You know just how much I love baby name posts. (Here’s the post where I asked you to help me name Little Girl. It’s the all-time most popular post on this blog!) And I know just how much you love baby name posts. So let’s get down to business…

As many of you know, Sister C is expecting her second child (yes, a girl!) in early March. She’s actually due on Little Girl’s birthday which is pretty cool, I think. Anyway, she’s getting close. A mere six weeks away. And she and her husband are still without a name for this little chickadee.

That’s where we all come in.

Okay, a little information to get our baby name radars pointed in the right direction. Sister C’s two-year-old son, known affectionately as Baby Bulldog on this blog, has a wonderful and unique name in real life. I will not disclose his name, but I will tell you that it is a three-syllable Irish surname that is quite obscure when used as a first name. (Think: Garrity, Gulliver, Callahan.) Their last name is two syllables, ends in an “y” sound. (Like: Rowley, Donnelley, Terry.)

I asked C to describe the kind of name they are looking for. And she said they are looking for a name that fits the following three criteria:

1. A name that is either unusual or not very popular;

2. A name that is two or three syllables; and

3. A name that is both strong and feminine.

I know this is still somewhat confusing and cryptic. How much simpler this would be if I just told you their son’s name and their last name? Alas. Not going to happen. But I will list a few names they like very much, and have considered, but have decided at this point not to use for one reason or another: Georgiana, Annabel, Henrietta, Bridget, Petra, Genevieve.

Okay, it’s your turn. Our turn. Oh yes, I plan to brainstorm today and post my suggestions too. Any ideas? I’m sure you’re full of them… Particularly you, my friend Abby Sandel of the fabulous baby name blog Appellation Mountain (where I stumbled upon Little Girl’s name last December!)

Ready, set, go! Let’s name my sister’s baby girl! If the above confuses you (it kind of confuses me) just throw out some unique baby girl names you love.

This was a really strange weekend. And I am still a bit shaky.

A friend has been suffering. And on Friday, something happened, something scary. It was a cry. A loud one. In my mind, unmistakable.

And so. I showed up. A few of us did. At her home. In the morning. In my pajamas and glasses. And she cried when she saw me. And hugged me hard.

I’m going to help you, I said. We all are.

There was so resistance. None. It was as if she’s been waiting. For someone outside of her immediate family to notice.

I did. Many of us did. And so. We gathered around her on a brisk Saturday morning. We talked and and talked. There were phone calls, hard ones. There was laughter. There were tears. There was friendship.

Love.

I am a thinker. A theory girl. Sometimes, often, I get lost in the land of abstractions, flirting with words and ideas.

But this weekend I heeded my instinct, my profound instinct, and I acted. We acted.

And now. She is safe and getting some help. The help she so needs, and so deserves.

Do not ignore your instincts. If you think someone is struggling, and crying out, you are probably right.

{I apologize that this is so bare-boned, so bare-branched, so admittedly vague, but I feel this is necessary to protect my friend and her family. I almost didn’t acknowledge this occurrence at all here on ILI, but I was, and am, very affected by all of this and so wanted to write about it, even if cryptically. I hope you all understand.}

Have you ever helped someone get the help they needed? Has anyone ever helped you get the help you needed?

The course of a river is almost always disapproved of by its source.

Jean Cocteau, 1889-1963

Be honest. How much do you care about approval? The approval of your family, in particular. The family that created you. The family you have created. When you think about your life, and make decisions about how to live it, do you stop and ask, What will they think? Will they understand me? Will they applaud me? Or are these questions quiet, barely-there whispers in the background, as you plunge forward proudly, precariously making your course?

(I care. I do. I suspect I always will. Is this a good thing?)

Do you seek approval in your days and ways? Do you think this is a good thing or no? How do you cope when people you love disapprove of something you do or decide?

You lose it if you talk about it.

Ernest Hemingway

It’s been an interesting few days. On Monday, while talking to someone I know and respect, I told her about an idea I have for a personal/professional challenge/project. When I told her the idea, her eyes lit up and she asked to hear more. And so we talked briefly about this idea. As I talked, and as she listened, I began to feel a buzz of energy and excitement. I didn’t say it aloud to her, but the sentence was crisp and repeating in my head.

I am going to do this.

I’m not yet ready to talk about this project. It is too early. My ideas are too raw. I also think that there is something profoundly true about Hemingway’s words above, that we do indeed lose something if we talk about it. I think we writers face this dilemma all the time. How much of our works-in-progress should we discuss? What happens to those ideas and characters and plot lines we set free too early? Isn’t there indeed something safe and cozy and compelling about keeping things close, and quiet?

One person whom I hope to talk to about this idea and soon? My lovely and amazing friend and blogeague and entrepreneurial powerhouse Danielle LaPorte. Almost three years ago, at the very beginning of my blogging career, I wrote this about Danielle. And she has continued to be a huge inspiration for me. I have had the privilege of working with her and hanging with her a couple of times and she is not only a brilliant businesswoman and a fellow philosophical pole dancer, but a warm and wise friend. I’m lucky to know her.

Get this: Danielle’s book THE FIRE STARTER SESSIONS: A Soulful + Practical Guide to Creating Success on Your Own Terms is not out in  hardcover until April but it is as I write this #15 on Amazon. You do not need to be an author to appreciate that this is phenomenal. It is also prime evidence of her magic, her mojo, her undeniable fire-starting skills.

And so. There is a little fire sizzling for this little fire (Aidan means little fire) and I hope very much that it will be blazing some day. Maybe my friend Danielle can help me in that endeavor? Maybe all of you can (once I spill the beans)?

As soon as I hit publish on this post, I’m clicking over to Amazon to pre-order five copies of Danielle’s beautiful book. One is for me and will be devoured promptly upon delivery. The others? For friends, for family. For one of you. I will give it away on this blog. Because I think we all have ideas and dreams. I think we all have nascent fires to get going.

But don’t wait for me on this. Head over and pre-order your own copy.

Are you curious about my secret project or am I being unnecessarily dramatic and cryptic here? Do you believe that when you say it you lose it? Are you hesitant to share your professional and personal ideas with others? Are there any individuals who have served as personal or professional inspirations for you in your life?

I promised to share more pictures from J and N’s wedding this past weekend. And here they are. A sampling of the oodles I took. This first one? It is a close-up of my bridesmaid’s bouquet. The colors were stunning and vibrant. Symbolic of the event itself.

The drive there was decent. There were tears of course, but we made it the whole way without catching vomit in Tupperware. (The ride back? Another story entirely. Both big girls threw up and the tiny one screamed as if she has an ear infection. Wait, she does have an ear infection. It all makes sense now.) We stopped at a highway rest stop for potty trips and gas. The girls of course wanted everything at the little convenient store.

They begged us to play that silly game with the mechanical arm and stuffed animals. You know, that game that is utterly impossible to win and almost invariably ends in tears? Anyway. We obliged. And, get this? It was three dollars per game but you got to play until you successfully grabbed an animal. Genius. Husband did his fatherly duties, capturing the desired bumble bee for Big Girl and the pink ant-thing for Middle Girl. Little Girl is not old enough to request an animal so she did not get one. Sorry, little one. (For the record: Best $6 we have ever spent.)

After a successful rehearsal at the church and a lovely rehearsal dinner hosted by N’s parents, we all got some sleep (oh, wait, we didn’t. Middle Girl decided that sleep was so 2010 and stayed up all night running between her bed and ours). The girls and I met my Mom, Grammy, J, bridesmaids and female family for a yummy wedding day breakfast hosted by Aunt L. And then we were off to the bridal suite where we hung around doing wonderful girly things like get our hair and makeup done and help J step into her exquisite dress.

We indulged in a little wedding party toast.

We accompanied J downstairs where she saw her dad, and then soon-to-be hubby N for the first time. An auspicious, tear-jerking moment. The air was thick with emotion.

Husband and I joined the rest of the bridal party to take pictures in gorgeous spots around DC. If my silly iPhone photos look this good, I can’t even imagine how glorious the professional ones will be.

The cozy couple. I adore this picture.

The bridesmaid dresses were a deep navy/plum and beautiful and J gifted us with wraps – ethereal and twiggy and just perfect.

I snapped a picture of Husband on a hill. One of my favorite shots ever. There is something about that little red house that gets me.

At the church, we were ready to go. The littlest flower girl was feverish and flushed, sporting doll-like rosy cheeks. She was a trooper, scooting around on the carpet, gathering tiny petal pieces her big sisters had dropped. She and her big sisters were champs, making their way down that fabled aisle, smiling, scattering flowers, or just clinging to my hip and trying to grab my lush bouquet. There were no tears. Score!

Little Girl went home to bed, but we told the big girls they could come and dance and eat wedding cake. Both had taken a nap in the afternoon in preparation for this treat. Here, they study the cake. The bride laughed as she caught Big Girl taking a swipe of frosting with her little finger. Uh oh. Perfect behavior is a tad boring anyway, huh?

The setting was a waterfront restaurant. And utterly amazing. Grammy planned this whole wedding and it was phenomenal. The details were warm and wonderful and unique. The food was delicious.

But the best part of the night as far as I am concerned? The dancing. While the adults tucked into their entrees, my little girls rendezvoused with their cousins on the dance floor. And they danced. And danced. Like really danced. Who taught my girls how to dance? I certainly didn’t.

They shimmied and twirled, smiling big. They ran in circles. They had the time of their life.

They did this until 10pm. My kids have never ever stayed up past eight. But on this night, we made an exception and so did they. There was no way we were going to pluck these tiny dancers from that floor.

They stayed long enough to watch J dance with Dad-Dad. And, of course, I couldn’t help but think: These little girls will do this one day. They will don a white dress and dance with Daddy. And I will stand back, misty-eyed, and watch.

Finally, the time came. I whisked the girls back to the hotel. They skipped through the hotel lobby, smiles fixed, still clutching those little white baskets, now empty. I let them press the buttons in the elevator like I always do and then I followed them down the long hallway toward our suite. Inside, I stripped them down, out of their white puffy clouds, and we picked PJs. When I kissed them goodnight, they were still smiling.

This weekend was something I will always remember. For many reasons. Mainly, I think, because it was a real family affair. Because it was stuffed with moments and meaning. Because my little girls did their duties and danced so beautifully, with such purpose and freedom. Because I have a new brother-in-law. Because this is really what it is all about. Family. Fun. Love.

Speaking of family and fun and love, we are packing up again and heading to Philly to spend Thanksgiving with the newlyweds and Grammy and Dad-Dad. The plan is to leave tomorrow after the kids’ school celebrations. And so, in the spirit of slowing down and savoring family and food and all of life’s goodies, I will not be posting for the rest of the week. Instead, I will be cuddling up with family old and new, looking at wedding pictures and telling wedding stories. Instead, I will be saying and living one word, one important word: Thanks.

Happy Thanksgiving, All! See you next week!