Thirty Days, For Better or Worse

I did it.

Thirty posts in thirty days.

Surprisingly no confetti came shooting out of my computer screen. No bells rang out. No whistles shrieked victory.

Just a page flipping on my calendar: December!

Whew.

I'm going to make a pot of tea, put my feet up, enjoy the freedom to post at will - or won't - and let the Christmas Spirit descend.

Wish you were here...

Skype and Such

On Thanksgiving, using Skype, I called my aunt and uncle - my dad's older brother by two years - who live in Arizona. My folks and the Arizona loved-ones miss each other, haven't visited in person for years. Phone calls are their only means of communication these days.

My aunt has installed a camera on her computer. (I plan to use Christmas money for a camera of my own.) I called Dad into the computer room and he, wearing a headset, talked for a good long while watching his brother and sister-in-law in real-time on my monitor screen.

Then Mom put the headset on and talked with her favorite sister-in-law, chatting as they used to when they were neighbors and would sip coffee while visiting at the dining room table.

Both my parents enjoyed the surreal experience. My aunt and uncle were pleased for the opportunity as well.

Marveling at the sight of four octogenarians having a conversation regions apart via high-tech wizardry astonished me, warmed me, created deep contentment on a jovial Thanksgiving Day.

Amazing.




__________________




And while the grandparents played on the computer, the kids played cards!

Is this backwards or what!

Apres Thanksgiving

Weeks of mental planning.

Days of physical preparations.

One day.

One feast.

And it's all over.

Friday is rest day!

Turkey and noodles!

Or turkey sandwiches!

In a once-clean house.

Full of my favorite people.

Afterglow.

Thankful Heart

Today with gratitude in our hearts for the good you give our bodies, we thank you, turkey, humanely taken, respectfully roasted, eaten with appreciation...the circle of life.

To all who celebrate with me the Thanksgiving Holiday I wish you a bountiful day! May your food be perfectly prepared, may your energy be high, may your love flow freely, may your heart find its proper response to God, and may your in-laws leave before the leftovers are gone!

Thanksgiving Wednesday

Steam fogging the kitchen windows, breads rising by the warm oven, pies cooling on the table, bowls of vegetables prepared, sauces cooling, linens sorted and laid out, this day of the year smells good.

Tomorrow the guests arrive! I am stoked as I've been looking forward to this holiday for a long time.

My mom and dad are among the guests, their first visit outside of their home since they returned after Mom's long illness and recovery. What joy!

This is one of my favorite photos from Thanksgivings past: Sammy and Caroline with our funny turkey puppet that squawks, "Eat more pork!" when you squeeze its bill.

I hope your heart is full of joyful anticipation at what tomorrow may hold. I hope, too, that you have taken long moments to reflect on the many reasons for giving thanks this year.

Happy Day Before Thanksgiving!

Peoples Native to our Land

Sharing and civility among the Pilgrims and Native Americans made the very first feast of Thanksgiving quite special, I am certain.

No tribute to the holiday would be complete without mentioning the life-saving aid given the new settlers. However we view the New World intrusion of Europeans, it's good to note that there was a moment in time when respect for the ways of others was acknowledged and appreciated. Good to remember.

One of my favorite Native American depictions - they're just so cute! - is of two babies in photos I discovered displayed in an Ashcroft Ghost Town building, several miles from Aspen, in the glorious Rocky Mountains.

Enjoy!

Where We Live

"Modern American culture is fairly empty of any suggestion that one's relationship to the land, to consumption and food, is a religious matter. But it's true; the decision to attend to the health of one's habitat and food chain is a spiritual choice. It's also a political choice, a scientific one, a personal and a convivial one. It's not a choice between living in the country or the town; it is about understanding that every one of us, at the level of our cells and respiration, lives in the country and is thus obliged to be mindful of the distance between ourselves and our sustenance." ~~ Barbara Kingsolver

Manipulated? Ya Think?

"When the holiday season of consumption that began on 'black Friday' (the Friday after U.S. Thanksgiving that is supposed to help merchants end the year in the 'black') draws to a close, our consumption doesn't stop, it just changes focus. During the holiday season we are encouraged to consume, especially foods to feel loved. In January we are encouraged to purchase diet foods and exercise equipment; ironically, to assuage our previous over-indulgence." ~~ Mary Beth Lind in Simply in Season

A bunch of sheep. Sometimes we Americans act like a bunch of sheep following momentary impulses. And the media is an impulse that undeniably prompts.

I think of the ads at Christmas for delicious foods. Mouth-watering ads showing gorgeous, perfectly dressed, unbelievably joyful people delighting in spectacularly roasted turkeys, glistening sauces, steaming potatoes and stuffings, vibrant vegetables, and breads slathered in butters and jams. Desserts shot up-close so that each pecan is magnified in the pie, the icing on the cookies lures, and the hot chocolate melts the plop of whipping cream before my eyes. All of this is put forth as innocent holiday requirements. Afterall the more extravagant the wintery delights you serve, the more you love your family and friends. Right?

So bake and cook and eat we do with permission from Mother Media. "Go for it!" she cackles. "Indulge, my children, eat with abandon! It's guilt-free - everyone is doing it!"

But, sheep that we are, we aren't prepared for the onslaught of palm-rubbing, gleeful GUILT about to be served up after the last feast on New Year's Day. Holiday pounds! Oh, the shame. Better lose them quick with this diet method or that, this gym or that. And you certainly can't do it without that convoluted piece of exercise equipment peddled by an aging t.v. star or swimsuit model you sort of remember.

It's a trap, I tell you!

Besides the obvious blindfolding and unplugging of oneself from the inevitable media blitz - is that entirely possible? - there is a better way, a thoughtful path through favorite, festive, holiday food. Bake and cook and eat to your heart's content and don't look back. Enjoy the goodness of the earth as you celebrate whichever holiday you observe. Take a few extra strolls around the neighborhood. Chop a little more wood. Play vigorously with the kids, especially when you don't really feel like it. Keep a handle on the pressure in your stomach. Engage your mind to keep from gluttony that will burp up regret later in the evening. You can have your cake and eat it, too, because if you don't eat the whole thing in one day there'll be more for the next.

All I'm suggesting is that rather than have our holiday merriment sour into new year depression, it's possible to truly relish the coming holidays not as sheep but as wise men and women who enjoy the people, the weather, the sights and sounds, and the sumptuous cuisine while maintaining just enough self-discipline that, in the end, we may laugh in the faces of the new year taunts about holiday weight gain, bloat, and disappointment.

Let the festivities begin!

(How obvious is it that is a post from me, to me? ; )

Footprints

In the middle of the Arizona desert a concrete walkway leading to a viewpoint tells a tale.











Rabbit prints straight, four-pawed, and true cut a path across the once-drying sidewalk.




Angled toward the rabbit prints are coyote tracks.

How much time passed between the two? Did the rabbit make it? Did the coyote have his supper?

Aye, the prints only tell part of the tale.

Things are not always as they seem.

Alaska and Hardy

"... a day which had a summer face and a winter constitution - a fine January morning, when there was just enough blue sky visible to make cheerfully-disposed people wish for more, and an occasional gleam of silvery sunshine..."

~~Thomas Hardy, Far From the Madding Crowd

I'm enjoying this book! The writing paints vivid mind-pictures. Perfect for ever shorter days.

I'd stay and write more, but the book calls and I have hours of 'other' to accomplish before I earn my Hardy reward!

Vingt

Twenty days of Nablopomo.

Unexpected Con: Posting every day, while an interesting experiment and certainly do-able, means that each post is not afforded its due at the top of the page, but is quickly chunked down and down and down into obscurity. I've read many intriguing daily posts this month that should have been savored but were skimmed, their relevance lost in the enormous volume of writing by fellow Nablopomo trekkers. Like when a movie contains marvelously strung together sentences but there are just too many to mentally retain, so most dissipate before I have a chance to capture their essence, ponder their ideas, digest their meaning.

Unexpected Pro: Like an enforced brain-enema, Nablopomo has left my fusty mind-closet of words and ideas cleansed, refreshed, invigorated. All those musty old words that I'd intended to simmer on the 'back-burner' had instead become smashed and intertwined up against other good intentions. Daily posting has caused them to be peeled apart, examined, and the decision made: save or chuck? De-cluttering is good for a closet - it's even better for a brain. This is unexpected. Didn't know it could be done. An interestingly pleasant side-effect.

Nablopomo? Ten days and counting...

Workin' Hard

Tom cut down the wall between two tiny bedrooms creating a family room. Wow! What a difference. The free part is done. Demolition. Plus covering up narrow trenches between the floors with rugs, ignoring grungy walls, and strategically placing wall hangings. By snagging pieces of furniture from other rooms, including outdoor furniture, we've managed to make a livable space for the winter. Saving up for the remodel and new furniture will take time.

One of Tom's favorite tools.

Caroline stands victorious on the old wall. (The unfinished Dutch door leads to the new addition. We are waiting to finish the door until after we remodel, knowing it may suffer a bit of abuse during the process.)

Sammy is confused!

The weirdest thing is how our brains are so fully on auto-pilot about the floor plan of our house. We are still entering the new space, pausing, shaking our heads, and letting our brains figure it all out. It's pretty funny.

Still temporarily existing are the two doorways with doors still up, which now lead into the one new room, rather that the original two. Cassie, deep in conversation, got up from her seat in the new, rustic room, walked out one door, into the hall, and through the other door in order to reach the other side of the room. She just stood there cracking up once she realized what she'd done. We all laughed.


It takes a lot to get over a habit. What is it, fifty repetitions in a row to break one? Something like that.

No wonder it's so hard to change. It takes determination to muster that kind of conscientiousness. And dedication.

And paying attention to where you're going!

Right, Cassie?

Obama, Women, War

I've read Obama wants to require women to sign-up for the Selective Service just as men do in case we initiate another draft, and that he wants full equality among men and women. No more keeping women out of combat zones (not that they are restricted now, but they are supposed to be.)

Daughters fighting and killing alongside sons.

I remember when my boys had to register. Squeezed my heart even as I prayed they'd never be called up.

I wonder if Obama would be okay with his girls entering the military against their wills during wartime. If so, he's far and away different from every daughters' daddy I've ever known.

It's not hard to realize the reasons why women and men are not equal on the battlefield. Upper body strength differences that could mean life or death when dealing with injured soldiers. Natural protective instincts in men, regardless of how vigorously the tendency is 'trained out of them,' tendencies which cause responses to be altered, again potentially costing lives. There's more.

For me, I know myself and I know my daughters. Putting us on the battlefield would not only weaken the military, but would damage us emotionally and mentally. Yes, the psychological effects harm men as well. War is hell, after all.

But years ago I watched my toddler sons use sticks as swords and guns. I saw them instinctively imitate explosion sounds as they dropped marbles on their Lincoln Logs to blow their creations to smithereens. Plastic green soldiers strategized and 'died' among the furniture, books, and building blocks, even stuffed animals took hits while I implored of the boys to 'be careful!' Childhood brothers punched, they kicked hard and wrestled until I thought they'd suffocate, they played at war from the time they were three feet tall. I know it's not politically correct to say it, but they are wired this way.

My girls didn't do those things at such young ages. Cassie was a tomboy but she didn't play the sort of games the boys did, until the boys taught her. It wasn't instinctive. Caroline has always been sweet. She freaked out if someone stepped on a spider, preferring to escort the bug outside to 'go find your mommy.' The girls preferred games which included cute imaginary animals, dressing up, tea parties, hide-and-seek, and playing grocery store. Their scuffles were noisy with words and ended quickly with tears - oh, the tears and wails at being injured whether physically or emotionally. It took me forever to console them. The boys, not so much.

While my sons are tenderhearted men, still, there is a thrill at guns, explosives, demolition, and all those vigorous-type things while the girls are intrinsically gentler. I don't believe it's upbringing because the differences were apparent at such young ages. Plus, the girls were heavily influenced by much-older brothers in the household and still, the deep-seated nurturer exists in each girl. My daughters can shoot, it's true, and they've learned their way around a man's world, but still, there is an innate gentle nourishing spirit in them. They want to cook and bake for the men in our family, they want to 'surprise them' with special moments, hand-made gifts, sweet kindnesses.

Yes, men and women are different. Much the same, true, but different enough that I believe women should only enter the military if they want to and even then, they should be kept out of combat zones.

Obama is squeezing my mother's heart with his views. Let's hope wiser heads prevail before much damage is done to future mommies and daddies of our compassionate nation.

Rewind

In the process of cleaning out closets this weekend we came upon boxes of home videos. We watched a few of them last night.

Awesome. Magical. Hilarious. Sweet.

The things we’ve done as a family! The trips to the log cabin with heavy snow falling outside and a warm fire inside. Skiing. Snow-shoeing. Snowball fights. And the trips to the seashore feeding seagulls, running in the sand, visiting lighthouses and aquariums. Holidays, everydays.

My teenagers as toddlers gently fingering sea cucumbers and other mysterious pettable ocean creatures. Ice skating at the local rink with my now mid-twenties eldest gently escorting his baby sister around the rink, scooping her up tenderly when she staggers, holding her on his lap to tighten her skates. I melt into gooey sentamentality at the sight.

There’s my second son laughing and cheering as he beats a quick-drawing Johnny Rio at Enchanted Forest, his teenage mannerisms identical to those he exhibits today: the yanking on his shirt to free up his shoulder, the way he runs his hand over his head when he’s problem solving.

I smile stupidly at the joy of it all.

And there’s Tom who doesn’t look a day older than he did then even though his many choices of eyeglasses tell the tale. Holding the babies, playing with the tweeners, working with the growing boys, and still reading the newspaper or reclining on the couch while I record our family's history via video recordings.

My parents. Tom’s parents, including his now deceased father. Brothers and sisters. Cousins. Friends. Lots of friends!

When we turned off the VCR and TV after we’d watched enough for one night I was pleased to feel not an empty ‘where did the time go’ feeling, but contentment. Because the videos did not record an experience ended, but an experience on-going. The journey continues.

During this month of thankful ponderings I find immense gratitude for the experiences I’ve encountered in marrying Tom and together raising four children. While videos don’t record the yelling and screaming, the depression and dissatisfaction, the mistakes and unkindnesses, they do show that the foundation is healthy, that it always has been.

Good to know.

DeMotivator

I'd be happy to find a poster of this under the Christmas tree.

It cracks me up.

Oh wait, it's about me.

Ha, still laughing!

No and YES

Yesterday I was bummed. No good reason. Just general bummishness.

Because one of our cars was being repaired I had to drive the girls to their class, the last thing I wanted to do.

Sitting in on Cassie and Caroline’s Shakespeare class yesterday was just the fun-fix I needed. All the kids were jolly! All of them. The teacher, full of energy and humor, created an hour and a half of sweet synergy.

While watching and listening to the teacher give direction, lend perspective, and evoke emotion with the kids in rapt attention, I felt cranky sluggishness ooze out my toes and fingers quickly replaced by tingling engagement pumping up from tailbone to scalp.

People of all sorts had come together to share, to teach and learn. More than an observer, I found myself drawn into the craft of acting as it was playing out around me.

Cooperation. Understanding. Kindness. Giggles.

Sometimes cynicism gets the better of me.

Thankfully - now and again - life intervenes in special ways to make a resounding YES out of my poopy no.

And I’m happier because of it.

And so are those around me.

Break in the Rain

The sun is shining. The sky is blue. Leaves swirl through the air like golden snowflakes.

Lentil soup bubbles on the stove.

Sam is sun-bathing on the porch.

Tom is painting trim boards in the back yard.

The girls are debating and sculpting in their classes.

I've just finished exercising. Endorphins! Life is goooood.

My mind is full of holiday menus and table settings, chores to complete, turkey-dominated shopping lists, and lectures on why I should tackle the mountain of laundry and fast.

Multi-tasking. The body doing one thing, the mind several others.

An ordinary day in November.

(How I thank God for ordinary days!!)

Grappling

A year ago my parents caught terrible colds from children who were quite sick and allowed too near. Months of floundering health ensued.

Mom's illness seemed to subside for awhile but, unknown to all, it burrowed deep into her body. In May she nearly died from it. I faced the prospect of living without my mother more starkly than ever before.

I hated the feeling.

Cold and flu season again greet us, with holidays to boot.

Optimism has the upper hand so far but under the surface there is fear in my mind and heart. Fear of careless people getting too close. Fear of my parents becoming ill.

Those who desire to comfort and counsel remind that God is in control. I know this. But I also know he doesn't promise roses and sunshine all the time. Things get rough and therein lies the teaching ground. But I don't like it. And I'm afraid of it.

I'd be a fool not to be.

If you don't feel pain and fear but dull them with platitudes how do you fully experience life? How do you come to know deep passion, wrenching mother's love, or the full measure of frustration which leads to an altered lifestyle or worldview? I mean, even Jesus wept many a time. He didn't just smile a smarmy smile and say, "God is in control." He felt the raw heart feelings that humans feel. He acknowledged them with deep emotion.

I'm going to continue to feel, thank you very much. I think the more pitiful reaction would be to never embrace the heartaches of life which reveal the absolute joys.

But if you are sick or have sick children I'm begging you, please stay away from elderly people, the frail, the young, and most especially, my parents. Visit when you can leave love and memories rather than a miserable, lingering illness.

Consideration is a gift. Give it often.

Hitting Closer to Home

Today I learned of three loved ones who are now unemployed. Three. In one day.

And another is days away from being laid off with a wife and young family to feed.

Salaries are decreasing to keep businesses afloat, to keep employees employed.

Economic skidding and crashing has reached into all our homes with its upsets and challenges.

It used to be that once a job was lost another was quickly found. No prob.

But now - well, it's not certain another will be found right away.

Is this what the Great Depression felt like, this uncertainty?

At the same time there is gratitude for what we have. Tom is employed and so are the boys. Times are normal for us in that regard but it feels more precious now as we witness the losses of others and as we realize it could very easily happen to us. Why not?

Every choice to purchase is weighed against that void of unknowing called 'the future.'

And every moment that we share is noticed. We notice the quiet evenings safe and warm and well-fed. We notice the children happy and pursuing interests. We notice pay-checks and groceries. We notice all that is free - walks around the park, raking leaves together, star-gazing. And we notice the comfort of good choices made which could pad us for awhile from a crash that may come this way.

If this is another depression what will we call it?

Let's hope it's the Small Depression. Or the Insignificant Depression. Or the Short Depression.

Or the Little Blip.

May this post find you warm, comfortable, safe, and content in the midst of those you love!

Obese Petite

Guess who I saw on our fence last night as I was out feeding the cat?

Yes, Gollum!! I least, I think it's him. He's so fat!

Ben says we must have taught him well how to steal from pet dishes all over town. Hmm.

Joe says it's the fattest 'possum he's ever seen. "Even his tail is fat!"

The girls think he's adorable, all plump and calm.

Not sure if it's our old Gollum or not, but he didn't run off when we approached him to take his picture. He just sat there looking sweet (?) as we looked and marveled at the...

...World's Fattest 'Possum!!

Good grief.

(You know you live in an abundant place when opossums eat so very well.)