Five Weeks and Counting

Erkie sent a photo of the pup to my cell phone. Since then I've been showing it to everyone. She's so cute!

Not Much of A Storm

Despite what you might have read, it wasn't much of a storm. Yeah, we got snow--about a foot maybe. But no huge accumulations.

It was (and still is) pretty. Like this photo I took at 9 p.m. Friday while walking Kharma.

But best of all, I have an extra half day of vacation! Why? Because the highly paid wusses concerned managers of our school district have called a two-hour delayed start for tomorrow. Since the morning class only lasts for two and a half hours on a regular day, there is no point in anyone (including ME) going in for thirty minutes. So I get to accomplish just a little bit more--hmmm, now what can I do with an extra four hours...

(Just kidding school-district decision makers--I think you totally have the safety of our children at heart--good call on that delayed start. And yes, I am just aching to get back and see our adorable kidlets.)

I Woke Up in Portland

Rain. Lots of it.

Apparently there is a storm after all, with enough power to make it over the Crest and bring us rain here in the Rainshadow. It's been noisily raining since 5 a.m. and since the ground is frozen, the runoff is beginning to be exciting. Storm drains here and there are getting a little clogged and allowing large puddles to extend onto the roadway. It's cool to drive by and watch the dedicated maintenance men hermetically sealed into their storm gear trying to use their shovels to coax the runoff into the drains. The Truckee is commencing to roar. The Ditch is already half full just from local rain. It had better stop raining and start snowing or I have the feeling that another flood might be on the horizon. We just don't do rain well here.

There's no need for the intermittent setting on the windshield wipers. Just turn them on "fast" and drive. We have the choice of driving the safe yet scenic route in the left lane which avoids the little mini-lakes or using the right lane and spraying glorious rooster tails of water sideways. The wind is blowing so hard that sometimes the splash ends up right on your windshield and you feel like you're driving (or should that be piloting?) a submarine. It's less fun on the freeway because hydroplaning just sort of sneaks up on you even when everyone is driving about 15 mph slower than usual. Just think how much fun we'll have when the temps drop, our wet roads become solid ice and we have one big skating rink in town.

I've discovered that the Forester rear hatch makes a great roof when loading and unloading groceries. Well thought out, Suburu designers. (We now pause while I stop and think about how much I lovelovelove my little red Forester.)

I totally believe in Global Warming. It basically does not rain here. Well, maybe a welcome thundershower in August, but winter rain...no. It snows. That's why I love it here. Snow is beautiful and dry and makes you want to go outside and play. Those were the good old days BGW. Rain is wet and messy and makes mud and makes me want to stay inside and eat fattening foods. If there is any holiday weight gain, I am blaming it ALL on the rain.


p.s. Kharma doesn't like the rain either.

Storm Skeptic

Hunker down and get ready for the biggest storm in five years. That's what they are telling us.
(Long Pause)

I don't want to rain (or snow) on their parade. We'd be thrilled with a good storm--heaven knows we could use the water. I'm just a little skeptical. Weathermen like weather. It's been my experience that they get excited and hopeful about storms, kinda like kids about the cool stuff Santa may bring them.

Judging by the winds that have been blasting around since noon, something might be in the works for the near future. We're hoping the back fence, that is scheduled for replacement this Spring, rides it out and withstands the gusts that are currently making it ripple like a flag in a breeze. But the biggest storm in five years? Please.

They are predicting up to twelve inches of snow down on the valley floor. It was 54 degrees today so it's gonna hafta drop precipitiously (no pun intended) to come close to that.

In our book, a big storm is defined by a minimum of two feet of snow in a 24 hour period. A big storm requires us to shovel the driveway continuously just to keep up with the accumulation. When we get to the bottom of the drive, it's time to start over at the top. This photo shows what happened the last time we had a big storm way back in 2004. That sleek looking mound is, in fact, a car. I didn't see my morning kindergartners for three weeks due to snow days. At the time, I thought the school district was being wimpy about the whole thing since we've driven our kids to school over worse roads. It was kinda nice getting up late and having an extended vacation. Making up the snow days in June when I was dying for school to end was less fun.

Now that I've poo-poohed the whole forecast, I think I'll go out and wash my car and have my sweetie clean the windows. If THAT doesn't bring on a major storm, nothing will.

Alpenglow Farewell to 2007

What a nice way to end a year--a carefree trip to celebrate a birthday and visit farflung family!

We met the very charming Boston Boyfriend (hi, Chris, sorry but not looking at the camera will not prevent you from appearing in the picture), laughed with Atlantic Ariel about her crustacean-collecting forays, viewed the latest decorating masterpiece masterminded by ToolMan who has learned the subtle art of manipulating his clients and ate yet another delicious dinner hostessed by the Cruise Queen.

The birthday girl received roses--gorgeous, fragrant, subtly-blushing pink and altogether beautiful just--like the honoree.

We caught someone raiding the freshly baked bread when he thought we weren't looking. Hey, Grand Dude, good thing there was plenty for everybody else or there could have been trouble!

There was way too much picture taking for some. That's what happens when Cobalt Girl gets an exciting new digital camera of her own. And Kayak Man stops talking canines long enough to get grab his camera too. Good thing we are a camera-crazed family (unless the paparazzi are begging you for just one more shot). How else can we remember these treasured family get-togethers that come way too seldom?

The mountain roads, thankfully, cooperated with snow- and storm-free driving. We even witnessed a gorgeous Sierra sunset touched by alpenglow as we raced down Donner Pass on our way home. Thanks, family, it was a wonderful way to close out the year. Fair skies and smooth sailing to all as we welcome 2008!

Nosed Out

Where did her dark nose go? It was black as a puppy. Even a year ago, it was still dark. Heck, it was dark this summer. Suddenly, she's almost a two-year-old and her Yellow Lab heritage is beginning to show up. Kharma has a pink nose.

(Don't you just love Hissy Cat? She came in Kharma's Christmas stocking.)

'Tis the Season

There were gatherings at Christmas Eve. Grammy's tree was beautifully decorated with old Shiny Brite ornaments. The lasagna my sweetie made was wonderful along with Grammy's new pie crust (courtesy of Martha Stewart) filled with yummy Golden Delicious apples left over from Clayton Girl's orchard this fall. Yeah, there were a few presents too. All thoughtfully chosen and gratefully received. And new ornaments: hard to choose between the parakeet ornaments that match Grammy's two birdbrains and the bell-ringing elf that Tigger made! Then we reluctantly went out into the cold and drove home to prepare for the Big Day.

Christmas day arrived leisurely. First order of business was to give Kharma a much-needed bath. She looks so much cuter fluffy and golden and clean! Then Erkie and Grammy arrived to open presents from our stash and see what things Santa left in stockings. We proceeded to put plane #1 on the roof, watch plane #2 flat spin onto the asphalt and die, and completed the hat trick with #3 making an apparently perfect landing only to discover that the wing looked fine but was actually broken in half. It only cost Santa a couple of bucks (greenbacks, not caribou) and we laughed ourselves silly over the toys.

Santa left Kharma plenty of toys, which she opened gently. She was racing around like a two-year-old on a sugar high with all the excitement. Only two of her toys currently are whole, no stuffing protruding or ears chewed off or holes in the squeakers.

Dinner was delicious. Stay tuned...Christmas part deux, tomorrow.

Christmas Challenge

Okay, family! I know you all have beloved ornaments on your trees and special collections of snowmen/Santas/nativities/angels/houses on display.

You went to all that trouble to put them up...Wouldn't you like to share them? Take a photo, or two, or three and email them to me and I'll publish them for you. Feel free to spin a yarn about your treasures too. If you have a blog post about them, send a link.

It'll be like a large family visit together.

At the very least, we want a photo of your Christmas day gathering.

The ball's in your court. Charge up those batteries and get those digital cameras working. No pressure...we'll post the photos as we get them, when we get them (please notice that WE haven't posted any yet either).

Stay tuned and a come back often for our Family House Tour!

Autobots

I hate to do it, but I think I might incorporate a word verification to eliminate the annoying robot that leaves "comments" on my blog. Comments which are not comments. Comments that are just links to business opportunities--think bloggy telemarketers.

And Blogger, in their infinite wisdom, changed comments so that a profile shows up instead of a link to their blog. Bless their geeky little hearts.

Otherwise I'd be pleased to visit a certain commenter on his site and leave a few meadow muffins strewn about for him to enjoy.

We'll see how long my patience lasts.

Clean

No ironing pile! No scrap fabric pile! No old photos pile! No pattern pile!

When enough projects get completed, the cleanup can begin. Too bad there isn't a before photo to go with this after shot of one of our guest beds. (You didn't really want to see the mess, trust me.) Honesty compels me to add that we also have a clutter-free coffee table, dining table and kitchen table.

I'm not ready for sainthood yet though. There is still a "Christmas" room with plenty of presents waiting to be wrapped and/or boxed as well as a few crafts that are close to completion.

I'm sure it was just a total and complete coincidence that my sweetie arrived back home today from his week living in nice clean hotel rooms! Yeah, right.

Counter Raider

Apparently food left on the kitchen counter is no longer safe, sacred or dedicated to humans. Either that, or apples have begun to mysterious float to the floor by themselves.

Clutter

I always make a huge mess when I'm being the most productive. Reorganize a closet? Prepare to watch me devote two entire rooms to piles and boxes. Get ready for Christmas? Haul in storage tubs from three different locations and live with piles of Christmas decorations downstairs for a week before you can see the floor. Finish Christmas craft projects? Uh-oh. Home Organizer Alert: Every single surface in our home has clutter on it.

I've been ignoring it (selective vision) up to now because I've been getting so much done. It's reached that point that even Shrek would get a little uneasy around this much stuff. I've no idea how my long-suffering and very organized sweetie has survived this long without complaint.

But the fact that he just left on a conveniently-timed business trip is somewhat suspicious.

Buddies

Kharma loves going to the pasture even more when Cody is there. Having a fresh snowfall to romp in just makes it that much better.

That's Cody in front with the K-Dog staying just enough behind to keep the game going. Cody loves snow as much as Kharma. It energized him so much that he initiated the game of chase this time.

Empty Spools

I can't tell you exactly what I've been doing just in case you are someone on the receiving end of my projects. (If you are an adult who has previously received one of my Christmas efforts and not living in my house, Do. Not Worry. I'm not mailing anything handmade your way--you're safe.)

I can tell you that I'm on my second really big spool of thread. Well, technically I'm on it, but only for about another 15 inches and then it too will be toast. I can't count how many times I've rethreaded the bobbin. The sewing machine rebelled after the first ten items or so and insisted on a complete re-oiling. I think it's close to needing another lube job soon.

Yeah, I'm involved in a really marathon sewing event. I no sooner finish one mystery item than I think of someone else who might enjoy one or I find another fabric "theme". I can't count how many times I've been to my local fabric stores, but I know I'm contributing mightily to the local economy.

I've fallen in love with one fabric. I didn't realize how great it looked until I started using it. So I went back for more and used it all up. Then I decided I wanted some just for me (yeah, we're keeping two of the mysterious Christmas items, so how bad could they be? All right, already. I can hear all you past recipients groaning all the way up here. You are not getting one. Even if you beg). Three trips for one fabric. Three trips to the fabric store that is not close. I'm not going to calculate how much per yard this sale fabric works out to when the cost of gas is factored in.

And it's a project that uses up stashed fabric. That's a good thing, a very good thing. I've learned that it IS possible to have too much fabric. You may disagree, but my craft closet is much happier in its new slimmer condition.

I love straight sewing for a change. And French seams are my new best friend. I think I like them even better than serging. They have style and that certain je ne sais quoi. (Don't you love it when you get to sling a little French around?)

One thing leads to another, I've found. This mystery item has meant searching through boxes of fabrics here at home, which means I've also run across previously started projects. And I have energy and enthusiasm and hands and fingers that work. So postponed projects are being finished right and left.

There's a downside of course. One is that the adrenaline rush I get when I'm accomplishing something isn't very conducive to sleep. Another is that there are piles of fabric covering both guest beds, the ironing board hasn't been down for two weeks and it's hard to find a nook clean enough in which to wrap presents. The last is that I not only am involved in the sewing marathon and finishing old projects, but I keep starting new Christmas craft patterns.

The madness continues. Where will it all end? No one knows. It's fun while it lasts though!

Grateful For

blue skies and autumn winds
sons and girlfriends
wet-nosed doggy greetings
surgeons and fingers that work
medical insurance
a good night's sleep
family, near and far
enough food on our plate
farmers
apple pie
yams
fine china
dishwashers
icy ponds
warm jackets and one-size-fits-all stretch gloves
neighbors
sleeping in
loyalty
laughter
smiles
glasses half full
frisbees
hugs
memories

Autumn

I'm not ready for Christmas carols just yet. I'm still enjoying the crunch of leaves and a little Jack Frost every morning. December will come soon enough and our stack of holiday CDs will be playing nonstop. Our home will be taken over by the red-and-green, Santa, snowmen, angels and reindeer overload that I adore.

But for now, the homey hues that remind us of those yummy foods simmering on the stove and fogging up the kitchen window are such a delight after the blatant, showy colors of summer. The heater is on, the down comforter is handy, soup is a mainstay, it's dark at 5:15. Autumn grants us time to slow down and ponder our lives.

The Christmas rush can wait. Anything that's on sale will still be on sale when I'm ready to buy it.

The stitches from surgery number two come out tomorrow (all three of them). CTS has made me slow down and enforced patience which, to my surprise, isn't all that awful. I'm hoping to retain some of the lessons I've learned. Autumn is a wonderful time of year if you slow down to enjoy it and CTS has slowed me down big time over the last five months. Life went on without my to-do list. My self-enforced no-whining zone has brought me new appreciation of my blessings.

My gratitude list is filled with simple everyday joys--and right now, enough sleep at night that I actually dream is at the top.

Our red carpet

Fall can bring such surprising gifts. Like the walk to our door. Very bee-a-you-tee-full!

In the gratitude column, add a surgeon with a light touch. Hand number two throbs a bit, but already feels better than it did pre-surgery this a.m. I can hardly wait tll the stitches are out. It will be like having a real life again. It was a long five months of carpal tunnel and I'm glad to be emerging from the dark.

Off to recouperate and count my blessings.

Old Dog, New Trick

I was bitten by the Scrapbooking Bug a few years ago. I now have

• a decent hoard of cardstock in my favorite colors,
• a membership at my local scrapbooking store where they know my name,
• lots of friends who share my passion for preserving memories before they fade from our brain cells,
• a subscribtion to Memory Makers magazine,
• and a pile of vacation photos taken with future scrapbooking in mind.
  

My current obsession is all the fault of the magazine. For the past year, they have featured more and more articles on digital scrapbooking or, basically, using your computer to do all the work. I never really understood anything about the process, but Saturday was "Digital Scrapbooking Day" (yeah, who knew?) and the magazine featured a free download of some digitial scrapbooking materials. I know enough not to turn my nose up at anything that is truly free, so I downloaded and then realized I had no idea what to do next.

I'm nothing if not resourceful. I googled "how to digital scrapbook" and discovered a wonderful site (www.shabbyprincess.com) with another free download(!) and an even more fabulous tutorial which even I could follow.

Here is the result. Yeah, right now it's just a bunch of pixels floating in cyberspace rather than an honest-to-goodness page that I can put in my scrapbook. I still have to figure out how to manipulate text and rotate elements and about a million other fancy things before I'll be happy enough to have my effort printed. But still, this isn't a bad result for only my second try at this new skill.

And I just realized that using the computer for storage space instead of having my scrapping materials occupy half my desk is pretty cool too! My better half would approve!

The Sinister Side of Life

I still have no date set for surgery on my left hand. I've been unable to get the nurse to call me back and I've been waiting for two weeks now.

The good news is that it is Conference Week with minimum days, so my hand is not getting overworked which usually causes plenty of pain and sleepless nights. I've found that a hotpack each night really relaxes my leftie and so I've gotten some decent sleep recently. My right hand continues to improve and get stronger, although it still has a ways to go. I'm still not able to snap my fingers or open jars, but I can button nicely.

The bad news is that Conference Week will end. And my sweetie needs to take another field trip and can't book it until I have a surgery date. And that the first surgery was scheduled three weeks out...I have no idea if I can survive for another three weeks. The thought that it could be more than three weeks is pretty scary at this point.

I've decided that I can no longer be a patient patient...so I am pulling strings (since I have connections). Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Mummy v. Frankenstein

I've been wearing a cast-sized dressing on my right hand for a week and a half. Being asked what happened, giving the carpal tunnel surgery answer and getting lots of nice sympathy was rather nice at first but quickly got old.

So I've spent the first part of this week telling people who enquire about my huge ace-bandaged hand and wrist that I'm working on my Mummy costume little by little. The kids at school get a good laugh out of that. And all the mothers working on costumes totally identify.

As of this morning, stitches out and dressing gone, now we are going for the Frankenstein look (hey, kids aren't the only ones who are allowed to change their minds about their Halloween costume). I have lovely green and yellow bruises from my palm down past my wrist. I have two cool recently removed stitches (the one on the wrist looks like a gaping mouth which will begin talking any time now. Note to self: possible costume change to Space Alien?). I even have a few remnant surgical signposts drawn in apparently permanent purple marker to add to the overall ghastly Frankie look.

I'll spare you the graphic photos.

Gotta say that it feels wonderful to freely move my fingers and wrist. I can even type for heaven's sake. Better than that, my nerves are regenerating nicely and I HAVE FEELING IN MY FINGERS, folks. Life is good!

What's not to love about this surgery? Please schedule me for wrist #2 as soon as possible!

Touchy Feely

Kinda sorta almost!

I can't believe that the left hand (still with Carpal Tunnel) feels worse than the right hand that was operated on. It has since Tuesday's surgery. Amazing--surgery is like a magic wand that makes the burning pain and tingling go away almost immediately.

And I can feel in 3 out of 5 fingers now.

Next step..stitches out on Thursday.

Carpe that Tunnel

Let's just say that I have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome...in both hands...and I'm sick of it. And I can hardly wait for the phone to ring. It might be the orthopaedist's office calling to award me a date on the surgeon's calendar. Surgery might not be high on everyone's wish list, but it is absolutely on the top of mine. So high that I'm thinking of having a Surgery Appointment Party to be followed sometime thereafter with an Oh-My-Gosh-I-Can-Actually-Feel-My-Fingers Party. So while I'm dreaming of that wished-for phone call, I thought I'd memorialize the past three endless months of CTS.


Top Ten Things That I Can't Do With Carpal Tunnel Syndrome (in no particular order or importance:

1. Get my beloved topaz ring back on my finger.


2. Sleep through the night without waking up.


3. Keyboard without a zillion backspaces.


4. Open jars or bottles of milk, Juice Squeeze, diet Mtn. Dew, sauerkraut, jam, peanut butter, or--well, you get the idea--unless it's already been loosened for me.


5. Put in my earrings.


6. Button my own buttons.


7. Hold the latest Harry Potter novel.


8. Snap my fingers.


9. Throw the puppy's frisbee.


10. Stroke my sweetie's face.

Yeah, CTS sucks. Big Time. Now if only the phone would ring...

Extreme Makeover--Landscape Edition

They live so far east that you can see the Milky Way at night. So far that coyotes sing them to sleep and roadrunners hustle through the yard. It's my favorite part of their house.

We spent a week getting intimately acquainted with their rocks, bushes, and trees. We experienced sweat-drenched shirts in the mornings and afternoon monsoons while we (hopefully) helped with the landscaping. So the holes are dug, the posts cemented in, the OSB nailed on. We started the paper and wire and then deserted them.

By now, the wall has been fully covered with black paper and chicken wire and the stucco is on. The sound of a trickling fountain and the beginnings of greenery are changing the extended patio. There's still lots to do...but at least we helped a little.

Higher Math

I can't believe that I have to "do the math" to figure out how old my kids are! It wasn't this hard to remember last year.

Somehow, as they progress through their 20s, it becomes increasingly harder to just spit out the proper age without even thinking about it. Was it all that long ago that I could tell you he was just 9-1/2 months? I remember when I could tell you he was 5-1/2 years old too.

Of course, when he was a teenager it was excruciatingly important to remember how old he was as we counted through all those milestones (entering high school, first girlfriend, drivers permit, driving test, college applications).

Somehow it wasn't hard to remember he was 20--good grief! I didn't have a teenager any more! And then 21--easy! 22 and 23 though, things got a little murky and I had to think a little bit when asked. At 24, I figure it's okay now if I'm right about what decade he's in.

More worrisome to me is the fact that I can see a time in the future when my boys are actually older than the age to which I will admit--a situation made worse by the fact that I feel about as old as my kindergartners' moms when I'm probably closer in age to their (shudder) grandmothers. Can I say right now that I just love those dads (think mid-life-crisis and second family) who are sending their oldest to kindergarten and are ACTUALLY OLDER THAN I AM? They are soooo good for my propensity to think that I am way younger and tons hotter than I actually am!

But enough about me...

Hippo Birdies to my baby. I hope this photo shows how I proud I am of the way he turned out and how much I love him!

Entangled in a Web

So glad Pooh and family are following my sterling example and beginning a family blog of their own. Actually I think that the Tigger just begged and bugged and wheedled and nagged (successfully). And since he knows his way around a computer, from the requisite gaming to graphics and presentations, it is fitting that he get a little blogspot time.

They are just starting, but I'm looking forward to watching them develop their blog ( http://www.3alwayshumming.blogspot.com/ ) since their life IS always humming whether it's school/work/garden/house/or the hummingbirds at the kitchen window! Have fun, guys!

Bakery Bones

My sweetie is a little jealous of Kharma's attachment to me, I think. I have a secret weapon though. I love making doggy treats. Virtually every pocket in every dress, jeans and jacket has the remnants of a treat feast. No wonder she loves me. I not only smell good, I'm like the ice cream truck is to a kid--irresistible. Unlike the ice cream truck, I pay off continually.

Kharma deserves nothing less than the best. I combine organic peanut butter, skim milk and whole wheat flour, cut, back and I'm set for a couple of weeks. By making her treats myself, I don't have to worry about pet food recalls. Her Peanut Butter Bones are healthy, yummy, cute, and much cheaper than the gourmet treats at our local dog patisserie. I don't feel guilty because they get my patronage for her regular (very expensive) kibble, her walking leash, car leash, collar, tags, dog toys and classes...

We share her treats with best friend Echo. Each batch has a few destined for Echo's delight. Then too, both dogs fetch the Frisbee during daily visits to the pasture and both get a nice treat each time they bring back a slippery Frisbee dripping with nice thick saliva (both girls are Lab or part-Lab). I have to admit that treats that cost next to nothing are pretty easy to dispense freely, especially when I think of how much we used to spend on Charley Bears, or freeze-dried liver or various types of jerky. And training happens much quicker with those rewards coming regularly!

I found the "bone" cookie cutter fairly quickly. It's a big large--I really love the teeny weeny cookie cutter bone that Jeannie has. That was a garage sale acquisition though and I'm not setting my hopes on ever finding one myself. I do love the two new "doggies" though. The one on the left sure looks a lot like Echo and the sitting one is a ringer for Kharma. Now I have to figure out how to make a dark Echo dog biscuit and a blonde Kharma treat...

Fond Fotos for a Friday

Honeymoon memories. (Appropriate since we just celebrated an anniversary.)

We look a bit younger than I remember being. But who isn't amazed when they look back at how young they were?

He got to share places he had visited before. I learned to read a map. He got to eat my camp cooking. I saw petroglyphs. We found out our Datsun didn't climb steep grades all that well and neither of us cared.

Friday's Fun Family Foto

What a cutie! Kindergarten, I think, from the date on the back and the lack of a school uniform.

Funniest thing he ever did: Pop up and show unsuspecting passers-by his face (post-gunpowder explosion) while Mom was picking up his prescription at the pharmacy.

Dumbest thing he ever did: Drop a match in the gunpowder (like his cousin showed him) and then bend down to see why it didn't explode. Boom.

Second luckiest thing he ever did: Blink his eyes just before the gunpowder went off.

Luckiest thing he ever did: Met and married my wonderful sister-in-law.

Smartest thing he ever did: Pick me for his sister.

Locking the Barn Door

Life isn't safe. Accidents happen. Tragedy happens. Sickness happens. Poop happens. I'm with the Boy Scouts and their motto "Be Prepared" though. You can buckle up, look both ways, wear clean underwear, take your vitamins, and not follow your friends when they jump off a cliff.

Is your children's school safe? You can, and should, ask hard questions of your school administrators. Find out their disaster plan. What would they do if there is a code red or a lockdown?

Then look at your child's classroom critically and ask if that plan is realistic. Can the teacher lock the door(s) from the inside? Can the view from the windows be blocked? Is there a place inside where the students can shelter? Could law enforcement reliably and easily ascertain which classrooms have a "situation" and which don't?

I know--scary stuff.

I don't want to be dooced, so I'm just making a suggestion that there might be room for improvement at a school near you.

There will never be a better time for it. Be proactive. Stand firm. Demand solutions. You might save a life.

Spring Fever

Actually my temp is perfectly normal, but my eyes tear up until well after lunch and I carry a little bottle of allergy eyedrops EVERYWHERE. The allergies this year are kicking my patootie, big time.

So when my MSN homepage appeared this morning and I saw a blurb about the 100 worst cities for springtime allergies, I figured that northern Nevada would probably occupy the first 50 cities cited.

Instead I am pleased to say that no wonder my poor dear brother-in-law has so many interesting allergies. He grew up in El Paso--number 13 on the list, folks. Truly horrific. You have my sympathies, Big D, and I'm so impressed that you cart your whole allergy-ridden family there to visit. You guys are saints.

And I always knew Las Vegas wasn't anyplace I wanted to live (although I love attending soccer tournaments there)--poor Vegas, number 19. Now I understand why during State Cup I loved the games, but couldn't breathe, slept sitting up, thought I had pneumonia and barely made it home to Urgent Care. Might have been something in the air.

I'm glad we only get to Albuquerque (number 38) in the summer. And even gladder that Son Numero Uno didn't inherit any hayfever.

For those of you who thought San Diego was one of the primo spots in the States--perfect weather year-round, sports, sailboats, fun--also a few pollens like the weather also. Number 54.

One more reason not to ever want to live in SLC, besides the fact that there are no trees, no water, no style and it's way too big--number 60 on the allergy list.

I'm crushed to find Lancaster PA at number 75. My brain--enamored with Amish quilts, farming and all things horses--is struggling with the idea that it's not all natural and healthy living, it's natural and Claritan-Clear living. Gotta love those drugs.

And, alas, Pooh escaped one cesspool only to land in Portland, number 84. Apparently all that lush greenery reproduces and sends its armies of evil minions directly to her home. Forget Clone Wars, it's more like Spore Wars.

Generally speaking, avoid Arizona and Florida as well as some "cities" in Texas that I've never even heard of unless you like living on antihistamines during the spring.

As the slide show of Cities To Avoid progressed, I got a little nervous. I had started out thinking that we'd be high on the list and then found myself wincing a little as each new slide appeared, hoping that perhaps the City of Trembling Leaves wasn't all that bad. (Amazingly) nothing in the Sierra Rainshadow made the list.

I'm not cured, but I'm much happier as I think of everyone out there so much worse off than I.

Family Foto Fantasy for a Freaky Friday

From our fridge: a fantasy.

There's no longer a beard, long braids, a diaper or shaggy blond hair. In fact, there's no longer even a wild California hillside.

We've all changed. Some have grown up and don't let their mom cut their hair anymore. Some have grown up and shed their baby fat and are rail thin. Some have grown older and gained a few pounds. Fashions have changed and tastes have changed. Sadly, we don't all live in the same state anymore.

This little pic decorates our fridge and brings back memories. Little kids and lots of love. Happiness and simplicity.

Life might be more complicated, the kids are grown and there have been so many changes. But the happiness and love are still there.

The Corner Office

It only took 30 plus years, but J.R. has earned a corner office! His morning commute is incredibly short and he reports almost no traffic--that alone is fantastic. If you look closely you can see the dress code is casual. That may not mean much to him, but makes my laundry load a little smaller.

It's not only a corner office, but it has a window. He's never had a window in his office--we'll see if he can resist the great view and still be as productive.

A downside is the lack of air conditioning (other than breezes sent by Mother Nature) which could be nasty when the weather turns summery. That situation might have to be addressed soon. This place doesn't have good storage either so much needed equipment isn't handily available. Good thing he is quite organized and good thing I'm merciless when culling unneeded items for him!

His immediate superior is a plane-commute away in SLC so he will be doing some travelling similar to when the company HQ was in Valencia. But we are both happy to still be Nevadans rather than relocating like so much of the company employees.

Hoppy Easter

Don't eat all your chocolate bunnies in one day!

Spring Rewards

This adorable little Easter bunny hopped my way via one of my morning kindergartners. I love the way the baker caught the typical bunny hunch (I'm not really here at all, Mr. Fox), those cute chubby toes and tucked-in scut. Bunnies are the best.

He tasted quite nice too. Soft, fresh whole-wheat bread with the perfect touch of sweet honey. I'm sentimental, but I admit that I ripped off his bunny feet, followed by his bunny ears and cottontail and popped them into the oven and then turned to menu item number two...
fresh eggs. Just spoil me rotten and get it over with! A morning kindergartner has seven hens a-laying (oops, wrong holiday) and my Easter gift was a decorated flowerpot filled with eggs. Three brown from the Plymouth Rocks and two green...yes, green!...from one of their more-exotic hens.

Applying the prinicple that any egg older than one day is an old egg...
we proceeded to whip up two cheese omelettes accompanied by the aforementioned dismembered and nicely heated bread bunny. Can you see how green that eggshell is? Amazing!

Teachers may not get the highest pay, but there are other reward--like spontaneous hugs and the makings of a simple but perfect dinner.

Grampa's Brother

It turns out that Mattie was my grampa's brother.

It's not my fault! Nobody ever referred to him as Uncle Mattie. (Not surprising, since I don't call any of my aunts or uncles anything but their name plain and simple. Guess it's a family tradition.)

On the other hand, I always knew that the Red Bluff relatives were Great Aunts and Great Uncles. And I saw them a whole lot less because a three hour drive with three siblings fighting in the back seat wasn't my parents' idea of a nice weekend excursion.

See, blogs are educational!

Fabulously Fantastic Family Photo for a Friday

In honor of Easter...

Four cousins (I'm the one with ribbons in her hair). Vickie and Shelly are older and the little boy is actually the cousin closest in age to me.

Denver was the closest they ever lived to the rest of the family--which makes it pretty impressive that they made the effort to return to the Bay Area to share Easter with my grandparents.

I was always pretty shy and the older girls filled me with awe.

Little Larry however was my bud. We shared Necco Wafers behind the foyer door where the others couldn't look. We made a tent using my daisy quilt with the lumpy cotton stuffing. Inside was our own purple-tinted world filled with imagination. I looked forward to his infrequent visits as his parents added child after child to their family and they travelled in a converted bus (precursor of today's RVs) from Ohio to California.

Then one day, my adolescent pal ran away from home (after an argument with his Air Force dad, as I recall, perhaps incorrectly). Adolescents don't need much of a reason to act irrationally though. He was hit by a car and killed. The news hit me hard even though we were basically strangers at that point.

A future where he and I shared our childhood memories with our offspring instead became a drawer that contains a lumpy daisy-strewn quilt and a fondness for Necco Wafers.

Fabulously Fantastic Family Friday

There's no place more wonderful than Yosemite in the Spring. Waterfalls roaring, the Merced tumbling bolders, chipmunks frenetically climbing trees, Half Dome looming mistily in the distance, heavy green canvas tents, carrying water in galvanized buckets, bears being hand-fed in the Meadow area and cruising the campsites later for midnight snacks.

Those were the days...and possibly the reason why my favorite Far Side of all time is the bears looking at the campers in their sleeping bags with the comment "Sandwiches!"

Actually, it wasn't the bears that made the big impression. Chipmunks are my first memory. I can see their little striped tails flicking with nervousness as they spiraled up and down the trees. I've loved the critters ever since.

I was two years old in this photo of my Dad and I, Half Dome in the background, probably on Inspiration Point. Those were the days, no annoying little brother yet, the apple of my parents' eyes. Yosemite in the Spring became a family tradition, usually on Memorial Day to catch the majesty of the waterfalls in snowmelt.

The March Girls

(A deceptive title to lure in those who love to read Louisa May Alcott and especially Little Women. Interesting the things that show up when you Google a phrase.)

Actually, since it is still March (the third month of the year not the literary family, third or otherwise) and it is Wednesday which in my pointy little mind is the third day of the week (workwise) and since two of my favorite relatives have their birthdays in this month--I thought it might be fun to surprise them with a post all their own.

So, Jeannie and Pama, this one's for you!

• Happy Birthday! No, I didn't forget, I never forget, I'm just apparently permanently birthday-card-impaired and I've ceased apologizing for it. I never used to be this way.
• If you sent me a birthday gift, thank you and I love the stickers which are destined to eventually end up on a gardening page in my scrapbook.
• If you didn't, then I love your blog posts and wish you would enable "comments" so I can drop by and visit via "Sweet Teas". Yes, I am quite bossy and opinionated and yes, it is your blog and yes, I am actually too lazy to email when commenting is so much easier.
• Unbelievably you both became published authors this month! How unlikely is that! Chronologically, not talentwise.) Let me be the first to say that I am glad that the ocean is still host to a pretty diverse set of characters and yet how unfortunate that most of them now have the intellect of a sponge instead of the average Land Shark (classic SNL fan here). And I look forward to reading about country churches--how wonderful to salute "your" daffodil cross at Eastertime.

You are both soooo talented and nice and kind and wonderful--are you related to me by any chance? Love you both!

Fabulous Friday (Slightly Slipped)

I've been scanning old b&w family photos and have been planning a weekly Friday post on them, but I have to get started sometime. So just pretend it's Friday and cut me a break.

There were relatives who turned up at my grandparents' ranch frequently, part of an extended cast of characters that flowed through--some had two legs, some had four, some I liked, some I loved. This photo is of Mattie and Ethel. They were wonderful. There are only two kinds of people in this world and kids know instantly which kind you are--people who like kids and people who don't. It's not like they played football with us or invited us for sleepovers or anything, but we knew they liked us.

They always (and I mean always) drove a grey Hudson. They drove it for 20 years that I can remember and I wouldn't be surprised to know they drove it for 40 years, because they never owned any other car. I think when they died that vehicle was still in their garage. Occasionally, a Hudson will cruise during Hot August Nights here in Reno and it instantly takes me back to the crunch of gravel on the road into the Ranch as that long elegant grey car would rock slowly to a halt outside the garden fence.

Mattie and Ethel lived in a little white house in Crockett close to the Sugar Refinery and although we probably didn't visit much, they were always glad to see us. The air that close to the Carquinez Straits felt different, exotic, moister than we valley-dwellers were used to and with a hint of saltwater to savor if the tides were running right.

Mattie always had stubbly cheeks and Ethel wore her hair in a braided coronet. To this day, I think women in braids look totally wonderful. I guess I always knew that Ethel was the taller, but then Mattie was so close to my grandpa's size that I never thought of him as short.

What does it mean that they are my first Fabulous Fun Friday Family post? (I don't even know exactly how they were related to us.) Maybe they were there to teach me something about accepting people who didn't fit the mold. They weren't parents like everybody else in my large Catholic family. They didn't look or dress or live like relatives who were more modern, but the clothes and hair and car were part of their charm.

Families are complex creations and we never know how our presence can ripple through the extended group and influence the least likely events. Mattie and Ethel were part of my childhood scenery and life would have been the poorer without them.

Going Batty on Our Play Date

We saw it from 395 and were dying to check it out but there was always so much that had to be done at Grammy's new house. Their lights would be on late for evening classes and we could see how large the store was. It's so close and convenient to Grammy's that we knew it would be a great resource, plus it's literally around the corner from Winco and down the street from the soccer complex. Finally, yesterday we found ourselves Going Batty.

The new quilt store in town was everything Grammy and I hoped it would be and more. They even had a doorman (well, make that doorboy since the owner's son was apparently on Spring Break and making himself useful).

They had sweet patterns for spring animals/dolls. It was not easy to restrain myself, but the thoughts of my sewing room currently piled high as we rearranged to make my sweetie a home office in a former guest room helped. Good sample quilts on the walls including a great monthly strip sampler with what I can only call a double friendship star block that I'll have to try soon.

And lots of luscious high quality fabric--the kind that has that lovely sheen and soft hand and incredible colors.

So, what did I buy?

Well, I've been wanting to make a theme pillowcase ever since Pacific International in October. I even helped Karen make one of her kits so I'd know how to sew it together--the pattern has a few special but easy tricks that are well worth the price. I fell in love with puppy fabric. Hey, golden puppies and frisbees, what could be more appropriate?! We matched it with a dog bones print and a grassy green accent. You can see how cute they look together. I can hardly wait to start having sweet (doggy) dreams!

Going Batty even sells Bernina products so I asked if they had someone who serviced sergers--and he was right there (owner's husband?). So after months of trying new needles and new thread and new tension settings and blowing out every speck of dust caught anywhere, I'll have a serger up and running in a week or so! I've had so many decorating projects to tackle and have been so frustrated without my trusty Bernette...

All in all, I think girls should have a regular play date!

Spring and Other Delights

What a difference a week can make in Nevada!

It wasn't a question of if we'd have a delayed start, it was a question of one hour or two. The two hour delay gave me time a morning off to watch Kharma romping through the snowy pasture with delight. We took our little neighbors and tired them out hiking through around the pasture, making snow angels and throwing snowballs for Kharma to catch.

Not even a week later, the annual race between the crocus, mini daffodils and mini iris to see which blooms first was pretty much a three-way tie. Okay, maybe the mini daffs were out a fraction ahead of time, but it was hard to tell with all the snow on them a little earlier.

It's been agony to come home for lunch, look at my garden basking in the warm sunny day and then have to return to school. I've been bursting to clean up the last of fall's debris on the sleeping flower beds and trim down the stems that mark the location of the herbaceous perennials and prune the peach tree and dream in front of the seed racks that have appeared in nurseries and grocery stores alike.

Fortunately those incredibly seductive warm days alternated with grey clouds and nippy winds on which I was more than happy to cuddle in the rocker and quilt. We've sprung ahead and took advantage of our long balmy evening to attack the peach and the apple with the limb saw and long loppers. They are completely pruned, but look much better and we'll have a full garbage can of cuttings for Tuesday's pickup.

Even better, it's Spring Break (can you hear the angels caroling with joy in the background here?) and I'll have nine uninterrupted days of garden time! Tomorrow it will be time to gather pussywillow branches for the mantle and to share with our neighbors.

(Sigh of delight). Life is good.

Speechless

There is nothing much to say.

We are glad it is the weekend, of course. I don't even have anything bad to say about the rain this time. ANY precipitation is automatically good and welcome at this point.

My sweetie talked me into going to his office to help him empty desks that are being sold. It's not my ideal weekend activity, but given that he didn't get home before 7 pm any day this week...guess it's a way to help him out.

We are continuing to reorganize--we are getting some new storage units for the garage and some thought has to be put into deciding where and what. I'm hoping that it is easier to get in and out of the car and that there is more room in front of the cars for us to get by (and for the lawnmower once it is that time of the year again).

I like organizing. It doesn't really get anyting done, but theoretically it should help if we should want to work on any of our dozens of projects.

We are getting another closed unit and two open metal bookshelves. I think this means saying goodbye to an old rickety shelf and an open one that my better half has always disliked. That's okay with me as long as it improves the flow in our garage. We both collect an awful lot of junk--it's time for it to either be thrown out or truly organized if we are keeping it. I'm not sure how the larger items are gonna fit in yet--maybe we will switch things around a bit.

Now all I need is some ambition to put in the time and effort instead of collapsing on the sofa and watching Oprah when I get home from school.

Ambition usually takes two ingredients. Weather over 50 degrees and under 90 degrees. And feeling healthy. Regretably my allergy pills are not doing the trick, so it may be time to ask my doc what we can do to help a body run amuck as the molds and pollens defrost. I sure appreciate all those hayfever free years when I could do as I please.

So, now that I've taken this much time to say absolutely nothing...I'm off to hit the elliptical machine and lift weights.

Happy Birthday, Kharma

At one year of age she knows these commands:

• sit
• lie down
• play dead
• roll over
• spin
• bring the... ball, squeaky toy, wire hoop, frisbee, or bone by name
• drop
• wait
• stay
• cross the street
• jump on and off
• heel

She also knows that she has to sit or we won't throw her frisbee. And she loves her frisbee and is great at catching it and bringing it back. She's getting better when told to leave something alone. We are working toward greater control off-leash and she's improving constantly. She is off-leash all the way to the pasture and back every morning for frisbee. We've found treats are very motivating. We can't thank Jeanie, our trainer, enough for all the helpful hints during our class.

We need to work on "come" till she has it perfectly. Then we can start agility training...yippee!

Meanwhile, I've got to get busy making her birthday cake and another batch of doggie treats.

WE HAVE THE BEST DOG IN THE WORLD!!!

Forever a Puppy?

Today is Kharma's last day as an official puppy--she turns one year old tomorrow. And yes, we are having a birthday party for her, complete with friends (canine and otherwise) and a doggy birthday cake from our 3-Dog Bakery Cookbook).

While I'm proud of her generally very grown-up behavior, I'm gonna miss her puppy days. Wistful sigh.

When she was a puppy, everyone would say how cute she was. And, oh my, that round little body. She was so fuzzy and soft. Totally adorable! She took a long time to learn to manage those unpredictable baby legs and would trip and stumble and bumble along. We would find ourselves laughing all day long at her failed attempts to put the brakes on.

Big and little kids couldn't wait to pet her. There's nothing less intimidating than a blonde little puppy with a fat pink tummy. And a back end that wiggled side to side while her front end wiggled in counter-point.

Alas, she looks so grown up in comparison now that she's accepted by one and all as an adult dog. She may not miss the attention, but I have to admit that I do! It was fun.

So I had to post one of her puppy mischief photos just to remind myself that maybe it's a good thing that puppies don't stay puppies forever. Dogs are pretty wonderful themselves and we have some fabulous memories of our little puppy to treasure.

The Gift

Many thanks to my mom for sending this my way. I don't know the author, but she (must be a she) deserves kudoes for this one. It's a powerful statement and it would be great to feel this way about our bodies, our choices and our abilities at any stage of life.

"Old age, I decided, is a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be.

Oh, not my body! I sometimes despair over my body ... the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long. I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, and my loving family for less grey hair or a flatter belly.

As I've aged, I've become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant-garde on my patio.

I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 a.m. and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60's, and if I, at the same time,wish to weep over a lost love... I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful, But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. and I eventually remember the important things. Sure, over the years, my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn grey, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be, but will continue to rejoice in what was."

Groundhog Day

One of our favorite movies is Groundhog Day with Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell. Wouldn't it be cool if we just kept repeating a day until we finally got it right? Reincarnation, but at a daily level.

If repeating this day, I'd have taken Kharma to the pasture five minutes earlier so I wouldn't have been five minutes late at school. Or I would have cut my conversation with a former kindergarten mom short so I wouldn't have had to run home to make up time which caused a very interesting series of sounds that varied from wheeze to whistle as I breathed.

I'd have avoided the upper end of the pasture with the apparently seductive dog smells so the pup would have come when I called. Or I would have physically gone and grabbed her instead of trying the dog trainer trick of calling her while hiding (in the weeds wearing polar fleece). Picking rabbitbrush bits out of my newly-washed jacket the entire afternoon was not my idea of fun.

Also, possibly I wouldn't have had the second half of a PBJ for lunch. I didn't really do enough to deserve the extra calories although a carrot stick just didn't seem to have the same appeal at the time.

Or possibly I would have done it all the same, because I feel like I had a very nice Friday. Every Friday is nice. How could it be otherwise?

Flower Power

Guess who got roses! Yes, twenty-four glorious buds in shades from sunshine to sunset.

I usually love to get live plants so I can enjoy many years of flowers. I have a gorgeous yellow rose that feels like an anniversary kiss from my sweetie each summer. The baby roses in pinks and corals and peaches that remind me of birthday givers. I have chrysanthemums that not only brighten the autumn, but bring happy memories of co-workers.

Usually I can tell how a plant is feeling with just a glance and am there with water or a move to a brighter window as needed. However, I am currently killing every plant I get with no effort on my part. Any plant that crosses the threshhold is doomed. Heck, if it even sets root on our property, it's a gonner. Now that I think about it, I've even done some long-distance killing if several bushes that lived all too briefly at Grammy's are any indication. It's an odd feeling to have a black thumb for the first time in my life.

We may be short one poinsettia, a variegated ficus that lasted several years until it entered my kill zone, and a lavender bush that I had big plans for (how do you hasten the demise of a drought-tolerant plant, for heaven's sake?). I am successfully giving rosemary a bad case of mildew and the oregano leaves look fried. Peace may not stand a chance if I can't even get one of these easily-grown houseplants through a summer.

So...I am loving every petal on my roses. They are lasting at least as long as any live plant would. I don't have to worry much about taking care of them since I can see through the vase when they need water. And, knowing that their beauty is fleeting, I am spending time each day to admire them and bless my sweetie for knowing that, this once, roses were the perfect birthday present!

Erkie's Adventures

Erk is our own personal entertainment center.

We recently realized that the reason we don't go dancing, hit the movies regularly or skydive is that we get a weekly dose of excitement from watching him play soccer. It helps that he is a goal-scoring machine on the pitch, but it's actually the quality of his play and the fact that he gives 100% on the field that is the attraction! He's currently playing indoor soccer on both a coed and a men's team--so we get double the fun each week. This is the first season he's played indoor since shredding his ACL his freshman year and, while we both had concerns at first, neither of us flinch much less cringe when we watch now. Erk told his friends up front that he wouldn't play unless it was on an indoor turf surface. We've especially loved watching the coed team--the female players are quite skilled and the teamwork and passes are a joy. Outdoor soccer is still a few months away and we should mention that we've watched his men's league team improve continually and were league champs this fall. Go, Lazyboys!

Now that we've got the soccer out of the way...

It took a few years, but he realized that sitting inside in front of a computer for eight hours a day wasn't really the way he wanted to spend his work hours. He'd been quite impressed with the physical therapists during his ACL rehabilitation so...farewell, Computer Science and hello, P.T! He's officially majoring in Health Ecology now (the catch-all title for those interested in a career pertaining to Medicine in some way, shape or form). He's a Physical Therapy aide for a group downtown--a way of earning money and getting experience in his newly-chosen field. We are thrilled that he's found his niche--with all his people skills and athletic experience, this just feels right to us. He has no problem getting to work at 8 a.m. so we know he must really like what he's doing.

He's still living in the same house fairly close to campus although the roommates have changed a bit as they graduate and get jobs. It's convenient to his job and it's not too far from us either. We enjoy a weekly family dinner so we can catch up, but still let him have plenty of independence. He'd love to have a dog, but knows school and work eat up too much time, so for now his parakeet keeps him company.




He's been an immense help at Grammy's. Her backyard landscape project wouldn't have gotten nearly as far without his muscles and willing gift of time over and over throughout a very hot summer. We are quite impressed with his hard work. Turns out that he and Amanda make a good team when it comes to landscaping. They somehow made it fun to move large quantities of soil. We all miss her as she completes her master's degree in Montana.

It doesn't seem that he could possibly be 23 now. We're glad he's still nearby. We trade haircuts for backrubs and he doesn't let us get away with any parental nonsense. We compare notes on novels and swap copies. Holidays are happier with at least one kid around and it's been wonderful to have three generations seated around the dinner table!

(Thank you, Pam, you got me blogging on him!)

Making a stand

I've been reading way too much about diets, scales, weight control, proper eating and resolutions this year. Being told what's good for me always makes me want to do exactly the opposite.

Just for the record:

• I have not been to the health club once in the last month
• I relished every last smooth and creamy bite of the holiday dark chocolate fudge
• I have not taken even one healthy long walk this whole vacation
• I have plans to combine a hot bath with one of Jan's homemade mints
• Made-from-scratch hot chocolate just became one of our holiday traditions and the holidays aren't over yet
• I was the culprit who finished off the peppermint bark

To every thing there is a season. This is my time to savor the epicurean treasures that appear only during the holidays. And they taste even better when the rest of the world is apparently revelling in crudites.

Family Update, Part Deux

Pierre is nicely settled in the southwest (with a wonderful girlfriend and her little girl), fixing computers and installing digital dental x-ray software. Getting software certified has meant a few trips to Atlanta and Salt Lake which also means the parental units get a nice phone call from him when he's on a layover (he's actually better at calling than I am).

He's renting a newer home with a home office. Good thing too, because he frequently has some very long days which extend into the wee hours when business is brisk, and it's soooo much nicer to get up, pet the pooch, and take a snack break in your own kitchen (see above). He's not doing much on the rental, because it is a rental. But...he's saving all those nickels and dimes and hopes to begin looking for a house of his own. Sounds like homes are still affordable there and I can just picture him fine-tuning a nice older home into a showplace inside and out.

When the company owner moved away to start up another office and expand the business, that left Pierre in a management position and he's had all the joys and tribulations inherent in finding the perfect (and some slightly imperfect) employees. It's good life experience, right? Fortunately, hiring and firing is not the biggest part of the job, and he enjoys troubleshooting computers. One nice perk is hockey tickets. Watching ice hockey up close and personal so you can really appreciate how hard players check is very cool (no pun intended) and Pierre and The Girlfriend make it a family evening.

He's still loves speed and is working on his "Z" as funds permit. He's mainly a self-taught mechanic, no surprise since he's always been hands-on with tools, and amazed his parents no end with what he can do. He even installed a sweet sound system in The Girlfriend's truck for Christmas.

We also are hearing that he makes a very calm and patient "parent"--of course, we think Lia is totally sweet, so how hard could that be?! But still, we are very proud of the way he's turned out. And very happy that life is dealing him some good cards finally. It's hard to believe, but he clicked off that quarter century mark on his last birthday.

He still loves doing anything outdoors and wearing t-shirts emblazoned with fast cars or microbrew logos.