Thank You. Muchas Gracias.


Writing about Mexico and memories felt like a private memorial, that I had to get out of my head. Part therapy, part record keeping, so that my children could understand me and how I was feeling. I couldn't leave with 1 hour's notice, at 11 p.m. Monday night, to drive 16 hours for my abuelo's funeral. I was sad enough that he died, and I think I was even sadder to realize I was missing an opportunity to say goodbye, to share my story and hear theirs. Having always felt some uncertainty about my ability to write effectively about my memories and feelings, and being reluctant to commit to saying things out loud, writing this post was liberating and personal. It also felt as though I have barely crossed the threshold of a part of my life, of a hundred stories, of things I know and believe, but have yet to give a voice to.

Blogging can be a lonely business. I've been writing for a while. Some posts are nearly pointless, and some posts are full of my deepest thoughts and happiest musings. As much as I have wanted to be a good writer, to reach people and start a conversation, I have mostly resigned myself to the puzzled looks from family and friends, and feeling like a goof. Receiving comments is a relatively new pleasure, and it is wonderful. Bloggers, you know it's true: feedback, encouragement, connection, community, discussions and exchanges are the fuel and frosting that top the blogging cake.

Thank you for your comments. You may have convinced me I can say things, say them well enough to start a conversation that we can all share. But mostly, because of what you shared with me, I felt like I had kind and tender company as I sorted my thoughts and feelings and began to say goodbye to my abuelo, to chapters and days that in some ways are forever beyond my reach. I could not be at the funeral, where they say it rained for days, and the lightning did not wait for the thunder, but lit the night sky with every percussion. I could not be there to hold my abuela and to share the grief, and the healing that comes with company. I have been to too many funerals in the last year, and I have seen enough death and loss to understand that support and compassion are a tremendous resource for comfort and courage. Thank you for reading about my abuelo, about things I am trying to make sense of, and feelings I want to hold on to. Thank you for responding and encouraging me, for being supportive and compassionate... it helps. I feel less alone.


I think I have been afraid to post again, because I was pretty sure I wouldn't be as eloquent or interesting as I seemed to have managed in my last post. What? I'm not too proud to admit positive feedback felt really good. Really good. So, maybe I will slip back into mediocrity and obscurity. Maybe I have the rough draft of the next best seller, but writing is like surfing. Some days you paddle, paddle, paddle and never get a ride.


And some days you catch a wave.


Perhaps every post won't be an exhilarating ride, but I am hooked on blogging, and I love looking through the archives and seeing my children, recalling the things they've done and said. I love reminding myself that there have been good days and bad days, and I am still around to know the difference.


Independence Day was a good day. I planned a long day at the beach with the children, expecting Geoff would work, as he usually has to, but he exchanged this day for working the weekend (which he usually does) and he joined us for an entire day of surf, sand and sun fog.


Truthfully, I love the fog. It was overcast, but warm, and it made it easier to play all day, without feeling scorched. We dug a private pool for Maria. Max, Geoff and William did a lot of bodysurfing. The beach was crowded and happy. We had chips and dip. I love chips and dip. We ate strawberries, we walked, we built drip castles.


It didn't stay crowded. By late afternoon the beach was deserted, and we enjoyed a very foggy walk, collecting all kinds of treasure along the way. Suddenly I decided to tile our shower with the smooth stones that cover our beaches. Not the shower here, at Garage Mahal. The shower in our own, future, imaginary, hopeful, some day house. I walked back to our base-camp carrying about 15 pounds of shower tiles. It's a start.


Someone got hold of my camera. Notice my relaxed, at ease expression?

Nothing's ever as easy as I think it should be. This day, this no-stress day at the beach was days in the planning and took hours to prepare and pack for. I was totally absorbed in making an idyllic, classic sort of celebration. I even envisioned presenting one of those clever fruit decorated flag cakes. So, you know, I was scurrying around, gathering towels, finding swim shorts, hats, sunblock and anticipating every need and patriotic whim. And finally, we were ready to head out. Stop for gas, and pick up ice, then the beach, and our beautiful celebration of freedom and family time. In the market I grabbed an extra bag of corn chips and a magazine to read while lounging luxuriously, and I kept noting how terrific everyone looked. Cute T-shirts, red, white and blue details, and snazzy summer sandals. Everyone was looking dressed for a holiday. It wasn't until then that I realized I had forgotten an important detail... I was still in my pajamas. 'nough said.


I let the children decorate the Fourth of July Fruit Flag Cake.


It was beautiful.


It was a very good day.

The Longest Day


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.

Frosty Campers and No Spell-Check!

The boys insist they've been warm enough, camping in the tent. This morning there was frost on the ground, and all night there were no clouds to blanket the Earth, so I am sure it was very cold. Still, there are no complaints... not about the cold anyway.

Alex has been discovered by the local mosquitos, and even with only 2 bites his forearm is swollen, red and painful. I guess there is at least one reason to be thankful Chickenblog is not posting pictures! There are no mosquitos in the tent. Unfortunately the sneaky suckers have been finding us during the day, when we go on walks, and sit in the yard.

I wrote several posts yesterday, but obviously never got to a wifi spot. So, I have to debate with myself whether or not to post old news, or stick with current events. Most of yesterday's post was my long suffering tale of woe, becasue I lost, then found my original post. The subject gets redundant and boring, facts which I am compounding as I explain all of this, so I am going to drop it now...

Yesterday we made it to Coos Bay, to the farmer's market, and Foodie's. We sampled varities of cranberry breads, and bought sweet strawberries. Foodie's is the smallest, the most tiny restaurant ever and all 3 menu items are incredibly delicious. The parking lot hut serves Caribbean tacos and beef or chicken sandwiches, all with a homemade blackberry sauce, their speciality. Oh, so good.

Just around the corner from the farmer's market and Foodie's we stopped in a new antique mall. Sitting outside, waiting for a new home, what do you think I saw? Hens. Lovely, gentle, Polish hens! Oh my goodness was that a sight, and a temptation. The shopkeepr must have seen me coming; he was determined to convince me that 3 more hens in the back of mini-van, driving south for 20 hours was a perfectly reasonable proposal. Not sure how I walked away from that one. Have you seen Polish hens? All black with a ball of snow white feathers cover their heads, like a lady's hat. Adorable.

My visit to the feedstore outside of town gave me another point of view... I am trying to find a place that will sell chick feed by the pound. Most places want me to take home 25 pounds at once, which is a bit much to travel with. So at this last place the woman kept asking about my circumstances... "How many chicks? How big?" Finally she concluded that 25 pounds is not too much for 3 chicks, but when I explained in more detail that I will be taking said chicks and 4 children in our family car all the way back to So Cal, she finally got the picture and she said, rather matter factly, "Oh. You're crazy."

Yes, just a bit crazy, and also a bit worried. I've mentined my concerns about Amelia behaving like a rooster... well Pip is looking and behaving like a rooster. It's the tail feathers. They are not round at the ends and standing pertly. They rise up then taper to points that fall in little curled tail arcs... very telltale of a rooster's tail. I know Pip has been a favorite of many, and s/he is certainly dear to us, but anything that crows at 0-dark hundred in the morning will not be tolerated by anyone in our tidy little neighborhood. How much sooner would we be found out if there is a cocky-doodle-doer crowing?

Not all roosters are aggresive, and if we were in our own home I would gladly give Pip a trial, an opportunity to prove himself a mild and docile fellow. As it is, living in our rental palace, there is little choice but to begin a search for Pip's new home. I write this tearfully. It was foolhardy of me to jump into this venture. I should have known better. Sigh.

Even now, Geoff is working on the aforementioned lot with trailer... I would give it a more dignified title, if I weren't so determined to remain indifferent. It's a big lot and it has a small house, and if I enjoyed shopping for paint, flooring and bathroom fixtures, then we could call it a real gem! Let's just say it is full of potential. If only all of that potential and space were ours now, but short sales are not so short, and can actually take months before we even know whether we have a chance. Otherwise, there is very little to give me hope that we will be moving to our own place anytime soon. Our friends say how great it would be for us to stay in the area, but my enchantment with So Cal has long since waned.

Gee. This would be such a nice place to stick a pretty picture... something striking to lift the mood.

Back to Coos Bay... we made a stop at the children's resale shop, the one where 90% of Maria's clothes come from. We came packed for summer, but's still early spring here, and too cold for her favorite dresses. Fortunately, I had my usual success at the resale shop and Maria now has warm clothes to wear during our stay here, and for our winter ahead back home. Places, like Oregon and Wisconsin always have the best clothing for children in their thrift shops and resale stores... it must be the 4 seasons and real weather that account for the greater variety. Anyway, I am happy that Maria is snug and comfortable for our afternoon walks, and we'll be able to enjoy a beach day too.

It's already afternoon. It's has been a warm day, with a clear blue sky. It might feel late in the day, if it weren't for the fact that the sun will not disappear until long after 9 p.m., which is a funny thing. Even at 10 p.m., when I went to check the chicas, the sky was still faintly lit. William read several chapters of "Pippi Longstocking" to us last night, and I suppose we were staying up too late, but the internal clock cannot be persuaded to believe in bedtime, when the sky is luminous.

Delia is remarkable. As serious as her injuries are, she is taking the steps she can, and making the slow and steady progress that will lead to recovery. I know she is in pain, and I can imagine she has her fears and disappointments, but she is not letting much get her down. I think it is with a mix of humor and gratitude that she is coping with her circumstances. I wish the circumstances were much different. One day at a time. Thank you for all the prayers and kind words. Every bit helps. She has said, everyone should be praying for Ron. True, he could use our support and praise. He is caretaker #1, and we are thankful for his diligence and steadfast devotion.

Just for the sake of marking time:
June 18, 2008

Just Like The Old Days
No pictures, just like the early days of Chickenblog. Initially we had no photographs at all, and then we posted a select few. After awhile Geoff showed me how to encrypt the photographs and they could only be seen with a password. I still need to go through archives and unlock those. In recent years Chickenblog has been a photo bonanza, but until I get back to Garage Mahal and our lovely iMac, I will have to paint my views with my fancy way of talkin'.

Last night was the boys' 3rd night sleeping in a tent in the yard. Cold nights, down in the 40's, have not discouraged them in the least. There's is plenty of room in here to roll out their sleeping bags, but happily they are content to enjoy a classic summer vacation tradtion of comuning with nature, being one with the wilderness, even without the benefit of a campfire and marshmallows.

What they do have is a flashlight and a well-worn copy of The Lord of The Rings. Last summer they camped with The Hobbit. William and Alex take turns reading aloud. At home Max has been reading to Maria. When the house gets very quiet, I often find them together in Max's bed, and Max is reading from their favorite books. Campers reading in their tent, Max and Maria snuggled with a stack of books... those are 2 pictures I would love to post and remember for always.

In North Bend there is a wonderful children's resale shop, and today is farmer's market day in Coos Bay. See, I am trying to work myself up for a bit of shopping, with 2 things in mind: warm clothes for Maria and some cranberry-hazelnut bread. We came ready for summer weather, but it has been windy and cold, and not the least bit comfortable for sleeveless dresses. Most of Maria's clothes have come from the North Bend resale shop, so hopefully I can pick up some pants and sweaters and she'll be warm now and prepared for our colder season this winter. The only rationale I can think of for the farmer's market is that bread... it's so nutty, chunky, cranberrylicious. My mom says it's early in the season for fresh produce, but there is some chance farmers from warmer areas could come in.

And this is what I wrote when I couldn't find the above installment. Later, when I can sit in my own house with a full computer and other conveniences, I may delete all of this.

June 18, 2008... 12 minutes later

Arrggghh
This is nothing like the poetry I wrote and lost!! Geoff suggested I write my posts in the mail and then save it until I get to the wifi cafe. The idea is perfect, but my execution of the plan has been less so. Trying to find a way to save my descriptive, thoughtful and eloquent submission for Chickenblog, I managed to *blip* the entire entry. All gone. Vanished. Don't think I didn't gnash my teeth and cry a little. Now, instead of making an impression of sublime beauty and painting images of quaint days in meadows, and children reading beneath stars and moon... instead of all my deep thoughts and musings, we are left with me: Cranky and bitter me, typing up a cranky, bitter post about technical woes. Whaaaaa

I think I said something about not being able to post photographs, and how that's how Chickenblog began... with no pictures. Then I sentimentally described my brave sons sleeping for 3 nights in a tent, reading The Lord of the Rings aloud by flashlight. I talked about the cold and Maria's lack of appropriate clothing, and how I thought I might drive to Coos Bay, to the farmer's market and the resale shop. It was all so eloquent, so thoughtfully composed. Trust me... it was good stuff.

I know, the lack of photographs is a bummer, especially when my writing is so limited and hindered. Every 3 minutes Max or Maria feels compelled to ask me something, show me something or tell me something, and so my train of thought is derailed, detoured and deleted. Even now, I cannot write this paragraph without 9 varities of interruption. The lack of photographs is nothing compared with the lack of deep thoughts, continuity and focus.

Sure, maybe it's obvious to you that this might not be the right time to selfishly retreat to words and deep thoughts, to turn my back on precious children who are bound and determined to regale me with detailed descriptions of Earthworm Jim, but I am obviously not as clued-in as you are. I keep hoping that my firstpost will pop-up on the screen, or that I will suddenly feel comfortable and familiar with the strange laptop keyboard, so that I can type faster, with fewer errors. Yes, you probably can see what I cannot: It's time to call it quits, to set aside blogging and give it a rest already. There is no point in fighting the tide, in trying to reach for the Pulitzer, when I am destined for bathroom graffitti.

I'll try to save this post, such as it is, and maybe later I can say something pretty, and find a wifi spot, run spellcheck and post my deep thoughts and other musings. In the meantime, I am going to fold laundry. And if I cannot save this post, it might be for the best. Honestly.

Dynamic Light and Shade

We should get out more.
Saturday's cookout at Rich and Holly's place confirms my suspicion that we have become troglodytes, hermits, cave dwellers. We come out to work or to replenish our cave stores. We have Netflix. We have the internet and a garden in a wine barrel. Our parties are small affairs, where we invite the usual suspects, and I cannot remember the last time we even did that. It's to the point where I am not only a reluctant hostess, I am a pretty lame guest. I feel shy and out of the loop and tragically unhip. I didn't even remember to bring a dish or extra drinks... I offered to bring something and then nothing. We are out of sorts, out of practice.


Rich and Holly had us, neighbors, and James, Deanne and Parker over for some grilling, some great mixed drinks and laid-back relaxing in their beautiful courtyard. I think those few hours were the clearest and warmest of the entire winter the sequel weekend. The sun did shine and the rain/drizzle/wind held-off. So, with interesting conversations, delicious food, the light of the sun, children playing, bubbles drifting and those mixed drinks! I was feeling pretty good. Mighty, pretty good. Holly, what was in those drinks? I was recalling the divine epidural of '04, when I was so mellow I thought we should leave and find a better place to hang out, and Geoff gently reminded me we were there to have a baby.


Speaking of babies... Oh, Parker! If I showed you his full head of honeyed dark brown hair, you would be overcome with baby love... he is that adorable. Just a day shy of 4 months, and already tuned to everyone and everything around him. He studies the faces he sees and looks ready to make a statement, or recite an epic poem. He is that clever. You may say I am biased, but trust me: This boy is exceptionally yummy.



At the beginning of the party both Izzy and Maria were asleep. I think the happy anticipation of playing together wore them out, and luckily they both woke-up with plenty of time to eat and play and enjoy the gathering.


Grapes. Maria loves grapes. And strawberries, nectarines, watermelon, apples, blackberries, bananas and mangoes. No, not mangoes. I love mangoes.

For the sake of full disclosure, so that I can keep track of this, that, and the other... I am making a list. And my list goes something like this:

1. Garybob, our landlord, asked to come over with prospective tenants. Before fainting, I had the good sense to say, "No, you cannot come over in 24 hours. Please come next Saturday." Then I fainted. Then I woke up and cursed and cried, and then I fainted again. And I have been cleaning ever since I regained consciousness.

2. We had a quiet troglodyte funeral for Lola, laying her to rest in a bed of bougainvillea in the wine barrel. Everyone shared kind words and dear memories of our little chica.

3. Then we had to be brave ranchers and go back to the feed store for a 3rd chick. Not much of a mourning process, I know, but we want 3 hens and waiting is risky.

4. We brought home a barred rock. Also known as a Plymouth. She'll look like Luna, Chickenblog's banner hen. And it's good we did not wait. The chick dynamic was full of upheaval and conflict the first day. The new chick is feisty and aggressive and cocky... uh-oh... let's hope she is not cocky-doodle-do cocky!

5. Everyone in Chickville has settled down, and if I weren't teaching long division and cleaning Garage Mahal, I would be sitting in the yard, holding chicks and designing a darling hen house.

6. I should be cleaning. I should be cleaning. I should be cleaning. I should be cleaning. I should be cleaning. I should be cleaning.

7. We made an offer on a trailer. It comes with land and something that could be a house. I am trying to be indifferent and detached.


Must be like a cat. Cool and collected. Confident. At home, wherever I hang my apron.

Yesterday, After the Rain or 1,111 Posts

Once upon a time, a family awoke to an unexpected shower. The rain falling in the garden, was cold, the sky dark and gray, and the family felt invigorated and inspired by the change in the weather. There was talk of camping, or walking in the zoo. The youngest one found her umbrella and boops. And when the rain stopped, they stepped out and into the garden.


I had so much fun reading your comments and reactions to the "Pop Post" that I had to go back to the Blogger Buster tutorial and pull out a new trick. I feel so fancy. But I'd rather wear boots and gardening gloves than a tiara... just look what's popping up in the barrel garden. Those tall fellows are carrots and the wee little ones are violas.


Can you see the little seed caps at the tips of the carrot sprouts? Those delight me. And already the frilled true leaves of the carrots are emerging. It's very exciting. I know, it's time to thin them. They'll be crowded enough growing in a barrel next to flowers and a tomato plant. Joe will be happy to dine on tender and fresh carrot greens.

Did you know Carrots love Tomatoes? I learned all about companion gardening years ago when I read Louise Riotte's wonderful gardening book. It's one of my favorites.


I hope carrots and tomatoes love violas. I do.

Once upon a time, there was a kitty who lived all of his days loved and sheltered. To keep him safe from coyotes, which are alarmingly prevalent and malevolent and mean and hungry and most unpleasant, the family kept the kitty indoors.


Most days our furry baby is happy inside, and then there are days like this one when he cries and cries and cries. He watched me from the big window as I cooed to my carrots and tomato, and he made such a pitiful wail as if to say, "Nature calls me to her bosom, be merciful and let me answer. I am a fierce and wild beasty! Hear me roar!"
Really, it was just like that.


So I released the wild beasty. And he directly ran and leaped for the most beastly and wild corners of the walled garden. He sniffed rain dampened grass. He rolled in a dirty place. He attacked a spider web with beastly ferocity.


"Here kittky, kitty. Come here Benjamin baby, furry, furry yum-yum," which is the name he likes me to call him.


And this is how he answered me!


Then Maria got wild too! She waved goodbye to Alex and me, she even said "I love you, " as she drove off in search of adventure.

.... to be continued.

Like a Day in May


I may be posting only to distract myself from the fact that today is chick day. Out east, at the feed store I like, they are receiving a new shipment of chicks. I have spent the entire week in a mental-spiritual debate over whether or not I should bring home 2 chicks. My heart aches. My head is worn. I keep hoping for a sign that it's reasonable to take charge of my destiny, to move forward with my hopes, to nurture my flights of fancy. I keep hoping a home will reveal itself to us, so that we can know that after 5 years of false starts and dashed dreams, we will finally have a game plan, a destiny. I think it is the very worst part of being an adult that we are compelled to do what is appropriate, responsible and rational. So, without a sign, without urging and enthusiastic support and encouragement, I hang my head and accept that it is not my chick day.


Is it human nature to want more? I live in a big, safe home, but I want my own house, my own walls and pipes. I have healthy children and I am married to my 1 true love. But, wouldn't it be just a bit sweeter if we could have a garden and hens?


The children's homeschool supervisor, a wonderful woman, brought oranges, tangerines and avocados to share. Max and Maria were more than happy to relieve Franya of her surplus fruit. And I had to exercise all of my adult discipline to not ask for one of the extra chicks they have in their coop. Franya was happy to describe how cute their chicks are and how easy they are to raise and keep. Mercy. I was ready to blurt: "Yes! I know. Let me help you. We'll take 2 chicks, since you find yourselves with 6 more than expected. We'll be happy to lend a hand." Good grief... I had no idea I had such power of restraint. I hate to test it like this.


We are in such ideal May weather. No grey foggy mornings. No debilitating heat like we had last week. This is grilling weather. Picnic weather. Sit outside and rip seams weather... Am I the only semi-experienced quilter that uses a seam ripper almost as much as a sewing machine? This is the kind of weather that makes me think of summer camping and crossing creeks in bare feet.


Even Joe is happy to loll on the patch of lawn in the backyard, nibble tiny spring flowers. He knows these are idyllic days, happy days of May and leisure.


Max tried to teach Maria about the pips in the tangerines. He demonstrated eating a piece, feeling around with teeth and tongue for the small "hard bit," and then spitting it out. Maria was engrossed and delighted, but nonetheless she swallowed all of her pips.

Next to our tomato plant, in the barrel, the carrot seeds have sprouted. The dark soil looks so rich with its new carpet of green,and now comes the hard part of thinning the seedlings. At least Joe is happy to receive the freshest baby sprouts, otherwise it would feel so tragic pulling them up. Is ambient light sufficient for tomatoes to fruit? I don't think so. I'll have to recruit Alex again and move the barrel a bit north and west, where there may be a bit more light.


After our picnic lunch, Max and Maria picked up their swords and played at battle. I love the sheer confidence and energy Maria is unleashing. There were no injuries, no acrimony, only the joy of play.

Deep Thoughts, Indecision, and Time With My Mommy


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.

Expect to be Surprised


Part wisdom, part affirmation... expect to be surprised.


I thought our invitation to Mitchell and Julie's was for a potluck picnic, or something as casual. I should have brought our tuna salad in a prettier dish. I should not have brought Fritos. What can I say? Sometimes a bag of Fritos are a rite of Spring, like daffodils and new shoes. We arrived to a garden and home in full bloom. Julie had set the table with her beautiful china and silver, and elaborate dishes were coming out of the oven.


And they even had supplies for decorating eggs, and Alex mixed the potions, so we could get down to business. I realize these pictures may cause a bit of a stir in some parts of the country where snow is still falling... yes, it has been gorgeous in Southern California, and yet, I think I would actually enjoy a few more weeks in Wisconsin.


This little bunny dropped egg after egg in the cups of dye, so the artistic part of the program went fast.


Alex made a newly hatched chick. She's still popping out of her shell.


Here's the hen that laid her.


Most fun things, and even some difficult things, are more fun when shared. Our afternoon together was beautiful, and fun, relaxed. Mitchell's a sweet boy, with an easy laugh.

More Days in Badger Country

Grandma Nancy's backyard has a perfect slope for amateur sledders, and we groomed a run that was fun and safe, very enjoyable. But Sophie convinced us to graduate, to upgrade and expand our sledding horizons. With this in mind we caravanned with Gary, Laura, Sophie, Phil, Gabe, Jordan and Griffy to a big park, where a freshly groomed trail awaited. I retract my initial statement about 'the hill not being much longer than Grandma's;' I was very wrong.


In fact the hill was an ideal improvement. It was long and wild, but not too wild... unless you didn't roll off the sled before hitting the trees, or unless your sled flipped and your face ate ice. Tom warned us about the purple sled. He called it Rosa's Rocket and with good reason. It was easily the fastest and craziest ride. The red sleds gave the most reliable, consistent rides, without much chance of flippage. The one we picked up from Ace was lame... something to do with the long, smooth bottom. This may require more research.


Whether riding or being a spectator, the afternoon was well spent.


We had a few spills. I will not implicate anyone or use initials... I'm just saying poor judgement was involved and the very young paid the price.


Gary, Laura and Sophie. We should find out whether they have good slopes in Eagle River. Just thinking of plans for next winter...


Riding in a sled is fun. It's exhilarating and feels daring and liberating, but for every fly down there is a hike up. I made many trips, and my jeans were snow packed after stepping and sinking back to the top. Brrrr!! This is about endurance and dedication. About resilience and stamina! And who outlasted us all? Griffy and Max were the Dynamic Duo of the Snow Dunes. No fear. No regrets. No complaints. No going home, until they had "One more ride."


Here is the hero of the day. I am so glad we found him a thrifted snow bib, so he could enjoy the snow and sledding, without getting frozen out of the fun. And he was fast to the aid of little ones that tumbled.

It's such a bummer to discover that the days are running out on your vacation. It was Sunday morning when we realized that we had too much planned for our last days in Wisconsin and Illinois + there was that aggravating time change, which was a vicious assault on a family that is already notoriously late. Argggh.

We ate lunch at Ella's and we ate at Tru, thanks to Laura and Gary. We walked in town, drove around the Lake, reminisced in Madison and even tortured ourselves by looking at reasonably priced, beautiful and dignified Midwest homes. Ahead: Dinner at Carol's, visiting Paul in Oshkosh, more computer tutoring for Nancy and a visit to her quilting class, getting packed and driving back to Chicago, an evening with Margie and Howard and 3 2 1 museum stop in the Windy City.

Reflections... An Update With Lots of Images


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.

No Milk, Lots of Laundry, Happy Memories
I am downloading over 600 photographs. I know, I wanted to take more. Even with 600, I can think of exactly the times I meant to take one more.
It is warm here, but I have purposely not looked outside, because I will miss seeing snow.
The cats missed us. OMG did they miss us. I know they got lots of love and attention from Anne, but Benjamin wouldn't even let me sleep. He was determined to get his 2 weeks' quota of affection.
1/3 of the mail is in the recycle bin, another third is in the pay it box and the last third is wonderful... kind thoughts, warm wishes and something Blue!
We've been gone for a month, and it may take a month to catch-up, and another month to compensate for the time spent recovering from... forget it...
How much time time do you allow, to decompress, after a long journey?

At the outset of this venture, I talked big time about destiny and dreams, finding a path to follow. Hmmm.
Yeah, I don't think we are any closer to knowing where we are going to live, or when we can get out of Garage Mahal. If you have read Chickenblog for any length of time, you may conclude that we are over-thinking the whole destiny bit, and it's true. Partly true. Only sorta true.

I may be jet laggin'. It's 10: a.m., but it's noon in Chicago... and we were definitely leaning toward being on the Midwest clock.

The photos are still downloading. 240 more to go. I'll come back after we eat, nap and have pictures to share.

Geez. I'm sure it's posts like this that keep me off the "Blogs of Note" page.

There is Snow On the Cold

Maria tells me this, "There is snow on the cold," in confidence, cautioning me. Either I have acclimated to the temperatures which are as high as 25 degrees and dip as low as 8 degrees Fahrenheit, or I am stoopid. I leave the house without gloves, with barely a jacket, something light, like you would wear on a brisk walk in Autumn, and then I declare, "It's cold." Then I laugh, because I think it's funny to forget that a sweater is not enough for the last days of a long Winter, for Wisconsin or Illinois. I like the cold. I like the snow on the cold, and the bare trees, the dark icy rivers, moving slowly in the early morning, then rushing cold and agitated over rocky places. I am not overlooking the obvious point that we have endured one mild week of Winter, with the knowledge that tonight we will be in So Cal, where, doubtless, it is warmer. I am not forgetting that I do not commute in snow, or shovel it, or send children to school in it, so my infatuation with Winter and heaps fluffy white flakes, of icy beauty, is perhaps tenuous. Nonetheless, I will enjoy this moment, this brief encounter, and I will stand by my flimsy assertion that I do love the Midwest in Winter.

I love barns and silos and the yellow stumps of corn stalks frozen to the black earth. I love frozen ponds, like spilled milk. I love the sparkle and light that shines on the snow, and the hush that falls when you can stand alone, far from roads and traffic. There is no quiet like snow quiet. I love the sound of snow under my shoes. It crunches and succumbs. I love feeling very cold, exhilarated, and the relief of rushing in to a warm home, the comfort of our luxuries, like warm zucchini bread and indoor plumbing. I love old places, homes and towns, with stories and people to tell the stories. These places are rich with textures, creativity, love, reverence and some intangible quality that makes me pine for connectedness and place.

There will be so much for me to ponder and to share. I have taken a lot of pictures, which cannot be a surprise and I look forward to posting them. This has been a long, varied and full adventure. Were we in the redwoods, San Francisco, sledding in Rockdale, marveling at the delights of an Illinois basement?

I wish I had taken more pictures. It seems like I will miss not having more pictures of cows and buildings, frozen lakes, art on walls, and people. I love pictures of people, of moments shared with families and friends. Somehow my memories, alone, seem inadequate for revisiting laughter, exchanges, colors, shadows, the beautiful way Griffin's eyes speak... it is one of my favorite pleasures to look at pictures and share them, and enjoy the memories of being with wonderful people.

If I weren't shy, I would have taken more pictures last night. We were in Margie and Howard's home. We drove passed so many homes, riding through the suburbs of Chicago, and the old homes are so intriguing to me, they capture my imagination. Driving in the cold dusk of evening, in a strange place, passing homes with soft lights and smoke rising in ethereal tendrils from worn brick chimneys... it was such a comfort to see Margie standing on her own porch, expectant and welcoming. I never underestimate the pleasure of being welcomed into a home. This home is captivating. It is a family's home, unpretentious. It celebrates the natural art of living and upholds thought, creativity, security, the past, the present and hopeful anticipation for what is to come. That is what I saw. Pictures and drawings, paper sculptures and comfortable chairs, Rebecca's big glass, that her mother keeps in the cupboard, and the books on the shelves, the delicious smell of a home cooked dinner... everywhere there were indications and reminders that this home is a nurturing and kind place, meant to keep out the cold.

I wish I had asked everyone to sit together in the living room for a family picture. A picture with our children, and Margie and Howard and their children, their children's spouses... David, Rebecca and Mike, Sadie and Jim. We spent the evening spread throughout the house, sharing memories, listening, visiting the basement... a basement can be a really awesome place... we ate fresh cookies, and laughed about chickens and roosters, and crossing borders with empty pockets, how sometimes things just work out. I wish I had taken more pictures.

Lovely homes, comfortable places, lovingly reflecting the lives and paths of the families who keep them... it's been our privilege to share these in Soquel and Stoughton, in Oshkosh and Geneva, in Cambridge. Tonight we fly back to California, with full suitcases, and new ideas, with memories of time well spent. Already, I am looking forward to returning to the Midwest, to snow on cold, or perhaps fireflies and kayaking.

Something Quick, Before We Head Out

Even though Geoff set up a wireless network here at Grandma Nancy's, and even though he set up a laptop computer for her and brought along his own as well, it has been really hard to get time online.

Maybe I miss my own computer and the streamlined operation we have set-up for posting photographs, and maybe I miss our kitties too, but mostly I feel like I could settle in here and make a home, and so my days have been full of enjoying all that Wisconsin and Winter have to offer before it is time to say goodbye.

It is time to say goodbye. We are on our way to Chicago, to see Margie, Corm's sister, and her family. We were with Paul yesterday, and I regret that our visit was so brief. We could have enjoyed a few days hanging out, and enjoying his cozy home up north. I suspect that our time in Chicago is going to pass too quickly. That's how it is when you are in the company of good people... suddenly it is time to say goodbye, and yet you don't even want to leave.

We Are Snowing


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.

Wordless Wednesday... not this time!
Until I can upload pictures, this will be a wordy post.


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.

Top of the World
We've been sleeping with the drapes drawn open, so when we wake, the city is there, winking back at us, even at 4 in the morning. A block away, I can see a star of lights turning slowly on a rooftop, and the William Sonoma and Tiffany stores. And it's strange to remember that we are so high up, so far from the street, the taxis, cable cars and sparkling sidewalks. A faint, distant hum is building, like hearing the surf from far away, and I know that the city is waking too.

Yesterday was a clear blue sky day, a walk and explore day, a House of Nanking day. We started with a driving loop around the north side of the Bay, roughly from the Financial District to the Golden Gate Bridge, across and around to Point Richmond and then back over the GGB and to The Exploratorium, where we found the best parking space. Do you know why we found the best parking space ever? Yes, The Exploratorium, most awesome science museum in the world, is closed on Mondays. That was probably the only disappointment of the day.

After the driving tour, we parked at the hotel and set forth on foot. Those hills! We covered a lot of ground, many blocks, up and down. Chinatown was our main destination and we made a very thorough tour. It took a while for Max to warm-up to the newness of all the hustle, bustle, sounds, and sights, which is not unexpected with Max. By evening time we were all really enjoying ourselves. We stepped in to lots of shops and discovered strange, cheap, expensive, and rare treasures, and also plenty of junk. It was awesome. Our late lunch was timed perfectly, because we did not have to wait an hour to squeeze into House of Nanking, where the chef came out and decided to order our food for us. The best, and that's all I am going to say about that... no need to draw more crowds to our favorite spot for tasty eats.

Lots more to say about our walking day, like the fun we had at the park and the place selling live chickens, but Geoff's alarm is reminding me that we need to pack, sort, pack, roll sleeping bags, shower and pack some more. It's time to get to the airport. It's time for the Midwest leg of our journey. Did I mention it has been warm and clear-skied here? Such a contrast awaits us! OKay. Time to go. No time to waste. Must get busy. I'm not full awake, actually, so I am stalling.

One thought: My traveling email box fills quickly and Geoff emptied it last night to make room for new messages, so if anyone emailed me on Sunday, I may not have got your message... sorry. Plenty of room in the box now!

Can you tell I am not a big fan of air travel...?... stalling... humming... Well, it won't do to skip my shower, so I am signing-off. Thank you for your comments... it sure is fun sharing our adventure with friends!

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.

Everyday Life 30 :: 28


Today it is raining and cold, gray.
Geoff and Holly are flying to Hawaii, where they will see their Mom.
The world is different.
Our everyday life is unfamiliar.
One does not want to be obtuse, but the words are yet too painful to utter.
Silent, prayerful tears, raining, cold and gray.

Everyday Life 30 :: 22


They say we had record rainfall, but I'm not so sure. Usually a lot of rainfall brings our pond in through the backdoor and into the kitchen. This is low tide. There was certainly plenty of wind. Yesterday it was blowing north and clashing mightily with cold front that came from the Pacific Northwest.


Here is Joe. He didn't seem to mind our weather. Being a 7 year old bunny he's seen many good storms.


Maybe the sun will come out and we can watch Joe hop on the lawn for a while.

In the meantime, I have some everyday kinds of errands to run, like getting groceries and sending a package to Grandma Nancy. We have school work to do, and schedules to fine tune.

A thought: Do you find that conversations with women with children are disjointed and full of great lapses, long pauses, incomplete statements... that basically conversations can go unfinished for days, even months at a time? I think many moms recognize this, know that having children means having distractions and interruptions. I don't blame children or implicate them in a conspiracy of selfish or rude behavior. I am only observing that attentive mothers, busy women that are responsible for children do not often have the luxury of completing sentences, expounding on theories or providing elaborate feedback... not every time. Happily, between sympathetic women, there is an understanding that this is true, and we can actually manage very well weaving in and out of conversations, answering pressing queries 2 weeks after they were posed. It's our gift. We multi-task. We have patience. We know our deep thoughts and other musings will surface eventually, and will be understood and well received by other distracted, responsible, caring women.

What I wonder is: How well does this translate in emails and through blogs? I do not answer every email or respond directly to each comment. Do readers know that I read every comment? That I am listening and thinking appreciatively about the generous and thoughtful remarks and feedback they send to my inbox and to Chickenblog? I feel as though I have a dozen or more half finished conversations hanging in the air everyday, and there are a lot interesting points brought to my attention that I may not find time to appreciate for weeks or months. I cringe each and every time it dawns on me that I have neglected to get back to that conversation we were having last month, or to reply about the *whatever* you asked me about. You cannot see that Maria jumped in my lap, when I was reading your wonderful post about *____* and I really did mean to leave a comment congratulating, consoling, sympathizing, cheering, commiserating, or LOL-ing.

I so admire the bloggers that in one way or another respond to all of their readers. It's very impressive to find responses to my comments and wonderful to receive nice, newsy emails from friends, and if I haven't got back to you, I am sorry. Really. If I were as good as my thoughts, you would all have fruit baskets and hand written letters from me on a quarterly basis. Instead just picture me trying to keep my head above water, thinking of ways to feed 4 children, working to lose weight, clearing the kitchen drain, teaching algebra and grammar, answering the phone, sorting mail, driving here and there, making appointments, keeping appointments, intervening, interjecting, objecting, making peace, whirling peas and kissing boo-boos. That is Everyday Life. LOL

Everyday Life 30 :: 21


Maria's corner. Her starry lights hang over her "bunny bed." I painted the salvaged furniture last Summer, and now she has a place to stash her books, Mr. Potato and her dancing accessories. Today her baby doll and the baby doll's "mommy doll" are tucked in under Geoff's birthday quilt. She likes her space.

If everything holds together down at the office, if the game doesn't irrupt or implode, there is a very good chance that Geoff will be home all day. Home. Well, almost home. We are cleaning today, and he went to get a storage solution for some Lego bricks, so he is at the home improvement store. He just called to tell me that lumber is affordable again. I love the smell of 2x4's, the hope of construction, the dream of a home of our own.

It's a soft day. It rained and blew all night. We are sorting and dusting and putting away all the things that wander from shelves and drawers. Later we will go to Holly and Rich's, to play with Nick and Izzy. Nothing feels rushed or harried. A lot is getting done, and my thoughts wander, dreamily. What a very soft day it is... I cannot say whether it is the light, or the air, or the notions that cross my heart and mind.

Whimsical notions, like following rainbows.

And look at this magic that just arrived in my mailbox.
Aloha.

Everyday Life 30 :: 19


Real, live ducks, and plenty of them. This pond isn't too far from the house... I'm sorry: I have seen real ponds, and I know this is a sad, sad excuse for a body of water of any size. After 20 or 30 minutes of happily feeding very eager ducks our