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?