in the kitchen sink after a trip to the beach or pool, and they come in lots of punchy colors reminiscent of ice cream and beach balls.

Pretty soon, there will be no sandy feet.

Pretty soon, my baby-blue toenails will be tucked into hi-top sneakers or boots.

Pretty soon, the beaches will be deserted and the classrooms will be bustling.

Leaves will crunch under my feet and it will be far too chilly to stroll around in my favorite summer staple. So today I will be okay with sandy feet. Sandy shoes. Sandy everything.

Columns, Lifestyle

City Girl Confessions: A Moment to Savor

August 16, 2019August 16, 2019by KellyQAndersonLeave a Comment

blue commuter bike — Photo by Paul Theodor Oja on Pexels.com

City Girl Confessions is my recurring column featured in The Glencoe Anchor.

This morning, I walked out of my house excited to meet up with a friend. Just one problem- a large carpenter’s van was blocking my car in the driveway (I had forgotten that one of our kitchen cabinets needed repairing). Hmm…what to do? Then another thought…I have a bicycle. Why not take a ride to meet up with my friend?

So I threw on my helmet and started pedaling. It was a lovely summer morning: about 72 degrees, cornflower blue sky, a nice breeze. When I hit the brakes at a STOP sign, a monarch butterfly fluttered past and I had to stop myself from chuckling. The picturesque moment felt straight out of a movie.

But I didn’t chuckle. Instead, I savored. I drew in my breath and felt the wind on my face. I thought of outdoor reading, the smell of sunscreen, and the colors of the sky at dusk. I thought about weekend getaways, drippy ice cream cones, and bare feet racing over the grass. I pondered fireworks, Glencoe Art festivals, French Markets, sidewalk sales, Pride Month, parades, and many al fresco dinners. There’s been an awful lot of fun that has filled up these past Summer months.

For all those reasons, August is my reserved time to savor. I know that the first day of school is just around the corner. I realize that more structured schedules are on the horizon. I accept all of this. It’s for those reasons that I say, go ahead, have ice cream before dinner. Take an extra long bike ride that might stretch past your kids’ bedtime. Invite someone over for a drink or impromptu popsicle party. Turn on a sprinkler. Turn off the iPads. Look for shooting stars. Open your windows. Say yes more than no. Get outside everyday, even for just a short walk. Pet a dog. Look for birds. Talk to your neighbors.

Riding my bike that morning reminded me of something: the absolute bliss of simplicity. Do you remember riding a bike for the first time? The feelings of independence or the excitement of choosing your destination? It’s euphoric (also decent exercise). Hopping on two wheels brought me back to my childhood, where any neighborhood adventure was possible. Why don’t I do this more often? Why don’t I get back to basics not because my car is unavailable but because it just feels good?

I’ll confess, back in my city-living-days, I rode a bike to escape the endless concrete. I sought the clarity of being out in nature, savoring all of its elements. If density was driving me mad, I could always get on a trail or a path and find my way.

Those memories, and this month, are reminding me to savor what is right now- the calm before the storm. The last of the very best season. That when the world feels stressful and upsetting, we can hit the reset button. And savor the moment.

Columns, Lifestyle

City Girl Confessions: Focusing on What Was & What Will Be

June 27, 2019June 27, 2019by KellyQAnderson1 Comment

City Girl Confessions is my recurring column via The Glencoe Anchor.

A couple months back I recall the idea of a dog park floating around town. There’s just something about that notion that connotes joy: it’s a gathering place to meet new friends and, overall, it’s a cherry on top of the stellar parks already existing in our town.

At the time, I also accepted that the dog park would not be a great fit for my 10-year-old Boston Terrier, Theo. His energy level was subdued and we always knew that he preferred humans to other dogs. However, I still welcomed the dog park idea because pets connect us in wonderful ways- and how great to have a meeting place for those connections to occur?

My dog has endured many milestones since we adopted him in 2010. Theo started out as a city pup where he often enjoyed long walks in the South Loop down Michigan Avenue and being near the Lake. He easily welcomed the addition of two kids to the mix, following them happily wherever they went.

When we moved to Glencoe, I was astonished at how active the pet owners were. In Chicago, dog walking is mandatory given the lack of yards. In the suburbs, where yards are plentiful, people still leashed up their pets and took to the sidewalks. It was oddly comforting- it made me feel like I didn’t have to give up every part of my urban lifestyle just because my geography had changed.

So I happily joined the unofficial active dog-walking club. Perhaps you saw us over the years. For a good chunk of time I rolled deep with a red stroller, a kid on a scooter, and a leashed black-and-white dog. When my babies became big kids, our walks became just me and Theo. A morning walk, a bus stop pick-up, a family stroll after dinner…these walks were our treasured time for nature and introspection.

I’m sharing these special memories because this week presented something unexpected: the sudden passing of my beloved Theo. As you might imagine, my family and I are absolutely devastated. My children have lost their best friend. My husband and I have lost our treasured companion. The joyful light in our home has dimmed dark.

Yesterday, I took a walk. By myself. The same, long neighborhood route my Theo had loved for so many years. Everywhere I looked there were dogs. Dogs riding in cars, dogs lazing around yards, and dogs passing by in the street with their owners. Big dogs, mini ones, furry ones.

Maybe there will be a dog park here some day. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I will love another dog the way I loved Theo. In the mean time, I will continue my routine walks alone and remember a special time. If I see you with your pet and give you a tiny smile, just know you are helping me heal. You are helping me celebrate what once was.

Columns

City Girl Confessions: Embracing Inclusion, Diversity In Our Town

June 16, 2019June 16, 2019by KellyQAndersonLeave a Comment

City Girl Confessions is my recurring column featured in The Glencoe Anchor.

There has been a colorful burst of cheer in our town lately. It has been peeking out on Vernon Avenue. It has been defying gravity and retail awnings. It’s been taking over social media. I’m talking about the delightfully cheerful balloon installation honoring Pride Month at The Flower Shop.

With rainbow colors and whimsy that just keeps going, I have marveled at this art for many days now. Created by Balloons by Tommy and orchestrated by store owner Brooke Lawler, this symbol of inclusion takes a joyful form in commemorating June and what it represents to the LGBTQ+ community: unity, empowerment, acceptance. The Flower Shop isn’t alone either- take a look around and see many businesses, shops, and restaurants in our area who are taking on inclusive practices and promoting acceptance this month.

All of this reminds me of a Welcoming and Inclusivity Pledge that the Village of Glencoe rolled out in 2017. Said pledge promoted the notion that “a community must stand up against any and all discrimination, harassment or hateful acts that are based on race, ethnicity, color, immigration or refugee status, religion or creed, gender or sexual orientation, age, mental or physical disability, veteran status, or other social identities, as well as discourse that disrespects or degrades people’s identities, needs and beliefs.”

I’m really empowered by this pledge. It keeps our community accountable to being our best, and serves as a reminder that we are all different, we are all the same. More information on the Pledge can be found on the Village of Glencoe’s website.

In expanding the Pledge, the concept of inclusion, and its many subcategories, Glencoe Public Library will be hosting ‘Inclusivity: A Faith Panel Discussion’ on Monday, June 24th at 7pm. It will feature a myriad of Glencoe faith leaders and will be moderated by yours truly; come out and lend a listening ear. I always find it enlightening to take in a panel- the differing ideas and opinions can stir the brain and the heart mutually. Plus, the library is the place to be if the topic of inclusion leaves you wanting more- there are books, resources, and DVDs to further one’s learning and understanding. And sometimes they even have cookies, which always makes learning more fun, in my humble opinion.

More on the learning topic…I found it particularly inspiring to learn that Central School recently selected a day to encourage students to wear rainbows or rainbow-themed clothing in a nod to Pride Month. I imagine the day was filled with a lot of color, excitement, and unity. What’s not to love about promoting acceptance and diversity starting at a young age?

I’ll confess: inclusion is an ever-evolving topic. Each day we learn new terms, new groups, or come to new understandings of what it means to identify or express oneself. But when I think of inclusion, I think of all of us being on the same journey together. We’re walking, we’re going somewhere, we’re just at different paces. And it’s a beautiful thing.

Lifestyle, Parenting

A Note About Dads

June 16, 2019June 16, 2019by KellyQAndersonLeave a Comment

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve called my dad in a panic: either the basement flooded, my car was smoking, the pregnancy test said POSITIVE (this was years ago; not pregnant now), I forgot the name of our favorite mechanic, or I was just needing to feel a sense of calm in the world. My dad has always had an answer to my most impossible moments.

Watching Fitz become a Dad has been extraordinary. He has sewn up a beloved stuffed animal, read books in silly voices, changed thousands of middle-of-the-night diapers, walked fussy infants around restaurants, and despite having a sensitive stomach for anything medical, he watched both of our babies come into the world. He coached soccer. He took Gus to her first gymnastics class. Throughout all of this, he was patient, genuine, and interested.

And my two dads…Tom and Jerry. Who would’ve thought that in marrying Fitz, our fathers would become best pals?! They work together, have breakfast together, go to The Masters together…they even have the exact same birthday: Nov. 8th, 1947. In watching these dads become grandparents, I saw them show up to the bus stop, drop in on baseball games, host putting/chipping contests, babysit in a pinch (even overnight), dole out lollipops, and talk in earnest to these little beings, pointing out all the ways in which this world is magnificent. Throughout all of this, they were patient, genuine, and interested.

I cry readily thinking about these great men. I call on them at the very best and very worst times. I love them fiercely, even more so knowing that I’m not an easy person to love. 🙂 And they still show up. They still answer every phone call. They still ask, “What can I do to help?”

By just being who they are, they have allowed me to grow and get through the toughest, darkest parts of life. To Fitz, and to Tom and Jerry, you are everything good. You are patient, genuine, and interested. I love you for it all.

Lifestyle, Reading

Three Fun Things

June 5, 2019June 5, 2019by KellyQAndersonLeave a Comment

multicolored plastic slinky toy in close up photography — Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

It’s Pride Month! I’m so delighted by the ways in which I’m seeing inclusion promoted and celebrated, particularly this delightful balloon installation at one of my favorite local spots, The Flower Shop in Glencoe. To those who identify as LGBTQ+: Hello, I love you, and I’m thankful for you.
A friend asked what I’ve been reading and I cackled and said nothing and then got sad about that because reading is one of my most cherished hobbies. My current schedule (kids/ school/ summer camps/ home renovations/ writing) has been such chaos that reading feels like a far off place I might get to in August. Here’s hoping it arrives sooner because I’m dying to dig into Alyssa Mastromonaco’s newest book, So Here’s The Thing.
In visiting a fixture supply store (shoutout to kitchen sinks), I was FINALLY able to sneak over to Burt’s Place, a pizza joint that has been on my radar for practically a decade. Our order: onion rings (#forhealth) and a medium sausage and pepperoni pan pizza. It was TRANSCENDENT. EXTRAORDINARY. REMARKABLE. CALL-YOUR-MOTHER-WORTHY. The whole place just gave me happy vibes.

Tell me something fun. ANYTHING fun. 🙂

Columns, Parenting

City Girl Confessions: A Slice of Americana in the Driveway

May 31, 2019May 31, 2019by KellyQAndersonLeave a Comment

City Girl Confessions is my recurring column in The Glencoe Anchor.

I have distinct memories of childhood centered around a basketball hoop. We had one in our driveway for nearly 20 years and it was the nucleus of entertainment. It was where I learned to dribble a ball, outshoot my brother in a game of ‘HORSE,’ and it was where I went to de-stress and cure boredom.

Basketball was blissful competition for me and my siblings and we wasted away the summer hours playing the sport. We were sweaty, happy, and giddy. We didn’t want the fun to end, didn’t want to think about dinner, bath time, or anything logical that would take away the fun of the moment.

When I moved to Glencoe, there was a wish list for what features my home would have, but near the top of that list was a driveway that could accommodate a basketball hoop. I bought one a few months ago for my son’s birthday but cold weather and relentless rain did not permit installation until now. The waiting not only enhanced the excitement for this new childhood chapter, but it made the reveal all that more meaningful.

While my son was at school, a team rallied together to plot the correct hoop installation, the proper height, and to pore over every detail with careful attention. Despite rain showers earlier that morning, the weather eased into a very comfortable seventy-five degree day. The sun literally shone on our efforts.

My husband snuck home early from work and the whole family waited eagerly at the bus stop for my son. When he arrived, he didn’t seem too surprised that we were all there, more so just pleased with the very nice day in front of him.

My husband and I exchanged nervous, giddy glances at one another as we walked down the street. Suddenly, I was reliving every moment of the past seven years: our move to this town with a newborn baby, our urban-to-suburban adjustments, our bewilderment at just how quiet everything was. Here we were, on the cusp of what we had hoped for, a dream that was just about to come true.

Our feet reached the end of the driveway. I turned toward my son. “Do you notice anything different about the house?”

Long seconds passed. Then he whooped with joy, tossing his backpack and paper airplane to us as he raced toward the hoop, eager to grab a basketball and get to work. It was a gold medal parenting moment, one that I won’t soon forget.

The late afternoon was spent dribbling, shooting, and chasing basketballs all over the driveway. We were sweaty, happy, and giddy. We didn’t want the fun to end, didn’t want to think about dinner, bath time, or anything logical that would take away the fun of the moment. It was a perfect slice of Americana; a recognition that everything old was new again.