You are visiting "Chicken Blog."
Deep thoughts and other musings from a woman who writes about the man she loves, their 3 sons and 1 daughter, Chango the cat, Joe the rabbit, Benjamin Franklin Thunder-Cat, Steve the bird, and at last: 3 Chickens... Betty, Buttercup and Fantam the Bantam. And our life in a home with a view.
*Established May 24, 2002*
Monday, June 01, 2009
Yo Tambien Quiero Volver Un regalo para mi Tia Elvira. Con cariño, departe de su sobrina. Yo tambien tengo buenos recuerdos de El Valle de Tacupeto. Besos a mi Tio y Tia. Les amo muchismo.
Desde El Ojo de Agua, noviembre, 2003. El Cerro Cabezón.
Antonia y Ismael en su casa, en el pueblo.
Huele a humo y tortillas. Se oye los coros en la iglesia. En la cocina... bondad y amor, risa y comunión.
Do you know what I learned? Let people know what you want, what you like, and then go with the flow and enjoy the ride. At least it worked this time... worked really well. And better still, I made no special requests about breakfast or fresh flowers, but Max and Alex were up at 5:30 in the morning to prepare me a beautiful meal. They put so much thought in to their preparations, setting the table, serving hot tea and fresh strawberries, and they beckoned me from bed to the kitchen with home baked chocolate croissants.
William, Alex, Max and Maria did a little shopping too and got me gift cards, so later this week I will be visiting three favorite shops... a delightful way to extend my fun. Max made me a very clever card with a Jacob's Ladder kind of secret opening and a dear message. He was aching all weekend to share it with me and now I am looking forward to him teaching me how to make one too.
Do I look mellow? We did a lot and yet the pace was easy, relaxed and fun. They made my bed!Twice!! After Geoff cleaned up breakfast some of us took catnaps and some of us took showers and some of us called other Moms and GrandMoms. And when we were good and ready we all went to a favorite nursery, just because.
This place has been an inspiration to me for 14 years and even of we aren't in any position to buy climbing vines and fountains it is worth the visit just to inhale the sea air and blossoms... a heavenly combination. Geoff and Max played chase-hide and seek. Maria and I daydreamed in the playhouse, then explored all the corners and paths. William and Alex paced pensively and enjoyed recalling the times when we used to visit more frequently.
Max played in this little house when he was Maria's age. I think he will be taller than me by the end of summer.
I don't know what it is. I couldn't find the tag. I don't mind if you can tell me, but at the time I was kind of content to just let be Mystery Twist, an unknown beauty.
Maria chose this petunia and carried it, with unwavering devotion. She wants to add it to the fairy garden. Max and Alex also chose new plants for the fairy garden, which is good, because it's time for re-sprucing our garden in a barrel.Nikkipolani was right to warn us about how fast a tiny garden can change, how soon they will need a complete makeover... I knew she was right... her garden posts sustain me.
In the secret garden are fountains and bits and parts and this and that and I love it. Walking there makes me happy and wishful, the air is charged and fresh. It is invigorating, like the ocean.
After lunch we took the long way home. The long way is by way of a cliff path above the ocean. We followed the old and familiar trail north, then south and then down to the beach...
Can't see her arms? Maybe you can make out the tips of her fingers, clinging her jacket as she hugs herself? She won't hold hands. Nope. She can do it herself, walk on a steep and narrow path. We have an independent and determined girl. Won't that serve her well? Won't that be interesting in years to come? Oh my.
Geoff and I used to take this path when we went to swim and snorkel at The Cove, and yes, even to jump at The Clam.
I've made promises to each of my four children to bring them back here as soon as possible. I think a midweek visit, this time with swimsuits and towels, will be fantastic. The water is still too cold for me, or maybe I could be dared or tempted. If I don't swim, I can still watch for crabs and collect shells and treasures, bury my feet in the gritty sand.
I will be on the lookout for new masks and snorkels in anticipation of beach days.
Max cannot wait for warmer temperatures or fancy gear, not even swim trunks. Fully dressed and under my watchful eye, he went all the way in and loved it.
The best of the day was being with Geoff and William and Alex and Max and Maria.
Some Mothering This post first appeared last year and I think it's well worth repeating, with some additional faces. The first time I published it, it took forever just to gather the images, to double check that I was representing as many mothers as possible and then to format all of them etc. I didn't have time or energy left to name names + I am totally paranoid about misspelling and mislabeling. This seemed like a ripe opportunity to make a classic, if innocent, goof-up. Another thing that I thought a lot about is this... I know many women who are not technically mothers and yet they definitely posses the strength and caring, the nurturing and dedication... doting aunts, dear friends, generous women... is there a name for them, do we recognize those kinds of mothers? I think we should. Happy Mothers' Day to all the women who care and give, and support and inspire. We make a good team.
This is it. Today is the day. I have to accomplish the work of months in a single day. Included in my list of reasons to stay home, when Geoff came up with the travel plan, was: I have got to clean the house, because post crunch mode everything is neglected. Neglected = A Total Mess. His response was: Don't worry. I will be here to take care of that. Isn't that a nice response? And didn't I accept it at face value, and breath a small sigh of relief? But neither of us factored in robotics, which has retained its impossible schedule and will be all consuming right up until Chicken Abroad departure time.
Gah!
Guess what? The house is still neglected a total mess, and I am trying to catch my breath from all the usual challenges + the added madness of making a major trip to a faraway land + the house is a total mess + my Mom is coming!
Hold on a sec.
I just need to say a prayer and breath deeply.
Oh Lord.
I always say my prayers in the form of gratitude, but this time I am asking for guidance and forgiveness. Things have gotten out of hand. It's typical for this time of year, when we go in to survival mode, but there are extra, external forces militating against us.
Still breathing.
Friends, good ones, always say Don't worry about it. And I would definitely say Don't worry about it to You, but I of course I am going to worry about it. And if I have any ambition or shame in me, I will work very hard today. Paperwork is everywhere. Piles of stuff is everywhere else. My bed looks like it is afloat, or sunk, in a sea of flotsam and jetsam. Even Steve, the bird, and the chicas' homes need a vigorous dose of early Spring cleaning. The whole truth is that I will need to work very hard to get the house almost decent and manage an ever intensifying robotics schedule, bill paying, packing, making Geoff a detailed list of Garage Mahal Management Minutia. Oh, and don't let me forget to find a repair patch for the airbed.
I will have to lie. It's true. I will clean all day and probably for a few hours tomorrow, and somehow I will figure out how to be 3 places at once, while trying to come to terms with my separation anxiety and fear of flying, and then because the house will never look the way I want it to look, be as precious and ship-shape as I imagine it should be, I will tell anyone who sees it: It's been crazy around here and I have not had time to clean.
Geoff will not appreciate that last bit, but the lie is true... it's keeping it real, like us mommy bloggers like to say. Maybe it's how we protect our spirits from total defeat. Maybe it's a kind of forgiveness we grant our psyches. Maybe I wanted to stay home and clean in the first place and a last minute trip to Europe is a monumental undertaking best avoided in times of duress... maybe. Or maybe I am a self-deprecating kind of person that should not worry so much. nah
Fortunately, it's not all drama. We made our way to Balboa Park for some much needed family time. It was wonderful.
Well, technically speaking we were not in Mexico, and since this is not a political blog, I am taking artistic-cultural license and staying with the birthday theme: A Night In Mexico. We were celebrating my cousin Isaac's 18th birthday. There was an abundance of good humor, good food, good company and gozando... there was plenty to enjoy.
The birthday boy. Here he is playing cowboy and rounding up this stray doggie who wanted desperately to join the party. The dog is too much of a party animal to be trusted among the guests and platters of tamales. My tio kept taking tour groups of sweet children to the room where the doggies were, which made the children and the dogs happy.
I know it was my cousin's big night, but it has to be mentioned that his little cousin, the one in the blue dress, was having very good time.
Found a peanut.
Max and Maria were delighting themselves with the bowl of nuts and use of a nut cracker, which is a bit too much tool for just peanuts, but fun just the same.
She did not skip a beat... and played con gusto right to the end.
The big kids, Isaac's posse, hung out around the PS3, happy to game and chill. The younger children, almost all girls, to Maria's utter bliss, took down this piñata in no time at all!
Smarties, tamarindo, lollipops... bags were filled to the tops!
Maria was thrilled to fill her bag up and the other girls thoughtfully helped her get more than her fair share. The best part is that at this point in her life Maria had even more fun redistributing the candies among all the guests. She shared most of her treats, and then sampled her first taste of Smarties... Pink is my favorite!
William, Alex and Max. Quiet, pensive party-ers.
Arroz, frijoles, tamales, ensalada, chips, salsa... and chocolate cake. Perfection for a brisk December night. With all there was to enjoy, like familia and masa, it's no wonder we got home so late.
Good night. We had a wonderful time at my cousin's birthday party, and even though we got home at 11 p.m., I stayed up to start another cubic yard of laundry, load and start the dishwasher, clear the dining table, take out the garbage and remove 1 surface layer of accumulated debris treasures. And I want to remember that today was good... that a little effort counts, that I would still rather work on another quilt than scrub grout or curl my eyelashes, and that my children are a joy. I want to remember that in spite of stress and uphill climbs, there are moments, hours, and days that I would not trade for anything. I think I may be a bit intoxicated... I took in quite a bit of laughter, some tamales, a little cake, and a lot of family time.
The 3 weeks we had with my mom, with grandma, were wonderful. She split her time between our home and Hans and Gretchen's place, plus we had time with everyone in the mountains. We went to favorite eateries and celebrated Maria's birthday. We went on some nice walks. She guided me though some domestic duties I've been neglecting... guidance is needed and appreciated. We did a lot, and after her first day back home, I already miss her and can think of a dozen things I meant to do, say, share. For certain I thought I would take more pictures, especially family portraits. Clearly, 3 weeks is just not enough time. So, I am already happily anticipating next time.
Quickly, before taking her to my brother's, I thought to snap a few pictures of my mom with my daughter, and I could not be happier with that stroke of genius. A strong breeze had begun to blow from the north, and we remarked that Oregon was in the wind, calling her home.
Even with wisps of hair across her eyes, I love Maria's pretty face next to my mother's beautiful face. Those smiles. Their light. Such a lovely sight. Seeing them evokes the pleasure I feel when I think of them together.
I see love and humor and joy. I see freedom of expression, and passion for living. I see my mommy and my baby... what a blessing, what a wonderful gift.
Sometimes Chickenblog reminds me of a family album, a scrapbook of memories and treasured moments. I will turn to this page many times.
I know the calendar days are moving swiftly. One. Two. Three. Nine. Just that quickly. And I am trying to sort feelings and thoughts, push forward the beauty of the moment and cast away stress and grief. I love this time of year. The traditions and connections, the soothing rhythm of the songs we sing, the spices, ribbons, greetings and light... it fills me with hope. Having my Mom here, leaning on her and playing with her, has made everything particularly good.
But those days, those fast moving days have brought us to the end of her stay.
She's Grandma Boo-Boo. William named her that. We used to be neighbors, when William was a serious baby, riding around town in the '64 Comet we shared. Now he's a serious young man, and I wish we were still neighbors of Delia and Ron, Grandma and Grandpa. I wish some days moved more slowly, like the days we spend walking on the bluffs or making gingerbread castles, or imagining ourselves in French castles. I wish there were more time to make tamales or to not make tamales, but just to debate the pros and cons of all that cooking and steam and fragrant memories of ollas passed.
Here is love. I wish for everyone someone that laughs with them and cries with them, someone who can tell you your own stories and listen to you tell them again. Love is in the hands of the person who will hold you and push you forward and catch you, and fold your laundry.
So, I have been going slowly, absorbing the love and cherishing the laughter and the ease of our days and moments together.
And s l o w l y we have been gathering with friends and family. We went to the HolidayChristmas Parade. We've been playing Christmas music and we drove in meandering circles, looking for the best light displays. We even brought home a Christmas tree.
Nick came with us to the tree lot. We settled on a tree that Geoff calls Charlie Brown, denoting its small size. Maria thought it was too big. Aren't there always different ways of seeing things?
Guess what I did... after last Christmas, I packed 95% of our decorations for moving. I never imagined we would be here, still. We would have to turn the garage upside down to access the boxes, so...
Ready or not, days pass, visits come to an end and Christmas comes. There is no waiting or stalling... the fun things we like to do, the music I want to hear... do it now! We bought 3 small boxes of ornaments. Max and I put together a Playmobile advent calendar and hung it up. Maybe I can make stockings and more of those felt trees we displayed last year.
The joy cannot, and should not, be contained. So here we go! Behind or late, early or unprepared, messy and chaotic, bright and brilliant... whatever it is, bring it on!
The whole tree sways when Benjamin slips beneath... bad kitty... lol
So, so much goodness and I hardly know where to start or when to finish. I have hundreds of pictures I could share and lots of happy stories, funny jokes, dear moments and foodie confessions... we're talking Thanksgiving, family, mountains, starry walks, food, and a derpday! The derpday.
Hold on a sec. I gotta catch my breath.
Maria is 4. It happened. All of it... the glitter, the friends, the painting and flowers and fairy wings and hugs and affection, the elation and giddiness, the exuberance of a child in love with the world. The night before she turned 4 years old, I looked on her in wonder and I felt those sentimental stirrings... the wistfulness, not wanting her to be 1 day older. And yet every new day is good, every milestone is amazing, every new skill and bright thought is a blessing. So, as much as I would like to stop time and inhale more days of 3 year old joy, I am ready to welcome this new year... Maria's new year.
To begin with, thank you. You and you and you! We feel the love and support, we witness the kindness and generosity and we are so grateful, so awestruck. My friend Jola, who could not come to the party, could not help participating. She made 3 princess hats, with elegant tulle veils. Bill and Alison sent the perfect wings... Maria ran, exclaiming "I'm in the sky!" All our family, in the mountains for Thanksgiving, played and hid and seeked, and tickled and chased and shared and showered Maria with love and she loved them right back. Everyone shared in the excitement and jumped into her world. A lot of things and stuff can go into a party, a celebration, but it's the people that make it fun and special... and everyone we know has contributed to Maria's happy derpday.
I told you... I don't know where to begin... We ordered a decorated white cake. At home Max helped me make beet extract pink frosting and he guided me in adding some flowers and his sister's name. Then we topped it with a glittered fairy angel we made from The Toy Maker. Maria loved it. It made her eyes widen and her mouth formed a delighted "Oh!
Nice thing about an outdoor, garden party is the decorating is mostly complete... there were pomegranates and flowers and foliage and natural loveliness everywhere. We added our scrappy princess garland and the Sesame Street and princess cups and plates Maria chose... and that was about it.
Alex and Delia sliced bagels. Geoff was helping all over. William was a good gopher too. Max was a very supportive member of the party crew.
Ta Da! Complete with a Calamity Kim apron, Maria was this happy all. day. long!
There were 3 princesses, including Princess Emma (pictured) and Princesses Izzy and Maria. There were 11 princes! William, Alex, Max, Nick, Tristan, Morgan, Karsten, Jared, James, Jacob and Jesse.
These princes were chillin'. Far away. Alex, with his wry wit, later remarked that the day was surreal. There was a great deal of pink and accessories, and not a Lego brick or robot in sight.
Tristan was a fun party guest. I noticed that he systematically visited each craft station and activity, where he quietly and contentedly enjoyed painting rocks and plaster flowers, then planted a real flower. He was with us at the pond and on our explore and wherever he was, he politely and thoughtfully played and engaged with people and the environment. Morgan too. What a little naturalist he is. He waited so patiently at the edge of the pond and time after time he could swiftly and gently scoop up fish in his bare hands.
All the fun we had at this pond makes me want to go back to the big pond where we celebrated Tristan's birthday.
Princess Izzy Isabella in her magical derpday wings.
Fun loving Nick and the princesses and of course cake. Mmmm... chocolate cake, and beet extract frosting! Tasty.
I am going to be very patient, but I expect to see a lot of emails with photo attachments coming in real soon...lol. How many cameras were working and flashing and capturing the fun? Many! Gretchen and I were messing with Hans this time, doing our over the top photo love. We are so funny. And a special shout out to the anniversary couple btw. I'm so glad you are celebrating together this year!
There were a lot of guests that joined us in celebrating Maria's birthday, and I am so glad they were there to hear Maria say, "I love you all. And thank you for coming to my princess derpday. And... and now I just want to open presents."
Now let's head out in to the park and enjoy the sights. Let's run around with cousins and friends and look for those frogs and float leaves... Izzy, Maria and Jacob.
James, Tristan, Morgan, Maria and Jacob... fishing.
It's a nice treat to be in a favorite place and see people that I love there, together. We should do this more often.
Maria and her cousin Jesse.
Here is the adventure ready J Crew. Jacob and Jared, Jesse and James.
Did I mention that everyone was having a good time? I think uncle Rich would like to come back here to play again. He and Morgan were the most successful fishermen. Max and Nick made a cooperative and patient team.
Max held Nick while Nick prepared to make a catch... they didn't ever fall in, so I guess it was a good idea. It was certainly a pleasure to watch them playing together.
Happy birthday Maria. You had a vision and it was so much fun to see it come to life. I hope you always find a way to make your beautiful dreams come true, and I hope we can always be around to witness the joy you find and inspire.
Oh. I missed getting a picture of the sunset. It was pretty. I almost said, "looking west..." lol. The sky had clouds on the horizon which turned pink and denim blue, then deepened to apricot and night blue. Even prettier, my Mommy. It's so nice to see her and hold her and hear her. To see her out of that neck contraption. I never posted pictures... too personal and sad, but I am sure you can imagine that seeing her out of the brace and healing so beautifully is an answer to our prayers. She's been staying with Hans, my brother, and his wife Gretchen, and later she'll honor us with a stay at Garage Mahal. And sometime in the middle of her stay, we are all going to be in the mountains! I need to make some more scarves! There may be snow! Gee, did this paragraph have a point? Pretty sunset. Pretty Mommy.
Tasty. Yes, I am devoting a paragraph to the salad. Gretchen made this salad and it confirms that I really should consider taking a salad making course. This is not me trying to be hard on myself. I can cook and I have good dishes in my repertoire, but salad is my weakest link. Gretchen's salad was a taste symphony and pretty. There's that word again. This is officially a *pretty* post. Gretchen is pretty and Gretchen's home is pretty and her salad is pretty. It had nuts and peppers and cheese and raisins and leaves and dressing... and it was just so darn tasty. And pretty.
The sun set and the light was a bit soft for pictures, but I still have to post this one. Pretty Tutu, coloring with Maria. Ruth and Hans and Gretchen are nearly neighbors now, just minutes away from each other. And Holly and her family are in the same area... and maybe we should seriously consider returning to the old neighborhood. Our Squaremont roots are strong. It was a good evening for Maria. She had 2 grandmas and a doting aunt, all ready to play with her.
It was great getting caught up with Gretchen and Hans. They always have adventures and amazing tales to share, and we enjoyed stories from the back trails of Colorado, to Europe and the Middle East, to in home opera concerts and chillin' with Lance Armstrong... nice guy btw. We even spent time rapt in sincere anticipation waiting for their cuckoo clock to cuckoo. Seriously, I love it when simple things are a pleasure, and friends and family gather to appreciate them.
Grill Master Hans... actually, I am not sure that is his real ranking... he may be like a rear admiral or a 5 star captain. Point is, and I may have one: He grilled us a mighty fine dinner. I am just sitting her and thinking of all the things I love and admire about my brother. What a nice reverie.
Didn't I say this is a *pretty* post? After dinner and before cuckoo time, Gretchen opened up her home salon for her exclusive and best customer. You may recall the last time Maria and Gretchen got together. Manicures are their thing. Gretchen is so patient and enthused. Maria is so patient and enthused! This time she got the 10 20 digit rainbow... ten colors on the fingers and ten colors on the toes! Tiny, tiny digits. It takes a steady hand and a stroke of artistic genius to paint those bitty nail beds. Maria stays perfectly still, and she kept her hands like that, poised and extended, for the rest of the evening.
Lets' see... 1. sunset 2. salad 3. Cuckoos...
Soap! Gretchen and her soap sister make lovely, fragrant, natural bars of pretty soap. I love the mild, light scents and Geoff does too. He made sure we didn't leave without replenishing our supplies. Gretchen and Joanne are selling at a craft fair next week and Delia is going to join them and sell jewelry. Hopefully we didn't deplete her stock too much when we took full advantage of the family price. Love the orange patchouli! Juniper berry! Rose garden! Enriched lavender!
Well, now it is sunrise. A new day. New adventures await. New pretties to enjoy. I hope you have a lovely day.
**Amazing Sunday Update**
Announcing the arrival of Lady Betty Orpington's very first egg! Everyone sigh and cheer in unison!
Did I ever doubt her? Did I ever malign her? Did I ever question her gender, her femininity? Cast away all suspicion and acrimony. She is a hen and worthy of organic greens and broad sun filled meadows, babbling brooks. She has been a dear pullet all along. Was there something in her chickness that should have tipped us off? Perhaps.
Her tiny brown egg is like cream in coffee. It has a pointy end and is really well formed for a first egg. We are all so amused and delighted. And we are wondering... what do we make with the first egg?
Someone asked me about my feelings and she said,"Thoughts are not feelings." I said I would have to think about that. So, I'm thinking about it, but I am not sure what I feel about it.
The little dream garden, the rest stop for fairies and imagination, is doing well. It is tended by a gnome and is lit by a candle lantern. The chickens like to peck the violas, but they have not done permanent damage. Chango drinks from the fountain.
Speaking of chickens, Betty is crouching. Hens do that when they expect a rooster to come courting, and so now instead of bolting when we approach her, she hunkers down and endures our fawning. It's what a hen does! She's a she. I thought we had roosters so lazy they wouldn't crow, but we actually have hens. Eggless hens.
Our ailments are finally abating. It's so hard when in the thick of congestion and weary eyed woe we forget what it feels like to be well. Maria is still coughing, and zounds is she ever t e n d e r. Fragile, delicate, moody... all of the above. I hope that with better sleep and more time in the sun, visiting gardens and playing, she will feel better. Physically and emotionally more like the Maria we know.
William and Alex are on break. They have 9 days to savor their scholastic freedom, to sleep a bit later and luxuriate in unscheduled hours. Max's break will begin promptly when the bell rings Tuesday afternoon. I am looking forward to our days together. I foresee little adventures and holiday fun.
To add to our anticipation of fun, my Mom is visiting. And Ruth is almost completely settled in to her So Cal home, so this week we'll have 2 grandmas in town + we'll be visiting Great Grandma Eunice, and then Abuela Antonia will be attending the princess derpday! Busy, full days are ahead.
And now... and now I should clean, but instead I may tiptoe upstairs and finish a few gifts I am working on, and then I may tiptoe downstairs and add the final stitches to a quilt... the Aloha Quilt.Why tiptoe? I am the only one around here who might admonish myself for not cleaning. I think I must really like sewing. It feels compulsory. It feels good, like a wonderful escape. It feels like what I want to spend my time doing. It feels like not thinking.
I didn't know what to title this post. I have so much on my mind, so much to say, and some of it is lovely and sentimental and important, and some of it is pointless, and some of it is probably going to wind up on the cutting room floor, because occasionally I have the good sense to censor myself.
I am debating... should I write detailed accounts of the weekend's events, and add more about things that happened during the week, or should I be more pragmatic, expedient, and just make a list? Lists lack poetry, but elaborate, descriptive posts take time and peace of mind... obviously this is not an occasion when I have elected to censor myself... my, but I can ramble...
How about a picture?
I thought we weren't going to make it to this wedding, but I have a persistent sister and she somehow managed to nudge me just enough... Alex, Max, Maria and I went to a family wedding, and along the way we met Hans and Gretchen. We also had the pleasure of reuniting with cousins and aunts and uncles and familia, so of course I have no regrets about going. I know it sounds terrible that I had to be persuaded to go to a family wedding, but sometimes life's complications blur my senses and my priorities, and I stray.
Maria was completely enchanted by the outdoor wedding with all the floral arrangements and all the friendly faces. She is keenly aware of pageantry and loveliness, and she was happy to embrace everything and everyone. Sitting on her Aunt Gretchen's lap, she had a comfortable view of the bride and groom's wedded kiss.
It's time for me to actually learn how to use my camera, maybe take a photography class. Not too many of the pictures I took came out very well. There are some good ones... not sure I can share them... blog etiquette is a balancing act, that at times finds me faltering.
I am never really sure who I am addressing through Chickenblog. Does anyone hope for wedding facts, a guest list, a photograph of the table settings? I do know that my thoughts should have been on the happiness of the occasion, the joy of the bride and groom. Truthfully, I was anxious about finding a gorgeous dress that detracted from my amplicity (not a real word, but a gentle euphemism,) highlighted my femininity, and cost next to nothing. I was focused on keeping Maria appropriately dear and sweet and good. I was in minor anguish over getting as many of our household members to attend and be suitably attired. We don't dress-up. We rarely ever go out to any place that requires more than clean shorts. I could not believe that I have no make-up. I found a little powder. I searched far and wide and finally located a tube of lipstick. My hair... I washed it, dried it and brushed it, and it looked about the same as it always looks.
So, you know, I was nervous and reluctant and full of thoughts, and yet, in the end, it was a really nice occasion. And if I had just dropped all my baggage, it would have been a whole lot easier to just go and enjoy seeing family and friends, share in the beauty of a garden wedding, chill.
I broke my finger. As long as I am managing to make their wedding all about me, I may as well mention that as I was opening Maria's stroller, the 2 bars that meet snagged my pinky, crushing and tearing the tip of it. I totally kept my composure. I didn't even say, "!yowfttttmmckckckmmfff!*" Geoff thinks I did break it because whenever anything, like air or dust, touches it, it just hurts like a mmmfttckeerdngggrrr.
How about another picture?
Gigi and Michael's reception was just beginning to roll when we needed to slip away. No cake, no dinner, no toast. Maria woke from her nap and she was disoriented and just a wee bit irrational. I figured we made a nice entrance, shared good times, so why not make a nice, quiet exit? I hope that wasn't rude. I don't want to be rude. We were just trying to be practical.
Before she fell asleep, and subsequently awoke cranky, Maria got an Aunt Gretchen Manicure Special. Thank goodness for aunts. Aunts know how to dress pretty and accessorize. Aunts carry polish in their purses. Aunts can indulge nieces with luxuries and pampering, with a touch of make-believe sophistication. Maria gets swoony for all of the above.
What else did I want to mention?
1. My Mom sent us a delightful care package. She's determined to sparkle me out of the blues with her feminine powers of maternal love and artistry. Too flowery? Sorry. She sent jewelry to cheer me up. She sent Maria princess inspired jewels. She sent me 2 wraps, which I have been draping over my shoulders and wearing as a long distance hug. As soon as I clear a spot in the house I will take pictures and share what she made. They are so pretty.
2. Maria and I found ourselves at a favorite spot, Starry Night Hollow. I'm telling you, if you find yourself in So Cal and craving creativity, color, garden beauty, laughter, support, classes, quilty attractions... look no further. And coming soon, October 3-5th, Fall Festival! It's like June Jamboree, but with pumpkins and bobbing for apples!
3. My finger hurts.
How about another picture?
4. Next time I go shopping for a gorgeous dress, I want to bring a friend... someone kind and honest, gentle, but fashion savvy. Someone who can say, things like: "You'll melt in wool. That is not your color. Are you kidding? Let me get you another size. It's not you, it's the cut. No. No. No." And, "Gorgeous!"
6. Chango is recovering. He almost died. He had a blocked something or other... I'll spare you the details. We are in recovery, and hoping he keeps making good progress toward total healing. Poor kitty.
7. This is conference week at Max's school. W00Ts for half days!
8. I'll reserve #8 for what may come, after all the weekend is not through.
Congratulations to Alison and Bill, and big brother Dominic, on the birth of Marissa Rose. She arrived on September 16th, weighing a healthy 7 lbs and 6 oz.
I'm an aunty! I'm an aunty! I'm an aunty! I'm an aunty! Oh, yeah I've been an aunty for quite some time...
I'm an aunty x 8! I'm an aunty x 8! I'm an aunty x 8! I'm an aunty x 8! I'm an aunty x 8! W00Ts!!
Maria Con Su Bisabuela Maria and I spent the morning together with my grandmother, Abuela. She is Maria's great-grandmother, bisabuela, Antonia. They drew pictures and played with Maria's bunny figures. Abuela made tortillas de harina. Maria said, "Mommy, you should make tortillas like these." I should.
Some think this is a special day because of all those 8s, but really it's special because it happens to be Ms. Eunice V's 86th birthday. Grandma, we call her. As I sit here, trying to compose a fitting tribute, all I can think is: I miss her so much. What am I doing here? Why aren't we on our way to see her? I think we should go see her. Soon. Maybe this week. Thursday and Wednesday are taken, but Monday and Tuesday could be clear... hmmm...
Last year we celebrated her birthday in Oregon, and when she turned 80 we had a big family party. This would have been another fun one to celebrate, and really, anything is fun to celebrate with her, because she is wonderful. She is wise and gracious, she is sincere, kind, beautiful. She can impart so much compassion and understanding, even while showing her own vulnerability
Last Summer, with some of her great-grandchildren.
It can be hard to believe... when they were babies we knew some day they would be older, that the difference in their ages would be less noticeable, and that they would play together. It seems sudden. Time passes quickly, somehow. Now here they are, 2 little girls, born 16 months apart, cousins. Cousins chatting together, sitting in Izzy's room playing, exploring the yard and sharing the slide. Learning to take turns. Practicing patience.
Practicing patience takes a lot of patience. I love Maria's body language... she's actually trying to contain herself. Sweet temptation. When is it my turn?
Do you remember the toys in other people's homes were better? Newer, different. Everything at cousin's house is wonderful and better. This tricycle for example is very, very good. It can be pushed and steered from the long armed handle.
Whether riding or pushing, Maria could not get enough. And I was even more impressed with the trike, when I saw a toddler could successfully maneuver it.
Even the sandbox is better. After they had their fill of cycling, they made their way to the full sand box. Izzy showed me her bandaged ankle. Is it just me, or does "bandaged" sound more traumatic than just explaining that she had a cartoon band-aid? She had a cartoon band-aid on her ankle.
There, see? It's not so bad. I love her expression. She knows it's worth some sympathy. Maria carries a bandaged finger like a near fatal battle wound sustained during a famine, while she was rescuing kittens from a tornado. It holds a lot of weight, it's got a story, it demands your attention and respect. "Look. Look. I am hurt and let me tell you how it went down."
We should refill Maria's sandbox. It's down to the dregs. It's more like sandpaper than play sand. I would wager cash, that we have more sand in the carpets and on the floor of the car than in the sandbox.
Nick and Max, with a neighbor friend and uncle Geoff, were playing a basketball-baseball-soccer kind of game, that was very reminiscent of Bill Ball. Bill Ball was my brother's democratic, diplomatic, all's fair, anything goes, ball game played with any number of players and any variety of bats, balls and arenas. It was an awesome game to play with friends. This game was dubbed Max Ball and it was rigorous and lively, and much enjoyed.
We are getting together again this Sunday, when Max is celebrating his 10th birthday. A pizza, some cake, Lego time and time to play with cousins and other friends. Max, 10 years old? It's hard to believe. Time passes quickly, somehow.
I should have learned to speak Spanish. I wish I were fluent. My mother insisted it would benefit me. My tias and tios implored me to learn Spanish, and mocked me too. I absorbed enough to ache for more. I learned enough to know that I am missing entire stories and insights. I understand enough to feel a profound connection to phrases and concepts, to emotions and spiritual convictions that I am powerless to explain en español or English.
I believe I am as much a part of Mexico and my family, the piedras del campo, as I am a part of my own children, my life in a suburban home with suburban experiences, but I do not know it.. I have always wanted to write about Mexico, El Valle, about border crossings and crossing cultural borders, about tortillas de harina, Seris, Opata, iglesia, and being an outsider here and there. I never have, not significantly, because I was afraid of messing it up, getting it wrong, missing important details, overstating insignificant bits. My story might be false memory and lies. My story might not ring true, or it could be too true.
I used to dream of knowing enough Spanish to glean the truth, the whole story, and I knew my abuelo was the source I needed to visit for those stories, for the genealogy, the adventures and history of a family and region, for a time rich in intrigue and improbable truths. I used to dream of writing all of it down and knowing the stories so well, that no one could doubt that I belonged too. No border or barriers, no lack of knowledge or cultural missteps would deny me access to that elusive feeling of belonging.
When I was a very little girl I was taken to El Valle de Tacupeto, 2 or 3 times. I don't know. I remember eating oranges and my first recollection of the smell of a cut orange is standing at La Mesita, with my Mom, waiting to board a small plane. I was there for my 5th birthday and received a harmonica. What happened to my harmonica? My brother Bill was a baby, we went to church, there was a wedding and a death. The river was flooding the dirt roads that cold winter. It seems like the river has always been flooding the roads.
I went 3 more times when I was a bit older... 11, 12, then 14 years old. By this time my parents were divorced, and I was traveling with my abuelo, then my tia Magali, then my tio Elias took us. Those first times were by bus. From Tijuana we traveled through the night for 12 hours to Hermosillo. It was hard to wake-up for the check-stops. I was always fearful of the bus leaving without us. We would be alone in the Sonoran desert, which wasn't really any less familiar than that bus. In Hermosillo we would wait to board another bus. The first bus was like a tired, old Greyhound. The next bus was like a tired, old, dangerous school bus. Not yellow and swept, but blue and red and yellow, dusty, crowded. We sat on fruit crates in the back. Were there live chickens on the bus? Is that my memory or something lingering from an old movie? I think there were live chickens. There were twine wrapped boxes, which served as luggage and there were stops in the middle of nowhere, so we could pee in the bushes. There were hours of narrow dirt roads, and river crossings. The entire journey was at least 20 hours long. One trip finished in the bed of a large truck, when the bus came to one river it could not cross.
On our last visit to El Valle we drove to Nogales, Arizona, crossed and continued to Hermosillo. No more bus rides. No more Sonoran summers and Sonoran heat. We went in November. Where is the bridge, the one over the river? Is it Rebeico? Is that where we cross, where the bridge is like a passage back in time and memory?
The new roads cut the travel time down to 16 hours. It's such a luxury traveling in our own car. This long ride is one that my abuelo made by horseback. There were no roads then. There wereYaqui to hide from. On this trip to El Valle we faced nothing more daunting than cattle in the road.
My grandfather was a musician and he travelled with a band, playing from pueblo to pueblo. Music for dances. Music in the placitas, for weddings and festivals. His father had traveled too and came home with a Bible. My bisbuelo Gabriel gave his land for the church. The church that shares the backyard of my grandparent's home today. And when my abuelo Ismael gave up being a musician, he came home to herd cattle, to milk vacas and to plant the mule-plowed fields. I remember shelling peanuts for planting, eating watermelon from the field, washing potatoes, picking chiles. I remember chewing on stringy, sweet cuts of sugar cane and watching my grandmother grind corn for tortillas.
When I see cows, I see vacas and I hear a guitarra. I see the nata scooped from the top of a pail of fresh milk... fresh, sweet cream. I can taste the cheese my abuela makes. The white rounds of cheese, the salty cheese crumbled over a bowl of beans. When I see vacas I think of my abuelo walking to the family ranch, El Ojo de Agua, early in the morning, returning with a pail of milk for our breakfast. It's a song, words I cannot speak, but the tune is in my soul.
After Bamori comes El Valle de Tacupeto, and abuela and abuelo. There will be hugs and kisses and welcome. It is a comfort to find a familiar door and familiar faces, the same walls and trees, the sound of coros coming from the church, the certainty of a place that comes to me in my dreams.
November 2003. Alex in his abuelo's embrace. Home in Mexico, where we will cook by fire, and sleep on burlap cots. Where the doors are unlocked and every neighbor is familia or at least knows who I am related to... hija de... nieta de... sobrina de... Everyone knows the relations and connections. Home in Tacupeto.
They were married for 70 years. They have 8 children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. I have never said it, but I feel a kind of pride and specialness, because I am the first grandchild. It doesn't matter, not really, but when I was a child it gave me tremendous pleasure to think of it. I held to a secret belief, unfounded by anything but my romantic imagination, that being first entitled me to something good, to a promise and security. Maybe someday I too would have a rancho and vacas, grind, corn, keep chickens, make tortillas. The clouded line between beliefs and knowledge can be untested, and now that I think on the truth, and not my childhood fantasies, I am amused and saddened. I am not sure why.
Catre. I wasn't sure I was saying this right... catre... cot. We slept on them for weeks at a time when we were children, spending summers in Tacupeto. My brothers and I each had a burlap cot to sleep on in the open patio. I remember we would pull thin sheets over our bodies, then turn on our flashlights to see what might be crawling across the ceiling. Think of the suspense and squeals as we lit a creepy crawly scene of overhead cockroaches, mosquitos, scorpions and beetles. We'd scream and pull our sheets over our heads! I do not miss the anxiety, the fear of something falling in the dark night, but I miss catres. I miss sleeping on the porch, hearing burros bray and abuelo snore. I miss waking in the morning to the music of crowing gallos, more donkeys, cows calling to be milked, and the beautiful rhythm of my abuela's hands making tortillas. There is more love, beauty and will, in the sound of my abuela's hands clapping masa for her wonderful tortillas, than in any symphony.
Her tortillas were never rolled out, but were formed between her soft, capable hands. My grandfather kept an ample wood supply available for cooking and baking, for heating water. And my abuela kept the fires burning so she could feed us tortillas, beans, enchiladas, gallina pinta, pozole, atole, empanadas. Food is more plentiful now, than it was in those summers when my brothers and I sustained ourselves with tortillas, beans, beans and tortillas, and either watermelon, or chiles or potatoes... whatever was being harvested at the time. And leche and leche con Nesquik. Markets and pantries are not what we are accustomed to here.
It is a strange gift to know hunger, or at least to know longing for something more. Now, when I cannot decide what to eat or what to buy, I can appreciate how ridiculous my quandary really is.
The summer that my tio Memo was growing chiles, chiles was all we heard about, saw or ate... besides the usual staples, and chiles were everywhere. We even tried our hands at picking chiles, a job whose appeal was lost very quickly. My cousin, RosaMaria and I were passing the hot, humid afternoon together, looking for places to be, for diversions. Times like these often found us down at the river, wading, or up to La Mesita just for the stroll, but on this particular day we were hungry. Having had fried chiles, roasted chiles, chiles con huevos, chiles con frijoles and every other kind of chile dish, we thought, "Why not raw? Crudos."
It was a good question, but not a good idea to execute. These chiles, mild, almost sweet when cooked, proved to be so painfully, fiercely hot when we bit into them, that we were overcome with the pain. It began on the tongue, a burning, like embers. Then we quickly realized that the sensation was moving to our throats, to our noses and up to our cheeks, so that our heads were blazing with cactus pricks, with fiery torture. Water only spread the fuel. We ran to the little store, and we stared at each another in painful sympathy when we came up to the shut doors... shut for siesta meant no chicle to cool our torment. I wonder if we told anyone. Our agony would have been a great amusement for everyone else.
My abuelos have a home in town. It is made of adobe, like all (most) buildings, and it has a walled yard. In this picture Geoff is walking toward the river, away from my tia Armida's home and towards my abuelo's home. This is the way RosaMaria and I travelled back and forth between our houses. With summer rain, the road can become a river itself, emptying out down the way, passed Ma' Juana and Pa' Chico's little house... where their little house once stood.
My great-grandparents, the ones that raised my abuela when she was orphaned as a baby, lived in a small adobe facing the church. I used to sit with Ma' Juana, in her cool, thick walled home. With a gourd she would draw cold water from a clay pot and serve it to me in a tin cup. The room where she cooked was dark from smoke, from years of fire cooking. In the corner was dry corn, and stalks of cane. I remember when she butchered a hog and was in the yard mixing soap. Soap that smelled of pork rinds and felt as greasy... eeew! I was so enchanted with her. She was small, her hair was long and still mostly black. She slept on a cot too, and had no more than 2 or 3 chairs, a small table. I promised her the moon and the stars. I wanted to bring her a prism, so she could have rainbows dancing on her bare walls. Pa' Chico was almost as small, but no less strong. He walked to his rancho too, every morning and it was further than Ojo de Agua.
In the walled garden of my abuelo's home is an orno, a clay oven, flowers, trees, and the pila where abuela used to wash clothes. I washed clothes there too. One side was filled with water and the other side had the lava rock that was there to beat the clothes upon, and water drained into the garden from the little hole at the end. Everything was hung in the sun and brought in before the monsoonal rains in the afternoon. My great-grandmother's soap was famous for getting clothes very clean, but with hunks of pork in it, one had to guard it from hungry dogs. It was poisonous of course. I like bacon, but I can honestly say I was never tempted to sample the soap.
When I was 11 years old, and my abuela did all of the washing, I loved to be by her side and watch her bale water over the sudsy clothes. It smelled good near the lemon tree, and felt cool with the water splashing. She washed and hung all of our garments and they dried quickly in the sun. They came very clean with her vigorous scrubbing on the worn stone of the pila. How many times had my dresses and p@nties been dashed and wrung by hand?
My abuelo brought us home on the 2 same busses we had ridden to El Valle, and we arrived in Tijuana so early in the morning that the sun was only beginning to show. We each had our own duffel to carry from the bus to the street, where we would await a ride from my tio. It took both hands to manage my duffel and besides this heavy load, I was really not all together awake. That may account for the fact that it took me a moment to realize that my p@nties were around my ankles, having slipped down. I hauled them up in a flash. I was confused and embarrassed, the bus terminal was mostly empty and I consoled myself that no one witnessed. And I resumed the task of dragging my bag, trying to keep up with my brothers and abuelo, and my undergarments slipped again. I caught them between my knees, shimmied them up, and shuffled carefully, keeping my legs locked together. Mine was a slow, awkward and mortifying gait, that I could not properly explain to anyone. It seems that 5 weeks of thrashing my underwe@r clean on a stone made of lava had completely undone the elastic in them.
Returning to El Valle with my own children, my husband, was one of the best times of my life. I happily found that very little had changed... some of the few changes were sad, like not being able to sit with Ma' Juana and Pa' Chico, or to chat with my tia Ventura... she and I liked to read Reader's Digest en español together. And it would have been a great privilege to visit Maria del Guero... she was one of the oldest woman I think I ever met and she sewed my clothes on a pedal machine. Her patterns for my dresses, skirts and blouses were in her head, she measured me with her fingers. I was keenly aware of the blessing that I could return to this place and still find both of my grandparents... still healthy, still smiling and eager to shower us with their prayers and affection.
I looked on this visit as a tremendous gift, for myself and for the boys. It was their second time in El Valle, and I loved that they were so receptive and enthused about all of the things and sights, the people and experiences that I held dear. We did and saw and treasured as much as we could.
We explored and hiked. We filled our pockets with flint and other pretty stones, crystals and pottery shards. Bits of our past.
We used to hike to this place, to swim. Oh my. The water was just as muddy and uncertain, but it was so hot and the walk home so far we drank this water too. It was delicious. I love how thinking about an event or place can lead to more curiosity. As much as I remember, I am aware of how little I know. How far is this place and how do I spell the name of it?
We sat together. We remembered other days, other nights, other faces and their laughter. I remembered how wonderful it is to sit together... just talking, just sharing each other's company.
I just got a call... everyone is back from Tacupeto, abuelo's funeral. There are many more memories I plan to write about, many more pictures I want to share, but right now I am going to my tia's house, where my abuela is.
Alex sitting cool, Summer Equinox, Fortuna, California. 7:19 p.m.
While I have managed to unpack the car and even finish washing, drying, folding and putting away the road trip laundry, I have not finished my travelogue... my snapshot-memory book of our travels to and from Oregon. The last days of our drive home got a bit dramatic, because of the California fires. Then we had a very short time with Geoff before he had to leave for Chicago. Events and passages, daily duties and life, have been swirling and bouncing, and I have not quite managed to catch-up. Catch-up?! Seriously, have I ever been "caught-up," organized, with it, on top of things, in control?
Max teaches Maria how to throw a shoe. June 20, 2008. 7:39 p.m.
About those fires... I should have calculated how far I would drive from Fortuna, the second day of our drive home. I should have decided on a reasonable stopping place and called ahead for a room.
We spent the night in Fortuna, and had a relaxing dinner and evening at Eel River Brewing Company,a place making my list of awesome road trip stops. And later that night William, Alex and I squealed and shuddered witnessing the sky cracking thunder storm and rain, seeing the lightning. It turns out this was the same storm that began all of the lightning strike fires California is suffering.
7:40 p.m.
The next day we were seeing CDF vehicles and personnel everywhere. Fire fighting crews from all over California and other western states were on the move, and it was disturbingly reminiscent of way too many fires and evacuations from our past.
Closure of highway 1 in Watsonville from one fire, rerouted me away from Bill and Alison's place, so I continued down the 101 through San Jose, and as we approached the east side of Watsonville we could see flames in the hills. Further south we began to consider stopping for the night, and we pulled over in King City, where we discovered every room was booked... just as it had been in Santa Cruz and Monterey. The parking lots were full of CDF crews and evacuated families.
7:42 p.m.
We called Geoff. We had already been driving about 10 hours and between the fire and the heat wave, I could tell we would need help booking a room. So, I kept driving south, while Geoff called every hotel/motel between Greenfield and Pismo Beach. By now we were witnessing the fires burning on the eastern slopes of the Big Sur coast, and Geoff was having no luck finding us a place to stop for the night. Everything was booked due to the fires, summer events and an inland heat wave.
The Eel River, Phillipsville, California. June 21, 2008. 10:19 a.m. For hundreds and hundreds of miles I would think to myself: "This is beautiful. This place, this sight, this moment, those flowers, the light, the water, the air. I should take a picture."
Maria needed facilities and I stopped in Phillipsville... a small, remote place in the middle of the Redwoods and we found a camp store. I helped Maria, and I gave the children a $20 bill and instructions: Buy something. A treat. Anything you want." Maria and I joined them in the store, where they were still pacing up and down the 3 or 4 aisles of the little provisions shop.
Max asked, "Anything? Even soda? I was tickled with what was becoming a happy diversion, "Yes, anything." Max again, because he has to be certain of all the rules: "Even ice cream?" We had already done 2 full tours of the entire shop, carefully weighing the options. Maria was embracing a snack package of Oreos. 6 cookies awaited her rapt attention and grateful nibbles. William pulled a grape soda from the cooler. Alex was peering into the ice-cream freezer. My satisfaction and pleasure was in watching my children revel in the bliss of choices, freedom and the anticipation of a camp-store treat. Max and Alex chose Tollhouse ice-cream sandwiches, William savored his grape flavored soda and Maria's 6 cookies lasted a sweet hour or more.
Strawberry fields and road side stand. North of Hopland, California. The Redwood Highway. June 21, 2008. 1:06 p.m.
Our next stop, our lunch, came from this strawberry field...
1:08 p.m. This would have been a good time to call ahead and book a room... maybe in San Jose or even San Francisco, so I would not have the crisis that awaited us later.
We pulled under a huge oak tree, rinsed the sun warmed berries and began our picnic. The berries were sweet. the day was hot. I gave the chicas more water.
I sort of get the saying "Money can't buy happiness, but I have never believed it. I understand it, but that's not the same as believing it. Money does not guarantee happiness, and having money does not prevent unhappiness. Money gives opportunity, security, options and freedom. It can save us from hunger and strife, from limitations and hardships. I think it helps to know life with money and without money, to deeply appreciate the difference. This is a topic that I appreciate merits more than a paragraph, but I am going to keep this simple: I am so grateful to have options and freedom, to be blessed with a reliable vehicle and gas money, to have cash on hand for a box of berries.
Cameras, cell phones, fabric for homemade dresses, chickens as pets, Oreo snack packs, tickets to see "Wall-E," clean water and time are wonderful luxuries. Strawberries, sweet and fresh, eaten in the shade of an ancient oak tree are happiness in fruit form.
Golden Gate Bridge trail-head parking lot. 4:12 p.m.
Hours before I knew how long the day would be, before finding booked motels, I stopped here. I gave the chicas more water, and called Ron and Delia. I tried to nap a bit, but couldn't.
Later that night, armed with the Internet and phones, Geoff finally did manage to find us a hotel room. I had to backtrack 10 miles, and by 11:30 p.m. we were in a safe, comfortable room, and pulling covers over ourselves. 13 hours of driving were over, and we were, finally, free to rest.
Did you read all the way through? Long day = long post...lol. In years to come, I think it will be nice to recall this challenging, fun, beautiful, long day. Our adventures and trials, the way we see the world, makes our lives worthwhile and meaningful. And our friends and family do too, so thank you. Thank you for your emails and comments, for sharing our deep thoughts and other musings. While I have not managed to catch-up, I am sustained and motivated by your thoughtfulness and kindness.
Thank you for the support and kindness. Abuelo's passing is sad mostly because it brings to mind distancia... how far away I feel from family, from feeling at home and connected. And my heart aches for my Abuela... she lost a husband of 70 years. Thank God for her faith. I think it will sustain her.
Geoff has been gone since Thursday, and today we pick him up at the airport. He was going to shuttle directly to work, but I cannot resist seeing him, even if it's only to drop him off at the office. Thanks to our cell phones, I think we talked more while he was away than when he is home. Sometimes we didn't talk at all, but having him on the phone helped me get through the day.
Going to the car wash is one of my favorite... activities? Events? Pastimes? Something. I just get a big kick out of sitting in the car, and riding through dirty and coming out clean. No brakes. Put it in neutral. I turn around and watch the children's faces as water and suds and big rollers splash and spin. We wait for the 3 color foam soap and multi-tentacles of the dryer cloths.
And this time? Oh this time was awesome, because the triple foam failed to perform and we almost drove away crest fallen and rainbowless, but they hailed us back! They said, "Go through again. You didn't get the color foam." Sweet. Like finding $20 in an old coat pocket. It's your $20, but it feels like found treasure.
After the car wash we went on an evening walk. It was a good idea to get out of the house.
Another good idea was finally celebrating Alex's 14th birthday. We invited Adam and Jacob over for a double feature, on our big screen, with gooey cheese nachos, stove popped popcorn, cold grapes, lemonade and pizza. We set out all of the good eats, dimmed the lights and let the films roll. And Adam and Jacob brought Alex a huge Lego set. People are amused to learn that Legos are still at the top of Alex's wish list. Trust me, those Legos were a huge hit with all of the children living here.
It was during our visit to Oregon, that my mind proved to my heart that we had a rooster in our midst. I could not be sure about Amelia/o, but it was painfully obvious that our dear Pip was growing proud tail feathers and a cocky stride. If we were in another kind of neighborhood, if our yard were wider, deeper and our own, then this might not have to be a problem. Some roosters are nice and capable of being fine pets, stately additions to a family farm.
I took all 3 chicas to the feed store where they came from and asked Martin to come to the car and see what he could tell me about our situation. Martin could see what I saw and confirmed that Pip is a rooster. He also admired his pretty plumage and unique appearance and he invited Pip to stay there, either as a permanent resident or possibly to be adopted. Some farmers want roosters, and he assured me Pip was destined for a good home. Sigh. You don't think this was a *the dog is living on a farm now* kind of story, do you? Don't tell me. I don't want to know.
All the way home, Maria sang "Pip don't be a rooster. Come home Pip. Pip don't be a rooster. Come home Pip. Pip don't be a rooster. Come home Pip. Pip don't be a rooster. Come home Pip. Pip don't be a rooster. Come home Pip." It was a very sad song. Thinking of it generates endless wishful thinking.
Naturally I called Geoff from the parking lot of the feed store. I had to tell him the sad news, and promote myself... the responsible cowgirl, who can make the tough decisions. And I was ready to drive home, move forward, take my losses, but it was Geoff who said, "But we need more than 2 chickens. There's no sense putting it off, if there are chicks available now we should just go for it." That's the honest truth. See? I'm not the only outlaw in the family.
We will have to raise these day old chicks separately from the teenage chicas, but I think they will catch-up and adjust soon enough. This dark chocolate baby is a Dark Bantam, and the boys were awestruck with the breed name and immediately and simultaneously declared: "Her name has to be Fantam the Bantam!"
And this little Buttercup is a is a Golden Wyandotte. Considered a friendly breed and certainly very pretty... she and Fantam look like peanut butter and chocolate together.
I just love the markings on these 2. They are very sweet together and we are enjoying their smallness... now that we are so *experienced,* we have a greater appreciation for how quickly this little chicky phase passes.
It's hard to get good pictures of chicks. They move so fast. Peck, scurry, peck, peck, peck. The camera captures dozens of fuzzy blurs, little feathery somethings, lost in the big picture.
Amelia can be almost as hard to capture. She and Betty are on the move and big! Amelia fancies herself a parrot. She loves to perch on shoulders, and she has no trouble flying up or down.
"Ooh arggh, Amelia!" She's setting a course for a patch of green grass.
The best times of this week have been in the garden, watching Joe and Amelia and Betty free range, while we keep very watchful eyes on the new chicas. The weather has been pleasant, comfortable. We have no big plans or commitments. Our carrots and tomatoes are getting full and plump. Lola's garden is abundant with blooms.
Even with a good camera, I cannot always get the picture I want, but these fuzzy farm photos are a happy reminder that we have had some good days, some enjoyable times... amusing and tranquil.
There are plenty of cold grapes and crisp nectarines to feed us the flavors of summer. I talk to my mom almost daily and she is making some progress, managing as best she can, and I am glad that her Mommy is with her this week. I finished 2 blocks worth of hand quilting on Ruth's quilt. One day at a time, recognizing the pleasures and blessings, appreciating what is good. I look forward to more evening walks and double features.
It's almost time to head to the airport. More joy ahead!
Recordando días y noches en la iglesia... Mas crecer en la gracia, y en el conocimiento de nuestro Señor y Salvador Jesucristo. A él sea la gloria hoy, y para siempre. Amen. 2 Pedro 3:18
Recordando su voz, y su cariño. Recordando el campo, El Valle, Ojo de Agua, y su poder... Te adoro abuelo.
Pistol River State Beach I feel like I am posting just for Geoff today. We were all up very early yesterday, to take him to the airport for his flight to Chicago. Sigh. I really wish we were with him. He's gone to be with family, in remembrance of Jim "Corm," who passed away last February. It is strange and indescribable... the countless ways our lives have changed since that sad and unreal day when we first got the news. I could hardly say what happened; it was too painful, and even now, I find that there is still a great deal of disbelief and grief.
I find myself thinking Everyone in Chicago is going to have so much fun, and we'll be missing out on all of that family time, and then I am taken aback when I realize, again, that it's a memorial, that we have lost someone. It won't be all fun and levity, and the fact that I forget is very telling of how hard it is to believe, to really know that he is gone. I do not think that time eases pain. I believe that time is what it takes to learn how to wrap the pain and hide it from our heart and thoughts, otherwise it cannot be tolerated. When I turn off the noise of everyday tasks and chores, when I quiet the daily din of rambling thoughts and remember that Corm is gone, the pain unfolds and I am devastated all over again.
I still wish we were with Geoff. Everyone will be having fun. There will be fun and healing and wonderful memories to share, new ones in the making. And even when it is painful and sad, I wish I could be with Geoff, and Ruth and Holly, Paul, with all the people that knew Corm and loved him, because time does not ease pain... family, friends, love and sharing ease pain.
I still remember the first time I met Jim and Ruth. It was 1982. I hardly knew Geoff and came to their home as a guest of a mutual friend. I think it was my huge crush on Geoff that made me take everything in and preserve it all in so much detail. Geoff introduced me to "Mom and Corm." I shook their hands, "Hi Mom, hi Corm." Even then I was struck by the familiar and easy way I felt. They had company and were finishing a spaghetti dinner, and Geoff was really excited about his sister being home. Holly had just returned from a year in Wisconsin.
I can picture the dining table, the soft evening light of summer. I can even smell Corm's spaghetti. I can remember the relief at realizing that Holly was Geoff's sister! Geoff was so sweet and attentive, and until I was introduced to her I thought she might be his sweetheart! She lent me a swimsuit, so we could all swim at the neighbor's pool. Now we share baby clothes and holidays, and sisterly love.
And in 26 years I have had the pleasure and blessing of becoming a part of a family that feels as much my own as the mother and brothers I grew up with. I was a child when I met Corm, with a child's limited perspective, and I cannot say when this changed, but I see so much more now and it breaks my heart to realize what we are missing.
My husband, his integrity and skills, his tender devotion... I can see that Corm influenced these dear qualities.
My cooking... turkey burgers, chili and spaghetti are some of the mainstays of our favorite family dinners.
Love. I can say that Corm has been a significant teacher about love. I realized this too late to thank him.
He loved music, and he could play instruments and sing... I used to sit in Geoff's room listening to Corm sing to his parrot, Pablo, in the shower. I adore this memory, and can still recall the happy sensation of enjoying those loving (private) concerts.
He loved language and art and craftsmanship and he applied himself skillfully to all of his interests and endeavors, so that his work and his home, his cooking and conversations were all artful, intelligent, well made. I will miss walking in the house he and Ruth built, appreciating the views they chose, the quality of the construction and the beauty of their work.
He loved Ruth. He loved her in private ways. He loved her with his heart on his sleeve. And it was not about flowery declarations or material gifts... it was about sharing the workload, listening to her needs, honoring her beliefs and sharing his own. His love was about being constant and dedicated to Ruth as his partner. He went to work to provide for their goals. He came home to share in the making of their dreams, to be in her company. I never heard him speak to Ruth or about Ruth without at least a hint of reverence, a protective tenderness and affection. Especially in recent years, I would be so touched by his giddy exuberance when he told me how much he loved her, cherished her, appreciated her, and it was with unchecked candor that he shared his love of his wife, and his awareness of her love and devotion to him. I thought A person could be sustained and carried through anything with this kind of respect and affection. It's a beautiful gift that he can feel this way and share these feelings and acts. And when he died, I thought How sad it is that we cannot witness this love, this outspoken regard and tenderness any more.
I think, perhaps at the memorial, in the next few days, Corm's love and devotion, his dedication, will be witnessed once more, because he touched so many of us and we can each of us carry some part of him with us. When we tell his stories, and share the memories, we will evoke the qualities that were a part of him and that he imparted in us.
I hope Geoff will come home and share many of the details of his time in Chicago, so that we can have some idea of what we are not there to be a part of. I realize that we are missing not only Corm, but in not being at this memorial we are missing all of the people that knew and loved him and that were an influence and inspiration to who he was. Even as a memorial, how can it not be a wonderful time? Everyone there is a part of a circle of people that influenced or were influenced by a wonderful person...
I really hated to leave my Mom and Ron. More than ever, I am keenly aware of the frailty of life. Nothing is constant on this Earth. I tried not to cry as we drove away, or during any of the 1,000 miles driving home... the children have seen too much of that already. I have tried to let Corm's example move more consistently in my life, so that I share my love out loud and wear my heart on my sleeve. I love as much and as sincerely as ever, but now I consciously endeavor to say what I feel, to honor what I feel and to treasure the time I do have with the ones I love. So, as sad as I was to leave, and even with my fears and worries, I found some comfort in knowing that I love my Mommy and Ron, that I have shared my feelings and said my piece... it's not the same as having them close by, being able to drop in on them any time, but it's good to love and be loved, and share those thoughts and feelings often.
On our way home we stopped at Pistol River Beach State Park. It was an unplanned break at the start of a long and arduous trip home. There are about 42 or more places that I would have loved to stop and visit, such is the beauty and attraction of the miles between here and there, and it's hard being very pragmatic and merciless about not visiting every park, viewpoint and farm stand.
Ah, but it is so worthwhile to stop, to quiet the din of everyday chores and appreciate the beauty in the world, the humor, art and language, and the people in our company. So, we watered the chickens, and found the trail to the beach. We let time pass unaccounted and played at being treasure seekers, and pirates. We planned picnics and camp-outs and noted the size of rocks, the sound of the waves. Geoff, you would love this place. We were looking for agates and imagining having a home on the forested bluffs overlooking the ocean. As happy as we were to be there, we were even more anxious to come home to you, because we love you.
Blogging is Like Unpacking It's true. Blogging is like unpacking. My brain is like the trunk of the mini-van... full of stuff that's just bursting and ready to come out. My thoughts are like the rooftop bag... tightly crammed with essential bits. Really, there is no point in doing much else, until I have downloaded the camera, recorded my deep thoughts and made sense of the other musings.
I made the perfunctory market visit, so that we have restocked the larder. I asked the boys to unload the dishwasher and put the groceries away too. I even made lunch, and emptied the cooler... actually I assessed the damages and let William empty the cooler. That accounts for my initial sweep through domesticity, and now I am going to faithfully record high and low points, happy and tasty moments, and stuff.
So, after my mom's accident, Geoff and I scrambled to get things in order with work, school, home, pets and our conestoga, so that we could go to her in Oregon. We put out a lot of fires that week and by Friday night we were on the road. 4 children? check 3 chickens? check 3 sleeping bags? check DVDs CDs socks hats sunblock toothbrushes check, check, check, check, check
That first night we made it all the way to Solvang.Incidentally, there was a recurring theme on this venture and it has to do with advance reservations. Advance reservations are a real good idea. No pictures from Solvang. We arrived late and we checked out early and Geoff and I whistled loudly when we snuck the chicas back to the car!
We didn't see elk and salmon jerky until we were far north of San Francisco. Winding our way ever north we saw bear carvings, ferns, meadows, rhododendrons, barns and tractors, cows and sloughs, pear trees, strawberry fields and hundreds of places that looked too enticing to skip, but of course we did skip them, this time. Next time, I want to stop in Eureka and eat at the place with the sign out front: Carnivore, Herbivore... We Have What You're Looking For!
And all along the way I would see things I wanted to remember, to photograph and write about, to share. We stopped every 2 or 3 hours, and that's when we would beg Maria to use her potty or try to sanitize some public restroom for her. My apologies to the planet for a dependence on disposable princess panties.
I would give the chicas a nice cool drink and replenish their scratch. Geoff was hilarious, slowing extra much in the curves and apologizing to the chicas for severe bumps in the road, and the rest of us rolled our eyes and laughed, because we accuse him of not being as courteous with us!
We slept in Fortuna, which is easily becoming one of my new favorite places to imagine living in. From Fortuna we finished the journey and made it to Delia and Ron's in the late afternoon. What a delightful experience it was to enjoy the long days, which grew longer with each passing day and the further north we were. It made it hard to realize it was dinner time, then bedtime. Still, I really enjoy allowing the rising and setting sun decide the start and end of day.
Look at our Pippy. It's those feathers in his tail, the ones that taper and curl... those are the ones that have me concerned. Until he is bigger, I will not be able to find him a home. And if he lays an egg, then all my fears will evaporate, but I am not too hopeful. Or we could find a home of our own before he crows, but for that I am even less hopeful. Sigh.
What about Amelia? She stands guard, always flying to the highest point and playing a cock-fight kind of posturing game with Pip. Oh dear. Why would we have to get 2 roosters? Why?
When Pip and Amelio are acting cocky, Lady Betty Orpington retreats to a quieter corner. She is shy and reserved, and when the light begins to fade she will sit on my arm and snuggle in.
Though it was colder than we were used to, the days were still lovely and Mom and Ron have such a wonderful corner of the world to call their own. We enjoyed the garden flowers, the wild flowers, a quail sighting and the wind in the trees. The chicks enjoyed the grass and seeds and new variety of stuff in the ground... things to scratch and enjoy. We made an improvised chicken run for the sunny days and they stayed in a small room in the garage at night.
Sitting together in the big yard, walking to the feed store, collecting seeds for the chicas, napping outdoors... such sweet pleasures. In the evening we would help Delia down the stairs and share her walk. I think I counted 5 different kinds of pine trees growing along their quiet street. We always turned around before we got to the schnauzer house. Hilarious little dogs bark incessantly, then get their little toys in a wicked choke hold and demonstrate their vicious skills. It's funny once or twice, but not conducive to relaxation and inner peace. I guess this means their quiet street is only that way when the schnauzers aren't disturbed.
I'm glad we found warm clothes for Maria... a bit large, but when I bring them out again in November they will be fine. We've come home to a heat wave. It's so strange to travel; to be in a completely new place one day and then another the next day. I still don't know how to cope with the distance between here and Delia and Ron's, or the ocean between here and Ruth, the deserts, mountains and prairies that separate us from Nancy and our Midwest family, the border and miles that keep us from my abuelos. Such blessings, such longing. We are fortunate to have the desire to be with family, and we have been blessed with many wonderful opportunities to visit and travel, to connect. I just want more. Such insatiable longings.
Geoff drove north with us, then flew home first thing Monday morning, so he missed many of our adventures and encounters. When I drove the children and chickens home, I was filled such gratitude for my wonderful vehicle; it's safe and comfortable, so reliable. And I thought about how lucky we are to be seeing redwoods and rivers, to be able to go to family and hold them and be glad for the good stuff. Driving home I thought about how much I was missing Geoff, and how happy we would all be when we were together again. Somehow, some way... there has to be a way for us all to be neighbors, to live close enough to hold each other every time we need it, want it... this would be very good.
How do you make a tissue dance? You put a little boogie in it. Bad joke, I know.
If I thought we were going to bring boogies all the way to grandma's house, I never would have shown-up. But, it wasn't until Thursday morning that the first clue issued forth, when Maria sneezed. Then she sneezed some more. And some more, and when it finally occurred to me that these were caused by more than a tickled nose, I felt dread and frustration. My Mom and I went over all of the practical, emotional and more practical issues... Maria was getting sick, we were 20 hours from home, neither mom or Ron could possibly, even remotely risk getting any kind of cold, we hadn't thought of leaving for at least another week, we had to leave as soon as possible, maybe it was too late anyway. It was a sad conversation, since we were both disappointed and concerned... me for her and her for me.
All of my big plans, to be a nurse, a maid and cook, to make good use of myself to my recuperating mom and to give Ron a little back-up and relief, all of it was sunk. The most prudent plan now was to get Maria and her boogies out of town, so our focus turned to packing, to passing her tissues, to taking down the tent, corralling the chickens and loading the conestoga. Alex would miss the electronics thrift shop in Coos Bay, and there would be no more stops at the quilt shop or feed store. I never did vacuum, or clean the fridge.
The boys took the tent down Thursday night, so we could make an early earlier start on Friday.
We would not miss the mosquitos. Not a bit, but we still hadn't been to Bullards or even mailed postcards. And we would be leaving behind all of those blackberries. Well, they were only blossoms, but one can easily imagine the buckets of berries to come.
I did manage to help with laundry and I cooked some meals. I gave my Mom a leg massage... she may have noticed I am out of practice, but I had hoped to repeat the service during my stay. I think we forgot to return the bouncer to the garage. Sorry Ron.
That's how my thoughts are these days... bouncing from one thought to the next... thinking of what we did and what we forgot. Hoping we were helpful, knowing we could have done more. Regretting that time ran out. Praying that we brought all of the boogies back with us.
Aunt Becky, Dan and grandma Eunice are driving to Oregon this week, so maybe a break between helpers will be welcome. Ron is doing such a good job of taking care of Delia, and Delia is doing a good job of doing all she can, like walking regularly and being patient. Healing takes time, and waiting takes patience. There are still specialists to see and injuries that will mend slowly. I would not blame her if she got very sad, if she felt overwhelmed. It is hard being a patient, passing time waiting for normal. If she were bummed, it would be quite understandable, but so far she is brave and grateful, her humor is intact, her spirit is good. She is, as always, admirable and strong.
It was hard to leave. Their home is remote and not easy to get to, otherwise I would assume that I could return as soon as Maria's cold passes. We need to close the gap, shrink the miles between our homes, somehow. I wish it were only an hour away, or a minute, or even one day's drive, instead of 2 or 3 day's worth. Even flights are circuitous and long, and expensive, of course. All the way home, I was thinking of how we could live closer... maybe in Corvalis, or Eureka, pretty Fortuna, the Bay Area, the Central Coast. For 1,042 miles I thought about how wrong it is for families to live so far apart. I thought about turning the car around and calling Geoff, "We're here. Come. We'll get a few acres, raise goats, grow basil and tomatoes."
The further we came, the harder it got. The trees disappear, the roads widen and crowd. We travel faster, meaner. Gone is the scent of redwood, the colors of farms and forests.
My thoughts are still bouncing. I still feel the vibrations of the long ride home. The car is in the driveway, covered in dust and ash and 2,000 miles of travel and packed. I could almost get in and start all over again.
The children are the best travelers. We shared ideas and reflections and enjoyed our stops along the way. It will take a few days to unpack, to return to our routines and rhythms, to discover the new rhythms of summer.
Thank you Mom and Ron. We were so glad we were able to come and share time with you. We enjoyed our stay, and we were greatly comforted being in your company.
And thank you friends and family who have reached out to our family, to Ron and Delia. Your kindness is a comfort too.
Access! We are here. "Here" being the Oregon Coast, grandma and grampa's house. We pulled in to the driveway Sunday afternoon. My Mommy was standing on her porch, and it was welcome sight. The chicas survived and so did we, and at last we were able to give Delia gentle, loving hugs, to see for ourselves that in time and with tender care she will be well again.
Geoff is back at Garage Mahal again. He flew south early Monday morning. We miss him already... imagine how much more I will miss him when we drive home without him. Sigh.
So. I have about 42 different things and thoughts I would like to share and record, but there are obstacles in the way. For one thing, I had to drive in to town, find a wifi cafe and figure all of that out. The children are settling in to their lunch, Maria has stopped whining about the strange pizza. Everything is "strange" when you are 3 years old and far from home, missing your daddy. The dial-up modem at the house is s l o w. (Sorry Mom, Ron, but it has to be said.) I can't post, because the cookies are disabled and the Internet service times-out in between pages. It gives me a tremendous appreciation for my mother and the fact that she manages to read Chickenblog at all.
Ironically, having 42 things I want to post about, I cannot decide on 1 subject to post about. It's hard to get in to the groove sitting in a public place, with my salad staring at me.
It's cold here... warmer today, but still colder than what we are used to.
I saw a 7 or 8 inch banana slug.
There are many, many flowers in bloom.
I came to see my Mommy, to help, to comfort. I feel like I could leave in a few days or stay the rest of the summer. You see, Ron is taking really good care of her. He is methodical and protective, nurturing. It is very comforting to me, to know she is loved and in such good care. She will need constant assistance and attention for many months. I think I am being helpful somewhat. Cooking, and retrieving this and that is good, and I plan on vacuuming, cleaning the fridge and doing some laundry, but... I dunno. I can see where we might be disrupting the rhythm they need to establish. The children are being good, and we are managing to not get in the way, but sometimes one person's idea of being out of the way cannot match another's. Does this make sense?
So, I need to find the balance: Stay long enough to help and leave before we impose, or wear them out.
Who wants to hear about the feed store at the end of the street? Alex, Maria and I walked there this morning. It's very close, and a dear place to visit. It's not at all fancy or meant to impress with first impressions, but the people that run it take in abandoned animals and to the best of their ability make them comfortable and safe, feed and shelter them. We were approached by a coal black pot bellied pig and Maria was astonished by the sight of her. She made a constant snuffling noise and lookied imploringly at us, and Maria launched in to a full scale dialogue with "BP." When BP ran along the fence line, trying to follow us, Maria pulled my hand and said, "I have to tell her sumpting." So, we paused, and Maria consoled BP, "You live here. I'm sorry. You cannot come to grandma's house. This is your house. Sorry pig."
We also met a very purrfect momma kitty and her woolly black kitten. We saw 3 rabbits and a few hens, 3 horses and a dog. The feed store is full of old things and collections, odds and ends, it smells sweet of alfalfa, there are treasures to be discovered. Walking back to Ron and Delia's Alex saw a quail, and we anticipated the buckets full of blackberries that will be coming. Now the spiny shrubs are full of blossoms, but we remember the sweet black jewels we enjoyed last summer.
Uh. What is free wifi protocol? We did order lunch and we aren't takng seats during a busy spell, but I do feel as though we should move on. Yes, time to move on. The children are looking at me a bit desperately, a bit b o r e d.
Geoff hopes I will do this everyday, but I think when he sees what we paid for lunch, he might settle for every other day!
In anticipation of being parted from my dear computer and all the fancy trimmings, I must make a long, long post.
To begin with I am filled and fortified... your kind comments and even phone calls have been so heartening. It's hard not being immediately by my mother's side and besides regular calls to her and talking to my brothers, it's been the thoughtfulness of friends and family, and the blogging community that have helped me remain calm, feel supported and keep things in perspective.
And I think the prayers and healing thoughts are doing a great deal of good. Delia's been taken out of ICU, and they are commencing physical therapy today. She has been fitted for a custom neck brace, and her husband is going through some lessons on how to help her. When I talked to her last night she was in good spirits. She had so many visitors! Bill (happy birthday bro!) Alison and Dominic, Hans, Becky, Dan and Grandmother... they were all there to visit and care for her. I think perhaps Ron got to have a bit of break too and that's good. Hans snapped a cell phone picture of himself and her... gee, it's been 37 years since the 2 of them were in a hospital together on a June 10th. They are smiling. I am relieved to know that she is recovering, but I feel such a lot of sadness knowing that there are going to be many hard days ahead. Healing is not always easy, and her injuries are significant. My poor mommy.
Who thinks Betty looks like she just stepped off the Tilt-A-Whirl? She is so loopy and goofy looking.
Uh-oh. I think she heard me. Don't get your feathers ruffled Betty. We love you.
Meeting our obligations and getting everything in order is going fairly well, and I think the plan to be available for my mom on a longer term basis is a good one. Geoff has helped me finalize travel details and with a few more errands, meetings and adjustments, I should be traveling north very soon. My infamous tooth is messed up, but my dentist and I agree the cure can wait, so that is good news. Of course seeing the cost estimate for the next appointment did little to ease the pain.Insert nervous laughter here.
Gracious! Amelia is a much better flyer than what we saw last week! She's a little too good. A little too cocky. The suspense is making me nuts. Do we have pullets?
Or do we have cockerels? Anyone? I've read dozens of articles online. Vent checks. Feather checks. What about spurs? Do hens have spurs? There are several accounts of hens that have spurs and even hens that will crow!
Are these spurs? Those 2 pale spots on her ankles... I keep imagining all 3 of them are roosters for one reason or another, but there is no conclusive evidence.
Now this is conclusive. One of our tadpoles is a frog. A teeny, tiny hopper.
The journey began April 13th and we now have one tadpole turned frog success. The rest of the tadpoles are in varying stages of development. This has been such a fun experience. And educational too... for the children, of course. The frog swims to Max's hand and sits there. Must be love.
Can anyone really be prepared for a gift from Calamity Kim? Her heart overflows, onto fabric, onto paper and right in to our home. We were flying high just anticipating the arrival of this latest chicky-apron. Leave it to Kim to send so much more. All of the little touches and sweet messages were the nicest boost to our morale. Honestly we all sat together enjoying the unveiling of each token of Kim's talent and imagination.
That's Pip, Lola and Lady Betty Oprpington sitting amongst the daisies. And the chicken wire panels are pockets. Maria found a message from Kim in 1 pocket. It fits beautifully. It looks delightful. Thank you Kim. You really do make the world a better place.
Well, all these links, the swiftness of the server, my iPhoto and the ease of Googling and searching... what bliss! These diversions and reflections are keeping me sane... lol! Computer and server, I love thee a Googolplex! I may just have time to post once more before we head north, and after that it could get sketchy. Thank you again for keeping us in your prayers, for generosity beyond compare. We are blessed in a Googolplexian ways.
My mommy was going to be here today, for my brothers' and son's birthdays and for a promotion, for hugs and catching up, before she had to go back to Oregon to start a new job. Sunday night we got a call/s... it's a blur. Geoff told me she'd been in an accident, "She's okay." That's what we have to hear to save us from collapsing: She's okay. He's okay. It's okay. And considering what happened it is a miracle she is okay, though she is a long way from all better. My dad drove through the night to be with her, and my brother flew the next day. My other brother (happy birthday bro!) is going to be with her today.
Your prayers and healing thoughts would be much appreciated. For her, for me.
It's amazing how many times my mom has made the 20 hour drive, to come and see us, to help with babies, to visit and celebrate, to connect, and I always worry about those winding roads, the logging trucks, the long days... I think of how much love she has for us that she does this so regularly to see me and the kids and my brothers, their families, her mom and sister. We always wish for an opportunity to find some place where we can all be neighbors. We think it would be so wonderful to find each other in the same town or neighborhood, just around the corner, a short walk away.
It's a tremendous comfort to me that her husband is with her and caring for her. And I was glad Bill could fly up for a quick visit, to hold her hand. If she didn't have their company I would not hesitate to abandon everything and be with her. Instead I am trying to get my duckschicks (thanks Pam!) in a row.
Fortunately we do not have to move. Garybob, the landlord, was appeased with an increase in the rent. We are still trying to make our trailer on land deal happen. It manages to get more complicated by the day. I say "I am detached," but of course that is a lie. In truth, my heart is saying Please, please, please let us make this our home. It's a mess, but we can fix it in time. Please. Please... I dunno.
So, let's see... I got the car serviced, which was a bit overdue, so that's good. Today I go to get my tooth serviced... somehow I don't think this will be as fast and easy as the oil change and tune-up. My visits with my crappy dentist of 4 years ago are haunting me again... have I ever shared the story of how he drilled through to my sinuses? He didn't say a thing and only stopped when Alex asked, "Why is my mommy bleeding so much?" Yeah, that's a good story!
There is an overwhelming amount of cannot be postponed school paper work that has to be turned in, checked-off, stamped and triple signed.
Alex's birthday is Thursday. He already knows his modest party is going to be postponed. He didn't complain at all, but I saw that look... the one that a mom always wants to turn into a smile. I can tell he's bummed.
My best friend didn't wait to be asked. She'll watch the cats, the 2 birds, the rabbit. I'll take care of the chicks. Don't ask. Seriously. I have some hard decisions to make.
I will not be driving to Chicago. For months I have been drawing up itineraries and deciding on routes, and I have also been thinking, Am I nuts?! Yes, a lot of waffling, but with strong leanings toward being with everyone in Chicago and then Wisconsin. Geoff is going and he'll be gone for a week. The children and I will be missing Geoff and a Midwest family memorial for Jim, Corm.
And in Mexico, my abuelos will have family, except for us, gathering to celebrate their 70th wedding anniversary. S e v e n t y! !Setenta años¡ Felicidades abuelos.
I hope I can get those chicks in a row, tie up loose ends and be ready to leave to Santa Rosa, then Oregon, by Friday. I think my screaming tooth might be the biggest obstacle. The children are such good travelers, so helpful and easy. We'll pack the bare minimum and be prepared to go with the flow, hopefully making things easier for my mom by cooking and cleaning and renting lots of movies, adjusting pillows, pulling slugs out of her garden!
Lola's Garden is looking so beautiful. Did you know that cosmos are drought tolerant, that they even thrive in bad soil? It's comforting, somehow, to know that good things are possible, even in less than ideal times and places.
Yesterday was a full one, and we did make it to the science fair. It was the home school science fair, for students enrolled in homeschooling in our county. The woman who coordinates these events, seminars, classes and activities is wonderful. She is one of those dear people that extends herself and with sincere warmth and kindness she makes everyone feel special. I might ask for her number, so I can call her over summer and get good advice, affirmations and encouragement... for the children... of course, for the children.
Alex has been reading "Robot Builder's Bonanza," a technical and, for him, inspiring book all about designing and constructing robots. Not light reading. My favorite part about this book may be the suggestions to visit thrift shops and look for parts that can be rescued and salvaged for making robots. No need to flog the wallet on specialty kits and fancy sets. Alex decided to give robot thrifting a go and we headed to our favorite thrift store for supplies.
Here are some excerpts from Alex's report and presentation:
Hypothesis: My objective was to make a robot from found parts and broken toys. I wanted to see if I could find a remote controlled device that was not working, repair it and possibly make it better than it was before. I hoped to make the toy operational again and was interested to see whether I could give it more power, greater range of motion and to add an arm to it.
Method: I went to the thrift store and searched in the toy section, the home appliances section, and the electronics section. I was looking for remote controlled toys that were broken, that also looked salvageable. I found a 6-volt Radio Shack replica tank that had been discarded. It was missing a custom manufactured rechargeable battery pack, and its charger. In the other departments I did not find anything to help my experiment.
Process and Results: The first thing I did to make repairs to the tank was to find a new battery pack. I bought 2 battery packs, to hold a total of 8 AA batteries. To prevent the total voltage from exceeding 6 volts, I had to parallel wire them. “Parallel wiring” is when you attach 2 positive wires, of the same color (usually red,) to a load. The “load” is whatever you are powering. I also had to attach 2 negative wires, of the same color (usually black) to the load. It is important for it to not exceed 6 volts to prevent the motors overheating. If the motors overheat they can melt the protective coating of the wires, and short circuit the motor; this can start a fire.
The antenna was glued to the turret and I had to pull it out. I measured the black wire that served as an antenna and cut a new antenna of equal length. I soldered the new piece to the section that had been cut. Instead of reattaching it to the turret, I raised it above the chassis by slipping it through 2 soda straws that were taped together. The new antenna stood vertical out of the center of the vehicle.
With the improved antenna, and the new battery pack, I am able to control the robot vehicle from over 100’ feet away. The vehicle’s base and drive system is extremely powerful and can carry 3 pounds, and possibly 4.
Next I decided to build a remote controlled arm to add to the vehicle. Inspired by suggestions from the book “Robot Builder’s Bonanza” by Gordon Mc Comb and Myke Predko, I designed a cable-operated grabber. It works by winding a string around a part of the gearbox that was intended to rotate the turret of the tank. Modified like this, the gearbox now opens and closes 2 arms or “fingers” that extend from the front of the vehicle. I built the arms from pre-cut steel brackets, 2 rubber bands, tooth-lock washers, and locking nuts, and I added a second antenna to link with the controller for the new arm. The arm needed a separate power supply, so I equipped it with its own 6-volt battery pack.
Conclusion: I hoped to build a robot from broken toys and electronic parts, to make it better and equip it with an arm. I wanted it to have greater remote range, be more powerful, and I wanted it to have additional features. The tank I found was not functional, but I was able to repair it. By adapting the antenna I increased its range, so I can control it from greater distances. The arm I designed and built allows me to retrieve objects, so that the robot can manipulate its environment.
I learned how to solder wire using a hand held electric soldering gun. I learned how to use a digital multi-meter; it tests voltage, it tests to see if circuits are complete, resistance and amperage. I practiced patience and diligence, reading the “Robot Builder’s Bonanza” for guidance, and I was able to successfully achieve my goals. In the future I hope to attach a video transmitter, so I can see the vehicle’s path from a remote location.
My heart swells. Pardon me for a moment while I breath deeply and reflect on the joy I have thinking of my children. William helped carry in Alex's equipment. Max was on hand to keep an eye on everything. Maria took a nap, and was very cooperative and helpful when she woke. Alex was reluctant to enter the science fair, because of uncertainty, shyness and such, but William encouraged him, pushed him... I'm just trying to express how happy it makes me that these children look out for each other, they offer support and concern and they make me very proud. I cannot think of a better indication of success than having children that are creative, nice, inquisitive and a pleasure to be with.
This Morning:
Max: The dishes in the dishwasher look dirty. Can I use a fancy plate?
Me: Sure.
Max: I didn't know we could use these plates.
Me: You can only use them today and never again.
Max: Oh.
Me: Just yolking.
Max: Yolking?
Me: Joking. Yolking. Egg yolk.
Max: Why do people assume everything can be funny? Some things are just weird.
Last Night, Driving Home From Mom's Night Out:
Maria: I love dat pardee. And all the ladies are so booful.
Me: I loved the party too. Maria, you were a lady too, so good.
Maria: No. I'm not a lady. I'm jus' M'ia. And what dos ladies called?
Me: Linda.
Maria: Oh, yes, Leenda.
Me: Anne.
Maria: Anne. I like Anne. She's booful.
Me: Vera
Maria: Veela
Me: Jola
Maria: JoLA
Me: Janice
Maria: Janice
Me: Yanina
Maria: Fun-sheena
Me: Belinda
Maria: Buhlinda
Me: Josie
Maria: Joseee
Me: And Gigi
Maria: And Gigi, and the chockie fountain. And it was a pardee, and Lucas showed me the chockie fountain. I like Lucas. So fun.
When Jim died, both Geoff and I shared an urgent need to be with family, to see everyone or as many as possible and to simply enjoy the simple contact and comfort of sharing time. We feel so profoundly shaken by the loss of someone we believed we would see again soon... you know what I mean... those plans and visits that couldn't possibly be taken away?. Our families are big and dispersed in so many directions, north and south, east and west, it was a logistical maze just trying to spend time with some of them. We did pretty good. We drove north and crossed paths with my Mom and got to hang out with Bill, Alison and Dominic too. When Hans is home, safe with Gretchen, it will be imperative for all of us to get together again... I am holding my breath.
From San Francisco we flew to the Midwest. I am always happy for a visit with Geoff's grandmother, his aunts and uncles, the cousins. I know connecting with his father was deeply important to Geoff. Time and distance can take a toll and, again, we were feeling the longing to connect with the people we love, to say the loving and kind things that too often go unspoken. I think it is hard to maintain relationships, to really share the changes and trials, the good stuff, the growth, when we live far apart. It takes more effort, or a different effort. We have to compact all of the caring and attention into a concentrated time... there is not the luxury of just stopping by for a chat, or popping over to share a dinner, hang out. I am not explaining my thoughts very well, and I think it is because I am not speaking the whole truth here. We had some really good visits, and in some instances I think we could have done better. It's a process, right?
Aunt Carol is such a light. I just love her insight and warmth. She's got a laugh that is a force, like the feel of rain in the desert... it makes you want more. We were at her place for dinner. We hadn't been in her home since she was in Madison. My Mom was with us, William was a baby and we all had to huddle in the basement during a tornado! She remembered I said "They don't have to ask me twice," as I hustled downstairs, after the first warning sounded. She taught me "LOL"... I think that is fitting. She remembered William was having a road-trip birthday and she baked him a happy 17th birthday cake. Good cake. She shared the recipe, and when I bake it, I will be sure there are plenty to share it with. Good things taste even better when shared.
More time. I wish we had set aside more to spend with Paul. For one thing we underestimated how long it takes to drive through small towns, in Winter, on unfamiliar roads. It was getting late by the time we arrived. Look at his sweet house, out in the country. He's invited us back in Summer, when he says "it is so much nicer." I just know it will be funny to see his house surrounded by green, leafy trees and to be sitting on his deck, cooking out, drinking something ice cold. In winter or summer, I think Paul's home will be a welcome sight, and I will be happy to go back.
He found a good Mexican restaurant for us to go out to eat, and then we drove around Lake Winnebago. Thank goodness for ginormous rental cars, so we were all able to hunker in and see the sights together. Paul's mom pointed out their familiar places and Paul talked about his travels to Spain and Mexico, card games, and his new snow mobile. I snapped this last picture before we headed out for the drive back to grandma's. Boots. This is totally the way to go, living in the snow and cold. It's gotta be boots.
Our time in Chicago came at the end of our journey, which kind of brought us full circle. We had started out of grief and a yearning to be with family, and we had found so much pleasure and comfort along the way, that I was, in a way, caught off-guard when we got to Margie and Howard's home. We were with Jim and Ruth the first time I met Jim's sister, Margie and her husband, Howard. It was in their mother's house, Ruth M.'s home, where she showed me her wool rugs and I saw for myself the house where Jim spent much of his childhood. And as we pulled up to Margie and Howard's I felt a sadness, a mix of recollection and grief. It felt like only a few days since we were together in Hawaii and fumbling our way through the initial shock and pain of Jim's death, and now here we were, suddenly, far from the Island and still so close to the loss. I guess that is just a part of mourning, the sudden waves of sadness.
Margie fed us roast beef, and salad and mashed potatoes. Roast beef that Max declared "better" than mine, so I should ask her for a recipe and tips. Max helped with smashing the potatoes, so when I make roast beef the way he likes it, he can mash potatoes the way he learned at aunt Margie's. Here is Maria asking for something. Max is enjoying cold water... another treat he would like us to adopt in our home is recycling bottles with drinking water.
Throughout the house there were good conversations happening. I love David's story about getting back to school after a penniless adventure and hitchhiking. He laughed at the memory of the daring, and the strange coincidences. He has a good laugh. Rebecca and Mike came after work and it was a treat for me to hear about their chickens... I am partial to chickens. Grin. Sadie and Jim came in a bit later, and I hope we left them enough for their dinner. I was trying to hold Max from inhaling all of the roast beef. The whole dinner was so good. And then Margie made chocolate chip cookies. She sent Howard out for more milk for the children... no small task on a cold winter night.
So, I wish I had taken more pictures while we were there. The boys played rock, paper, scissors with Maria. Howard took the boys out to the garage, the one he built, and they got to see the old motorcycle, bows and arrows and a lot of tools. Margie showed us the basement, which made a pleasant, lasting impression on me. We got our hopes worked-up anticipating the next Pillsbury Bake-off. Alex really wanted to give it a try, and David is sure his buddy's scone recipe could take the million dollar prize. Don't you want to try million dollar scones? I do.
More time. Our flight home was the next day. Thanks to Margie and Howard's hospitality, the inviting comfort of their home, we enjoyed a full and lovely evening, one that I wish could have lasted longer. I feel a happiness for Jim... he had very nice family. He loved them, I know. If we had had more time, I would have asked him more about them, about his memories.
I respect and admire people that remember their past, their connectedness to loved ones, to the family that nurtured them, and who know how to open their homes and to make people welcome. I want to learn more, to do better, to honor family and memories, to make relationships sacred and valued. I see it's about thoughtfulness, presence, effort, and care... those qualities emanate from this home and I feel privileged to have enjoyed them. Maybe a photograph couldn't capture what I felt there... maybe the real point is that I appreciate how kind they are, how thoughtful, at ease and generous they are. Ah, but I do wish I could picture the painting hanging in the stairwell... the one with the pink dancing ladies and the funny animals.
Well, thank goodness for the time with Mom and an afternoon at the Wild Animal Park, otherwise this post would be full of me revisiting the ups and downs of the housing market and our recurring where are we going to live? woes. Recently it was suggested that 'we must be in heaven' over the housing market situation, and I have to say: No. No, we are not enjoying the economic downturn, the government's meddling, the waiting for the real bottom of this housing bust. And most of all we are not in heaven, as we have been renting and biding our time in purgatory. Ahem, yes, this is a touchy subject...
Alright, I will admit this much: We are looking. Well, Geoff never stopped looking; he has been taking the pulse of the housing market everyday for 4 years, a pastime I have found excruciating. But as of 2 days ago he has me looking too. It is still excruciating. Why? It is painful to look at home listings because:
1. We do not know where we are going to live... Hawaii, California (Southern or Central Coast), Oregon and Wisconsin are the main contenders. 2. The market has not hit bottom... not even close. We will not wait for bottom, which I predict is about 2 years out. Initial starter rates on adjustable mortgages will be expiring at a peak rate in in 2010, and a lot more homeowners will be faced with increases in monthly payments. 3. I am scared. Being responsible and prudent has me over-thinking and I cannot see our best course, just worse case scenarios and what ifs. 4. I am scared. Oh, wait, I already said that. I am confused. The part of me that knows that this is more akin to a curse of blessings cannot reason with the part of me that wants to choose the ideal place, buy at the ideal time and never, ever have to move again, ever. 5. I am confused. Heh, already said that.
Sigh. It's time for a therapist, I know. I need to stretch out on a firm couch and purge my quandaries, fears, frustrations, regrets, and other bile, acrimony and vitriol. I wonder what pearls of wisdom or affirmations there are for me. I wonder what the cure for my slumped morale might be.
My Mom and I were orchid shutter bugs, yesterday at the Wild Animal Park. At first I thought I would take one picture of a favorite, but then on closer inspection, I realized I had more than 1 favorite. Gee, it's like trying to decide between living in Hawaii vs. living in Wisconsin, between the coast and the country. Good grief.
Delia, my Mommy. She's been away from her Oregon home for a month. I am so glad for the time she spent with us. It was a quiet, relaxed visit, a reminder of how much I miss having casual time with family. Casual time is when there are no formalities, no urgent demands or expectations. We cooked and cleaned, we watched Television. We chatted and laughed and pondered the intricacies of the universe. The children had time to share their interests and talents, and less than flattering aspects of their development... like Maria's crying jags.
There is a lot of walking at the Wild Animal Park, and it was hot. Not too hot, but a gentle reminder of those inland temperatures that can get pretty intense. Max looks like he could use a lemonade.
Make that 2 lemonades. Maria was starting to wilt too.
We came specifically to see the lions. I think every Wild Animal Park post I ever make includes either lions or sledding. The lions are awesome. The sledding?... I don't think the children will ever think much of the 100 square foot patch of ice we used to sled on, now that they have been in real snow!
Until we make an African safari, visiting these lions will not be a disappointment.
Tasty, tasty Easter grapes. We spent the morning with Izzy and Nick, Holly and Rich. My Mommy is staying with us, after her stay in Pasadena helping her sister and mom, so she came too. Holly and Rich are exceptional hosts. I am having yet another giggle at my own expense... thinking of what a full house they had with neighbors, friends and family over for brunch and an egg hunt. I have to remind myself that we make it a crowd when we arrive with 7 people!
Earlier, the children went in to our backyard to wish Joe, the rabbit, a Happy Easter and that's when they found their baskets. Baskets with Legos and a little chocolate bunny and the traditional pack of underwear. Such a thoughtful E. Bunny. Maria's basket had "Goodnight Gorilla."
For a few years I have been aware of how shy and elusive Nick can be when I come around with my camera, so I was pleased to catch him unaware. He was enjoying a quiet moment during the party.
I heard Rich telling friends about Izzy's passion for chocolate. I think her appetite was well satisfied, and you can see she is still enjoying a last smack of chocolate goodness.
Speaking of goodness, this carrot cake came out pretty good. Max thinks I need to work on my carrot decorations... true, but I thought they were pretty convincing. The best part is that we have food dye that is derived from real life edible plants and not petroleum junk. Thank you Seelect. Many years ago I fell in love with a carrot cake, Janice's carrot cake. Oh, it was so yummy and good. To compensate for not decorating for Easter, for not holding my arms wide open to welcome Spring in to our house, I got it in to my head to bake The Carrot Cake. Janice kindly shared the recipe and we agreed it is slightly rich. (rich = full of fat and sugar) So, I got cocky. (cocky = I can adapt the recipe and make it healthier) Being cocky in the kitchen, with a dish intended to be shared at an Easter brunch, is very risky. No one wants a dry, tasteless cake... a too healthy cake, during a holiday extravaganza, may not be too satisfying.
I only modified 2 parts, and next time I am going to take it a step further and reduce the oil to just 1 cup. The results were very well received, and the real test was that I liked it a lot. I am sure it isn't a recipe that falls under the heading of Health Food, but it is delicious.
Stir these ingredients together. And I am thinking that next time I my go to 1 cup of oil and maybe add more carrot or even some zucchini.
2 cups flour 2 teaspoons baking powder 2 teaspoons baking soda 2 teaspoons cinnamon 1 teaspoon salt 1 cup of walnuts 1/2 cup of oatmeal (I like the old fashioned kind)
Sift the dry ingredients together and then mix in the nuts. The oatmeal was something I added. I love oatmeal. Next time I will probably make it a full cup, especially if I increase the carrots. Start adding the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir 'em up. I did this by hand, since I did not want to over-mix the batter.
Choose a favorite cake pan, and I lightly oiled mine, and bake at 375 degrees Fahrenheit. A cook time would be helpful, I know, but I don't have one. Expect it to take more than half an hour... it will smell good and an inserted knife will come out clean... you'll know when it's done.
Frosting I am not capable of following directions. Something in me must resist. So even though Janice gave me her perfectly tasty recipe, by the time I was ready to frost the cake, I just made it up.
1 stick of butter 8 oz of cream cheese + a healthy scoop of some leftover whipped cream cheese we had leftover from breakfast a largish, perhaps 2, teaspoons of vanilla powdered sugar... more than you want to admit, less than a box... I did not make it very sweet.
I whipped all of this together, and set some aside to turn orange and then frost the cool cake. The carrots looked even less like carrots until I topped them with celery greens!
Well, that was our Easter. Enjoying a beautiful day, laughing with family, making new friends. We came home for a quiet evening and we watched Live From Lincoln Center, "Madama Butterfly." Now it is Easter Monday, a warm day with a blue sky and errands to run and chores to complete. How was your Easter?
When I grow up I want to be an artist. And a cook, a veterinarian, a midwife, a plumber, a welder, an author, a farmer, a potter, and a philanthropist. I am a certified massage therapist, and I claim a major university as my almost-mater... I nearly graduated, but found my true calling in being a mother. I like to dabble and sample, and I love to find art. Isn't it wonderful to discover something that makes you pause, awaken, tingle, yearn, imagine, ponder, shudder, question, smile, sigh, breathe deeply... ? I like art that makes me wish I were the artist, that I was the creative force that brought elements and light, imagination and skills together.
The painting above is in Aunt Carol's home. I apologize. I do not know the names of most of the artists responsible for the art in this post. The colors and shapes reminds me of Kaffe Fassett fabric and his quilts. And Anna Maria Horner's new fabric, "Drawing Room." Those colors and bold strokes... so saturated, and infused. Am I using the right words? I did not study "Art" in school. Normally I use words like "yummy," "pretty," and "cool," or "really cool," when I am critiquing great works.
Aunt Carol's home is a warm, inviting gallery for art of every variety. A place where you can cast your eyes in almost any direction and find something to appreciate, contemplate, admire.
I felt at home there, because Aunt Carol is relaxed and has a gift for making me feel at home, and because I kept thinking how much her home is like my Mother's... with an eclectic collection of spiritual, personal pieces, textures and variety that reflects a life lived in appreciation of cultures, beliefs, dreams and color.
We had dinner there and she made an awesome poppy seed, almond cake with coffee frosting. Oh that was good. Artful cooking... mmmmm. We sang "Happy Birthday" to William. That was nice of her to play, to extend the celebration of William's birthday.
One more thing to love about Carol's house? Toys. Her grandchildren have corners, cupboards, closets, spaces and shelves to call their own, so that one is warmed by the knowledge that Carol loves and respects her grandchildren. She invites them in and gives them room for their interests and needs. It's so sweet to witness.
Like candy. Like polished light you can hold in your hand. My Mother's art is twisted metal, beads, stones, glass, gems, bits of history made into a new story. Gold. Sterling silver. Pearls. She works with a huge variety of elements and materials. She makes earrings, bracelets, necklaces, rings and some things that have no name... stones wire wrapped and embraced in intricate shapes and colors... oh, you'd have to see one to know what I mean, which is why Geoff and I are trying to get her to blog, to open an Etsy Shop. She sells in galleries and shops. She gives her art away too. She seems to take great pleasure in matching her art with the people she loves, so family and friends always part with her company with something new and beautiful to wear. Which ring do you think I took for my own?
Grandma Nancy quilts and paints and for a few years now she has been painting with quilts, joining her two skills in original and stunning wall hangings. First she made "continent quilts" and now she is immersed in a series of quilts depicting her favorite artists, like Renoir, and here is Van Gogh:
This is the latest artist quilt completed by Nancy. Nancy is another favorite artist of mine. I cannot write. I am transfixed.
And now Geoff is teaching Grandma the art of the home computer, surfing and email. He readied her house for wi-fi and set everything up so she can read Chickenblog and visit fabric sites and chat with family through email. Geoff is one of my favorite artists. It will take me a few minutes to think of and list all of the ways he is an artist. He draws, paints and doodles very well. He designs. He programs computers. He writes original and patented software. He recites poetry, Shakespeare, Whitman, Poe, and others... he knows so many beautiful words and I am struggling to remember a few of the names of the many people he can quote. He can repair and replace radiators, brakes, engines, carburetors, fuel intake valves and he knows how they work. Mechanics are definitely artists. He can plumb a house, wire a house, lay tile, install windows, hang doors, frame and roof. He can calculate how much water you can collect from rain falling on your roof. He knows how much water weighs, and how to depict water on a television screen using equations he wrote himself. He understands economics, the stock market and video games. He can whistle a tune. His computer art depicts waves and water currents, trees, fabric flowing, crowds waving, a ball that bounces with the physics that represent force and direction. He taught me how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. There are 2 things wrong with what I am sharing: 1. I am not doing his work justice. 2. He is going to be totally shy and uncomfortable with me "carrying on" about him.
I began seeing art from the flight. I took pictures over the snowy plains as we approached Chicago. I am mesmerized by the patterns and shapes, the dark and light of plowed fields and iced meadows, frozen ponds, winding rivers, creeks and streams. In Summer the fields, farms and forests are as captivating in infinite greens and golds. In Winter I am challenged by the filtered colors, the muted light, and still I adore the beauty of the landscapes. There are 50 barns, 100 homes, 900 farms I meant to take a picture of, to capture for my scrap book of Midwestern art.
In one home we found whimsical art. Clay art made when Paul was a boy and I am so glad he did not throw it out or let it get lost in life's shuffle. Like this castle, or really just the tower of a castle that he made. It's chunky, folksy and warm,
...and at the base is a man coming out of a window. I don't necessarily want to understand what it means, to interpret it. I don't see that the piece has an intended purpose. What I do recognize is that it makes me want to know and appreciate the artist, to be glad that he made this castle, that he kept it. It evokes compassion and interest in the art and the creator.
I like Paul's bowl too. Like an avocado shell, sliced and scooped out, with feet, and the skin of a scaly dragon. It was perfectly, ideally weird and magnetic. Paul, you creative, soulful man, what beautiful art you make.
While we visited with Paul and his mom, Megan, Alex played with Maria. He drew a robot for her. Alex studies robots, designs robots, and makes robots. His little robot character, hastily sketched to distract Maria after a long day, was just the thing to inspire robot art from her, and Maria added an entire robot family parade to the page. Each of her robots was assigned a name and a mood. Ink and paper art, the art of affection and patience, the art of sharing and kindness. I love these arts, these treasured family arts.
Later, that same day, when we were having dinner at Carol's, Alex was immersed in his sketchbook again. This time he was inspired to illustrate the act of singing "out-loud." Another rough sketch, another spontaneous expression of Alex's wit and humor. I love it when art and humor entwine.
It's time to open a thesaurus. Look up Art... I find skill. Can you have art without skill? Can art appear where there is little or no effort, no ability? Is art an equivalent of skill?
Is this "art?" Was it skill that brought a sketch and iron filings and a table top together and added a magnet?
Does it become art when manipulated by an imaginative boy?
Is it art if it does not last more than a day, or a minute?
There is a kind of art that I deeply admire: The art of making a home. Not all houses are homes. A home lends itself to sheltering and nurturing our bodies, our minds, our spirits and celebrating our lives. A home is comfortable, not simply by its design and purpose, but by the constant care of the people who live in it, who maintain it and project their values and gifts into it. I already touched on this subject in a recent post. In Margie and Howard's home, in Paul's place, and Carol's, at Grandma Nancy's... in all of the places we have been lately, I have been so struck and emotionally stirred by the art of homemaking, by being met by generous hosts, by kindness and warmth, by the art of preserving and honoring memories with tangible tokens and mementos. It has little to do with designs and features from magazines, or even immaculate housekeeping... it has everything to do with care, pride, sincerity and appreciation for people over fixtures and polished brass. Family pictures, children's gifts framed and displayed, a wide-open kitchen, time dedicated to sharing stories and ideas, laughter, homemade cookies, a relaxed grace, a gentleness. It takes skill to bring these qualities to life in a home, it takes art to infuse a home with this kind of elegance and beauty. There are a lot of things we can do and buy, that we are seduced into believing our homes are incomplete without, like granite and designer appliances, that are mostly only superficial and costly.
A happy thought: I have been in many artful homes, a lot of lovely and warm homes. Maybe the common thread is that the people who make a house a home are inclined to be generous, to say "Come on over," and mean it.
I want to be an artist. I have strayed from pride and heartfelt warmth for the place I live and the neglect is showing. This is a painful, honest admission. The reasons are many and real and very hard to overcome, but I am glad at least I want to do better, believe I can do better. I have so much inspiration, so much aspire to.
Here is Sophie, at Cam-Rock 3. We were sledding there. Can you see William? Can you see me? I can take hundreds of pictures and still only have a few favorites. This is one of my favorites.
We rented a car in So Cal. We drove along the coast, stopping when we pleased. Seeing the world from completely unexpected vantage points. Relishing our time together as a family. This is my limited, impromptu, and random photo album from California to Wisconsin.
Our first taste of cold weather came in San Luis Obispo, which was good, because we were packed for Winter, and we were packed in the rental van. It's like there are 6! of us. Sometimes I like blinky photographs... that moment when our smiles overcome our faces and we close our eyes. Joy unedited. Pizza Port, Morro Bay, California.
Did I mention my Mommy met me at the laundromat in Capitola? She and Bill brought me hot chai. I love Monterey Bay, including Aptos, Soquel, Capitola, Santa Cruz. Can you believe we didn't stop at Gayles, the best bakery ever? Next time. I will always return to the Central Coast. I will always love California.
The 19th floor of The Hotel Nikko, San Francisco. Maria discovers her inner Urban Woman. Video to follow, soon. It's one of those home movies that makes us roll around laughing, because we know our daughter, sister... and she busts us up.
Yes, my camera is around my neck all day long, and I constantly see shapes, colors, art, trash, faces and moments that I want to possess. Click! And sometimes it's just a cliche. Lombard Street. Coit Tower. The Bay Bridge. The Bay. For me it's a window, back to a morning, riding in a car, seeing a city, eating a freakishly delicious onion bagel with cucumbers, sprouts, and cream cheese.
China Town is so cool. I love that we walked all over the place, that we were out of place. China Town is its own. We were welcome to walk through, but we did not belong. I saw a sign for "Exotic Birds" and I could not resist. Oh man. There were quail and chickens in there. Chickens! Live ones. So I am standing there and just loving this scene in the middle of cosmopolitan San Francisco, and I get it. These are dinner birds, not pets. But the two guys are not getting me, standing there with my bemused grin, thinking of taking a picture. "I like chickens," I offer, and they stare at me, not amused. Awkward. Hilarious. Geoff said they probably thought I was from PETA.
What can I add?
Four hours and a night of sleep later, we are in the snow! Flying is weird. I think it is miraculous to be in one place and in less time than it takes to make good bread, you can be in another part of the world, in another climate, another season. How many different places could you be if you flew for 4-6 hours? Where would you go? We chose Chicago, Madison, Oshkosh. We chose more time with family. Time to embrace family and reconnect. It was a continuation of our Aloha 'Oe to Jim "Corm."
Our lives can get so complicated, so full. And we feel fortunate that we could set aside this time to share, to listen and to appreciate the people we love.
Geoff and I have our memories and connections to Wisconsin, to family and places, and it is a treat watching our children form their own bonds, make their own connections. When Maria and Jordan are together, playing, talking, we can hardly tell their voices apart. It's funny.
Grandma? Are you reading? Brave is the woman, the Great-Grandmother, who agrees to learn how to use email, to log-on and surf the web. Geoff and William salvaged computers and made a surf worthy laptop for Grandma. Now she can stay in the loop with all of us. Everyone must encourage Nancy not to panic when she gets email. Relax Grandma. You're doing great. She and I even shopped for fabric online!
Have you played "Apples to Apples?" Fun. Seriously simple and fun. It was a game on Max's Christmas list and we have been enjoying it a lot. We were stoked to see Sophie bringing over her game and we had a hilarious and rousing game of "Apples to Apples." If you can find the ridiculous in life, if you can laugh, you will find there are no losers in this game. Who played... Laura and Nancy, William, Alex, Max, Sophie, Gary, Geoff and me. I love laughing.
For us, she's Aunt Carol, but Jordan and Griffy call her Grandma. I think she is having a marvelous time being a grandmother.
I met Matt Kenseth's grandmother at Nancy's quilting class. That's a NASCAR reference and anyone that googles "NASCAR" and comes to Chickenblog is going to be disappointed. I know nothing about NASCAR. I know more about Badgers. Grandma Nancy is a Badger fan from way back. And this has been a very good year for Badgers and men's basketball. Someone named Brett Favre kept making the news too.
OKay. It's after 1 p.m. and so it's after 3 p.m. in Chicago. I thought I could post more pictures, but I am whooped and falling further and further behind. Look for Part II tomorrow. PST.
Maria was sitting by the front door, her arms full of gear; boots, mittens, her hat, my scarf. Next to her was Max, pulling on his boots. I knew Max was heading out to the sled and slope, but I had to ask Maria what she thought she was up to. "Maria what are you doing?" She answered with the confidence of a seasoned skier, a rugged outdoors woman, "Going snowing." She is unfazed by windchill, by slips on her bottom, by trekking and stomping. She's even back to singing "Frosty the Snowman." She's taken sola rides in the long, black toboggan, and she knows how to crunch the crusty edges of icy snow when walking down the sidewalk, just like her daddy did, when he was a boy.
It's so much fun to see her embrace winter, outdoor play and all of these new elements, without any reservations. She loves the snow and the trees, she loves the "crunch." Yesterday when we took her to Cam-Rock 3 to check out the sledding hill, she looked up at the clear, late afternoon sky and asked "Where did all the fluffies go? Where is the snowing?" Her last venture out the snow was blowing down, some individual crystals and some fluffy clusters of snow, and she had marveled at the sight. Now she was a little sad to see that it had stopped.
Alex and Max are no less enthusiastic, and they have spent a lot of time outside, dedicated to the pursuit of fun in the snow. Alex needs snow pants and gloves, so today we are heading to St. Vincent's in Madison. Hopefully enough people have given-up on Winter and we can find some decent second-hand deals. With real, water-proof gloves, I think Alex will be able to comfortably finish construction on the snow fort. Snow pants will keep him even more comfortable for the long hours he has been out and working diligently at making snowy blocks.
Max has been helping with the fort too, he is well prepared for the elements. He has boots and snow pants and his favorite jacket of all time. I hope he remembered not to leave any of these on the porch, where they freeze. He could not get his feet into his stiff, cold boots yesterday and had to wait for them to defrost before he could get back to making snow blocks.
These two were born to this stuff. they do not get cold. OKay, well, everyone gets cold when temperatures are in the teens, but long pants and light jackets are not the insulation I require for sledding and making snow balls, for walking into town. William's only issue was keeping his eyes open, while facing the glare of the sun on the bright snow, otherwise he has been fine, even without a hat. We even persuaded him to ride down the hill.
Maria, Geoff, Alex and Max took this ride together!
After taking this hill for a few days, I believe we are ready to graduate to the hill at the park.
Without any prompting, it occurred to Maria to make snow angels. She has made a heavenly host of snow angels all over the backyard.
Here is Max, taking a snow nap. Blissed out and loving the last days of his first real Winter.
Our flight over, we enjoy some car rental office hilarity with SpongeBob.
Well, for starters, we flew, we landed and we have all of our luggage, and the pleasure of this success is not lost on me. Maria has picked up some kind of flying phobia or anxiety. Hey, it's not my fault. I keep my white knuckle, prayerful flying challenges to myself. So, when we were buckling ourselves, preparing for take-off, Maria started breathing heavily, sighing and looking agitated, and then she started crying. "I don't like it here," was all she would say and she would not sit or be buckled. She would not be consoled, or bribed, and she would not stop crying and repeating, "I don't like it here." Oh dear. Seriously, I thought they would ask us to get off the plane. It got so bad, I started hoping they would ask us to get off the plane. She really got herself into a state. The cure? Exhaustion and repeated singing of a song she likes, softly repeated over her head. She spent most of the flight on my lap. Not sure how we are going to manage next week.
And now? Snow! Yes, we are the only family in Wisconsin vigorously, joyfully celebrating great big heaps of icy cold snow in March. And new snow has been steadily falling since this afternoon. It's so beautiful. Flakes, the tiniest crystals drifted onto my black glove and I was amazed by their delicacy and beauty. It is wonder-full.
We stomped out a toboggan run from the top of the yard toward the creek... not directed to the creek... no worries, we are being very careful. The snow is pretty hard, but down the slope it's been drifting, so there it is deeper, softer. Oh man, riding down that little hill is so much fun. We played for hours, maybe four, and we went back again when the snow started falling. Maria was out there, and Max and Alex, and William joined us after a while.
Tonight Carol treated us to a delicious tamale pie dinner, and Gabe and Betsy came with Jordan and Griffy. Sophie is still here. Phil left after dinner. Laura and Gary came for a few minutes before the Badger game in Madison. Jane called. I look around, hearing these voices, seeing these faces and I am home. This place is familiar and kind, welcoming, and it always has been. The first time I came here was December 1987, and of course now there are differences. We have aged, and there are new loved ones, and loved ones we miss. We have moved and changed and grown, and yet there is a timelessness to this home and the love that is shared here. I am so grateful and happy that our children can enjoy this place, and the memories that live here. I am happy that they are a part of the stories and traditions of this family. They play in the basement, like their dad did, and walk into town like their aunts and uncles have. They sit in the kitchen and eat Grandma Nancy's pie... it is so sweet to feel connected, to be in the embrace of family.
March 7th Update, With Photos Added We made it to Bill and Alison's, and the Taqueria, and we oohed and ahhed over Dominic, because he is such a honey of a boy. We ate Olallieberry pie in honor of William's birthday, and we even visited some open houses, just to get our feelings hurt. The weather was ideal, the views lovely and the company funny and fun, relaxed.
And there was cool timing. Cool timing, because my Mom is making her way south from Oregon to Pasadena and our paths intersected yesterday. It was a quickie visit, that began auspiciously enough at the Teddy Bear Laundromat where my Mom and brother met me with a spicy chai latte. Folding laundry is much easier with company and sips of hot tea. Mom and I got caught-up a bit and it reminded me of how much I miss doing little, normal things with family. When we met Alison, Bill and Dominic for breakfast burritos, it was another sweet, if brief, opportunity to share the company of some of my favorite people.
We exchanged news, like Bill being really close to having his pilot's license. We delighted in impending joy, because Alison and Bill are expecting. Dominic will be a big brother in September. We admired the beautiful jewelry Delia has been making, including a piece that has been hanging in exhibition in an art gallery. I stole accepted two pieces, a necklace and a ring. Lucky! We snapped some pictures, hugged and parted. Mom going south, us going north and the Family G going in their front door. Sigh.
I know. I pine for Hawaii, then the Central Coast, and in a few days I'll be waxing poetic about Wisconsin. It's a blessing, and a problem. I really wish there was a way to live within our means, in close proximity to family and surrounded by natural beauty. What? I can dream.
Now, The City. The one on the Bay, with the bridge and fog and hills. This city is amazing and exhilarating, confounding too. Geoff got us checked into a very nice hotel, where there is silk on the walls and a flat screen TV hanging on our wall. We are way up on the 19Th floor. The lobby is elegant, modern and makes me feel compulsively inclined to beg for a complete make-over. Pull out my pony tail, exchange my men's wrangler's and boho blouse. Manicure please, and someone corral my eyebrows. Do I own a razor? Can we say exfoliate? How about moisturize?
Did I mention this city is confounding? After my initial assumption that I am ill prepared to be seen here, we cruised Geoff's old neighborhood on Belvedere and Haight. Suddenly, I wasn't funky enough. Suddenly, my eclectic, mascara-free, throw caution and fashion to the wind, style looked way too Suburban Mom plays tourist with the groovy crowd. Driving around here, among the dreadlocks, love beads, yoga posing, granola crowd, I felt sadly conventional, and really, I am not. Really. I think unconventional is one of the few things I have going for me. I could never keep up with Geeky-Glitzy-SOMA-Super-Models of the Urban Jungle, and apparently I am not hip and radical either.
Enough. I am what I am, and if some funky sophistication, some polish or some grit, rub off on me, that might be good too.
Last night we had dinner at Fisherman's Wharf. The cab driver dropped us off at Scoma's, which is either a locals' favorite, or an overpriced drop-off for gullible visitors, but we were satisfied. After dinner, walking. We walked all over the place and we took in street music that was lively and good, and we watched a spray paint artist and a guy cracking wise while laying on a bed of glass. The cab ride home was an E ticket for sure... thought we were in an episode of "The Streets of San Francisco," flying down hills and bottoming-out at every stop light.
Now we need some breakfast, fuel for a full day of sightseeing, touring and absorbing the crazy mix that makes this city great. Pictures soon, I promise.
Our early departure did not happen. It's okay. It's even good that we stayed home an extra day, before driving up the coast, then heading to the Midwest. So, rather than leaving yesterday, we are leaving this morning. I'll let Geoff sleep as late as he needs to, and then we will climb into our vacation-mobile, which is already overloaded packed, and we will head out into traffic onto the open road. We are seeking our destiny. About the only thing I am sure of is that the pets will be well cared for, otherwise we have no game plan. We know which day to be at the airport, and we have a dinner date in the Chicago area. Everything else is a bit sketchy. This could be fun... or something.
For his Grandpa Corm's memorial, Alex drew an invention. It is in honor of Corm's brief career as a Good Humor Man, selling ice cream, and it is meant to recognize his grandfather's mechanical skills. I really should have Alex do this write-up, so he can explain it properly. Every gear and lever has a purpose, and by the time he describes it, you can't help but believe that this machine actually would make waffle cones and ice-cream and dispense them both, efficiently, and delightfully.
Well, I guess I should start turning on some lights, playing some music. No time like the present, when thinking of searching for your destiny. We have short term goals, like finding fresh berries at roadside stands and farmer's markets, we have next week goals, like playing in freshly falling snow. And we have big dreams: Finding a home to call our own, space to make our mark, a somewhere to hope for and focus on. And, of course, we want to enjoy the ride!
It Is Thursday. It feels good to be on familiar ground, even if it's only the familiarity of being confused about which day of the week it is. I lost Wednesday. Never mind.
Geoff is on the riding mower, taking 6 inches off the lawn... about 2 acres of lawn that wraps around the house, up and down the lot. He follows the fence line along the gulch and down to the avocado orchard, around the breadfruit tree and the banyans. Ruth, Maria and I followed him to the bottom of the lot, where we found more guavas ripening in the sun. Gracie, the cat, made stealthy appearances, emerging suddenly from the undergrowth. Alex and William have been pacing around the coconut trees, engaged in their usual dialogue about inventions, possibilities, options, designs, theories and dreams. Max is still waiting for that swim, and in the meantime he's filled a bucket with plump, juicy water-balloons and he's aching to test them.
We'll be flying home fairly soon, so I made an initial pass of packing, sorting and organizing. For 6 people, we pack light, but I know we are taking home more than we came with. Maria has a bear from Kona hospital now... long story, with happy ending. I'll share it sometime. The prospect of leaving is sad, almost scary, because we can't be sure when we will return... if we will ever return, and we will certainly have to face another degree of acceptance that things have changed... changed a lot.
Happy Valentine's Day. I meant to make something of it this year, inspired by the creativity and optimism of so many other bloggers, but I think this year it will remain what it usually is: Another day in February. Maybe I should look for a bite of chocolate...
Yes, all that and still no pictures. Everyone is sad. Maria is very homesick and consequently very cranky tender. It is hard to understand the odd mix of emotions we are experiencing... We love it here, in Hawaii. It feels like home, or a part of the home we have been trying to get to, and all around us there is such profound beauty, inspiration, spirit... it contradicts the ache and grief we carry.
The wind chimes ring playfully in the cool breeze, in the distance we see the snow capped Mauna Kea, with the telescopes and observatories. On Saturday, Margie and I saw a whale... we were sitting together during Jim's memorial, exchanging comfort and memories, when the whale spouted and breached. I smell flowers and hear chickens and roosters, and Maria is learning how to hula. There is so much to enjoy and savor and celebrate and then it is all diminshed by the realization that someone is missing. He loved it here most of all of us, and he would have loved to see his grandchildren flying the kite, fixing the tractor, collecting guavas, practicing the hula in a shell lei and grass skirt. It's hard not to call his name: Corm, come here. You have to see this. It's hard not being able to ask him the name of that tree or whether we should use 4 wheel drive to get down to Waipio Valley. It's his truck. He should be here.
The last time we were here he took us to Spencer Park State Beach. It was really windy. Really windy. We could hardly swim, let alone keep our towels and hats from blowing to Fiji. We took a hike down an old Hawaiian trail, exploring with Poppa-Corn Man, and he regaled us with Island history, legend and folklore. Suddenly the path opened onto a white sand beach, with water the color of a clear blue sky. We were sheltered from the wind and the water was sheltered from the heavy surf, so the boys and I were able to swim and float and immerse ourselves... Maybe longing for a swim could be seen as somewhat irreverent, but it isn't, not here. A swim, hula lessons, stretching out on the lawn and whistling on blades of grass... we could not do better to honor and remember this man that we love and miss.
Update: Far from our usual tools and resources, Geoff still manages to find a way for me to post some images. Update II: These are ginormous! LOL Update III(02/23/08): The photos are fixed.
Aloha Posting from Hawaii... everyday I think about blogging and about what I could say. There hasn't been time to sit down and write, which is just as well, because I don't know what to say.
Weather: It rained and rained and rained, and the wind has been blowing too. It's been beautiful, in a forces of nature kind of way. And when the sky clears we can see stars upon stars, upon stars, which is beautiful too. Then today the sky was very clear, all day, and it was hot and humid too.
The Children: They have been quiet and sad, patient too, and also sick, especially Max. Max was throwing-up yesterday. He seems better today. Maria is homesick and kind of turned around about things... all the new faces and comings and goings, the solemn faces and crying. William and Alex have been helpful and mature.
Thank you so much for all of the support, prayers and kindness. We have been overcome with grief, and the love and concern people have extended to us has been encouraging and very helpful. All of my deep thoughts have been a mess muddled and confused, and I have been very sad thinking of things that were left unsaid... I guess, I just want to be sure to express my gratitude, my respect and affection for the family and friends in my life.
Sigh. I am thinking what a poorly written post this is, and yet how well it reflects my state of mind... dazed, confused, turned around, tired and sleepy, very sad, uncertain.
Tomorrow I will tell you about rainbows, chickens, cane fields and plumeria leis. I hope I can post some pictures too... of a gardenia and a Christmas tree, and Maria dancing in the airport terminal. Life goes on.
Thank you so much for the words of encouragement, the prayers. We are absorbing all of it, putting one foot in front of the other, and slowly facing the new day.
It rained so hard yesterday. And the wind whistled through the house and left the yard strewn with leaves. The children and I had no place to go, so we played quietly at home, cleaned and reflected. And it rained in Honoka'a, where for months and months it has been very dry, where the water tank that fills with rainwater has been sitting empty for a long time. The water tank is full now. The water gauges overflow. So much rain. The heavens bursting. Clouds torn apart. It's hard not to believe someone had a hand in this.
Saturday morning we were out together, enjoying the first day of Geoff's freedom from the long, arduous hours he has been working. We had decided to mix business with pleasure, taking a trail hike before going to have a tire fixed on our GreenGoose. We were at the trailhead, looking for the peacocks that live at the public rancho, when Geoff got the call. We had renewed our resolve that morning... it was to be a fresh start, a recommitment to our goals, and we were feeling so happy. He only had to say, "No," hearing this, seeing the pain spread across his being, I knew something was terribly wrong. Something irrevocable. I did not want to know who died. I wanted to know who was safe.
I still will not type the name. I have been keeping a mixed record of our days here... sometimes being trivial and pointless, sometimes ranting or whining, often sharing and recording the joyful, momentous and distinct events in our lives. We have come to appreciate Chickenblog as a chronicle of our days, so much so that it would be remiss of me not to mention these days, what we are coping with now. But I cannot write it out. Not yet. It's true: I am in denial. It hurts just slightly less, if I don't say his name. I'm sorry. I don't know if we will ever come back, years from now, and read this post. It won't be strange or confusing... we will remember the loss, who we miss so terribly.
Tomorrow will the 30th day of the Everyday Life posts, and I will be with the children, on our way to be with Geoff, his sister and their mother. Everyday Life was supposed to be 30 days of pictures that reflect a focused view of the details of our daily lives... including the little things we don't always take particular notice of or record. Looking through the archives, I can see we have had some remarkable days, and we have had some very quiet days which is a blessing too. Cooking, cleaning, playing, working, nature, the messes and the active play of our imaginations... all part of our everyday lives. Today we are coming to terms with death, another part of life.
Today we are anticipating a birth... isn't it poignant? Our dear friends, James and Deanne are having a baby today. It's so wonderful. *Update: I had to go see him. Never mind packing and cleaning... there's a new baby to welcome. Mother and father are well, and Parker is as cute as can be.
Dale Evans is singing and I am catching-up with email and news, and... and slowly, slowly preparing to clean this house! I think Santa must have let his reindeer in, instead of keeping them on the roof, and let me tell you, thirty-two feet can make quite a mess! Naughty little reindeer.
Ah, but the Christmas smiles... it makes the rush and crush so worthwhile. For Christmas smiles I can brave Southland traffic. For Christmas smiles I can make-up patterns for pajamas and sew them by Christmas Eve, and make a pillow case for Max's Froggy!
And it's so worthwhile to make time for friends, for play, for family visits. Would it really be Christmas without those? Take away bows and stockings and tinsel and such, and it would be disappointing, but without play and family, friends and spiritual joy it would be pointless.
It's what I kept reminding myself of every time I felt panic about all that has to get done! Relax. Go with the flow. Savor that pizza grin, and never mind the playground sand all over the car.
We went to the zoo, and Pasadena, to church on Sunday, and the park on Thursday, to Grampa's on Monday, we made tamales, we played with cousins, we built Mars Stations and played tea party. We gave and received, we sang and we prayed, and we really haven't stopped...
Allow me just one moment to be a bit melancholy... I miss my family, the ones who I didn't get to play with this week, and the homesickness I feel, the touch of sadness, well I guess it's part of Christmas too, because it reminds me to be grateful and hopeful and to cherish the ones I love. So I will send an extra note of love and affection to friends and family, near and far: Merry Christmas Oregon, Washington, the Philippines, Wisconsin, Hawaii, Norway, Massachusetts, Colorado, Canada, Florida, Virginia, New York, Minnesota, Tennessee, New Zealand, Belgium, Mexíco, California, and way far East, where I hope you are especially safe.
I will be reflecting on Christmas pleasures for months and years to come. Now it's time to dig out... there are messesblessings all over the place!
Holiday Out-Takes Ah, the family portrait. Timing. Everyone in a good mood at the same time. Everyone clean, dressed, and together at the same time. Good lighting, no shadows, no glare, focus...
We made 36 attempts and I think we should have gone for 37.
I never imagined I would keep it up for this long or that it would matter to me as much as it does... I certainly dragged my feet, when Geoff suggested I start a blog. My first post was just a fanciful daydream, meant to convince Geoff that I would give blogging an earnest go. In those early days, blogging could be supremely aggravating... oh, wait, it can still be supremely aggravating!
William, Geoff, Maria, Max, Nancy, Alex, Rich, Sophie, Lily, Nick, Phil. Kayla and Holly: June 12, 2005. The TreeHouse
I am glad Geoff insisted I blog. We have a colorful journal of the last five years, with photos, and remembrances, silliness, frustrations, and a lot of happy reflections. I am glad Holly makes tasteful banners, so Chickenblog can look polished and inviting. I am glad that, very recently, more than 2 people have discovered Chickenblog and they have joined the conversation, shared the laughs... blogging is so about dialogue and connections. I am glad that my friend Anna Banana is blogging too... she and I appreciate how cool it is to keep track of things that matter and to amuse ourselves with stuff that probably matters very little.
Alex, Alison, Dominic, Bill, Max and William: June 30, 2007
All this gladness cannot be contained... Geoff has been nudging me: You better get busy making a 1000th post contest to celebrate. I was remembering my very first contest, when I asked readers to identify something the cat coughed-up... that was April 26, 2003, but no one took a chance at my grand prize offer (too bad the Grand Prize was a pony and a Hawaiian cruise... too late now.) But now we can have a new contest, and I will think up a new grand prize, so sharpen your pencils, put on your party hat, and be on the look out for the 1000th Chickenblog post.
I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up Early this morning, in the faint dawn light, I heard Maria running to the playroom, followed by a Fwump! Of course my camera was handy, and since she was already cheerfully announcing, "I'm Okay. I'm Okay..." it seemed like a good time to take a photograph. So, there she is, swallowed-up by Alex's empty and wide open school bag.
I admire her resilience.
I have a touch of post funeral melancholy. Suppressed memories, strong emotions, conflicts, grief, sympathy... it's all swirling around in my head and my heart. I am struck by how much of memory can be a blur, like a photograph out of focus, or a movie with sound that comes in and goes out... Yet with the slightest urging, or the prompting of a melody or a picture, the sound of someone's laughter, a fragrance... any little thing can bring back a full, vivid recollection of entire events, conversations, feelings. Our stories matter, I believe. The connections we have with community and family, the church our grandmothers attended, the park where families we knew picnicked and played; our traditions and relations are such a rich and complex fabric. I am not trying to make point. Just thinking out loud.
Max is still coughing... even the cat has been sick... cleaning his fur, he ingested junk that has made him barf a lot. The vet says it's fire related. He seems to be improving. (The cat has been to the doctor, the boy has not. I wish our vet were a pediatrician; I have more confidence in him.) We really have not finished cleaning all of the fire fall out. I miss my family, and I worry about my brother. Geoff's dying vehicle is effectively dead. I took him to work today. We all miss Tamsyn. The demands and expectations of school life wore me out last month and anticipating upcoming events makes me less than eager to meet the holidays.
Holidays and home life are just too sacred to relinquish, so I contemplate home-schooling again, which I would love, which makes me ponder: What else would I love? And then I know I want to go a on a big, family road trip and rediscover our voices, and read whole passages of great books aloud, and sit beside creeks and watch leaves fall. I want to watch Alex build robots and draw gnomes, and listen to William describe "Spore" and finish teaching him how to drive, somewhere where people are kind, even in their cars. I want to go on long, pointless walks with my husband, and watch some movies with him, then design a house that we will actually build, then live in. I want to dance with Maria and play with dough and paint and glue, and take her to a warm ocean and let her learn how to swim. I want to read with Max, all of his "-Ology" books, and then I want to show him that he could make a wonderful book too... on any subject, and it could be full of his ideas and thoughts. And it cheers me to realize that my children and my husband are such a source of joy for me... consoling, and encouraging.
About Last Night This is no Hollywood treatment of Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein." The monster William dressed as is inspired straight from the book. And, when he painted on the last stitch, and Alex finished helping his friend Mitchell in to his costume, then everyone was ready to go out in to the night in search of treats.
Alex, the Dragon Wizard, Mitchell, a video game warrior, William,the creature, Max, the straw bale, and Maria the metamorphic Princess Mary Pumpkin. We don't often enjoy cool temperatures on Halloween, but last night was pleasant and cool enough to be comfortable in dragon scales and princess layers. Since Geoff had to work, we turned out the house lights and I brought Maria along to watch the trick-or-treaters in action, but after the first stop, she had to play too. The big guys were patient as can be, waiting for Maria to walk up to every door and take her place among the candy hunters, then they all called out in unison: Trick or Treat!
Max had a special delivery... at every stop he crouched down into his bale and waited for the person at the door to notice the bale of hay sitting on the ground and then Max would give them a surprise by rising up for the reveal... good laughs ensued and he was delighted with the happy results.
All the kids got positive feedback for their homemade costumes and creativity.
Maria embraced the whole scene... saying "Trick or treap" and always remembering to say either "Thane-you" or "Happy Hawnween!" She loved the lights and carved pumpkins, walking from house to house and waiting for the front doors to open. And candy? People handing over candy, filling her pumpkin? She was astounded. When we got home Alex showed her how to lay out all the candies on the floor and they made a candy rainbow with the all the colorful packages forming a confectionary arc. Then they made trades and swaps, remarking on favorites, past & present. Whenever Maria asked to try a candy, we opened it for her, showed her how to lick it, with dramatic relish and then she would do the same. She gave a lick to about 4 different candies, but only actually ate one piece of chocolate.
We probably covered about three blocks worth of houses, and of course not everyone was home. Max plans to make his candy last as long as possible. They all agree that some candy is good, but mostly they wanted to enjoy the hunt and the fun of showing their costumes. And speaking of costumes, we have some cute cousins who sent us email greetings for Halloween...
Dread Pirate Dominic, pumpkin slayer and heartbreaker... well, he makes my heart melt anyway.
Jordan the Bee, a cutie bug for sure.
And Griffin... oh, I mean Dale Earnhardt Jr. Ready for serious fun.
Finishing October I ought to have a separate label called "Shocked" and under its heading would be all the posts that express my amazement about the lateness of the month, or week or day... seems I am always caught off guard by the passage of time. It's Later Than You Think could be my theme song. So, anyway, I am taken aback, surprised, turned around... October is nearly through? Oh my.
OKay. Who needs a costume? William asked for a black dress shirt that will be suitable for Frankenstein's Monster; something in keeping with the literary description of the creepy fellow. Alex's costume is nearly complete, I think... wait, I seem to recall a strip of elastic I need to attach to his head dragon's head. And for Max, I need to get to a feed store and buy a flake of straw. Maria... she says she wants to be a "Cutie Bug!" I think that can be open to interpretation, so I hope she is happy with whatever I can manage in the next 24 hours! Pictures, yes. I will take lots of pictures.
Last week, when we came home from our very exclusive evacuation center, we were greeted by 2 parcels. One from Hawaii and one from Oregon. Seems the grandmas were in sync and they both had Halloween on their minds. I cannot describe the pleasure we derived from those care packages... it was as good as a party and a wonderful distraction from our fears and anxieties about the fires.
My mom sent Maria little tulle tutus, and Tutu sent her a bracelet and a necklace. We also received gag gifts, like a fake cigar and a chewed wad of gum prop, Halloween pencils, paper plates and a tea towel with a pumpkin cookie cutter. Tutu added her traditional chocolate covered marshmallow treats, which the boys jokingly say can only be found in Hawaii. Thank you grandmas and grandpas! We love our treats.
Interesting crossroads... I am struggling with a decision about what is appropriate and what is inappropriate to discuss in a blog. I know that very personal or emotionally charged subjects are considered taboo for some, especially in a family blog or when read by people not as comfortable with the whole blog genre in the first place. Yet some people would actually find it remiss of me not to mention an important, or significant event or passage... maybe it would seem indifferent of me or insensitive of me to not acknowledge sad news. And lately I have left quite a bit unsaid, preferring to respect privacy, and perhaps I should continue in this mode. However, I make this blog a chronicle of our lives and a means to connect with family and friends.
And so I must mark this day, quietly, though publicly, and extend my deepest sympathy to my cousins. My tio passed away last night... it is my cousins I am thinking of, their loss, and I am sad too... once again caught off guard by the passage time, and full of memories of our times together as children, playing under the watchful, loving eyes of our parents. I pray for their comfort, that they may feel the warm embrace and loving kindness of family and friends, near and far.
From this angle it looks like we have a handle on life and impending festivities, but the truth is this has been a difficult week and it's not getting much easier. Never underestimate the effects of Santa Winds, raging fires, evacuations, clean-up and traveling the road back to Normal. In the midst of our own little dramas we are trying to cope with other people's agendas... like school parties on steroids. And then there are family matters that arise and make all else pale by comparison... so, I dropped everything to try to comfort my cousins in L.A. Sigh. Truly, this is not me complaining. I am just taking stock of all the factors that may account for my lack of sleep, for feeling stressed, sad, melancholy and well, frankly, irrationally cranky and sometimes even rationally cranky.
The boys are just... ahem... a wee bit late for school. What can I say?
So, I took stock of what is making life challenging at the moment. Now I am going to play a therapeutic balancing game and reflect on what makes me hopeful, grateful and willing to keep on trying... 1. Geoff put gas in the car before I made the sola trip to L.A. This is romantic, kind, thoughtful, helpful and comforting. 2. I got to see my cousins and Grandma, aunt, uncle, tio, and my brother Bill. TIme with family is precious. 3. When I came home everyone was happy and safe and I was overcome with the knowledge that I love this family with my heart, soul and mind. 4. Dominic learned to walk. Sure, I am missing the fun of actually seeing him walk, but at least I got to see Bill impersonate his son walking. Cute. Cute and funny. 5. I have been hearing from family and friends and new Chickenblog visitors, and I love the conversations and exchanges. Love it. 6. Tracy says I make her smile and she handed me an award for it. I wish I could sing, but making people smile is also a sweet skill. Tracy makes me smile too. 7. Frozen, nitrate-free turkey sausages are on sale. 8. I finally found my cell phone... to 21 people: Sorry I missed your call! 9. 21 people called me. OKay, some of them were recorded messages from the school district. 10. Did I mention how much I love my family? It bears repeating. I love their laughter, creativity, thoughts, actions, dreams, plans, goals, motivations, smiles, drawings, carvings, dances, songs, music, style and hugs.
This is a ruse. This cat wants to eat play with the bird. He wants it so bad he can taste it. Bad kitty. Bad. And sitting on the table too. Double offense.
We wondered if he was ever going to sing, and now he has started singing and it's at the fun stage, when it's novel and charming. He whirrs and clicks and chirps. When I visit him he turns his head attentively. Steve? I dunno... I think he needs a pirate-y name or something celestial, like "Pluto." Geoff offered "Trogdor." Benjamin might suggest "Lunch."
Guess what? My computer is my own again, almost. William still needs to do his English homework on the Mac, but Geoff is reveling in an early Christmas. A bright, shiny red laptop arrived yesterday and today he is loading it up with his stuff...insert geek jargon here, if you know any. Can I just say that I am thrilled for him? Not just because I don't have to share any more, but because Geoff is the most worthy person I know. He deserves a shiny, brand new, super powerful computing machine. His laptop before was a second-hand, patched-up work horse with a tricky hinge. And, he drives a very old beater of a vehicle with many alarming features and a questionable safety record + a smell. So, you see, I really do like it that he has a new laptop, and I would be even happier if Santa would see fit to getting him into a better ride too.
Now I have more computer time, assuming I continue to neglect housework, so I can share all the news. News like Maria knowing all of her colors. For a few months she enjoyed rattling-off the names of colors, a rather hit or miss process. Having three children before, I knew she would get it right sooner or later, so I never drill her on facts and figures. In the last 24 hours she hit the Rainbow Connection and names all the colors with unfailing accuracy. Brown pajamas. Purple flower. Orange pumpkin. Pink polka dots. Red singing dress. White hat. Green frog. She even tells us our favorite colors. Cute-cute!
Did I mention our full and fun weekend? Uh-huh, we went to Legoland! Or, The Mothership, as it is sometimes referred to around here. We know people in high places and fortunately they are kind and generous, so when family came to town we were able to make these extra special plans for all of us to play! Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins... all of us together, enjoying quality time in the sun, spinning around, getting wet, having fun.
It is so much fun to be in a place like Legoland with people in the mood to play... and everyone was quite enthused about boat rides, however slow, and roller coasters, and obstacle courses, robotic arm rides, apple fries, and water fun.
I can still hear my mom laughing, laughing! when her two boys took her out for a spin in a BIONICLE Blaster.
Even wilder? Choose your wild level, ride intensity on this robotic arm ride. On a scale of 1 through 5, you can decide how much spinning, inverting and revolving you need.
I've been up to a 3, which was plenty disorientating for me, but these two went all the way!
And while you are onboard, trying to retain your composure, people on the sidelines can activate water bombs that detonate in your face. William took a few hits, but Geoff was the most soaked rider.
It was a beautiful day... a regular occurrence in So Cal, where it can be autumn one day and summer the next. Max took Hans and Gretchen through the Hideaways obstacle course. They are an athletic pair and I think Max was very happy to have such willing and capable companions.
Bright sun? No, that's Maria's smile. Bill and Geoff took the two youngest explorers through the mazes, across rickety bridges and down slides.
After warming-up, and devouring some apple fries, we were ready to splash. This spot is fun to play in and fun to watch others playing in too. Water is wonderful.
I was hoping it would be warm enough for Maria and her cousin Dominic to enjoy the water, and it was. The added bonus was watching my brothers and Gretchen get in to the game. They stood beneath the ginormous bucket...
and they got soaked!
A bell rings before the bucket spills, but when you are standing beneath it, like Gretchen, Alex, Max and William were, it's very hard to hear the warning bell and before you know it...
you are part of the waterfall.
Of course once you are drenched, there's no point in trying to stay away from the water slide!
More days like this would be most welcome. Not amusement parks (not every day,) but time with my brothers and their wives, my nephew, my folks. Time to share new experiences and recall times past.
6 cooks and no recipe... we are a little off our game, but we are willing to try, try, try again. Max kept saying, "More lemon. Definitely more lemon." While Maria stood on the step chanting, "Suga' pease! Suga' pease!" Alex believes we could have gone with more cinnamon and less lemon. I wish we had let it bake a bit longer.
We happily recalled that come January it will be our 10th anniversary... that is our 10th apple peeler-corer-slicer anniversary. It was a birthday gift for Geoff, procured by Jola, when I was too overcome with morning sickness to leave the house. She added a huge bag of apples, so we could bake our first pie, but slicing apples, and munching them on the spot, proved so much fun we never had enough left for even a turnover.
Alex was in charge of the crust, which we agree came out perfect. He used his birthday crust cutter to cover this crust with birds. Then we brought the two pies to share with everyone at Deanne and James' house. Holly, Izzy, Nick and Rich were already there when we arrived, and the whole evening was spent enjoying good company and good food. And wine. My goodness...
Oh, and thinking up names for the baby coming in February. James and Deanne are expecting! I get so tickled every time I think of this!
What the...?! Another WIP? I can't help it. Yes, I have 3 quilts in progress, 4 children, laundry, a blog...
I stole this was inspired by "Lady Harvartine" and her Zipped Up quilt. It seemed like the ideal start for some Moda charms I've been staring at. As Geoff was leaving for work this morning, I was on the floor laying pieces out, and I think he could see that I was supremely happy.
To get to Grandma Nancy's house there is a fair amount of river crossing and going through forests. We also drove passed cows, barns, fireworks stores, cheese shops, a giant orange elk, and water towers; all exotic and novel sights for us.
On some road trips it feels like the closer you get to your destination, the slower it goes... it may be the anticipation making the minutes longer, the miles stretch out. Who wrote about the concept that traveling by halves makes it impossible to ever arrive at your destination? And yet we did arrive, and we were greeted and embraced and welcomed into Grandma's home and it felt like we had never left.
Sure there are new quilts on the wall and children have grown, certainly the Creek had grown, but the quiet serenity, the warm-home feeling that Nancy keeps alive is the same as ever... it's so wonderful! The first day we got to visit with Tom and two of his girls. Grandpa Phil was there and Lily came with us. Sophie came by after work. Everyone was anxious to know our plans and we were happy to just go down and look at the creek, swollen and wide from the long rains. We wanted to sit on the porch and talk and let the kids play ping pong in the basement, look for butterflies, walk to the basketball courts. Shoot hoops.
Our week had been far too full and we were far too rattled to care about rushing around searching for fun. I really believe it was a blessing that we happened to have tickets to the midwest when we did and that we could arrive at this spot and be with our family and enjoy simple pleasures, like conversations and visiting on the glider, cookouts, watching the children run around and swing in the backyard. So it was great to spend time with Laura and Gary, Carol, Betsy and Gabe, Kayla and Rosa. Maria and Jordan were fast friends and Griffy and Max were too.
Noting how many places we've been, someone asked "do you and your family ever stay home??" I guess we do get to travel a lot, but in my mind, in my heart, going to Wisconsin, or Oregon, Hawaii, El Valle, it's not like leaving home; it's like going home. We are fortunate that we can stay in touch with our parents and grandparents and that they happen to live in such wonderful places, so that when I go visiting it is a wonderful adventure, a beautiful destination, a blessed opportunity.
I really delight in seeing our children connect with their great-grandmother and cousins, and with the past. Even a simple game of drive-thru restaurant becomes a vision of the past, when other generations laughed and played, and we can share and recall happy memories together and then we make new connections with each other.
Coffee and french fries anyone? Tea?
Hey we got out and explored too, saw sights, and played, but for a few days the vacation was the perfect blend of mellow family togetherness and laughter.
Another post about cornfields and barns, cows out standing in their fields, idyllic small town loveliness...? Yes, and more. It's all here: The farms and rivers, the lakes, screened porches, the tree shaded streets, neighborhood stores and bakeries, and country roads that roll out over hills and through scenes so charming they evoke a nostalgia that makes my heart flutter; I sweep my arm across the whole scene and proclaim, "Beauty."
All of this Wisconsin beauty is compelling enough, but it is only a backdrop for the real attraction, the reason I am in love with being here, with the idea of living here and the hope to return again and again: Our Family welcomes us. Does that sound obvious? I think it is something exceptional, a treasure. From my very first visit, as Geoff's soon to be fiance, and with every visit since, I have felt like one of the family. There is no pretense or hesitation in the hospitality. Everything is relaxed, inviting and familiar, like being in my own Mommy's house. In fact, the warmth and kindness I feel here, in this house, feels more like a home to me than almost any place I can visit... it's has been a constant in my life for 20 years.
I am sentimental about this little brown house, two blocks from town, with trees out front and a creek in the back. I am delighted with returning to Main Street, the shops, and the pretty houses on North Street and Elm Street and out by the Lake. I love corn on the cob and pasty, and eating home baked apple crisp out on the porch, while a summer storm thunders and pours. I feel comforted and connected seeing family pictures, hearing family stories, knowing these people, their voices, their laughs. And while I can go on and on describing tangible delights, pretty scenes and romantic ideals, I know that at the center of my affection for Wisconsin is family. Grandma Nancy and her dear Bill, and all of their children, and the grandchildren and now great-grandchildren too, they are at the heart of this being a truly wonderful place to be.
Yesterday we met Gabe and Betsy at the zoo in Madison. Their daughter Jordan and Maria are both 2, nearly 3, and they are peas in a pod. Both cute and curious and ambitously trying to keep up with the big kids. Jordan's brother, Griffin, is blue eyed and handsome, charming, bright, gentle, busy... he's on his way to kindergarten, and I think he is going to be a happy assest to his class.
I know, I know. Where are the pictures? The zoo was awesome and the children are ready friends and we had are having a lot of fun, but the pictures are still stuck in my camera. So, for now, I am going to get back to enjoying this stay, and I will share more later.
Compulsive Blogging Syndrome Laugh out loud... you might not know that about me... I laugh outloud a lot. There are a lot of things that make me laugh too; like me, being dumb or random or happy. Kind of makes me laugh just thinking about it.
3 hours of sleep is all I managed. So, people might say, "Oh, you'll sleep on the plane then," as though a plane ride is an ideal time to make up for lost hours and the mad rush to the airport. I hope they are right, because I can never seem to sleep on planes, or catch-up from the rush, but I would like to though.
Maria is awake too, and she wants to snuggle, and I ask her if she would like to get dressed now, and she says, "No 'hank you. I don't like that" Lately, when she wants it to be clear that she cannot apologize, help clean, speak quietly, go to bed or cooperate in some way, she adds, solemnly, "Hipcups." Yes, hiccups are like a doctor's note, the President's pardon. I would like to employ her tactic:
Them: Pay your taxes! Me: No thank you. Hipcups.
Them: We'll need to run some tests... please go to the lab. Me: Sorry. No. Hipcups.
Is that it? Well, yes. I gotta get in the shower and finish shuffling stuff around. Tomorrow we will be among tall trees and golden fields, we will see rivers, barns, cows and cornfields. Joy! And we'll be in the company of family, getting hugs and sitting together on the porch. I hope we can see fireflies and maybe catch a thunderstorm. I look forward to walking into town, and seeing the children play in the yard, like their Daddy did, when he was a boy. It feels good to be where the history is familiar, and the company is too.
Tracy got me all excited about playing a sharing game... and now it's time for me to work on my end of the bargain. She's sending me something she's made. Have you seen the pretty things she makes? Oh, my! Purses, zip bags, totes, necklaces, ribboned brooches with antique buttons... all so beautiful and feminine. I could close my eyes and make-believe I am just a bit Jane Austen! While I am anxiously awaiting my surprise, I will begin making three arty, crafty, clever, handmade somethings of my own to give to 3 interested PIF players. You have to leave a comment or email me and say "I want to Pay It Forward." Be one of the first three and I will send you a surprise handmade treat. Be one of the first three and you are agreeing to make three somethings to pass on to another lucky three.
What is a something? It's beads, knitting, crocheting, something stitched or assembled or glued or configured. It's a work of art, drawn painted, molded, shaped, trimmed, produced, designed, strung together, twisted, hammered... baked? Make it. Share it. Be daring, I am. I only glanced before I leaped and now I am thumping my head to think of 3 unique, thoughtful, giftable things that someone might be happy to find in their mailbox. I may cheat and promote some of my mom's amazing jewelry. I'd like to make another pin cushion, maybe an apron or maybe another doll quilt or some pennants. I made some fabulous salsa the other day, but I don't suppose that would ship very well.
Grandmother told us about her time in Colorado, about my cousins and their children, about mountain storms and the beautiful trees. Honestly, my grandmother looks younger... I think Henry and Eva took good care of her. We all enjoy having her in our care, because she is so dear to us.
Max didn't want to leave his aunt Becky's house. He thought we should only come home to pick up a few necessities, like the cats and his piano, then we should return to Pasadena and live with Grandmother and his great aunt and uncle. We could live in a tent, or two.
When Grandmother and Grandpa lived with us we did have good fun... there was lots of laughter and shared joy. We didn't have to be doing anything particularly exciting. It's just a comfort and pleasure to have loving people around to share the evening with, to sit with or cook with... I miss walks in the garden, watering geraniums, watching chickens run around, hearing Grandmother's stories, and Grandpa's laughter.
So, it's good to make time to make new memories. Our trip was a quick one, but we had a very nice visit.
Feed Me Who wants to deny it? Me? No way. Food is an awesome part of camping and road trips. I love the food we prepare. I love the food we discover. I love the food we long to go back to. So no account of a road trip is complete without a foodie post.
Save your allowance. Budget your discretionary cash. Arrive hungry. This is my tried and true advice for your arrival at Big Sur's Nepenthe. I've been 3 times, and haven't been disappointed once. It's the vibe of the place, the view, the mellow California scene. Last year I ordered the sweet potato fritters with a mild curry dip, and I have been dreaming of it ever since. The fritters have pecans too. The kids don't like them, isn't that wonderful? The whole basket was mine. If only I weren't the designated driver; I suspect they would pair nicely with a Margarita.
The curry dip has an outrageous color and a unique flavor... it's like no curry I've ever had... maybe because it's slightly sweet, sort of creamy. What do they put in it? If they told me it's pureed banana slug, I'd still go back next year.
I would love to arrive for lunch, sit inside, linger, reflect, absorb the atmosphere and take a long walk around the place, then ask for a seat outside to have dinner and watch the sunset. It's not about eating a lot. It's about eating well and in a beautiful setting.
Max's quesadilla was beautiful, with grilled cheese pouring out of the crisp tortilla. He took it with a hot chocolate. Max orders a lot of hot chocolates, but doesn't often finish them; this one went all the way down. Alex had an ambrosia burger, William a tuna salad sandwich. Maria grazed on their amazing french fries.
Why do I love Capitola Gayles? They make food beautiful. Really, I've eaten very little off their tremendous menu and yet it's another place where I have not been disappointed. Going there is a total sensory experience, especially as a person that appreciates the time and effort it takes to prepare and present food. At Gayle's everything is appealing. The walls, the service, the look of the cakes and veggies... everything!
I snapped a few pictures, like I always do. It was the middle of the week when we popped-in and took a number. The line was huge and there were as many employees working behind the counter as there were eager customers waiting to order. They were calling number 32. Our number was 57. After we got our grilled vegetables and roasted chicken they were calling number 83. Amazing, yet not surprising.
Now, before Gayle's came into my life, I knew about The Buttery, just up the road in Santa Cruz. My brother Bill introduced me to both bakeries, and really, I am not a big bakery fan, but these two are just such irresistable standouts I can't help but sing their praises. The Buttery is charming and quaint. Inside, looking at the fresh baked items, you instinctively know they are not skimping on the ingredients. Fresh local fruits are glistening in buttery fresh pastry.
Check out these locally grown confections. Maybe we don't frequent bakeries very often, but if you are going to indulge in a treat, shouldn't it be special?
A woman was talking with a baker about a cake order and she was showing her a drawing of her daughter's. The baker was going to make a custom cake from the daughter's drawing, using her art and colors for inspiration. It was so refreshing to see the interest and time the baker was taking to satisfy this rather elaborate request... it's a personal touch that it nice to know can still be found.
I am sure the cake will be lovely. Look at this tiny masterpiece. It's hard to see without something to compare it with... this cake is really little, yet possessing all the detail and charm of a main event kind of cake. There are lots of temptations and sweet details to admire at The Buttery. We fell for the Ollalieberry pie and brought it back to Bill and Alison's... good food tastes even better shared.
Another place Bill introduced me to: His very own Taqueria. He and Alison bought it a few years ago, and now Bill is running the whole operation like a pro. He wears a lot of hats... buyer, manager, cook, janitor, accountant, personnel, counselor, dishwasher. I spent a little time refreshing my memory about what it takes to do restaurant work and to learn more about the management of a business like his... sort of trying on a new hat, to see how it fits.
I learned that there is a lot to oversee. Customers want variety, and the seasons really affect their appetites: Summer is hot, very busy. Winter is cold, business drops off dramatically.
I learned that everything is done on a scale that vastly eclipses home cooking, and chopping 12 quarts of onions, can make even an experienced cook cry, cry, cry.
Salsa, by the bucket, can disappear in a day, so can chips, rice, guacamole, shrimp, cold drinks, chopped cilantro and cheese. Everything is fresh, tasty and served in generous portions. He has customers that come in regularly, like the Junior Lifeguards that break for lunch and wipe out the bean and cheese burrito supply.
Could I do this job everyday? This question is still bouncing around in my head. As I headed home, camping, and cooking over an open fire, I had a better appreciation for the work of preparing food, for serving a tasty, pleasing meal. It is hard work and gratifying too, even on a smaller family scale.
OKay, the wine is cheap, and I didn't have butter for the corn. In my opinion, good corn doesn't need butter. Good wine? Well, it's nice, but I was a happy woman with stars overhead, candle light and the company of my four happy campers.
Camping and road trips are food occasions. What about wedding anniversaries? I think a better bottle of wine would be nice, maybe a big salad and a nice loaf of fresh baked bread... whatever, I'm more interested in the company.
Party Knights and Father's Day The fun lasted 6 hours. We made memories for a lifetime. Alex's 13th birthday celebration was a day full of great friends, play and laughter, lots of food and a castle cake. What an event. See this crowd? This is a fun bunch of people. Let's add enthusiastic, generous, loving, energetic, and really cool. They came ready to participate in the whole medieval scene. Holly brought her ample store of crowns and weapons. Gene and Carol were in full Renaissance garb, and they looked spectacular. Everyone found a way to play, like playing softball, launching foam tipped arrows, constructing knights and dragons to populate the castle and even tossing around some water balloons.
Alex's king of the castle was soon joined by his loyal subjects each drawn and assembled by friends and family. We made good use of tin cans, glue and glitter.
Max helped set up the kingdom, complete with its secret stash of castle treasure; the dungeon was full of chocolates and poppers!
Here is the catapult Geoff and Alex designed and constructed last week. It worked awesomely... really, it was launching hundreds of orbs and never once failed or caused injury. I think we could rent it out for corporate events and unconventional weddings.
All able bodied knights and ladies were welcome to operate the catapult. Objective: Take down the castle! Michelle made the first significant hit! Rich penetrated the castle gate.
Here's Nick checkin out the damage. Once we were satisfied that the king was willing to surrender we sent the children charging forth to plunder the contents. The castle went down. Its mighty curtain wall and formidable tower were shredded and the treasure was hauled away by the triumphant warriors.
Some of the castle loot included wrapped surprises for a game of gift stealing. Is there an official name for the stealing game? We each had a chance to pick a gift from the pile, and gifts could be lost to the next player. In the end everyone takes home something, like a kite, lotion, a bike horn, Altoids, a tape measure... good, good stuff. Tough choices.
Rich and Jeff, negotiating a swap?
Geoff worked hard setting up and then cleaning up, but in between he got to sit back and relax, take in a facial from these two lovely ladies.
Last night Alex laid his gifts out end to end and basked in their gloriousness. He was thrilled with all the fresh art supplies (which regularly run-out in this house) from Meera, Dhyana, Michelle. He invited Max to join him when he excavates medieval treasures from the gift that Rob gave him. He has new books to read, and some cool shirts to wear, thanks to Rachel, Tamsyn, Jeff, and Nick. Mitchell, Enrico, Naomi, Sydney and Chris gave him gift cards, so did Adam and Jacob... more fun to come! He has new Lego sets to construct thanks to James and Deanne, and Hans and Gretchen. There are lots of cool things we look forward to playing with, like the moon phases light and the new cake form. Wow! Wow... very generous.
Isn't it fun to watch someone open gifts? It's a little bit of magic. Pulling back the paper and revealing a secret, the reflection of someone's thoughtfulness. Alex wants to use his new paints and charcoals to make thank you cards for everyone.
Happy Father's Day After a very busy week and a long day of reveling, I think we are all going to enjoy this quieter day. I made thick, cinnamon French toast and turkey bacon. Geoff watched a new SpongeBob DVD with the kids. I suppose we'll be cleaning some, and we plan on taking a long walk. We have some calls to make too. But mostly we are going to enjoy a calm, less hectic time together. It feels good to have time to reflect on how great life can be.
We didn't want to leave Calaveras County; it was too idyllic, green, whimsical and fun. There was too much yet to explore, like Mercer Caverns and the ultra charming town of Murphys. We were going to miss the County Fair in Frogtown, which I tried to de-emphasize for Max's sake. Max loves, loves loves frogs, and so does Alex. Angels Camp was full of froggy touches, which Max was suitably pleased with. I will emphasize all the charm and beauty of what we enjoyed, like the Lake and the trees, the rose gardens that spilled over rock walls and picket fences, the night sky whose clear mountain air sparkled with diamond stars. Naturally I played with the idea of living there... maybe in town, in a 1848 town house, with a lopsided porch and window boxes full of candy apple red geraniums, or nestled in a dip between the rolling hills, where the oak trees offered expansive shade beneath their broad canopies; there we would live in a farmhouse with a root cellar, wrap around porch, hens, a goat, a pond, a garden and orchard, and a workshop, where fantastic ideas would come to life. Yes, a vacation is as much for the soul as it is for the body.
Then we left. We drove to broader and broader roads, then highways, and heat, traffic, billboards and Wal-Marts and endless freeway-close housing developments. Skip to the coast:
Isn't it wonderful to know people in faraway places? Well, I'd rather they weren't quite so far away, but it's awfully nice to find them at home, when we are far from ours. I love Bill and Alison's Santa Cruz area neighborhood, where there is a lovely mix of art and funky, old and new, organic this and that, little farms and farm stands, big trees growing close together and of course the coast. The Monterey Bay is a beautiful sight.
We stopped by for a little visit with Dominic and Bill and Alison and their cats, Gracie and George. I wish we could have stayed longer. We were already trying to budget our time for the inevitable drive home. Sigh.
The temptation is to stay for a few days and absorb all the family bonding I miss throughout the year. We could peruse the family photo albums, get lost in "Remember When" stories and witness the new stories that are taking form. I would like to see more of the places they frequent and know them better, feel connected when we are not. If we were neighbors we could enjoy smaller doses of time together, unhurried, less urgent.
As it is, I miss my extended family and feel far, far away from their once familiar lives. I'm so glad we had this visit. Dominic is growing, as babies do, and so are my four, and it's good to get them together. I've already learned that I cannot recreate what I enjoyed in my childhood, like the company of many cousins and lots of family close by, but I do want my children to know all of their cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents and so on. Family time is uniquely good and assuring, it holds a connectedness like no other.
And I cannot imagine not returning for more family time, and warm hugs.
My brain is throwing topics at my typing fingers: 1. Anne and Natalie's fantasy of a farm/farmer's market, local cuisine sampling road trip (including Gayle's) 2. Making a home that reflects favorite places and spaces (like Gayle's) 3. Bill and Alison's wedding anniversary... (from their wedding we were introduced to Gayle's) 4. Savoring the good things in life in art, food, and family time (Why not at Gayle's?)
5. Anne, when we are done quilting, gardening, cooking and blogging, let's make these clever mosaic tables (I saw this one at Gayle's)
So many thoughts and ideas to savor and relish and perhaps some day act on. Isn't it wonderful to find inspiration, even if it only bounces around in your head. I like having bright thoughts. And I like finding unusual sights when I am on a road trip. We had to go a long way to find the pig eggs I dubbed "bacon and eggs." But the dinosaur at In-n-Out was a stroke of pure luck.
He came driving south on the 101, on his way to Santa Fe, and like us, he got hungry for a California road trip staple.
Over the years Geoff and I have taken the opportunity to rent small boats. I think we rented twice in Newport and toured around the small bay in OC. Twice we've rented faster boats and sped around the harbor in San Diego, where you can get a close-up look at carriers and cruise ships. I remember many years ago when my mom, bravely, took us on a sailing lesson at our local bay. She gets seasick fairly easily, so I don't think we took more than one lesson. When I was ten our family took an overnight ferry from Cabo to Puerto Vallarta, which was quite memorable. I was on a cruise to Hawaii; 100% delightful. I've been whale watching a number of times, and on harbor cruises. Geoff's prom was on a harbor cruise. I think by the time Dominic is two years old, maybe sooner, he will have logged more boating hours than my entire boating history.
Doesn't he look right at home?
The boat belongs to several families, so the responsibility and expenses are shared... good idea. I've never given any thought to what boat responsibilities might include. I do know the saying: "Buying a boat is the second happiest day of your life, and selling it is the first." I took it to mean that boat ownership is ponderous and burdensome. I suppose a larger boat would mean more work and headache, but Bill and Alison make it look manageable. They have taken such good care of the boat I assumed it had not touched water, but in truth this is the beginning of its third summer.
How many times have I seen a boat towed around and never tried to comprehend how it went from the trailer to the water? Driving backwards is the answer and slowly slipping it down the boat ramp... er... launch? We were riding in the boat from the parking lot, down the steep ramp, as Bill deftly maneuvered the lot of us in to the deep lake. (Um, if this is "Like, so obvious," please scroll down. I am sharing my learning process and it may become dull for the more experienced boaters.) Bill released the thingie that holds the boat to the trailer and then Alison began operating the boat. Gee, I never thought to ask if the boat has a name. Don't all boats have a name? Bill returned the truck to the parking lot and we picked him up from the dock.
Maria was napping and Geoff stayed with her. Wasn't he a honey to let me take first shift at playing? Actually, it was probably pretty nice to enjoy quiet, private, peaceful alone time with his book and the beautiful views. Maria cooperated by taking a very long and much needed nap.
Okay. So, after the careful backwards driving and gentle entry in to the water, comes speed. Alison eased us in to a thrilling dash across the lake. Soon we were miles from the docks and launch. Max and I sat together in front of the boat, so that our view was of our extended legs and out to the lake and the oak dotted hills, the big blue sky. We rode under two bridges that cross the lake. It was not a busy day and so we didn't pass too many other boats. By the end of the month it will be quite full of boats and revelers with coolers of beer. I'm glad we had this quiet introduction, with the pleasure of making our own waves.
Are you impressionable? I am. When I read a novel that talks about camping, I want to go camping. If I hear a discussion about ripe summer peaches, fragrant and sweet, then I will want to find those peaches and bite into them. Look at all that water. Moving water. Gallons and gallons of water. Imagine the pressure of it, the physical command of it to flow. After hours and hours of riding across the deep lake, feeling the spray of the boat's wake, possibly swimming and splashing in the endless body of free flowing water, one begins to feel a natural calling.
Did you know that lakes have porta-potties? Uh-huh, they do. So, when nature calls, there is a place, almost private, not quite secluded, where a person can answer the call. Good to know.
Bill and Alison were regaling us with tales of house-boating, and by this time we were totally sold on the whole package. We would love to spend a full week living, eating, sleeping, playing, reading, lounging, swimming, dipping, slipping, and exploring in, around and all over a house-boat. Doesn't it sound like fun? When Bill and Alison go with lots of their extended family, they explore huge lakes, which is hard to imagine, because I assumed we were on a huge lake. There are huger lakes and they can take weeks to explore and chart. And so the days of house-boating are full of expeditions, hikes, wake-boarding, tubing, laughter, naps and general water fun.
Look who woke from her nap. We picked-up Geoff and Maria and they joined the fun, watching us tube and enjoying the mild sun, the cool breeze from speeding boat. Bill had his camera out too I see. I hope he shares highlights.
How long were we out there? I didn't much think about the passing of time. My mind was content to enjoy the scenery, to absorb the pleasure of laughing and playing and sharing. I would like to go out for a week, and see the transition of the day into night, and have the luxury of slipping into the water anytime, on a whim. Swim on a whim... I like that.
Then, with more time to take it all in, I could enjoy the quiet of the lake, as much as the play and wild abandon. I could lose count of the days, reflect on the immensity of night, and begin to count stars instead of minutes.
I would pack board shorts and a rash guard, some water shoes and a hat. I would bring lots of memory for the camera, a good book and a brain-candy book, sun-block and a favorite pillow and blanket. It might be nice to have colored pencils and a sketch book, or a quilting project to dabble with or ignore.
And food. Tubing, swimming, laughing... after hours of serious play we were Hungry. Bill warned us we'd be hungry and, of course, he knew the solution was waiting for us in town, at Mike's Pizza. I could write a ten page post about long days at the beach, or camping, and the splendid appetite that comes from swimming, hiking, running, walking, leaping, body surfing, snorkeling and breathing ionized oxygen. Food is good. Food when you are truly hungry is a sumptuous blessing.
Back at the campground, Geoff and I took Maria on an early evening stroll. It was beautiful... the air, the surroundings, the company... all beautiful.
This is where I started to get into a bit of trouble. Memory trouble, because I videotaped and photographed 2 entire Giga Bytes of memory... I wanted to capture every moment, so I could bring as much of the fun home with us as possible. Then, suddenly and without warning, my camera coughed and sputtered...
... a little steam rose from the shutter button and the screen read: NO MEMORY.
I'm glad we travel with our laptop, a rather dilapidated specimen, rebuilt by Geoff and hanging on by a wire. It served us well... we were able to download and later retrieve all those many photo files I managed to collect after only 3 days into our 1 week journey. Once we were fairly confident our pictures were okay on the laptop, I deleted enough files from the camera to make room for more pictures, and I did try to be a little less zealous in my picture taking... though you would not think that was the case when you see just a handful of the Big Tree pictures I took.
Bill and Alison took Dominic home... they had to get back to their jobs. We hung back one more day and went to see the sequoias of Calaveras State Park. It never occurred to me to mention the possibility of seeing snow, though we were going up to an elevation of +4000'.
Don't snicker. It's real snow. Hard, old, dirty, plowed-up in a melting heap at the edge of the parking lot snow. Never mind the sweet fragrance of mountain pines and sky-scraping giant sequoias. The children ran to the sooty pile of winter.
They poked the snow and hit it with sticks. They followed the tunnels that seemed formed by giant snow worms and contemplated their existence. Geoff rode by on our bicycle... off to explore. He invited the children. They could not be compelled to leave their snow.
I sat with them and absorbed the scenery, inhaling the freshest air. We wondered when the last of the snow had fallen, how much longer this pile would last. The boys worked at loosening a hunk of hardened snow that hung off the main heap.
Maria studied the snow on her stick. She talked to the sparkling ice chips. She looked back at the huge quantity of "Ice-ice." She was riveted.
Then we went into the woods. We took a trail that would lead us to a sampling of the large sequoias. The day was perfect, warm and welcoming. The forest was inviting and we stepped in full of awe and wonder. Even the fallen trees are amazing. Resting giants, still holding life for the forest, still commanding reverence. Their size spans great heights, and time.
At one point I couldn't resist stretching out on the forest floor and looking up. It was dizzying, breathtaking and humbling. It was enlightening. I lost physical perspective and gained spiritual perspective. Details began to emerge, like the birds that were darting from branches. I saw squirrels walking up and down the trunks, like Sunday strollers along quiet avenues.
Besides sequoias, there were Douglas fir trees, the ones that smell like Christmas. And there were trees that were blooming pale green flowers with beaded centers. Perhaps you know what these are? They seemed to float on the branches and from a distance they looked like little lanterns in the shadowed forest.
The walk in the forest was very nice. The immensity and delicacy of life there was a joy to witness.
No trip, no matter how luxurious or relaxing, no matter how spiritually uplifting, or intellectually stimulating... no trip comes without laundry.
Angels Camp playfully reminded me that we were accumulating a growing stash of dirty clothes. Sigh. There's no way to escape it... life and laundry track you down. At the end of any day, I liked looking at Maria's shirt and recalling the day: Ketchup from lunch, dirt from the gravel in the campsite, jelly from breakfast, little something or others from lying down on the forest floor. She had good days.
At last! Many thanks (all thanks) to Geoff for saving my 2GB of memory on the laptop and getting all of it to transfer to our dear iMac. Now I can relive all the joys of our week of relaxation and fun, new adventures.
On any road trip I love anticipating and discovering bizarre, absurd and novel sights. Sadly, as the country grows more and more uniform, with a Walmart and Dennys every 17 miles down the road, it gets harder to find something truly different. I know it's best to get off the main highways in order to find local color or original specimens. So, when we got off the 99, then travelled the 4 and made our way along the 49 everything got more and more interesting. We found ourselves in the western foothills of the Sierras, gold mining country. Oaks, creeks, rolling hills, ghost towns, wineries, distant snowcapped mountain peaks and expansive blue skies were bountiful. We were truly seeing places we have never seen before, like Angels Camp, Lake New Melones, Mike's Pizza, Murphys, Calabasa's Big Tree State Park and these...
These were in the breakfast place Bill suggested, Rodz Grill. I call it "Bacon and Eggs." I call it weird. I kind of like it. I like it at Rodz, in my memory, where I can reflect on the peculiar things we get to discover when we go to new places.
Bill and Alison, with baby Dominic, met us in Angels Camp, a short drive from a family cabin, so we could follow them to the Lake. I have long heard about "The Lake." Alison's family have been coming to the Lake forever and now it's part of my brother's life too. Now we were going to have our first introduction to water sports. Confession: I was doubtful, concerned, anxious, ignorant and hesitant. Unlike Alison, I am not inclined to be athletic and the thought of combining athleticism with a high speed boat was, frankly, scary. Naturally I extended my fear to my children, but only in my thoughts; I did not want to deprive my boys of an opportunity that they found quite intriguing. All three boys were willing and eager to see what you can do with a fast boat, wake boards, tubes and life vests.
All new ventures should begin with some training, so, some miles from the docks, we found a quiet bay, where Bill and Alison began teaching us the finer points and safety rules of wake boarding. Basically, I was agreeing to let the boys be strapped to a fiberglass board and then towed behind a speeding boat in a very cold and deep lake. I don't know that the depth of the lake matters, excepting it isn't shallow, but a "deep lake" sounds vaguely ominous.
The boots fit snugly and like a wetsuit, it takes some coaxing to get them on. Alison uses Joy.
This is Alison waking up the Lake with her first ride of the season. Water temp? High 50s.... brrrrrrr. She's very good, and the boys were encouraged and excited as ever to give it a try.
Next up was Alex. The board is awkward and difficult to maneuver in the water. It sounds a little harsh to say that Alex and Max were not successful. Technically they did not get a good ride, but they made many attempts, which was challenging in the frigid water, learning to manage the new gear. I was thoroughly impressed, and could not imagine getting in the water, let alone subjecting myself to the added challenge of standing up on a boot bolted board... it looked really tough!
Max was not discouraged, even when Alex climbed aboard sore and shivering. Once they fall, and everyone falls, they are left floating all alone, until the boat comes around to reel them back in. It's not easy looking back and seeing your little boy dropped off in the middle of the deep lake. Okay. So, I was a little anxious, but I was careful not to be a panicky mom. I loved seeing my guys embrace adventure and discovery.
It helps to try new things under the watchful eyes of cautious and caring family, like Bill and Alison. They are experienced and diligent. Once we established that wake boarding was best taken in small doses, Alison proposed "tubing." I've heard Bill talk about tubing, about wild rides, flying through the air, crashing in to a rock hard lake surface. Hmmmm....
Want to ride in a tube Max?
Tubing is awesome! I could have built up some suspense, and told you I was really doubtful, but it would be a waste. I have found my water-sport and it is sitting in an inflated donut and being hauled around a lake at crazy speeds. We all loved tubing. We were screaming, crying, eating, drinking, soaking-up tubing! We crashed and splashed and bumped all over Lake New Melones. William and Alex went first and the looks on their faces were priceless. I could feel their joy.
I could not resist, even though the water was painfully cold and I still had fast=scary fears. It was entirely worth overcoming my fears, because it was so much fun. Excuse me a moment while I abuse the adjective "fun." Going fast is fun. Splashing is fun. Bumping up and down on the wake of the boat is fun. Sliding out, as the boat turns, and feeling like your body is being flung from a rubber band is fun. Swinging back toward center and colliding with the other tube is fun. Fun. Fun. Fun. I had fun.
Normally, I am not a screamer. Tubing forced out a primal scream of exhilaration from the very ends of my toes.
And what's with my legs? Total bounce action. Max advised me, "Don't let your butt sink in to the water, because when we start moving it will feel as hard as a sidewalk." His advice was good. Though tubing is mostly about sitting back and taking a ride, there is some muscle action involved... holding on tight, keeping your booty elevated and your head back. I'm just trying to make it sound like it's an actual athlete's sport. Grin.
My brother likes to make it look totally mellow. He showed us how to take it easy.
Of course, if you take it too easy,
you may not be able to hang on when the ride gets wild!
Even after the tubing, William, Alex and Max were so taken with the lake, they stayed in the water, swimming and reveling in the thrills and spills.
Dominic is casual, relaxed. No worries. No hurries. He's having an awesome life! He spent the day kicking back and taking it all in. He's just waiting for his turn in the tube.
We definitely kept our promise to ourselves: We went someplace new and did things we've never done before. It's great seeing new places, and obviously I liked the day at the Lake. When can we go back? New sights are a treat, but meeting family there made it special. I miss my brothers, their families... family. For the rest of the trip my thoughts and heart wandered and wondered, "How can we be closer? When can we be together again? What's our destiny?" The rolling hills and old oak trees of the western Sierra, the history of fortunes found and lost, the ascending road with twists and vistas, inspire reflection and yearning.
I would like to be just like Benjamin, slip into a cozy den, or chicken coop in his case, and chill. He's relaxed. He has no stress, no worries, no hurries. I'm not even sure how he wedged his furry booty into such a snug box.
Supposedly we are going on a relaxing, but quick, restful, but completely unplanned vacation. We leave tomorrow? Good grief. Someone had better find a cat sitter, clean-up a bit, finish the laundry, hose out the car, then pack. Oh, and we might want to actually decide where we are going and then quick! make reservations. Families with four children cannot afford to just "see what happens;" trust me, I know. Also, before leaving the city, I have to pay the rent (must not forget, must not forget) and drop off photo discs for the yearbook. Was there anything else? Piano lesson, get garbage and recycling to curb...
Sorry... this is so not interesting... making my list of things to do makes for a pitiful post.
I have taken a lot of pictures for the yearbook and I am a bit overwhelmed by the task of organizing all of them, particularly identifying each student; it's not the sort of thing I want to get wrong. I would feel really bad if I called any student by the wrong name and it got printed that way in the yearbook. My other little project is coming along quite well. Can you keep a secret? I am making a memory gift for the boys' teachers. Again, I am anxious about making glaring mistakes, like leaving a student out or messing up on names... must leave plenty of time to edit, and proofread and repeat. The bigger, better files from the new camera are flogging my poor Mac. I hope she holds it all together until I am done.
We spent one last day with Jim and Ruth. They made it to Maria's dance class, and Jim caught some of Max's keyboard class. Overall, their stay was too short. There are 6 grandkids and they all have so much to share with grandma and grampa. Time does fly, and though we did squeeze in a lot, it still seems too soon for them to be leaving.
Oh, I guess I should get back to the list and of course to doing the things on the list. It really is hard work getting ready for a little rest and relaxation. We are long over due for a family vacation... especially Geoff. I hope I can post from wherever we go. I am looking forward to seeing new trees, more sky, funny billboards. I hope we find a little adventure and enjoy the pleasure of being together, playing and exploring.
We really have been busy, which is why, I guess, that I have not been keeping the blog up to date. We were at the beach one day and we've been doing more to move-in. I repaired my sewing machine. I went to Josie's birthday party, which I briefly alluded to, but have not even begun to describe (it was awesome.) And we have been enjoying the company of our ohana, and what else? Well, there's always laundry, cooking, yearbook meetings, changing diapers, feeding the cats, killing ants, answering the phone, and driving.
So, with all that's been going on, you might not think I would dare to make chile rellenos. Chile rellenos which are delicious and by far one of the most time consuming recipes in my repertoire... right up there with bourbon pecan cakes and tamales. I don't know what possesses me sometimes. For added challenge I made them without a sous-chef, but with Maria, while photo-documenting the process. Has anyone ever sliced in to a bell pepper that was full of baby peppers? It looked quite alien and made me wonder about genetically engineered food... cue Twilight Zone music.
There are a lot of steps in making chile rellenos.
I always like to pause between phases and make a quick assessment... I pee, check the phone for messages, change Maria's diaper, wipe my brow, scrub and recommence. (Geoff says, "don't say 'pee' when writing about food. He doesn't know that this is a legitmate function that must be addressed when committing to a 4-5 hour cooking project.)
There are some things, like whipping the egg whites, that are an absolute commitment to the next step in the recipe. After the whites are fluffy I have to proceed immediately to dipping the peppers and then frying them.
It would be bad news if I got stopped or derailed at this point, and I have to say Maria was a dream through the whole relleno process. She sat on her special stool and played with stickers and crumbled her piece of cheese.
In the end the hard work, the anxious moments, and the sink full of dishes, pays off. Geoff loves chile rellenos. Love. Love. I made 34 chiles, stuffed with cheese and sitting in a rich and savory broth yesterday. They have been sitting in our refrigerator until tonight, because they taste even better the next day. Mmmmm. Beans are simmering. Beer's cold. What are you doing for dinner?
Ruth and Corm came with me to pick Alex and Max up from school. My Hawaii in-laws were visiting New Mexico and Arizona, looking for new places to enjoy their retirement years. If they have to leave their beautiful Island home, I hope they find some place closer than N.M. to live. Back from school and Max sits down to play with the typewriter we found last summer. He is transcribing the puppet play he and Geoff wrote.
One of my favorite ways to spend time is around the kitchen table with family. Max and his Tutu played Othello. Grampa Corm sliced grapes for Maria. Geoff was home early (!!) We were joined by Holly, Nick and Izzy.
It's so nice to be in the company of extended family. We laughed, talked, remembered, and shared. Simple, pleasant, easy, good.
Alex treated us to his strawberry muffins. Here he is with his cousin Nick.
Max did such a good job of teaching his grandmother how to play Othello, she won. Othello is a fun game.
After dinner we enjoyed fresh strawberries and the muffins Alex baked.
Here is Ruth with her Izzy girl. Holly saw Izzy walk earlier in the day, and I had the very special honor of seeing her take a 5 step jog... really, she didn't walk, she sort of jogged. She's fast!
Oooh! The beans are smelling good. Geoff is hovering, asking about the rellenos. Maria is playing every loud instrument in the house, Alex is telling me his homework is weird... I think I am done posting... too many distractions... this may be why I have better luck posting at 2:30 in the morning, when the locals are asleep.
We are playing today, and we played yesterday. And for extra goodness, I am happy to announce that Geoff was available to play with us. He is on call, cell phone handy, but yesterday was the first day he didn't have to go in to the office. If this trend can continue, we will slowly unwind and catch our collective breath and begin to feel tendencies of wholesome family joy. And there will be more golden opportunities to play, like these...
Tutu and Grampa have come for a visit and Southwest road trip. Yesterday we all got together at Holly and Rich's. For the older children, the fun began earlier in the day, when uncle Rich took all the boys to Legoland. Lucky!
Max and Maria playing together in cousins Izzy and Nick's backyard.
A ride up for Maria...
... then a slide down.
A backyard playground is so much fun!
And cousins to play with makes for twice the fun.
I love Izzy's Action Tongue of Concentration and Joy.
Izzy enjoyed watching all the activity in the comfort of her daddy's arms.
And with neighbor friends and cousins running around, there was plenty to see.
Inside, Geoff was sharing his knowledge of real estate web searches and market trends with Corm. I think this little cold snap we are having may be rough on Corm, coming from sunny Hawaii, but I think he enjoyed the day just the same.
Get comfortable. Have you had your coffee? Rest your eyes for a moment. We are about to take a journey and you may have to pace yourself to get through this post...
Saturday was mostly spent reveling in the bliss of not having to take anyone to school... for a week! In other words: We didn't get much done, which was nice. Then sometime before dinner and after sunset, William asked, "We are coloring eggs, right?" And I thought 'eggs?' Then I scrambled... er... I mean boiled.
It takes time to boil and cool eggs, clear the dinner table, find clean mugs, locate the remains of the PAAS box that Maria has been carting around the house for 3 weeks and then make the secret dye formula...
...so, by the time we reached the point when we could commence egg coloring it was already 9 p.m. Bedtime lands between 7:30 and 9:00 in Cramalot, so the idea to start any project at 9 p.m. is sheer madness. Madness, I tell you!
Nonetheless, we proceeded. And everyone was happy and eager.
William brought the globe to the dining table and began his earth egg, complete with continents and oceans.
I love the intent look of focus on these boys' faces. They know how to immerse themselves in their work and play.
Did I mention that some children are asleep by 9 p.m.? If some children are not in bed, happily asnooze, then all kinds of suffering, frustration, misery, woe and despair may ensue. Warning: Due to the graphic content of the images proceeding this message, it may be unsuitable for grandmothers and sympathetic, emotional beings. Please scroll down to Alex and his bunny eggs, if you cannot endure a sad, angry, worn out and crying child.
I tried to console her.
I tried to comfort and reason with her.
She was in the depths of egg coloring despair.
Alex colored a bunny egg. The face in front and a tail and big fuzzy bunny feet around the back.
This might have cheered Maria.
And she did eventually recover when her daddy was finally able to leave work and join us. Can't you just hear her post cry sigh?
Max colored 10 9 eggs... I remembered it as 10, but he just explained that he "lost one." Should I be worried?
Last Halloween Geoff brought out his dremmel tool and 'carved' an elaborate tiki head pumpkin. We were sound asleep, as he sat in the dark, late night yard, chiseling away. And what do you think he started around 11 p.m. Easter eve?
Answer: The Egg Lathe (patent pending.) He melted wax to the end of the egg and attached it to his cordless power tool, then gave it a spin. As the egg turned he applied crayon, pens and markers and the egg finished with beautiful and expertly applied stripes. I love Geoff.
Easter morning. Maria made a complete recovery, and found in her Easter basket a baby all her own to love and console. Holly and Rich are the best ever Easter hosts and we made it to their home just in time for the egg hunt and omelet buffet.
When was the last time we saw this little girl... it's been too long. Izzy looks almost ready to walk. Now that she is one year old she is adopting lots more sweet skills, like saying "hi" and clapping her hands. Love it.
The boys got new shirts to wear for Easter and my stylish son added his navy coat to complete his ensemble. Handsome boy. I think this may be the same coat he wore to James and Deanne's wedding. It was completely oversized at the time and the only one we could procure. Or is the one William wore...? I think so. It fits now.
Did I mention Holly and Rich are the best? They always have everything organized, they are generous and creative and they provide right down to the last detail.
In to the bucket; Maria figured it out.
William is funny. He looks serious most of the time, but he's got an intelligent humor and we bust each other up. Here is his "I'm too old for this, but I will oblige you with a determined egg hunter's grin," look.
There were lots of hidden eggs.
There were lots of children. When Holly told me the head count, including some neighbors and friends, I gasped, "Wow, that's a lot of people." She laughed knowingly, then clued me in, "Your family alone is 6 people!" Oh, ya. We tend to fill a party out.
Ahh... Easter cousins in their pretty dresses, sharing treats.
Max wore this shirt, because it's an Easter rule. He will follow rules... he might protest that button down, blue shirts are ugly, but he will follow rules. And do you see the boy behind him? That is the elusive cousin, Nick. He moves fast. Here are our beautiful hostesses, Holly and Izzy
Holly's friend brought a coconut bunny cake. We ate, and ate, and ate, and played all day.
It's dark as night outside. Maria and I are the only ones up. She's awake. I am just on auto pilot. Some people don't click-on until coffee has saturated their guts and senses. Since I can't handle the caffiene scene, I turn to the news, either on TV or the internet, and I look for email and comments, then I slowly start to become coherent, sort of. No one in our family ever truly sleeps late, unless he or she is sick. Being sick of school sometimes causes Alex or Max to linger in bed a bit later. I wish I could sleep late, the way I could as a teen. William is our resident teen and even he gets up reasonably early. Geoff is the most cat-like in his sleep habits. Sometimes he falls asleep early in the evening, then wakes in the middle of the night. He gets naps, more than a goodnight's sleep. Then he is up and on his way back to work. His long hours are horrible for maintaining regular sleep patterns.
We are expecting company in April. Ruth and Jim are coming for an explore of the Mainland. We've heard a most distressing rumor that they are thinking of relocating. They've been Big Island regulars for close to twenty years. It's difficult to imagine them any where else. They have so completely adapted to Island living; sometimes I forget they were midwesterners and even dabbled in So Cal-ese. I wouldn't say they have island fever, a commonly cited complaint of some island dwellers. I think they have grand-baby fever, that is a burning desire to hang out with the next generation. The ocean between us is an awfully wide, and deep barrier to impromptu visits.
The rumor of their relocating is distressing because we have seen them spend happy, fulfilling time in Hawaii. Our family has been on a long quest to move to Hawaii and join them in the Island Style, warm days, tropical breezes, fresh fruit, exquisite views, and aloha. There is a perceptible change of attitude, mood and thinking that takes hold when one is in Hawaii, and we hate to think that Ruth and Jim could lose the pleasure of that, by selling their beautiful home and farm.
On the other hand... who are we to question the wisdom of charting new courses and making new plans, of following your instincts? We would mourn the loss of our tropical getaway, true, but we stand to gain more time with Ruth and Jim. We stand to gain opportunities for spontaneous visits and more holidays together. Holly and I make the most of our proximity for family togetherness, but other than that, regular time spent with extended family is hard to come by around here.
When they arrive, Ruth and Jim will spend a few days in the area, visiting all of us and getting familiar with some of the more rural neighborhoods of So Cal. Then they will motor east to Arizona and New Mexico, leaving a little time for more grand-baby bonding before they fly home. I am starting to really wake-up now and three ideas are coming to mind, rising like the sun: #1. Mom and Corm, if you want an easy driving range for frequent visits, keep the distance well under 20 hours. My mom can attest to this. A 20 hour drive is long, long, long and intimidates most visitors. #2. Anyone thinking of seeing Ruth and Jim should think about coming to town in April. #3 Family that ever thought "We'll have plenty of time to go to Hawaii and be treated to Island Style splendor," had better get busy. I know we are feeling anxious to ensure we have at least one last stay with Ruth and Jim, in their amazing home.
It's light out now. Time to find socks, eat whole grains, pack lunches, find books, comb hair and get out the door.
Dear Isabella, Happy birthday sweetheart. I know your mommy’s told you, your daddy too, that you are a dream come true. All your family, aunties, uncles, grandmas, and cousins too, all of us were so thrilled to hear the news of your arrival, we could not wait to hold you. And now we have had the pleasure of knowing you for an entire year. It’s been a lot of fun and it just keeps getting better. We hope you enjoy a happy celebration and a good nap too. Let’s get together soon.
Love, Natalie and Geoff, William, Alex, Max and Maria
Happy Birthday to Geoff! What are you going to do for your birthday? *Whatever I feel like I wanna do, gosh!* Well, maybe not "whatever" he feels like doing. He still has to show up at the office; see what they know. But when he gets home we are going to treat him to some grilled turkey burgers, fresh strawberries and a geek film festival. His celebration started early, when we had dinner with Holly, Izzy, Nick, Rich, Marie, Deanne and James at Buca, and I think we'll just keep on celebrating right through next week. Gracious!
Once a year, when I watch football, I enjoy it. I think I will enjoy the Superbowl even more if the Chargers are in the game. For a more informed, dedicated fan's perspective please contact Holly or James.
Can I share Christmas Eve first? We were with Holly, Izzy, Nick and Rich last night, and we had a great time. It's so nice to arrive at their home, where everything looks so festive and beautiful. We did a lot, including watching the Chargers win one more, and watching Izzy try to crawl. We were fed what has become a favorite tradition: Holly's Hot Enchiladas! She can cook. What a treat. And there were gifts to exchange. Great Grandma Nancy always seem to know just what children will love. William loves his Superman gear, Maria loves her penguin, Max loves his football kicking game... Izzy and Maria looked adorable in their matching holly dresses. We can't wait to try Geoff's boogie sled on some mountain snow. I'm trying to sum it all up, which really isn't possible, so just think of laughter and anticipation, happy children, pretty lights, and the contentment we can have when we are with family, safe and thankful.
And here we are Christmas morning. We were up at 6 and now it's nearly noon. Maria still has unopened gifts. She's busy stacking lighthouse boxes that came from her Tutu and Grampa Corm. Geoff has been assembling and reading instructions since dawn. Alex already built a dragon. William is still wearing his Superman shirt. Max took his haul to his room and probably has it all in order by now. And me? I'm trying to share it all with you, with aunts and uncles and cousins and friends and grandmas and grandpas, because the only thing that could make Christmas morning more fun would be to have you here with us. Thank you for the National Geographic subscription, the books and CDs, for the rubber ducky collection and the new table cloth, the sweater for Maria and for pretty wood frames (I've already put pictures in them!) It's not all about the presents, of course. I am delighting in the collective spirit, love and good will that propels this holiday and keeps us together in tradition and joy. May the peace and cheer be with you all through the new year.
Our children by candle light. The eve before Christmas Eve. We still haven't found our stockings, but we are singing carols, making plans and loving the season, especially with Geoff home today. Grandma and all in Pasadena are well and we had a very good time visiting them.
Thank you to everyone that has sent us Christmas greetings. Your cards and pictures are hanging on our wall and it's cheering to see them and to know you were thinking of us. We are thinking of you too.
I've been waiting for this picture: A new baby and his mommy and daddy! Did I mention I am an aunt to a cutie up north? Dominic came early, but he's doing just fine now. I can't wait to hold him. Congratulations Alison and Bill.
Mars is closer than you think. Read up on it: Approaching Mars. Cool. Of course I read it as another good reason to host our pumpkin party on the 30th of October. It's the cosmic union of science and party planning.
Hey, my tools are back!
So... here's Alison, conquering Stonewall Peak. Love the confident stance.
Here's a view of the crew, Alison, Gretchen and Hans, waiting below the rapellers.
William was hooked, and made 3 descents. His uncle Bill is showing him the ropes.
I guess I am hooked too. It's very fun, and I like the counterintuitive challenge of letting go.
24 hours later and we were at the beach. Southern California is awesome.
On Mother's Day we got together at my aunt's house, and we took a lot of family pictures. As many cousin as are pictured, I can think of many more that were missing that day: Ruben, Priscilla, Blanca, Marc, and Guillermo's 3, plus Bill and Hans, and then there are our second cousins, and cousins from my Mom's side of the family, and my in-law cousins!... Cristina, my half sister, is holding her youngest son, and I have Maria in my arms. It's an expanding universe.
Vaca-ciones! Kia's vaca, rounded up from Onapa and staying at Ojo de Agua.
We are back from our southern vacation. We had a great time, and I will be writing all about our adventures soon. I am still recovering from our 16 hour drive home. I can't resist posting a few highlights... like riding everywhere in Gilberto's pick-up...
and the day we went to Kia's ranch, Onapa. We were at Onapa to see my Dad, Gilbertito, Tavo and Benito ride out in search of the cows and their calves.
Vaqueros en Onapa. Left to right: Gilbertito, Ismael, Tavo, and Benito.
Max's number 5 birthday celebration, perhaps the social event of the entire Summer, and *everyone* was there!
Other guests included good friends like Adam and Jacob, Anne and Dave, cousins Nicholas, James and Jared, and Holly, Rich, Cristina and Spencer. We got together yesterday afternoon to run through Max's list of activities like; swimming, pinata busting, pizza eating, opening presents, and eating cake.
This was a high energy event with happy children making happy noises. Pikachu, a revered but ultimately defeated guest, was fortunate to last through eight children swinging a bat. Nicholas chose to observe the pinata event, but the rest of the children all contributed mightily to Pikachu's undoing. James made a good dent, so did Adam, Jacob busted him open and William swung the fatal blow. Mini Oreos and Gold Fish cracker bags flew everywhere.
The pace was set by Max's whims, so opening presents was next on his list. As a parent, one can only hope that gracious phrases will pass from our dear children's lips. (I would like to take a moment here to offer James my sincerest apology for Max's art critique; he is no less critical of his own work, and may I say? Max could hardly be objective; I found it to be a very good likeness.) Max received many "cool" presents (okay, can I just add that Max told me, quite emphatically, that I "do not know how to be cool." He's so wrong.) After reading his books and sorting his Pokemon cards, he can Slip and Slide across Sponge Bob and in to the pool, and with his light up underwater goggles he will be able to operate his remote control shark, while wearing new swim trunks, after which he can assemble his BIONICLE, while enjoying his motorcycles fleeing the "Imaginext Attack Wagon."
I'll add my "thank you" to Max's; thank you to everyone for coming and playing, for generous gifts, and generous thoughts. We had a great time, and Max did too; he fell asleep blissfully recounting the fun, and how happy he felt that all his friends came.
It's raining. No mere piddle-piddle, but an actual early morning shower that is soaking the ground and streaming down the gutters. For several days we have lived in heated, muggy anticipation, watching thunderheads amass and dispel, smelling the rain, but never feeling it. Yesterday I considered driving with the boys to the mountains, pursuing the clouds until we met with a good down pour, thunder too.
The summer after I graduated from high school I joined my mom and Hans on a drive to Cuyamaca. Hans was going to lead us on an afternoon hike. He has always had a great interest in nature, and stamina for physical exertion; he can also be extremely persuasive, which explains why mom and I agreed to hike to the peak of Cuyamaca. In all honesty it is not a tough climb. I think most of it was on a fire road, but I did rely rather heavily on Hans' motivational speeches along the way. And he was right, the climb is worth while. We reached the peak, where there is a tower and a fantastic view, and we watched the sky as the great billowing mountain clouds gathered and darkened.
The start of a rainstorm can be such a delicate, subtle thing. The first drops were like a whisper on my bare shoulders. The dry, hot ground evaporated the first thousand water droplets, and we could smell the dusted steam rising off the earth. We casually acknowledged it was time to head down. Time to stroll down the mountain. We weren't twenty yards into our descent when the clouds cut loose with a torrent of cold, wet, shirt clinging, denim soaking rainwater. We could not get any wetter, but that didn't stop the rain. It was running down the fire road too, in little rivers, carrying sticks and leaves, making mud. It made our shoes slosh and slog. It made my glasses useless.
The rain and the wind were cold, and when it began to hail it was even colder. The hail was a surprise, novel. Then it became painful, a lot. We were totally pelted, and though we could laugh at the way our mild hike had become a cold, wet, race to the car, we were starting to feel somewhat overwhelmed. "Somewhat overwhelming" is how I describe a situation that is exciting, but that you wish were packaged with an agreement from God that you will get home alive.
We had had enough of the hail and chose to take shelter from the elements in the manzanita and beneath the tall pines. About this time the lightening began shattering the darkness. There was so much energy in the air, screams were forced from our throats like direct current. We charged out from under the trees, that stood in the forest like kindling and lightening rods. We charged out and back into hail and rain and wind.
On the way up I remember wishing it weren't so hot, that I had worn shorts instead of jeans, that we had food with us, that I were a more fit hiker, that we could stop for more rests. Basically I was a silent but dedicated whiner. On the way back I was fleet of soggy feet. I was screaming and laughing and running. I was super saturated with water, but not in the mood to stop for relief. We were fast. We were exhilarated, which means "freaked out, yet sorta liking it." We were motivated, which means "you've got no choice, so get moving. Now."
Looking east, when thunderheads are rolling up from the mountain tops, I can hear our voices, and feel the shift, the heat turning cold, the parched air saturating with water, our pace quickening. I know our tracks are still there, in the muddy earth beneath the pine trees, and our laughter is still running down the old fire road. I think of these things when it rains in Summer.
We are home. And the chicas, grandparents, cats and rabbits are well. And the flowers are still blooming and everything is pretty much the same, except that now I have
a new sister and my brother is a husband, and my heart is quite a bit fuller.
We may be in our house, but emotions have me pondering, and I wonder whether this really is our home. I feel homesick for what used to be...for the dinners with my mother and brothers, for the days together and the laughter, and just knowing someone who knows me, and has known me for a very long time, is only a short ride away. I don't want the connection I share with my family to fade or slip away, because of the miles we spend apart. And this wedding is a powerful reminder that new ties are being made and there is new hope of family and babies and growth and I do not want to be a stranger to these events. I cannot be certain that the sad and sentimental way I feel is bearable.
Once again the burden of blessings has me confused and torn; torn between many choices and opportunities, and longing for a way to have it all. We are drawn to Hawaii, the ocean view and scent of guavas, the gentle pace. We have made a beautiful home here, where we have family and many friends, and the familiarity of a region we have enjoyed for many years. And when I think of my brother and his new wife,
and my Mom living way up north, I feel compelled to find a place on the Central Coast, so that I can maintain the connections to those people that I treasure. It's no use to think of flights and rode trips, because it's just not the same. What longing and sorrow for immigrants and pioneers; leaving their past far behind, setting forth in to the unknown.
My sentimental mood owes everything to a beautiful wedding. The ceremony was thoroughly moving and meaningful.
I watched my brother's eyes brim with tears at the sight of his bride as she came toward him holding her father's hand.
Father Patrick talked about children and love and friendship, and his words were true, sincere and affirming.
The joy was palpable.
The reception was every bit the party and celebration that happy and loving families could hope for.
We danced and
ate well, we toasted love that is born of pure trust and grows to embrace the best of life.
We made new friends
and rediscovered the happiness
and blessings of a marriage of families.
Congratulations to Bill and Alison...may all your plans and dreams be as successful and lovely as your wedding day!
Toothbrushes and socks, ties and camera film; we are checking our inventory, and preparing for our weekend adventure...
Since my brother and his intended live far away, I feel a little detached from the total significance of the coming event. I wish they did not live so far away. I wish I could drop by and hang out, meet them for a bike ride, or for coffee at The Buttery. My brother is getting married. He has met a woman that shares his humor, and his passion for cycling and being outdoors. He has met a woman who can share her interests in boating and water sports. Bill and Alison laugh heartily, lightly, easily. They are both adored by their families, and they return the love and respect. I have always felt certain that Alison is a special woman. She is close to her brother and sister, her mom and dad, and as long as I can remember she has welcomed Bill in that special circle. I am deeply happy for them both; they will be lasting, and forever loving partners.
Here is our Lovely Luna. She was strolling across the lawn in search of delicacies. She has been well and laying beautiful brown eggs with pale speckles on the wide end. She is a sweet chica.
My Mom is riding home this morning. We've learned that Greyhound can return her to her home in Oregon in under 30 hours. By tomorrow we'll really know whether it's such a good deal. Speaking from plenty of experience, bus riding can be a tricky business. I will be glad to hear from her when she calls from her cozy home in the woods, and if the ride was decent enough, maybe the boys and I will take a ride this Summer and pick berries, walk on the beach...
At least the crisis here has mellowed. Grandpa has been home for some time...I have lost track of days, which is unusual for me. Seeing him, listening to him, one would not know what he's been through and what his body is up against. He is incredibly lucky.
I feel we have all been hovering, existing in a sort of holding pattern, waiting to see which direction the wind was going to blow from. We all try to help, to do more than before, but the fact is the burden of caring and tending mostly falls on Grandmother's shoulders. There are more medicines, tests, symptoms, restrictions and issues for her to monitor, tend to, serve and mend. She is a driver, cook, nurse, maid and manager. Hopefully we will find a routine and settle in to it, and then find more ways to give her a break; time off to take care of her own needs and spirit.
Geoff found an outlet for Grandmother that I think she is enjoying very much. He revived a computer, and set up an email account for her. Now when she has a few minutes of quiet time she can write to her brother in Guadalajara, and her daughters and son, and she can begin to explore the internet, and read letters and cards from family and friends. Yesterday we sat together trying to get online and we shared the agony, misery and mystery of "the system is down." It is somehow satisfying to be tormented by trivialities.
Mom did a lot while she was here, like driving, running errands, helping with household chores and spending many long days in the hospital to be Grandpa's advocate and a companion to him. She also found the absolute most perfect and beautiful Mother of the Groom dress, which is wonderful. I think Bill and Alison's coming soon wedding has definitely been our light and delight. Seeing everyone, and celebrating together will be life affirming and joyous. Mom's stay here was very helpful, but I look forward to our May visit far more.
And when Grandpa came home, I think Max was his most eager attendant. Max was very worried about his great grandpa. He wanted to bring him cookies and milk, share his toys with him, bandage his "badly hurt places," and he told him "I'm glad you're home Grandpa."
I love this photograph of Rosie. It looks awesome full screen, and I sent it to Geoff for use as a vigilant screensaver and computer de-bugger. She has a keen look in her eye, and though she may peck your toes, she is really very mild and gentle.
Post party mellow. I am content and pleased. I think everything went well. Guests arrived safely, and there was plenty of food, and it was hot, but not unbearable. And now I am reflecting on the faces and hugs, the laughter and joy. I am reveling in the memory of Natalia showing us the signs for 'candy' and 'girl.' A great grandson was overheard to say, "This is so much fun. I didn't know our family was this big." Anticipating the party was fun and creative, being at the party was invigorating and busy, but it is the memories that will be my lasting treasure.
We danced, barefooted, on concrete. My feet hurt, other parts too! "Singing Sarah and the Surf Cowboys" played and sang, and we ate and danced. Bill, my brother, and Gretchen, our sister in law, led us in an improvised 'line dance.' It was a sort of western, free form aerobics thing with a little Buster Keaton action. I am neither athletic, nor a dancer, but I had fun trying. I should take a more cautious approach when trying to keep up with triathletes, and natural talents like my cousin, Julie. Henry and Eva, of course, made a beautiful couple; under the stars and in each others arms. And I know that Grandmother was pleased to take a spin on the dance floor, in the arms of my uncle Larry.
My mom decorated with a series of photographs of Grandmother, strung on brightly colored ribbon. And several people brought flower arrangements. Steve came with his 4 children, and they brought a particularly large flower vase; it's beautiful. Rebecca shared her albums of family genealogy and photographs. Her work on collecting family history was enjoyed by all. It was fun matching faces and names, and looking at all the 'old' pictures; our parents as children, and their parents too.
There were many generous gifts and thoughtful cards. Grandmother will be shopping for books, and clothes with gift cards. She has more plants and flowers to enjoy. Gil put his welding skills to work and produced a tiered candle holder; each level representing a generation descended from Grandmother. Grandma looked so beautiful and serene reading her cards and opening her gifts, with her eager great-grandchildren surrounding her.
It was an honor to have so much family come and celebrate with us. There were people we had not seen in (too) many years like; Javier and Julie, and Mary Alice. And we even met cousins, Lydia and Liz, for the first time. It was a treat to have Bill and his fiancee, Alison, in town. And busy locals, like Hans and Gretchen, were a treat as well. We were surrounded by friendly family, and friends that are like family. I hope everyone shares photographs; cameras were clicking and flashing in to the night.
Grandmother implored us to hold on to each other; we should not lose touch with one another, or with the memories of those loved ones who came before us. She reminded us all that our histories, the happy memories, as well as the sad times and difficult losses, are what make us who we are today. We were together, enjoying each other's company, laughter and warmth, because of the men and women of our families who have loved, guided and supported us throughout. I think Grandmother's gift to us was that she asks us to continue to be a close and loving family. She wants us to carry on what she, and her parents and her aunts and uncles, and their own parents started: they started our past, present and our future, our strengths and faith, gifts and even the dimples in our chins, the light in our smiles.
We are all God's children. We are all a family. I hope to see our love encircle and uplift every person we meet, and fulfill Grandmother's wish.
Never give up. Never surrender.
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like riding everywhere in Gilberto's pick-up... 
and clear, starry nights by the cook fire.
I watched my brother's eyes brim with tears at the sight of his bride as she came toward him holding her father's hand. 
The joy was palpable. 
and rediscovered the happiness
