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."

Three Hundred...

I was just going to write "Happy Thanksgiving" and sign off. But then I noticed that this is the 300th post. Wow. I can't believe that I've typed that many of them. But this is a very cathartic activity. I've written many letters to the editor to vent about various topics. I've kept many journals. I used to write chatty letters to my mom and tell her amusing stories about our life. The blog just fills all that need. It functions as a letter, of sorts, to my children so they know what's up with their parents. My sisters read it, too, so they can keep up. Sometimes it inspires them to write me an e-mail or call me on the phone. So, blogging is a multi-function activity.

We're spending the weekend with our daughter's family, reading to grandchildren, playing with legos. Tomorrow we'll find some outdoor activity--Christmas tree farm, state park, farmer's market. We've got two days to mess around and then back home to the desert. We're thankful for modern transportation so we can go visit our family members with relative ease. We're also thankful that we're welcome to come and visit them. Happy Eating Day!

Does This Grandchild Make Me look Old?

Today is the 6th anniversary of my becoming a grandma--abuela--babushka---all of the above. Our grandson was born in 2002 and he is six years old. And I hear, suffering from tonsilitis, so the much-anticipated birthday party was put off until next week. But it is really, really fun to be Grandma.

I really enjoyed being a mom of little kids. A newborn baby is just a delight. No, really. I had incredibly easy childbirths that were only a few hours long, so my post-partum wasn't all that tough. Plus, CoolGuy always took leave from work for at least three days, my friends brought in meals, I was home (!), so there we all were: it was like Christmas morning and we had the best present ever.

My grandchildren weren't ushered into the world with that much ease---poor moms. But seeing the tiny new little people was such a thrill for me and Grandpa. And it just keeps getting more and more fun. I joke that I work to support my Grandma shopping habits. I really try to control myself. I try to not buy every book and puzzle and themed holiday shirt I see. But I do buy my fair share.

Plus, I've figured out why it is so exciting and thrilling to be grandparents. Here I am, probably 2/3 through with my earth life. (Not a good thought--but realistic.) I see my grown children, most of them older than I was when I gave birth to them, and I cannot believe how fast the time went by. I remember sweet old ladies in church watching me struggle with three, then four tiny kids...then five...and say "Oh, honey, just enjoy every minute because it goes by so fast, you won't even believe it." And I remember thinking that I'd like a few of the phases to flash past, oh yeah. Like the screaming in church phase, the peeing the pants phase, the endless head colds phase. But they were right. It flashed by.

In my brain I am still in my 30's. In my knees and feet---72. But my driver's license says it's somewhere in the middle of those two. So, when I think of my kids, I recall--vividly--scenes from their childhoods, schooling, even their little-kidhood as though it was only a couple of years ago. But two of them are now parents, and all of them are older than we were when we first became parents. So, grandchildren allow you to live it all over again.

You have both the children you love as adults, and you get to "see" them again as babies and toddlers. You can laugh with their grown-up selves over their baby selves reborn again as grandchildren. It doesn't slow down time, but you get a do-over that you are concious of as a precious gift. I didn't long for my children to "hurry up" and grow up--I lived in the now while they were children. I really enjoyed them--we both did. We loved being parents. But, it did fly by and, since we couldn't slow it down, we're just happy we get to hit the DVR button and do it again.

Weather Shock

You know you've lived too long in the desert when:

Tonight, we were out in the yard. CoolGuy was stirring up the compost, and I was picking some tomatoes for dinner. [Yes, envy me...you see, when it was 110 in August, and the tomato plants sighed and gave up setting fruit from their blossoms, I didn't go out and pull up my plants. I didn't get around to it in September either. Well, in October I decided to tidy up my garden box and pull out all the used up tangle of gone-to-seed basil and exhausted tomatoes. I ripped out a couple of the plants, and down there nearer to the cool soil, was a little stash of ripening tomatoes. So I cleared away all the dying plant material, and found that one of the tomato plants was sending out new growth with little yellow flowers all over it and tomatoes were setting and growing big and ripening! Yahoo! I love homegrown tomatoes. So, I've got a second crop. We'll see how long the plant thrives and gives me ingredients for caprese salad. I cut the seed pods off the basil and it is putting out new leaves, too.]

So, anyway, I was picking a couple of tomatoes and I felt water dripping on my arm. CoolGuy was spraying a little water into the composter to moisten it and I thought maybe the hose had developed a leak. I couldn't figure out where the water was coming from. Then I saw that the sidewalk was all splotched with water too.

Oh. Rain. Yeah, remember that stuff? Barely.

Aaaahh

I dressed up today in a nice suit and heels so I'd look professional for my parent conferences. As a result, tonight my feet hurt, and I'm tired from "making nice". No, really, I had a fairly pleasant day. But it is exhausting to do parent conferences. You never know how parents are going to react. (See: Friday...) But I had nice experiences with my students. It is good to have the students come and you all sit down and look over all their work (which I save) and the student actually tells his/her parents how the school year is going. And none of the students is surprised by their grades. We've been keeping track of how they're doing in our Data Notebooks--an accumulation of their checked work, with rubrics, and a main page where they chart their growth, or lack thereof. Yes, it is a lot of work. But I'm a convert to this concept because the students really do know how they're doing and what they need to work on.

But, just now, I'm fresh from the hot tub and I'm soaked and warmed and ready for bed, and I'm headed there! Ta Ta...another day of heels and friendly (hopefully) conversations await me. And tomorrow is our "late" day--we have conferences scheduled from 7:50 A.M. till 6:30 P.M. Oh my aching feet.