Mother's Little Helpers

I gardened today! These little friends helped me. (get it?? Mother Nature's Little Helpers...) Just more evidence that my soil is happy. You can see the radishes growing that I planted just before the snow fell in December. They grew anyway, and now that it is warming up , they're taking off. It was sunny, and I dug a bunch of compost into my bed and then smoothed it all over and planted two rows of beets. Yummmm...beets. Next weekend, I'll plant peas. I'll get all the cool weather vegetables eaten before the hot starts.

I also pulled up many weeds from the rock-covered area around the pool. Weird--we put down landscape cloth, we have drip irrigation to the few plants we have growing there, yet because of the heavy rain a couple of weeks ago, we have a zillion tiny weeds popping up between the rocks. So, I decided before they grow into big monster ugly weeds, I'd sit down with a little digger and get them all out. It was very theraputic sitting in the sun and plucking. I haven't spent that much time outdoors in a long time. It was fantastic, and very vitamin D replenishing.

Then, we went on the motorcycle for lunch at the taqueria. They have a dish called caldo de rez which is a beef broth in which shanks or oxtail or some very tough part of a cow has been simmered for hours until it is tender and succulent. Then they put in a whole potato, a Mexican squash, some carrots, a little chunk of corn on the cob and a bit of cilantro and cook them till they're done. It is served in a big soup bowl, with a side plate of Spanish rice and a large pile of chopped onions. You dump the rice and onions into the steaming bowl of soup, add a little salsa, and stir. The broth is boiling hot and it cooks the onions a little, and the rice gives a little body to the whole thing. It is beyond delicious. It's a meal that fills you and stays all day. I've never seen it before in restaurant (but maybe I just didn't know what to ask for) and now it is my favorite food at the taqueria. They also serve killer shrimp tacos.

Tonight we saw Slumdog Millionaire -- sensational! If you haven't gone, you should. If it doesn't win the Oscar for best picture, I'll be surprised. It is a terrific movie, even if you haven't been on the Millionaire Show...

Family Ties

Today is my dad's 86th birthday. He died 25 years ago from leukemia exactly one month after he turned 61 years old. It was a rip-off that he died so young, because he and my mother were just getting to a point in their lives where they had begun to experience a little leisure. They were married about 36 years and the first 29 of those were notable for the unrelenting labor they performed to turn their little dirt-patch into a prosperous farm. And, the prosperity may have been a mirage, for all I know, because I didn't notice any particular up-tick in their life-style. However, because there no longer were any tiny children living at home, occasionally my dad and mom would go off on a weekend to watch one of my brothers at an "away" wrestling match. Of course, my dad drove the team bus usually, and so he could get paid to be a fan. There were a couple of children still at home who were old enough to milk the cows for one night, and my sister lived next door to help keep an eye on things. These little pleasures (an over-night trip periodically) were a big deal to a dairy farmer.

Mostly I remember my parents working relentlessly. As a child, I didn't recognize how much they did. It was just normal life. They got up early--he milked, she fed the chickens, then fed us. He drove the bus, she washed the milkers and washed the dishes. He came home and fed the animals, she stayed home and cooked his dinner and washed our clothes and baked bread. In the fall, we were likely to come home from school to an empty house, with our mother up in the fields driving the grain truck, or bailing straw. However, there was always something baked awaiting our hungry bellies when we got off the bus, even if the cook was now farming. Daddy worked ridiculous hours. If there was a full moon, he just baled hay until the job was finished. If it was his water turn (irrigation canals were shared property) then he stayed out there moving the canvas dams until the turn ended days later. When he owned ewes, lambing was a 24 hour job. Farmers don't punch in and out on the clock. It turns out to be excellent career training for motherhood, I found: you're never off-duty in that field either.

Farming had benefits. When I went to college, one of my roommates came to visit for a weekend, and she marvelled on our way back to school that we'd eaten every meal with my dad. Her dad was out of town a lot. She barely saw him as a teen. My dad taught me lots of things: how to drive, how to milk, how to work, how to make up silly words to songs, how to saddle a horse, how to stack hay, how to treat people who were in need--strangers or friends, how to dance (he was great, I was a poor learner), how to clean a barn, how to lift a hay bale, how to show your wife you love her, how to harrow, how to carve a whistle out of a green willow stick, how to fish (even though I didn't like it) how to start a fire, how to put gas in a car, how to treat new born calves.

He showed me how to be a good in-law, and a good family member. He lost his family when he was a little kid, but he was invited to live with another family and he treated them well all of his life. He even went out of his way to maintain ties with his brother and sister although they didn't get to live together since they were small. He made dear friends with his in-laws, and his step-family, and I never noticed any distinctions between his own blood and all those family members he acquired over the years. He was genuine with all of them. It was the same when we began to marry and added even more people to the family web.

I guess the biggest sorrow of having him die young is that he didn't get to enjoy the harvest. You don't know if you're any good as a parent until your own children begin to be parents. Then, you can see if your influence was positive. My dad had a large group of tiny grandchildren before he passed on, and he loved being Grandpa. It brought out his better nature: he actually cleaned up his barnyard vocabulary for the grandchildren. He'd been working on that for years, but the little kids really motivated him. Plus, he just loved little kids. He was a school bus driver for 30 years--he really loved kids. Grandchildren were just fabulous to him. But, he would have loved that parade of Eagle Scouts and missionaries and brides and graduations. He would have been the proudest great-grandpa of all. He and my mom would have been to every event to mark every occasion. Well, come to think of it, lots of times--he was. We knew it...someone always knew it.

Happy Valentine's Day

Whenever Valentine's Day comes around, I have a great time at school. Many people don't realize that it is a very important holiday for kids. It involves candy, for one thing. But another is that children have serious crushes from the time they are little, and so when the valentines get passed out at school, much attention is paid to who gave what to whom. I happen to love Valentine's Day. I get to wear red and pink all week, and I have cool heart-shaped jewelry as well. Also, there are a lot of fun times associated from when our children were younger. We always made heart cookies, or heart-shaped pancakes. It was a time to share the love. Here are some really awesome photos of those good times. The girls decided one year to make all their valentine cards. I believe that one girl is a second grader and the other is a first grader. Please note the little helper:




A closer view of The Helper:

So enjoy your day of love, and remember to love everyone. It is a good policy and will create more happiness in your world.

Exceeding Standards

I don't remember if I've whined about our new report card yet on this blog. I've whined everywhere else. This year we're piloting a standards-based report card. Meaning: we're not writing A, B, C, D, etc. on it. Instead, there are only the lists of state standards for each trimester in each of the core subjects: math, reading, and English language arts. Then, we mark each individual standard with emerging, approaching, meets, or exceeding.

For example, you would not get an overall Math grade, but you would receive one of those designations for 3.4.4b use money notations to add and subtract given monetary amounts. In a trimester there would be 9 or 10 standards you would be studying and being assesed for. Science and social studies are still graded, but not in specific strands yet, just an overall grade.

I like teaching using specific standards. I write a rubric in kid-friendly language so that they'll know exactly what the criteria is for meeting the standard, approaching it, and exceeding it. It makes it very clear to them what is acceptable and adequate and fabulous. I refer to the rubrics all the time, and I put them right on their test, so when I'm checking and grading, I just circle what their achievement level was. They understand it and it works well to get them to know what they need to improve on and how they stand.

It's more complicated on the report card, however. If you were to give a B, that means 80--to 89% approximately, and a C means 65--79%. On this standards-based report card "meets" is that entire range--and that is quite a stretch: 65----89. I don't care for that aspect of it. We're still wrangling over it at my school.

But, the purpose of this post is to tell you about a person who totally Exceeded Standards today at my school....Cool Guy. I went up to the office at lunch to turn in some papers, and there I found these lovely things:

And the envelope read:

So, my co-workers, who were all coming through the office en route to the teacher's lounge at lunchtime, too, were treated to the correct way to celebrate Valentine's Day with your sweetie. They all agreed that this was definitely rated: EXCEEDING STANDARDS.

Welcome Home

I went to Salt Lake City this weekend to see my son and his family. My grandson plays basketball with some other Kindergarten and First Grade boys on a pee-wee league team. It is very benign. They get together for 10 minutes before the game to practice. Then, the players all wear colored wrist sweat bands so that they'll know which guy on the opposite team to guard (they all have corresponding writst bands) and the baskets are lowered for them. It's very cute. They have referees whose main job is to call which team is to throw in the ball from the sidelines. There aren't any fouls, or traveling calls, or double dribble calls. They're adorable and have a lot of fun.

Quite by coincidence, it was also the weekend that my nephew and his wife, both in the Army, returned home from almost a year in Iraq. They were helicopter gunners. And they, and their teammates all got home today safely. Whew. It was nice to be there and see the fine reception staged for them at the Utah National Guard Base. Here's a sweet picture:

My sister hugging him, with Dad looking on. Here's another one of my brother-in-law with her.

So, Welcome Home Justin and Chevy!!

Paying Attention in School

We have been blitzing our students in all the grades with a new writing concept this year, and it includes really hammering it home that you must enhance your writing with lots of imagery. It seems to be working:

One of my co-workers told us this story about her Kindergarten son (who goes to our school):

The Big Brother (5) and the Little Sister (2 and a half) were playing on the sofa under a blanket, laughing and goofing around. Suddenly the Big Brother came up for air and yelled, "Ooooh, [Little Sister] farted!!"

So Little Sister jumped off onto the floor and laughed, "Yeah, I fawrted. I smell like a pig!"

Big Brother replied, "No, [Little Sister], you have to include DETAILS: "I smell like a pig in mud!"

She told us this story and we totally died laughing. And then we were really excited--he's been paying attention during writing! Yeah!!

Creeping Toward Equinox

Have you noticed? It is staying light longer in the evening. (!!) I crave the sunlight of summer. Well, actually, I guess I crave the sunlight of March through June. By the end of August, you can already tell that the sun is moving into the winter mode of early darkness. But from February to July, it's my favorite time of year. I just love evenings when it is light until 8:00 or 9:00 o'clock. It just feels so much better to leave work and have some daylight left to enjoy.

Part of the problem is that I have worked so often in buildings with no windows. In Maryland, for 10 years we had a school without windows. I'd have recess duty everyday and so I had 30 minutes of outdoor time and that was good. The first year in Vegas I had a room with glass bricks up high but they let in natural daylight, and I could get by without the lights on when I was alone in the room and in the morning, the light was bright enough to leave off the lights for the students. The second year I was in the "cabin"--portable classroom. Now my classroom is underground! The school I'm in was a prototype, build mostly underground to save fuel costs. Here in the desert, air-conditioning is a must, and they experimented to see if it would be more efficient to have most of the building underground where the temperature was more even. Maybe...but the building costs apparently far exceeded any off-set of the heating/cooling things, plus they've never solved a leakage problem around the skylight in the hallway just outside my door. But, it means, I'm in a windowless environment again.

I loved our schools in Southern California. They were the old fashioned, built around a courtyard kind with a full wall of windows that looked out onto a square. You didn't need heating, you didn't need air-conditioning. Usually you didn't need the lights on either. But, it takes a rather specific climate to have that kind of school. Kids need natural lighting. So do I.

So when this time of year comes around again, I always feel younger, happier, calmer, kinder. Sunlight---elixir of the gods.

Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing, Baby

Tonight, I brought home some groceries and asked CoolGuy to close his eyes, and take a sniff of the object I placed near his nose. He breathed in and said, "It smells like going to work early in the morning on the motorcycle in Port Hueneme." Yes, he was correct!! He was smelling...

And, indeed, they were the REAL THING:

And those of you who aren't quite sure what I'm writing about...I'm sorry for you. Please try to move to Ventura County, California, so that you can eat some strawberries that were just picked from a field in El Rio (a neighborhood of Oxnard) and sold at a roadside stand. You'll never feel the same way about strawberries ever again.

Intriguing Fact

I've been reading some really difficult academic papers for a class I'm taking. The topic is how the brain works when people read--what exactly is occurring. It is incredibly dense and difficult to read. I have to really concentrate, and sometimes read it aloud to myself to absorb any of it. It is fascinating what some of the researchers have done with timers that can tick off milliseconds, for instance.

But here is the intriguing fact: when person learns numerals or the alphabet, it is the first time that the orientation of an object counts toward the identity of the object. The lower case letters b,d,q, p & g can be written in an identical form EXCEPT for the orientation...get it? (Also 6 & 9)So, for the first time, something every baby learns---Mom is Mom even if she is upside down, (and therefore all other tangible objects have this quality)---for the first time, this is no longer true.

It's amazing that anyone can learn to read at all.

Alexander the Second

Did you ever read the book by Judith Viorst, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? I had one of those yesterday.

First, I had to go in very early to work to write sub plans because I'd had to leave work early on Tuesday for an appointment. And I had to have a half-day sub because I had a doctor's appointment at 9:30 A.M. Which I'd already gone to on Monday (a day off with NO sub plans NEEDED) but when I got there, they'd forgotten to write down that I'd changed it from Wednesday to Monday and they POSITIVELY could not work me in, sorrysorrysorry. Oh, and your MRI report isn't here anyway. Which was supposed to be there because the lady at the MRI place asked me THREE times if I wanted to wait for the report and I said why and she said oh, never mind, since your doctor appointment isn't until Monday, we'll have the courier take it over tomorrow--no problem. Except apparently there WAS a problem.

So, I left the school at 8:00 A.M. and drove home to have a shower quickly and drive A LONG way, clear across town, to the doctor's office. (But she is a really good doctor, so that really isn't part of the problem.) I shut off the truck in the driveway, opened the door and heard a loud hissing sound. Coming from the left rear tire. Where I looked to see a key sticking up out of said tire and air whooshing out around it. So, (stupidly) I thought if I could just quickly pull out the key with some pliers the air would stop (I said stupidly) and so I punched open the garage door and ran in and got the pliers and pulled out the key and realized, stupidly, that, DUH, the tire is filled with pressurized air and it was just going to keep whooshing out air from that big hole that the long sharp key had poked into it.

Just then the alarm to our house went off. Because in my rush for the pliers I totally forgot that I only had 70 seconds in which to type in the number to shut it off. So I dashed through the garage, around my car toward the door, and slipped on the rug in front of the door, and fell onto my knee and hands, bashing my head against the door. And I couldn't even lay there and feel bad because the alarm was blaring all over the block and if I didn't get the code punched in and the cancel button hit within a minute then the alarm company would send the police.

So, after I got the alarm off, I realized that the tire was still going flat and the truck was parked in the way of my car, which I needed to use to drive to the doctor's appointment which I was going to be late for if I didn't just get in the shower and get ready and leave. So, I limped out to the truck and moved it over out of the way on its flabby tire. Then, I got ready and left for the doctor. I was on time. She did all the nerve tests on my leg which include jabbing you with a pin all up and down the length of it and observing your reaction while she apologizes for hurting you.

I got my prescriptions, my referral to PT, my referral to the ortho doctor because some of the knee pain isn't nerve related, it is skeletal/cartilage probably. When I got to my car I decided to call AAA for a tire change on the truck. Usually when I call AAA it takes almost an hour for someone to come. The drive from the doctor's office is 35 minutes. So I called, we got it all arranged. I drove home.

About five miles from my house, the phone rang. It was a man saying that his driver was at my house but no one was opening the door. AAACCKK. I apologized, I said I'd be there in five minutes. I lied and said I was coming from my school. Then I drove like a maniac. But I hardly stood out because Las Vegas is full of maniacs, that usually I'm bad-mouthing under my breath as they swoop and swerve around me trying to get all the green lights and driving too fast. Like I did for that last five miles. Whew...the truck was still there in front of my house. The tire got changed. He put it into the back of the truck.

Since I still had an hour till I had to be at school, I drove to the tire store and asked them if they could repair it. No, it would need to replaced. All these tires look bad, lady. You should buy new tires. WHERE HAVE WE HEARD THAT ONE BEFORE? So, I just demurred, not-my-truck; not-in-charge-of-tires; is the spare good enough to drive on? They checked the air, and assured me it was fine for now. So I went home, unloaded the flat tire into the garage so no one would steal it; only broke one fingernail. Ate lunch. Went to school to teach for three hours. I really needed a stiff drink.

Well, it turns out that the tires really are crap; CoolGuy is planning to replace them. He felt bad that I didn't just leave it sitting there flat till he got home. I have a big bruise on my good knee. And my head aches from the steroids that are wearing off. Only five more days of Big Time Drugs, then I go back to the regular anti-inflammatory. And PT twice a week. But hopefully no more flat tires.

At least I didn't have gum in my hair, too.

Cheerful News

I got a phone call last night from my sister. She sounded giddy. Which was a nice sound to hear from her. It was a little over a year ago that all the happiness was punched out of her when her husband was killed in an avalanche. So, it was intriguing that she was giggling as I picked up the phone. She is usually a rather level-headed person. Even before she was widowed. This was a new voice I was hearing.

It seems that last weekend when we were out enjoying a lovely Vegas summery January day on the motorcycle, she was in Las Vegas getting married at the home of her (now) husband's good friend. GOOD FOR HER!!

He (divorced a few years ago) is a decades-long BFF of my brother-in-law who stepped up and helped with whatever he could--firewood, snow removal, roof repair--whatever--when his friend was killed. He isn't a stranger; he grew up two miles down the road from us. So, I guess he just quietly went about making himself indispensable to her, and voila!

Listening to her voice last night...it is a good thing, I can tell.

Inauguration

Oh, come on...couldn't those two have rehearsed a little so that they didn't mess up the oath of office? Tut tut, it was a little disconcerting.

We watched it with my students live, because, as I told them, it was historic. We only change presidents every four years, and these students will nearly be in high school the next time we have an inauguration. And of course, being a notable First, it was also historic for that reason too. It was an excellent ceremony and very awesomely befitting our great nation.

I think though, as this term of office unfolds, that some Americans are going to be puzzled. For eight years, it has been the drumbeat that all things horrible in our country were directly traceable to the White House. Unrelenting negativity, sometimes to a ridiculous level, has been spoken, written, published and blogged about this outgoing executive team. There are many people who have apparently been conditioned to believe that the person who is president has a huge impact on their lives in a seriously personal way.

When tomorrow dawns, and the next day and the next, and very little change occurs on a personal level in these people's lives, do you think they'll realize that the president isn't in charge of them personally? Do you think that they'll realize that they are the main determiners of the direction their lives take? Do you think they'll be disillusioned and disappointed that everything isn't magically fabulous just because a new president was inaugurated? Do you think they'll realize what a bad idea it is to allow someone else so much power over your attitude?

WWDKD? (What Would Dr. King Do?)

Tomorrow is inauguration day. This is a big deal, and it should be. For more than 200 years it is the peaceful process by which our civilized republic changes leadership. We don’t have a war, a coup, a revolution. We don’t have riots, killings, pogroms or anyone having to flee the country to avoid death in order to have a new president. I like that about our nation.

This inauguration is notable because, for the first time, the president being sworn in is not a white Anglo-Saxon guy person. Again, because we are a civilized republic, we can elect leaders who aren’t the same old , same old. I keep hearing people who say “I never thought I’d see this in my life-time.” Meaning a black man being elected president. And if that person saying it is African-American of a certain age, I can understand this sentiment. The experiences of their life are completely different from my experiences, and they’ve seen prejudice and ugliness that I have not.

I, being a white woman of a certain age, was at first puzzled by this comment. Over the last fifteen years there have been a number of African-Americans in prominent political situations who have been qualified to run for president, and for whom I would have voted with confidence. When I first heard this quote---“not in my life-time”---I thought it was weird.

But, I realize that I’m probably the weird one. I wasn’t raised to look at people as a skin color or a race. I grew up in a homogeneous community, where everyone was a relative (almost). But when I left there as an adult, and lived in a city where I had daily interactions with people of different races and languages, my upbringing served me well. I didn’t have to think about how I was going to treat people who looked different from me; I knew. I was going to treat them politely, respectfully and kindly---just like I had been taught to treat everyone! I didn’t see their color or their race. I saw them as a person. There were a number of times when I got rebuffed for this. I was treated as a “white person” by some—called names, ridiculed. I was surprised and upset. But, rude is rude, and I realized that rude comes in all colors. So, anyway, my naivete got me slapped down a few times.

But this is why I was puzzled by the “not in my life-time” comments. Why not in our life-time? If we’re truly trying to achieve the society we agree we need—the one dreamed of by Dr. King where character is more important than color---why not in our life-time? I’ve been completely put-off during this election cycle by the gag-inducing focus on skin color. It has been harped on by the media in an unseemly way. We will have the inauguration tomorrow and its historic momentousness will be lauded again by the press. But then, I hope that the new president can just be the president, and not have to be the Black President for his entire term. It seems insulting to him and to us and to Dr. King.

Two Enthusiastic Thumbs Up

If you haven't gone to see Clint Eastwood's new movie "Gran Torino" yet---go! go! We're huge Clint Eastwood fans anyway, and he's just gotten better as he's gotten older in his talent for writing, directing and starring in movies. This movie is somewhat personal for us because 26 years ago we befriended some families of Laotian "boat people" who'd just arrived from years in a Filipino refugee camp. Culture clash is real and this movie portrays it very well. We don't all have to think alike or be the same, but we do all share common values of family unity and the need to be needed. So, go to the theater and enjoy 90 minutes of compelling story telling. Sometimes Eastwood's character is a bit of a caricature, but you can overlook this because you learn some of his life details and begin to understand. There are some awesome vignettes in this movie about being a man, about neighborliness, about family traditions, and you might feel like I did when the credits came up:

Let's go buy another ticket and watch it again--right now.

Bad Vibes

I had to have an MRI a couple of nights ago. It wasn't a particularly great experience. First, the appointment was for 6:00 P.M. Or at least I was to arrive at 6:00 to fill out the paperwork. So I did, and after I turned it in, I settled down with my newspaper. A few minutes later the nice lady behind the desk came over to confide that they were running "a little behind" and there'd probably be an hour wait before it would be my turn. (!!) She suggested that I might like to go over to the mall next door...They had my cell phone number and would give me ring. So, I realized I did need to pick up a few things at the market, so I went there and wandered around and got my stuff.

I got back to the clinic and, great news, it would just be about 10 more minutes. And it was only about 20 minutes, so that wasn't so bad. I took off my clothes and donned the icky gown, removed all my jewelry and hair clips and stashed it all in the locker. Then, I followed the technician down the hall to the machine room. I've had several MRIs. They are unpleasant--loud clicking and banging noises assault your ears, and you're in a small space. But I've never felt uncomfortable. They always give you headphones to help block the noise and once they even asked me to select a couple of CDs they played through the headphones while I was magnetically resonated.

So, I laid down on the freezing cold tray, shivering because I'd been dressed in my snuggy clothes all day and now I was clad only in a thin cotton gown and my socks. She did have some blankets to tuck around me, for which I was grateful. I was so tired, and by now it was after 8:00 P.M. so I thought I'd just close my eyes and sleep during the procedure. I'd napped through other MRIs.

But when she'd inserted me into the tube, and started pinging me, I realized I'd left on a silver ring that I wear on my right hand. I rarely take off this ring because it is smooth and doesn't snag on things like my diamond engagement/wedding set, so I'd forgotten it. But the ring was vibrating and and zinging with the machine and I didn't think it was a good thing. But then I suddenly realized that I didn't have any way of communicating with the technician. In another city, they'd given me a little buzzer to ring if I needed to signal the tech. But, I didn't know what was going to happen to my hand with this ring and just as suddenly, I realized I was completely shoved into this little teeny tube and couldn't move and I freaked.

I mean, I didn't start screaming or anything. I merely knocked on the side of the apparatus like one would knock on a door. I just hoped she'd notice because the noise from the procedure was really loud and so I knocked and knocked a couple more times. All the while my stomach started to churn, I felt completely panicked, I felt like I've seen a rabbit look as I surprised it under a bush--wide eyed and ready to flee.

It only took a second, really, for her to shut off the machine, come over and push the button to extract me. But I was in a state when I got out. I felt so stupid. I told her about the ring and the zinging and vibrating. She assured me it wouldn't hurt a thing, nor mess up the images. But, I just couldn't go back in there like I'd been before. She said that maybe I'd rather use the open MRI machine, but that they didn't have one on this site. Well, my doctor appointment is on Monday, and I really, really wanted to have this MRI so she could review it. But, I'm telling you, I was in a state. I felt so awful and so exasperated with myself, simultaneously. She was very kind and reassuring. I kept apologizing and saying that I'd had several MRIs and I'd never felt this way before.

So, she tried another technique. She had me lie the opposite way, so that my feet and legs went in first, so that when I was in the position I needed to be for the imaging, I could see the ceiling of the room by just tilting my head a little back. That felt comfortable and open enough and fine. I was able to get the procedure finished successfully. But my stomach and my brain didn't recover from it until about midnight. In fact, sitting here describing it to you, I felt the same emotions, just not as intensely.

I think I've realized what happened. When my ring started to vibrate and resonate with the machine, I didn't know to what level this reaction would continue. I didn't know if my hand would be burned or hurt, or if some other more drastic reaction would occur. (I'm sure some of you are reading this and thinking what a dope I am--because you understand the technology of the MRI.) But when I realized I couldn't do anything about it if my hand did start to burn or some other unknown and more dramatic consequence would happen, it made me very worried. Not being able to move or extricate myself, or even lift up my head to look suddenly completely freaked me out. It is a very, very bad feeling.

I hope this isn't some new manifestation of Old Ladyhood. Last month, I couldn't lean over the rail at the hotel and look down the five floors to the lobby below me without going completely weak in the knees and having my stomach drop. I've never liked roller coasters, however, and even the Ferris wheel used to spook me. So perhaps it's just the usual cowardly me. I hope so, the aches and pains that forced me to the doctor are quite enough, without some new weird thing going on in my brain.

The Cool Birthday

Today is the anniversary of Cool Guy's birth--happy birthday! He shares it with Dr. King, and that is a good thing, because every few years it means Cool Guy gets his birthday as a paid holiday. Here are some reasons I enjoy him:

• He fathered great kids. They are handsome/cute as he is, and also as intelligent, too.
• He thinks I'm the greatest thing walking and tells me so regularly.
• He can fix everything. No, seriously.
• He has a marvelous sense of humor.
• He appreciates music.
• He'll eat anything I cook.
• He washes dishes.
• He reads all the time.
• He lets me ride the motorcycle with him.
• He gets me upgrades to "ruling class" on flights.
• He edits my writing.
• He's cute. Still.
• He knows who wrote and performed almost every song.
• He gets excited about things I get excited about. Most of the time.
• He is kind to animals and likes pets. Even cats.
• He has always earned a living for us.
• He sends me flowers.

Well, this is just a partial list. It's late, but I wanted to have this posted so he can see it first thing and know that, out here in the land of the setting sun, we (KittyCat and I) are thinking of him, way back there in the land of the rising sun. (no, not Japan---Maryland...)

Happy Birthday Cool Guy!

The I-15 Show

I wrote that title because we'd driven along 1-15 through the high desert a number of times, and passed the sign for the Roy Rogers Museum -- Featuring "Trigger" Roy's horse -- stuffed.

Here's another episode. I was on for one week.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DS3DsuVMcI0&feature=related


All the episodes were taped on one evening, and then two weeks later I came back as the returning champion. In the interim, I'd been to the clinic at the Navy Hospital for a pregnancy test--positive--and so when I returned to the show, Allen asked "What's new?" (really)...so I told them. A few weeks later, Allen Ludden said something about "We once had a contestant who got pregnant on the show. --er, I mean---" It brought down the house.

There Are Many Things About Which I Know Nothing

This particular episode was taped about five years before the birth of my third son. He is very knowledgable about sports. He was a super baseball dude as a little league player, and followed a couple of football teams for years. He just knows a lot about sports. When I told him of this incident, when he was about 16, he just shook his head in embarrassment...How could I be so clueless? It was easy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5PFoIGnmMs0&feature=related

At the time, I knew so little about professional sports that I wasn't even embarrassed. I didn't even hear Allen Ludden when he said that hilarious crack.

A Trip in the Time Machine

It is 1979... Check this out!!


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzTuwTq4TPQ&feature=related


Absolutely amazing what one can find on the internet!! I found my youth.

A REALLY Full Moon

Tonight I went out to soak in my spa (a nightly ritual I wish for all of you--aaah, oooh, aaah--it feels so good) and the moon was so bright that I could distinguish colors. The blue of the pool bottom and the green of my robe were clearly visible. You could almost get a moon-tan from it. The moon was so spectacular that I came in and googled it.

Aw, yes, another Celestial Event is occuring. It is the perigee moon of January 2009. It seems that in its elliptical orbit around Mother Earth, the moon is very near--just like it was in December. So, yes, the big full moon of Saturday is a little bigger seeming than usual. It is closer. We had a very windy day here, so now that the air is still, all the dirt, smog and haze are gone and we have an unobstructed view of the heavens. Also the Strip--the lights are especially glittery tonight on Glitter Gulch.

So go out and enjoy the beautiful ultra-full moon tomorrow--and if you're up reading this in the wee hours, go out right now and see the lovely lunar lobe.

Wouldn't It Be Nice...

I took a vote in my classroom this morning at 8:50 A.M. and it was unanimous:

We all wished we were home, still in bed.

It is hard to regroup after vacation.

World Traveling

We used this map to label all the countries where someone in our immediate family(parents and children) has traveled. We've been to quite a few countries. Notably, we've neglected most of Africa, South America and Asia. Russia is huge, huh?


Visited Countries Map from TravelBlog

Starting the New Year Off Right

I have a friend who claims that it is essential to do only good things on the first day of a new year because that sets the tone for the entire year. (They always make love...but I'll never tell her husband she told me that...) ANYWAY---CoolGuy started a tradition when we were first married to always have a motorcycle ride on New Year's Day because we were in Southern California for the beginning of the marriage and it was so awesome to be able to ride a motorcycle in the warm air and see the ocean and the palm trees on January 1st! We haven't gotten over nice weather in the middle of the winter, either, after all these years. Las Vegas isn't as balmy on New Year's Day as San Diego, but it is much, much balmier than Wyoming. So, we went for our traditional "We aren't living where it is covered with snow and freezing cold--hurray!!" ride on January 1st. And it was mighty nice, as usual.

He looks scary, but he's really a sweetie. Especially if you know him as "Grandpa."

I've Seen the USA...Almost

Here is a nifty blog thing: a map to show all the states where you've traveled. I see a definite deficit in my travel patterns. I've skipped the South. But...they have flying cockroaches, and humidity...whine. Just to complete my map, I will have to go there. And my failure to see many of the states that border Canada---we'll fix that by going back east on I-90 sometime. I've used I-10, I-40, I-70 and I-80 already. It's weird how Vermont is an outlier, too. It's because the route I used to go to Bird Camp in Maine didn't include a corner of Vermont, like it included a corner of New Hampshire. The next time I am in Maryland, I intend to drive up to Rhode Island, and circumnavigate the state one afternoon. It is 37 miles wide and 48 long. Ha ha ha!!! That cracks me up! The valley where I grew up in Wyoming is about that size. It is so amusing that Rhode Island is an entire state. Of course, population-wise, there are only around 500,000 in Wyoming and there are over a million in Rhode Island. I plan to see Alaska from a cruise ship deck one of these years, and my daughter is going to be our tour guide to Hawaii someday, too.

Anyway, here's the map: make one of your own!



Visited US States Map from TravelBlog

Thank You, Again, Meredith

We just returned from our family vacation in San Diego, courtesy of Serendipity Inc. It was a good time. Apparently, our 2 year old grandson expressed his desire to stay longer when he realized his family was headed home. They'd been in the car for about an hour, when he said, "We go back to the hotel?" and his mom said that, no, they were going home now (a day's drive away) and he cried unhappily, "No, not go home! Go to hotel!" My sentiments exactly! If one criteria for a successful good time is to end it when you're still having fun, then we had a Good Time. We stood on the balcony of our hotel room this morning, looking out at our view of the bay, and the bridge, and the sky, and the boats, and the mountains to the east and agreed that we ought to just stay another week.

We could see the peninsula of Point Loma so clearly, and it was the view we'd had from our house (just nine miles inland) for so many years when we lived in San Diego, so we felt like we were home again. As we drove around everywhere, our brains were just patterned to take those streets, and see those familiar sights. It felt so normal. Even our children who hadn't been back there in more than fifteen years kept saying "Wow, I just knew that as we drove around that bend, I'd seen that building, or those trees." It's interesting how a place can get into your cells.

I'll never grow tired of smelling the ocean, or seeing the surf, or listening to the birds. The air feels soft, the light is unique and the feel of sand gritting beneath my shoes are all things I love about Southern California. I've just got to figure out a way to move back there to live. Right now, the plan is--Christmas 2010--house rental in Ocean Beach. Mom and Dad will rent the house for the week. It's up to you children to start saving now for your trip to San Diego to do it again.

We went to the zoo. We bought the two day passes, and one day we took the bus tour, and rode the sky ride. The next day we went back for some close-up views of our favorites. Plus, we got there early the second day and had things to ourselves for the first hour (well...there were other people there, but not thousands of other people until later--then we left.) Plus, when you go early, the animals are all up and moving around. We saw a koala practically sprinting around their habitat--compared to the others who were entirely motionless.

We went to the tide pools. These are the tide pools we went to when we lived there. It is a huge area, and you can poke your finger into the anemones and they'll close around it. You can see lots of little crabs, and hermit crabs, and sea cucumbers and all kinds of sea life. The only requirement is that you leave everything there. Not even one seashell or rock should you haul away from this place--it is part of a national monument area, but more importantly, if everyone took just one little thing, it would be denuded in a single month.

We went to Sea World. It was crammed, but because I'd bought the two day passes at my teacher's union office, our daughter and her family returned the next day early, on their way back home. They spent several more hours and saw the rest of the things we didn't have time to see the first day because of extensive waiting in line. My best time at Sea World was watching her having such a fun time. This is really her realm. She's the one who joined the National Cetacean Society at age eight with her birthday money. I hadn't know what a cetacean was until then. (marine mammal) So, seeing her enjoy the whole place again after so many years was great! I'm sure Shamu felt a frisson in the Force when she walked back through the gates after being gone for so long.

We also just hung out a lot. We played board games, we ate together. We swam in the pool. We hung out in the hot tub and talked. Since each of our children came, they had the chance to talk to one another, and to spend a little time with us, individually and collectively. It was good. This summer I intend to reserve space at a state campground in the other part of California we lived, and people can come and hang with us or not. But I hope that some of them can make it down to enjoy some more casual recreation. It's good to get together for something other than funerals, births, and weddings.

We'll do this again. I went back to college so I could get a decent job. I simply wanted the money. (It's a bonus that I like teaching.) But this is why I wanted the extra money--so I could help my children occasionally and for fun vacations like this. It was definitely worth it to spend the time in school so I could have this week. We'll have more of them in future.

Merry Christmas

We have three of our five children here visiting, then this afternoon we are driving to San Diego to meet up with a fourth child and her family, and number five will fly down on Friday morning with his family. We are rendezvousing in the original home-land of the Family (birthplace of the CoolGuy/ESM relationship and all the off-spring). It is always a nice day in San Diego, so we'll lounge around and go to the zoo and the tide pools and have a luxurious vacation, courtesy of the Millionaire Bonus. I'm excited. One of the plans is to go to various iconic photo spots and recreate the shots using grandchildren instead of the kid who was snapped there twenty+ years ago. But, mostly, we just wanted to spend some time as a group. It is challenge to be an extended family. Everyone is sacrificing to be there--whether it is time or money. And, no, we are not anticipating a smooth, everyone-is-so-happy-to-be-together time. But, as adults, we're all planning to Put on Our Happy Faces, and be a family. It'll be worth it. And, like our grandson, "We are so 'cited for Christmas!"
So, Merry Christmas to you and yours and put on your Happy Faces and have a nice day. There's plenty of time to gripe about your relationships some other day.

Preparations

The Chex mix is ready. The pumpkin bread is in the freezer. I'll make cranberry bread tomorrow and buy the ingredients for Harira. Then, I'll make the cookie dough.

Christmas is coming! Christmas is coming! Yum...

Taking A Deep Breath

I, and all the teachers I know, are taking a deep breath tonight. The Winter Vacation has begun. And not a moment too soon. I realize that this sounds like whining. But, seriously, it isn't. Teaching is an unusually intense occupation. I really didn't understand that while being the mom at school. Even being a substitute I didn't experience it.

Here are some of the reasons:
1) the students are not there by their own choice
2) every single second the students are in school, you are responsible for them
3) this means that from the first bell till the last bell that's where your entire attention goes
4) even during your lunch (what time is it? how many minutes are left? is there anything else I need to get, do, copy, look up?)
5) you can never, ever "phone it in"

There is some type of childhood radar that lets those edgy students be instantly aware if your attention wanders. Immediately, they are standing on their chair, hitting someone, stealing something. It's always been impressive to me how completely without boundaries some children are unless an adult is continuously monitoring them for compliance.

It's exhausting. So, when the Winter Vacation comes along--two weeks of just thinking about yourself and that's all--(unless, like so many of my co-workers, you have little kids at home still) it is really such a relief. I sometimes feel like a total sissy. After all, I had five kids! And I did daycare in my home for many years. But it is completely different somehow. For instance: no one was following me around with a clipboard checking off catagories of Required Motherhood Skills. Plus, my own children weren't as naughty as many of my students. That was a shock to me when I first started teaching school at age 43: they didn't obey! I was accustomed to my own kids who obeyed. But then, we'd been teaching them to do that since they were tiny. Clearly no one at all is teaching it to several of my students.

But for two weeks and three weekends, I don't have to even think about them. And I don't plan to, either. I will bake, cook, read the newspaper, and vacation in sunny (note to weather gods: please, please be sunny) Southern California and enjoy my children and grandchildren. Breathing slowly and calmly. And NOT checking the time.

Snow Day

When I moved to Maryland fifteen years ago, I encountered a new event--the Snow Day. As a child, growing up where it was normal for snow to be constant from October to May, we did not have weather-related school holidays. Everyone had snowtires, snowchains, snowplows, boots, coats, gloves, etc. Snow did not prevent events from proceeding; it did sometimes make it more difficult to travel, but I don't remember things being cancelled due to weather.

In Maryland, snow was infrequent, but every winter it would snow at least once. And so school would be cancelled. I understand why--all those tiny little curvy roads lined by large trees from which snow-covered branches would crash down. Plus, few people had snowplows, snowtires, boots, gloves, etc.

Now I live in the desert--in a city reknown for hot temperatures. In the summer. Winter is frequently chilly; it's the high desert. But this week we're experiencing a record-breaking, once in a lifetime weather event:

So, today I'm home-last night they announced that school was cancelled Thursday--Snow Day. First one since 1979. Some parts of the Las Vegas valley got 8 inches. I scraped 2 inches off my car to come home from school. The roads were thick with slush. Many highways are still closed. Weird.

The Christmas Gift...Part 2

BUT--First this breaking news from Weather Central: for the past seven hours it has been snowing vigorously in Las Vegas!!! Yes--seven hours!! All of my ornamental grass is lying flat, the palm tree branches are drooping from the heavy wet snow lying on them. After our music program tonight at the school, I had to scrape off a couple of inches of freezing cold slush from my car. THIS IS SO WRONG. Apparently we are involved in a record breaking storm system, a not-seen-for-thirty-years snowfall. Bah humbug!! That's my opinion. However, I keep thinking of all the ways it could be worse. I could be here visiting from back East (where they just had an ice-storm) out here for a little respite in the sunny southwest for which I've saved all year. Or, I could be one of the poor people now stranded because every highway and freeway in southern Nevada and southern California has been closed, as well as the Las Vegas airport and LAX. The only bonus is that, pending a further dropping of the temperature, we could get a snow day on Thursday (!!) Now, that would be worth it. Most of my students were completely delirious as we dismissed into a world of fluffy falling flakes because they have never seen it snow before, and many of their parents have not either. It was fun to watch them scoop up a snowball from the grass (yes, there was that much accumulation by 3:30) and throw it at someone. All up and down my street there are snowmen in people's yards. This is very bizarre. Pictures tomorrow!

Now, back to our regularly scheduled blog: Part 2 of "The Year of My Amazing Discovery"

I realize now that the cost of the coat probably represented a substantial proportion of the entire Christmas budget, and so was out of the question. But, the Saturday before Christmas, my aunt and uncle came for a visit. While she distracted my mother on a pretext in the bedroom, we were instructed to take a large wrapped box from the back seat of their car and hide it under the Christmas tree, way in the back. The tag said, “To the Welch Family”, but my uncle confided in us older ones that it was The Coat.

When we’d returned home from shopping that night, my mother had told my dad about it. She wasn’t hinting, she just told him all kinds of things like that. We all agreed with her that it was a fantastic coat, and she really did look nice in it. But, as she pointed out, dismissing the subject with the finality of the one who made Christmas happen at our house, and balanced the checkbook, it was much too expensive. She hadn’t reckoned on true love.

She was a hard person to give to. She seemed not to need anything, but could always choose the right thing for someone else. Every holiday season, our house was filled with amazing culinary feats: hand-dipped chocolates, peanut brittle, cinnamon rolls, donuts, fruit cake. This bounty was started in early November so the giving could begin on time.

First, a box was filled for her little brother, the Air Force pilot, often stationed overseas. The next box went south to her parents who wintered in Arizona to ease grandma’s health. We had hoards of visitors who were always treated. Then, the culminating event on Christmas Eve, when she prepared plates with a sampling of everything, covered them with plastic wrap, handed them over to us to carry carefully to the car.

We stopped at the homes of widows, and at least one never-married man whose tiny house I’d passed on the school bus for years without realizing it was inhabited until I was big enough to help with the Christmas gifts. We always gave a plate to a family whose mother was so crippled with arthritis that I never saw her except on Christmas Eve when I slipped into her living room behind my mom, and listened as my mother carried on a cheerful conversation with a woman so bent and twisted I couldn’t look at her. We celebrated Christmas by doing Christ-like things for people who couldn’t do for themselves.

By the time we got home on Christmas Eve, the chores were done, my dad was in the house and we could act out the Nativity before having some fruitcake and milk and going to bed. But the glow in our home was magnified by my memory of the brightness she took into those other houses.

Well, Christmas morning finally came. We had opened nearly every present but the big box. She’d seen it, but assumed it was a game from some other aunts. We urged her to open it, but she passed it over to my sister, “Oh, one of you kids open it. I’ve opened my presents.”

She had; but they were so insignificant that now I cannot recall a single one. Probably a new slip, some cherry chocolates, a plaster hand-print from a first-grader—these were the typical things we ended up giving to the person who “didn’t need anything but kids to stop quarreling.” We handed the big box right back to her with a chorus of insistence that should have been a tip-off.

She tore the paper from the box; it was apparent now that it was NOT a board game. The edges of the box were taped shut, but the name of the store was printed on the outside. Suddenly, she looked confused, her fingers began to fumble with the cardboard. She stood up and dropped the box onto the couch as the lid came free, and I could hardly believe the look on her face as she drew the coat out of the tissue wrappings.

She squealed, “Oh Lynn! It’s my coat!” She turned to him, her eyes shining with incredible delight. Her hands were trembling as she pushed her arms into the sleeves, drawing it up around her shoulders.

“Here, feel this—isn’t it fantastic?” She stepped over to my dad and held out her arm. “Oh, thank you, I love it, love it, love it!”

Or something like that---I don’t remember her exact words except for her initial outburst to my dad. But more significantly, I remember what she did not say. There was no mention of “Oh, you shouldn’t have” or “It’s too much money” or “I don’t need a new coat”. She simply accepted this gesture of love from my father. He had found something she truly wanted, and he generously gave it to her. And she graciously received it.

I’m sure that many times, my father had given my mother gifts, but this was the first time I had been conscious of it. It was the first time I’d been aware of them interacting as two sweethearts. I suddenly saw them as individuals, and not merely the support system for my life.

Except for cooking dinner, she wore her glorious coat the rest of that day. And each time she wore it anywhere, she radiated, not just because it was a good color on her, but because every time she put it on, the pure joy of that Christmas moment seemed to me to be repeated, and I knew my mom was a real person, and that my dad loved her.

The End

Happy Birthday to You

Today is my mother's birthday. I don't say "was" her birthday because, even though she died over two years ago, December 16 remains the day she was born on this Earth. She was named Carol in honor of the Christmas season, and she used to say that she was lucky that her birthday was the 16th and not the 17th, or she may have been named after an aunt who had a much less melodious name.

Fourteen years ago, I wrote her a story for a birthday gift that actually recounted a Christmas memory. Tonight, as I arrived at the Relief Society party/dinner/entertainment, the president asked me if I had anything I could contribute to the program--quick--because someone else had cancelled on her. I went home and printed off that story, and as I introduced it, I suddenly realized it was Mother's birthday this very day. So, in honor of her, I will post that story. But it is longish, so I'll divide it into two posts--today is part one and tomorrow will be part two.

The title is "The Year of My Amazing Discovery"--autobiographical, as usual.

That was the Christmas when I learned that my mother was a person, too. This was only a unique concept because I was in my early teens, just fresh from junior high, with the point of view common to the age group. The world began and ended with me. The important questions of the day were:

“Did my hair look okay?”
“Were my clothes cool enough?”
“Could I get through the day without saying or doing something so stupid the whole school would notice?”

I usually thought of Christmas in those terms as well. I was focused on my wants and desires. It was hard to be a teen at Christmas. There wouldn’t be any surprises from Santa. I was too old for that. But I knew my parents weren’t prosperous enough to give me the kind of gifts I’d seen at a friend's house: skis, a stereo, go-go boots.

That is why the whole event was so amazing to me, and significant enough to catch my attention and cause a shift in my view of the world.

We’d gone shopping in the “city”. It was a two hour drive, but it was the closest community to ours with stores where you could buy the items we usually got only through mail order. Plus, my aunt lived there. She and my mother were close in age, and we visited them, or they visited us, at least once a month.

We were in a department store looking for Christmas dresses for my sisters and I, when I heard my mother exclaim to my aunt, “Oh, Lila, feel this coat!” We all came over to inspect it. It was a truly wonderful thing. It was deep navy pile, but unlike most of the late Sixties fake fur, this felt like the real thing. It had a subtle, lustrous glow, and the plush-ness of the nap was unlike any other garment on the rack.

Mama pulled it off the hanger and slipped into it, letting her aging plaid car coat slip to the floor. She snuggled the collar up around her cheeks, pushed her hands deep into the pockets folding it around her like a fashion model. Stepping up to the mirror, she did several half-turns, admiring the way the color complemented her complexion, and practically cooing about the sensuous feel of the fabric.

Without a doubt, it was one terrific coat. She looked good in it, it was different than anything else in the store, and she really did need a new coat. It was Christmas, after all; why not get it?

One hundred dollars, that’s why. The price tag, usually the first thing consulted when we were shopping, had been overlooked in the excitement of the beauty and luxury of the coat. She gasped, took it off, and replaced it on the hanger. As she returned it to its place among the less worthy wraps, I saw her hands linger on the pile for a final caress.

But, my real mother quickly emerged from the reverie, as she briskly gathered her things from the floor, with a laughing comment on how impractical it would be to own such a coat, and how the current jacket was certainly good for at least one more season, probably two. And hadn’t we better get a move on so we’d get home before it was too late?

However when she dressed again in that woven green plaid coat, with the three-quarter sleeves, knit cuffs, and shawl collar, it seemed so bland, so outdated, and, so, so practical that I was conscious for the first time at how adept she was at accepting her circumstances, and making the best of the inevitable. Her uncomplaining way of going about the business of being the mother of eight children on a family dairy-farm budget had never seemed remarkable until now. I wanted her to buy the coat. I wanted her to own it. Whenever any of us had needed something, glasses, orthopedic shoes, dental work, even just a bicycle, my parents always made it happen. I hadn’t been aware of how they did it. They just always somehow figured out the way. Surely they could figure out some way to buy this coat.

(to be continued)

Jet Setting

I haven't blogged for a while because I've been partying.

On Thursday, I flew to Baltimore, where CoolGuy picked me up and we attended his last company party---a dinner cruise on the Potomac in Washington D.C. (His old company, that was dissolved because their technology was rendered obsolete after 20 years. He works for someone else now on the second generation.)

...on Friday, we ate at a terrific tapas restaurant with our son, and then we all went to see "A Christmas Carol" performed by the Ford's Theater productions--just not in Ford's Theater this year--it's being renovated. We stayed at a motel in Baltimore so I could...

...fly off to Salt Lake City on Saturday to attend my sister's family Christmas party, hosted by my brother because his house was large enough to accommodated the huge group. I stayed with my sister that night who'd kindly acquired from her friend...

...two tickets for the Sunday morning performance of "Music and the Spoken Word" by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Immediately following their live broadcast, we stayed seated for an encore presentation of their Christmas performance that had been taped the night before for PBS. I invited my dear best friend of 30+ years. Following that we ate brunch, she took me to the airport and...

...I jetted off for home in Las Vegas. Whew.

Today, just a mild-manned, exhausted, school teacher again. But, I really had a great four days!

O, Come Let Us Adore Him--Part 2

Now, for the best: when I bought the little wooden panel scene at the mission, I began to look around at Nativity scenes everywhere. I bought one or two, but here is one I received as a gift from the 9/10 year old Foxyj:

Please note all the fabulous details: crowns on the heads of the Three Kings, sheep! The shepherds have crooks, the wise men are bearing gifts. The angel is piously holding her hands together in an attitude of worship. Here's a closeup of the Holy Couple:

Clearly, they are delighted with their baby and the joy of the momentous occasion. This obviously took a lot of work, time and thought, and it has a special place of honor, and will always be proudly displayed each Christmas.

Next to it, will be the other Best Nativity Scene Ever:

We put the pencil into the photo so you would have a sense of scale. When Auntie Sky-a was a girl, she had a gift with the needle-nose pliers and tweezers. She really loved making miniatures. This stunning Nativity Scene is one of her crowning achievements. See the camel standing in the back? The crowns on the the wise men? The iconic blue robe of the Holy Mother? The spit-wad sheep in the foreground? It's a masterpiece of detail, all surrounded by a teensy leather stable. Again, priceless, I'm telling you.

Here is one more masterpiece from a daughter: the all pine-cone depiction of the Greatest Story:


See the donkey there in the front, with his long ears? The wise man on the left, painted gold, bearing his gift from afar? There is a sheep, an angel, a shepherd, Mary and Joseph. It isn't a very good shot, but they're all there. Very post-modern, impressionist Nature/religion. I think it was the Druids that worshipped trees? And many of their customs were folded into the Christian holiday of Christmas just for convenience? Well, we don't care--we just love the pine cone creche.

As Foxyj got older, her creativity was refined by art teachers and she contributed the origami Nativity you see here. It's lovely, too.


Then, Foxyj traveled to Madrid, Spain, and when faced with the choice of buying her mom a Lladro Nativity or the Folk Art one, she wisely chose the one she knew her mom would be most delighted with: folk art. It features the Three Kings, appropriately, being Spanish. Its colorful designs and cylindrical forms make it irresistible to children. But it is also tough enough to take it because it is made from clay.

Then, we had a son travel to Russia, land of icons and matruska dolls. He found this set. The biggest doll is painted with the Nativity, but as you take them apart and form the descending sizes, you are presented with a tiny depiction of the life of Christ. Cool. On the reverse of each is written an explanation in Russian:
Our many years of living in Southern Maryland were made complete when I found this little item at a craft fair:

Yes, the Oyster Shell Nativity. We had to have it. We lived for 10 years on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay. We attended the National Oyster Shucking Championships several times. We ate oysters, we studied them in school, we painted their shells with Santa faces for ornaments. This mollusk Christmas memory was a must.

My most recent acquisition was obtained by Cool Guy on one of his regular trips to Israel for business. I could never get my schedule to mesh with his journeys, so I had to entrust him with the task. He brought me a Nativity made of olive wood from the Holy Land. He got it from an Arab seller about 25 meters from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the Old City of Jerusalem. I still wrap it in the Hebrew newspapers it came packed in. It came from the "holiest Christian site in the world" according a website. But, I just like it because it's from Israel. Someday I'll get there with CoolGuy. He was very impressed with the country and knows that I'd love it too. It's sobering to actually walk where Jesus walked. I'll just have to settle for pieces of trees that grew where Jesus grew.

O, Come Let Us Adore Him

Many, many years ago, I decided to focus my Christmas decorations on Jesus and the Nativity, since I didn't want to have Santa be the whole point of our holiday. I realize it is not an original idea, but that wasn't the point. I've been to a few displays of creches, and there are so many versions from so many countries, and they are all really terrific. My collection is not nearly so inclusive, nor particularly artistic, but it is, nevertheless, a priceless set of Nativity scenes. I would like to share some of them and the stories that make them heirlooms to us.

If you are a Mormon woman of "a certain age" you owned one of these in your life. It is printed on paper and you slip the two first panels into the edges of the larger third panel--voila--Nativity! We all got this when we were 9 or 10 in Primary. If you have one, cherish it because they have not made it since. After I was married and I'd make trips to visit my mom, I would rummage through the closets and drawers in my old room (then occupied by other sisters) and find little treasures from my childhood and teenage years that no one else wanted. This was one of them. It was our first Nativity scene and sat on a shelf flanked by a poinsettia. It was our only one for quite a while. Most of our decorating energy was put into the tree and our cookies.

We moved to Idaho for a couple of years and our youngest son brought home this wonderful item from nursery one Sunday in December. It has been proudly displayed for 21 years. Look closely and you'll see the shepherds, the sheep, the wise men and the manger with a teeny, naked plastic baby lying under his tiny blanket on a bed of straw. You will also see evidence of the sainthood of this nursery leader. She cut out, glued on the scenes, and covered the little shoeboxes with wrapping paper. I don't remember doing any of it. The contribution of the three year old is the coloring on the edge of the manger and around Mary and Joseph.

Then, we moved to another part of California and I was shopping in the gift store of the Mission Santa Barbara, looking for something to send to CoolGuy who would be spending Christmas in a sandy environment much nearer the Holy Land than any of us had ever been before. I couldn't send fragile items, nor large items. But I found a little wooden panel that had been carved and painted in El Salvador that depicted the Holy Family so I sent that. I also purchased a slightly more elaborate one for our home. That's when I was smitten by the Nativity Scene bug, and I started to seek them out.

There is no particular order in which I acquired these next ones. But they are all just my favorites.

This is a gift from a great friend. She is very ambitious, and had sewn several of these sets to give to her daughters-in-law. But when she showed them, their lack of enthusiasm was so obvious that she gave me one instead. My enthusiasm was very enthusiastic! This is the set I'd take to church to use to teach children's songs because it can be handled and cuddled and not be harmed. It is a favorite of grandchildren. One year it was rearranged many times each day complete with an explanation from S-Boogie.

This is a mobile. The artist is Tomie De Paola, one of my favorite author/illustrators. I have many of his Christmas storybooks. The Night of Las Posadas and The Legend of the Poinsettia are two favorites. His drawings are very distinct and, ever since we fell in love with Strega Nona, I seek out his books. An exciting day for me was when I met him at a book signing in Ventura and got my autographed copy of ...something. I'll have to look inside my books!

Stay tuned tomorrow for the One of a Kind, Original Masterpiece Nativity Sets--priceless, I'm telling you. They can never be duplicated nor replaced, in our home or in our hearts.

Walked a Mile in My Shoes

Actually, I think the entire round trip was almost two miles on our field trip to the Wetlands Park. We had a wonderful time, but about 1.7 miles into it, my legs just said, "Done--we're finished." My feet hurt so much tonight I can hardly describe it. I even wore my really thick soled, extra support-ful best shoes, too. But I think if I can recover by morning, (and even if I limp all day) it will have been worth it. It was a great place!!

It rained last week for almost two days, a soft slow rain that didn't flash flood anywhere, but just soaked the desert and revived everything. It still smelled fabulously this morning--all the resinous plants and the moist ground. Plus, it left the ground soft so that all the little creatures that inhabit that area left their imprints everywhere. We saw coyote tracks, quail, rabbit, raccoon and other bird's tracks we couldn't name. We saw herons, snowy egrets, osprey, coots, ducks, and numerous other little birds flitting all over the trees. We saw the stump of a tree that was the result of a beaver's industry--conical and covered with tooth marks. We found the feathers and blood stains of bird killed and eaten by ? ?--coyote? hawk? fox? We examined all kinds of "scat"--the scientist term for poop. We identified plants and bugs and looked at seed pods and holes in the ground. It was pure discovery and the joy of real stuff--every kid loves it!

I was proud, too, because we'd done enough prep that the students had a lot of background knowledge for the techniques of observation and an understanding of the desert ecosystem. It was really gratifying to watch them see something they'd read about, and exclaim and identify it for the docent. Or when she'd ask them why or what and they knew the answer and could see the real event or concept right there in front of them--live. I love that kind of field trip, where we can feel things, and step in mud, and put some salt grass in our mouths and taste why it is named that! We'd been watching the osprey wheeling above us and they were admiring it, when suddenly it dropped into a straight down dive. The water was obscure by the tree line, but they all saw it fall into the dive and shouted like they'd seen the quarterback run into the end zone. It would have been awesome if they could watch it pounce on a fish. But, now they know what it looks like to see a powerful hunter in action. It was a great day.

My crippled feet and legs are totally worth it.

Did You See the Sky?

Last night you could see Jupiter and Venus close together, just under the crescent moon. It was very beautiful. The big event was December 1, but tonight the two planets were still showing up bright and clear, and they were really obvious on Thanksgiving evening. Lil' Dude and I were out on the swings at their apartment playground and, even though it wasn't dark yet, the two stars were clear enough in the sky that he looked up, pointed and said in his sweet little two-year old voice, "I see two stars." Yup--there they were. Planetary conjunction for most of the world to enjoy.

Celestial events are always such a thrill. My friend's sister wrote to her from Zambia to tell her to look for the planets. Wherever you were on the globe, you got a unique perspective with them lined up near the moon. It would be cool to fly around the world for different sky views. I remember when my oldest son returned from living in Argentina for two years how he looked up one night and said, "Ah, Orion--my old friend! Haven't seen you for so long." When I was growing up I always looked at Orion from the darkened barnyard as I moved groups of cows in and out of the barn in the winter during the night milking. It is very soothing to see stars; they're almost like old friends. Weirdly, we can see many stars from our home here in the Bright Lights, Big City because we live so near to the big eastern mountain. Our sky to the east is very dark and it allows us to see parts of the Milky Way, even though over to the west it is so illuminated by the Strip. We can see constellations and The Luxor's Tower 'O Light. Strange.

Go out--enjoy the sky. One thing about the desert vs. the East Coast. Here, the sky is infrequently obscured by clouds, never by trees and rarely by the liquid haze of humidity.

Ta Da...

Okay, supposedly it was National Blog Posting Month, so I dutifully posted every day since I found out about it. And it was kinda fun being compelled, sort of, to write everyday. Some days, I was really stretching to find something to write about. And some days, I could have written two or three.

This weekend, we discovered one joy of our current status as adults with paychecks. We spent money instead of time. We flew to Sacramento on Thanksgiving morning because CoolGuy found cheap tickets. Apparently most people want to wake up on Thanksgiving morning in the location where they plan to eat. So if you don't care so much about that, (and it was a short flight) you can get a good deal on plane tickets. We rented a car, fully intending to drive back to Las Vegas--all eight hours. Then, wandering around the internet on Friday, CoolGuy found reasonable return tickets for noon on Sunday. Originally the return tickets all looked much too expensive. So, we flew. That is a benefit of this period of our lives. Occasionally, we can afford to spend money instead of time and effort.

We've done the marathon car trips. We usually lived so far away from relatives we wished to visit regularly. For many years, the marathon was the alternative to having enough money to buy accomodations for a large family on the road. We just packed up the kids and the food and hit the road until we got to a relative's house. It usually involved about 12 hours of driving, minimum. We've slept in many rest stops. Once or twice we actually spent money on a motel room, but usually we crammed everyone into one room, with several using sleeping bags on the floor. [Our oldest son started on the trip to Buenos Aires for his church mission, when the group traveling together was forced to make a layover in Miami, courtesy of the airlines because of equipment problems. He informed me that it was the first time he'd ever slept in a motel room in a bed.]

But, our enthusiasm has shriveled for driving hours and hours at a time, without the option to stop halfway for a good night's sleep. I need to to go to school tomorrow and teach, so we were going to have to drive the length of California all in one day. We were not looking forward to it. So, thanks again to CoolGuy for the upgrade to Ruling Class. I enjoyed my visit to the grandchildren for this four day weekend even more than I anticipated because none of it involved the excruciating endurance contest between me and my Restless Legs. Whoo--hoo!

Bigger Boys and Their Toys

Today, we drove over to Sacramento and went to the old town area. Among the many attractions listed on their website was the California Train Museum. There is actually a large and festive area in Old Town Sacramento and it would be fun to come here and spend several days just checking it all out. We didn't get to Sutter's Fort State Park, or the capital building or the waterfront park on the river. And because we'd gone to the amazing Farmer's Market at Davis for lunch, we were too paunched to eat at any of the enticing restuarants we walked past. You could ride around the area in a horse-drawn buggy, too. Oh, and the Indian museum, the California State Historical Museum...

But we made it to the Train Museum. We expected something interesting and an area with exhibits the kids could climb in and keep them interested. It was much larger than we expected, and was extremely entertaining to the kids. We could walk inside various train cars: sleeper, diner, mailcar, a caboose. We could climb up and look inside a big steam engine's cabin where the fireman and engineer worked. There was a whole second floor with interactive areas and a lot of Thomas the Tank Engine fun stuff.

The really cool part was the special exhibits on the main floor of all the men and their toy trains. Thanksgiving Weekend is a special event. I guess traditionally, there are huge crowds in town, so they invite the model train people to come and set up their gear. There's some mighty fine gear out there, boxed up in people's garages all year, waiting for a chance to come on down to the big restored roundhouse and set it all up and play with it. And you can meet all your friends there, too. A lot of them are wearing special badges or hats with their number and name as part of the model train associations. There are groups who use two rails, and groups who use three. There are the really old ones, there was an all-Lego train--yes, driving around choo-chooing. There was a circus train and a Christmas train. The set-ups were very elaborate: a whole little town, with scenes by the stores of people going about their lives, animals in the fields, trees, streams, covered bridges, train stations and loading docks. It was incredibly detailed and well-kept. You could tell just by looking at the tableaus that every one was a cherished creation of love. Then, if you talked to a guy (and there were only about three women train owners) he could wax on about the glories and joys of his hobby. It was awesome.

We didn't make an effort to stay together, especially. Our pair-ups were random and for just a single exhibit. So when CoolGuy and I met up as I came down out of the dining car exhibit, I hadn't been with him for the latest thing that caught his eye. But his face was shining and he talked to me as eagerly as a boy with a new video game: steam powered locomotives! Model trains that used tiny butane burners to boil the water into vapor that actually powered their little locomotives around the tracks! The minature engineering! The marvel of that technology, done small! He'd been standing there talking to the guys and checking out the trains. Wow, he was thrilled. It was so fun to see him so animated. He was like a 10 year old. It was great!

We need to go back to Sacramento. We didn't see nearly enough of it. Plus, we're going to need to go back to the train museum when we are unencumbered by small children and their limited stamina. There are so many people to talk to and cool sights to see, and we're going to need plenty of time to do it. Choo... Choo... Choo... Choo

California Dreaming

There's just something about California. I know that many people whine about its political atmosphere, and its population density, and its exporting of wacky people who bring their annoying California attitudes to their new place ...

But you can't beat the feel of the air, or the nature of the light, or the vast acreage of gorgeous black dirt where anything can grow, all year round. And this is northern California, near Sacramento. I know I've waxed on about Southern Cal, over and over, ad nauseum. I've only visited up here twice, and for brief weekend trips. But it grabs me the way the rest of coastal California always does.

This part is actually in the center of the state, but because of all the big rivers and the proximity of the wetlands that are adjacent to the huge estuarial area of the San Francisco Bay, it seems coastal. The air is misty, moisty and everything is green and growing. The diversity of trees, bushes, flowers, and birds, makes me long to live here again.

I do love the desert, really. But I also miss the ease with which plants grow here in California. You can just push geraniums cuttings in the ground and they grow all over the yard, trailing along the paths. You can harvest something from your garden nearly year round. Then there's the ferns, the poppies, the fruit trees, the ivy, night blooming jasmine. I love it and I miss it.

For now, we must stay in Las Vegas. But every time I visit California, as I cross the state line going east, in my head I quote the Governator: "I'll Be Baauuck."