Last Night We Went For a Walk

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.


As many of you know, I have been a rebel, an outlaw. I cannot deny my ranchera roots, my cowgirl spirit, and that is why in this manicured-Garage Mahal neighborhood, living in the landlord's columned rental palace, I have snuck-in chickens. First there were 2... Lola and Betty.
When we realized we wanted needed 3, we brought home Pip.
We thought this was our final line-up, but then sweet little Lola died.
Still committed to the idea of having 3 hens, we introduced Amelia.
And for a while we got to just sit back and enjoy the sight of our 3 chicas, Betty, Pip and Amelia.
And wow! did they start to grow fast!
And make us happy!
They have even inspired great works of art.


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!

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.

Thank Goodness For Gardens, Water and Light


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 ducks chicks (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.

Some Mothering

Sentimental Journey


Adopt the pace of nature,
Her secret is patience
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

When we lived on our Rancho, a 2 acre rustic oasis where we played at being farmers, there was a big water trough that was left by the previous owners. I got a lot of help dragging that thing up from the pasture and over to the garden by the chicken coop. Geoff drilled some drain holes into it and then hooked it up to our irrigation system. I filled it with mulch and compost and dirt and seeds, and it wasn't long be before we had an elevated and healthy, drip-irrigated garden.


Can you see Rosie, our Rhode Island hen...? she's stepping on one of the granite rocks that encircled the play area. Alex and his great grandmother were sitting in the garden together. I miss sharing our home with her, enjoying her good company. Behind them is the yard where Rosie and Gracie and Luna lived... a chicken estate, complete with hanging art and water features. We made it very classy.


We planted fig trees and guavas and jacaranda, and lots more. I really miss the fig trees. And the lime tree. And the lemon tree.


Oh, and do I ever miss these girls, my Chicas!


This is Luna, was Luna. We named her for the white moon on her chick bottom. Her moon disappeared, replaced with spots and stripes. She did retain her docile and sweet baby chicken nature. She was an easy going kind of hen.


Now Rosie was a nice hen, and we loved her, but I would not call her sweet and docile. She had more of an attitude, an agenda that focused on laying, scratching, eating and staying alert.


Here's my first baby girl. My tender, gentle and affectionate Gracie. We thought she was such a dainty, feminine chick, that "Gracie" was perfectly suitable to her person. Her name matched her lovely plumage and the wispy down that framed her pretty face. Gracie, like her sisters, would come when called, and then she would sit on my lap and let me scratch around her neck and pet her soft back. She would fall asleep in my arms. Sigh.


We grew carrots in the water-trough garden conversion, and were those carrots ever happy. They were sweet and ginormous. I remember we would pull just one up and cut potato chip size slices for a snack. Crisp and delicious. We also juiced a lot of carrots. My favorite recipe was garden fresh carrots and beets, with lime and ginger, sometimes apple too. So yummy!


I was just browsing my photo library. I thought it would be a quick glimpse of days gone by, but some of these just had to be dusted-off and brought out of hiding. Diego, resting in an empty cereal box. I have never known a more mellow cat. He would sleep in the car! He came with us on a drive to Wisconsin and on another road trip to Oregon. It was awesome, really. I wish I had a picture of him in Custer State Park, where we were getting snowed-in and buffalo (bison, right?) were blocking the road. Diego stood on the dashboard to take in the spectacle.


Our Rancho didn't always look this good. Getting it this beautiful was one big labor of love. When we bought it, it was a sadly neglected house with no landscaping whatsoever. I read the entire Sunset Western Gardening Book twice and then designed a landscape and chose all of the plants. We hired Nacho and Victor to execute my visions, and wow, what an adventure that was.


Maria would have loved the Rancho, the big sky and the fresh fruits growing all around the house. I think she would enjoy wearing cowgirl boots and a hat, like her momma.


She would love the Chica round-up, leading them home for a night's rest.

Geez. No wonder my posts take forever to write...

34 words

Speedtest

Adding to My Scrapbook


Every time I think about our evening in Margie and Howard's home this is what I think: I wish I had taken more pictures.

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.

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.

Art


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.

A Birthday Weekend and Gratitude

Happy Birthday Izzy!
Happy Birthday Griffin!
Happy Birthday Rich!
Zounds! that's a lot of cake!


2... Well, almost 2 in this picture, which was taken at the end of January. To hear her speak and see her get around and do her stuff, you might take her for like 2 and a half year old... really, she's that sophisticated. Maria loves her cousin Izzy, we all do, but the girl cousins share a special toddler bond.


6 tomorrow. Griffy is having a party... Star Wars theme? I remember his "Cars" cake from last year, and I am hoping we'll get to see some pictures from tomorrow's festivities. I also look forward to hearing frequent updates about Griffin, who is bright and curious. I love his sweet enthusiasm, his energy.

It has been about a year since I started embracing the quilting, knitting, crafty, artistic, farmy blogs. I feel like I have discovered a wonderful world both familiar and exotic, inspiring. You may have noticed a lot of the links in my sidebar are to creative women; they are talented and generous, and surprisingly thoughtful. Not that I am surprised about their thoughtfulness... what I mean to say is that in their thoughtfulness they do things to surprise me and others. Things like sending condolence cards, doll quilts, chicken aprons, and even nominating me for awards like the "Beautiful Newborn Baby Pepper Award."


These kind acts, and generous gestures never cease to amaze me and when we came home from our latest adventure we were met with one more surprise. It is a quilt from Mamaspark's World. Pam was hinting about a blue quilt, showing peeks and promising a story to go with it! And I remember smiling to myself, because it made me happy to think of all the nice things Pam does for others, the amazing quilts she makes and gives away. Someone is in for a real treat, I thought to myself, thinking of "Spicy Chicken," the doll quilt she and her quilting accomplice, Liz, sent me last Summer.


I had no idea I was the one in for a special treat. This is the quilted lei and message of "Aloha" stitched in the border. Pam did all of the planning and piece work and Liz worked her quilting magic, and together they finished a beautiful and heart touching quilt that is already a family treasure. It comes with so much love and tender regard for us at this difficult time. Geoff was stunned at the sight of it, to hear the letter Pam enclosed, the description of this quilt's journey to our home. Every gift has a story, but this one is exceptional and dear... Geoff said it "renewed his faith in humanity."

Sometimes (most times?) I can be really horrible about getting back to people, whether in emails or phone calls. Too often I am distracted and wait too long for the right time. Happily, when Pam emailed me with some casual inquiries, some innocent questions about leis, I made the effort to respond right away. As I recall we exchanged a few detailed discussions about lei colors, flower types etc... And I was really enjoying the research and realizing how significant and beautiful leis are, how meaningful they have become to me. The whole conversation inspired me to work on a post all about leis. I felt like she had given me a gift by leading me to discover a topic to appreciate and learn more about. Little did I know she wasn't through with her gift to me.


"Blue Aloha" is so pretty and dear, and I am tearful and comforted by its significance and by the kindness of it. Thank you Pamela. Thank you Liz. Pam made a post explaining this quilt, and how it came to life, read about it at her inspiring blog, "Mamaspark's World."


Blue water, blue skies, an abundance of flowers and cheerful dolphins, pieced together with care and purpose... it is so much like Hawaii, so much like Aloha.

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.