Monday musings

Early rain arrives

Most of the lights are out around me, and we are watching for flashes of lightening across the skies. This may be ho-hum for those in the Midwestern regions of the USA, but here? In September? This is very special, and we are loving it. My favorite part? The smell of that first rain -- oh, how does one even describe the pleasure? I don't think I can, but it sure does float my boat.

Mingled with the smell of the rain is the fragrance of fresh-baked bread. My youngest daughter had her first bread baking lesson today; she made excellent loaves and a handful of rolls that made her proud and filled our bellies. Yum.

A bountiful first baking lesson

On a more sober note, I took my mom in for a doctor's appointment this afternoon. She's anemic, and they can't figure out why. Somehow, I hadn't realized that the "why" could be a bad reason, but it could be...as in the Big C Bad Reason. There are other things, less frightening, that it could be as well, so I am working on silencing the worrying voice that is echoing in my head. If you are a praying person, could I ask you to pray for my mom? Her bone marrow biopsy is next Monday, and that should give more conclusive information. I don't want to panic; I just want to continue doing what we have faithfully done over the last two-and-a-half years. That is, enjoying this season of sharing our lives and our property, our pantries and our laundry facilities, our hearts and our minds. I cannot believe I have been given the gift of getting to know my mother so well after decades of being only friendly strangers.

I realized something as I drove away from the doctor's office this afternoon. By opening myself up to a close relationship with my mother, I am now extremely vulnerable. Just as when I became a mother, and I could not hear of bad things happening to children without it tearing at my soul, now that I have become a real daughter, I cannot hear of the death of someone's mother without involuntary tears trickling down my face. Today, I was reminded that there will come a day when my mother will die. I can only pray that what is inevitable for all of us will be held off for a little while longer for Mom. I am certain that we have more jokes and books to share, more memories to piece together, and certainly more shared life between Gram and my children. Just this week, she fitted a dress-up gown with a zipper, made orange pudding for an autumnal party, and provided me with tidbits of news from the outside world. She's a gem!


Gram's pudding

As we drove home, we listened to an instrumental version of Holy, Holy, Holy. Long a favorite hymn, the simple instrumental brought my heart comfort, and reminded me of the God I trust. I am in good hands. And, so is my dear mom.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty!
All Thy works shall praise Thy Name in earth and sky and sea;
Holy, holy, holy! Merciful and Mighty!
God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity!

Sleep-over week-end

I have four extra children here this week-end! We don't usually join the slumber party circuit, but with adopted-as-niece-and-nephew friends we make an exception. The unfortunate thing is that these four are here because their folks are house-hunting in Oregon. We wish they weren't moving, but we are trying to adjust to the idea.

We are making the most of our time together, and in that spirit I grabbed the young girls for a Borders and Jamba Juice excursion last night. I wanted them to choose a book that we could read together over the weekend, and I wondered how three opinionated young ladies would make a decision before Borders closed. I was surprised -- they all immediately agreed that they wanted to hear:


Little House by Boston Bay (Little House The Charlotte Years)

It helps that they are all in the prairie phase of reading! We began reading last night, right after I tucked them into their beds in the downstairs bedroom. It was a real treat to have the extra girls for our bedtime routine; I like hearing their questions, seeing what they think about as they try to go to sleep. I was happy to be trusted as the one to tuck them in, give them a kiss and hug, and wish them sweet dreams. I like being an auntie.

Today our plans include Boy Scout popcorn selling in front of the grocery store (ugh - I do not like fundraising), and the boys are going to have their own outing afterwards. It is my oldest son's birthday next week, and he and his brothers and friends are going to go drive little race cars around a track. It will be a few minutes of bliss for the boy who, at the age of three, woke me up in the middle of the night to ask how old he had to be to drive.

The girls have been outside in the play house, climbing in trees, and wearing the fanciest dresses they could find in the dress-up supplies. There is some imaginary world going on here, but I have not been given the inside scoop. They sure are cute, though. My young daughter has been planning an elaborate autumnal tea party, so that will be their supper. My job will be to read, read, read in our special book. An all-girl evening -- what a fun plan.

You'd think that adding four children to a family with five of their own would create something akin to chaos. But, somehow the noise level has decreased, and everyone is happily occupied with all sorts of things. The special, out-on-the-town events, plus the simple fun of dress-up, and a new ramp for bike jumping down in the garden (don't worry -- it is a fallow year for the garden!) From time-to-time people wander through, hungry or thirsty, but then they continue on to the next bit of fun. It makes for lots of quiet for a Mama, and I appreciate the quiet pause.

When I came home from the hospital with my fifth child, I knew in my heart that all of us were home, that our table was full; it was a nice feeling. But, having a growing extended family is an unexpected treat. I am happy to have friends that call me Auntie, and a house filled with the buzz of creative and happily occupied children.

Now, if we can just get them to sleep tonight.

Winnie-The-Pooh

Lessons from a Bear of Very Little Brain by Sam Torode (Boundless Webzine)

"Those afternoons spent listening to my professors and fellow students read A. A. Milne are among my fondest memories of college. In particular, I think of the many occasions when professors brought along their children to hear the stories. And I shall never forget our Society picnic, at which we read Chapter IV of The House at Pooh Corner, "In Which Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In," and then played Poohsticks ourselves. But far more than providing an amusing break from studies, the A. A. Milne Society actually furthered our education in profound ways that are only now becoming apparent.

Above all, the A. A. Milne Society taught us to take delight in literature, to read and listen for the sheer joy of it. Sadly, most English teachers possess a superhuman ability to make great literature seem dull (no small feat). Primarily, this is accomplished through various methods of critical analysis. By explaining the "meaning" of "texts," reducing beautiful writing to abstract rules of grammar, and deciphering poetic symbolism as if it were mathematical code, English teachers transform living works of art into so many corpses waiting to be dissected...

As James S. Taylor states in his study of the philosophy of education, Poetic Knowledge, 'there can be no real advancement in knowledge unless it first begin in leisure or wonder, where the controlling motive throughout remains to be delight and love.'"

About Boundless Webzine

Many thanks to my far-away-friend, Melissa-in-Jordan, for the article recommendation.

John Keats (1795–1821)

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

"The great beauty of Poetry is, that it makes every thing every place interesting"

John Keats to his brother George, 1819

Autumn

Apple Hill

Oh, what a relief to have it be autumn. The days are cooler, and I wake up early in the morning to a real chill in the air. The sweaters are calling from the top shelf of the closet, and the flannel sheets will need to be pulled out soon. Several times a day, we have been serenaded by flocks of geese flying to our pond. Their conversation is happily distracting.

To celebrate the approach of autumn, we took a trip to Apple Hill, a region of apple growers just east of here. It's got the usual carnival atmosphere at this time of year, but we looked past it to the bins of Fuji and Golden Delicious varieties, and (for some) the fritters and caramel apples that are available. Even my mother ordered a caramel apple. If asked if she would want one, I would have answered, "Oh, not Mom," but, I am beginning to realize that what I DON'T know about my mother could fill volumes! They are a favorite of hers.

Our musical choice for this morning is, naturally, George Winston's Autumn.



When I hear the opening notes of the first song, Colors/Dance, my mind immediately goes back to a little room at Stanford University. I attended a concert there with a good friend..it must have been in 1982 or 1983. George Winston was unknown to me and, based on the size of the crowd, I was in good company. As we were settling into our seats, a guy came out in jeans and a sort of wrinkled flannel shirt to fiddle with the piano. I noticed he had no shoes on. Thinking it was a piano mover or tuner, or some other sound tech, we kept talking. Suddenly, the opening notes to Colors/Dance began and I realized that this was no piano mover. It was love at first note! Twenty-something years later, this is still my choice of music to welcome the season of changing colors, falling acorns, new school subjects and flannel sheets.

The strawberry patch

"Honey, why is my table cloth tied up in the backyard?"

"Oh, Mama. We are fairies, and that is our strawberry patch."

It's a good thing I asked before pulling it down. I would hate to destroy the fairie world eco-system.

Happy Birthday, Bilbo and Frodo!

"It has been remarked by some that the Hobbits' only real passion is for food. A rather unfair observation, as we have also developed a keen interest in the brewing of ales, and the smoking of pipe-weed. But where our hearts truly lie is in peace and quiet, and good tilled earth. For all Hobbits share a love of things that grow. And yes, no doubt, to others our ways seem quaint. But today, of all days, it is brought home to me, it is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life."

Fellowship of the Ring, the movie

Soundtrack for a Wednesday afternoon

Grace, by Jim Brickman

Amazing Grace, Crown Him with Many Crowns, Ava Maria, Jesu Joy, and a very unique arrangement of Joyful, Joyful are part of the repertoire. Beautiful piano music that is peaceful and yet not a sleeper. Since Joyful, Joyful and Jesu were both in our wedding, I can't help but think the guy has great taste.

Music like this would go well with mood mist, written about previously here. On a day when most everything is going well, but I have a black cloud over my head, having music, mist, family, and the grace of God to sweeten up the day sure helps.

Special thanks to my mother, who happen to have this CD at her house and asked if we wanted to listen to it. You betcha, Mum.

Not all guests are welcome

Late night snacking

Mega-cooking

Real Men Better Eat Quiche

Okay, this post got lost once. We'll see if it wants to stay home this time. (Don't worry -- the lesson is learned. Long, laborious posts will be saved in Word.)

A handful of readers asked me to post some details about my August cooking extravaganza, so I will put together some of my reflections and suggestions. If you don't enjoy blog posts about cooking as an extreme sport, you'll need to move along today.

A quick clarification before I go on, though. I am not talking about doing "Once-A-Month-Cooking." The thought of doing this again in a month makes me nauseous! Plus, that is a month's worth of different meals. What I do is called "Mega-Cooking." I take my favorite entrees, make six or eight of each of them, and freeze them. Gooshing up six or eight meatloaves is just as fast as gooshing up one. It usually adds up to about seventy-two meals. Yep, seventy-two. Do I have an industrial freezer in the garage? Nope, just a small upright freezer. I save space by freezing them in freezer bags or wrapping them in heavy-duty foil. Even with seventy-two entrees, there is some room for bread, tortillas and the usual three-pound bag of coffee beans.

Another thought before we go any further: you will probably despise this method of cooking the first time you do it. We certainly did. The time, the mess, the sheer bulk of stuff to deal with made us declare ourselves insane and vow to never do it again. What changed our minds? Well, about five days later, my husband realized that we had really good meals each evening, and that meant a lot to him. He's not picky (at ALL) but he sure appreciates having a dependable dinner meal. It decreased my stress, and made him happy, so we were sold! But, remember, only do it if it lessens your stress. Nobody is going to be handing out Most Bizarre and Extreme Cooking Method medals at the end of it. If it doesn't work for you, just move along to what works best.

Okay, if you want to give it a try, where do you begin? Start by making a list of freezable entrees. I'm not an expert in what freezes well. You can start by using recipes that are in cookbooks specific to freezing, or by doing some research. Just a note: I haven't had a lot of luck with recipes in freezer-type cookbooks. They are often expensive, or they have ingredients I am not crazy about (canned soups, for example.) I simply took our favorite recipes and figured out which ones froze well (by trial and error, my lifetime educational method.) Also, be sure you like the recipe before you make a stack of it. I made this mistake once and sure regretted it. Each time I served it, I spent lots of time (literally) rinsing off the meat and trying to cover the taste of the sauce. Blech. Learn from me - try it once before you make seven.

Take your recipes, multiply the ingredients by the number you plan to make, and then begin your shopping list. The forms that I use come from the book Dinner's in the Freezer by Jill Bond. She's a mega-cooking zealot, so prepare yourself for a LOT of enthusiasm if you get the book, but there's plenty of practical help, too. To make your list, use a chart with the entrees listed across the top of the page, and the individual ingredients listed down the page. You go through each recipe, listing the amount of an ingredient under the recipe, then finish by adding up the total in the right hand column.

Once you have your shopping list, you reach your next potential hurdle. Money. You'll need a bunch of it, so plan ahead. We actually went with the credit option the first time that we did it, and we found that we saved enough money to pay ourselves back. One reason for savings is buying in bulk. I use Costco for most items, but you can figure out what the most affordable place is in your area. I also save by eliminating those, "Can't we please get pizza tonight -- I haven't even thought of dinner until now" days. More planning equals less spending. We still eat pizza sometimes, because you have to remember to take the meal out of the freezer in time for it to thaw and cook. I may be able to organize this cooking system, but there are still regular brain fades in my daily life.

Shopping day tends to be the most tiring one for me. I take at least one strong, helpful child with me, and we both work hard. Plus, as you are standing in line with said child, you can come up with humorous retorts to the comments people will make about your basket(s). "Yes, we have a restaurant. We have three seatings a day with a loyal clientele" etc. etc.

When you get home from shopping, the refrigerator needs to be as empty as possible. Have a few days of "Pick a Leftover, any Leftover" for dinner, and have someone toss out any science projects lurking in the back corners. Another helpful thing we have used is our camping coolers for bulky items like meat and cheese. We don't bother putting the canned goods away; we stack them on the counter or on the table.

If I can muster up the energy after shopping, I put together the meals that don't require cooking. I have two chicken recipes that simply require making a sauce, pouring it over the raw pieces, and freezing. Important: you cannot freeze meat and then refreeze it without cooking it. If you find meat on sale, be prepared to fix it up to freeze it right away. I also try and cook up chicken that will be used for any recipes I will make the next day, or to store in bags for use in burritos, tacos or salads. I also bag up cheese and sauce to go with calzones. Basically, anything that only requires dividing and storing will save time. Then, get a good night's sleep; you'll be working hard for the next two days.

Days two and three are the major cooking days. A few supplies we have purchased to make massive amounts of food are HUGE mixing bowls and HUGE frying pans. I have read somewhere the suggestion of using your cleaned out kitchen sink for mixing. Don't ask my why, but I think that sounds weird. But, if you don't have a HUGE bowl, it might work for you. I also set up two trash cans right next to my work area - one for trash and one for recycling. It keeps things as clean as possible. One other way to make the cooking days manageable is that I have each of my children make one entree. That only leaves seven for me to make (okay, ONLY seven sounds strange, but it IS less than twelve.) Having their help and company keeps me going. I, of course, like to play music that makes me want to dance. I resist the dancing and cook faster instead. I have heard the suggestion of taking time to rest and put up your feet from time-to-time during the day. That doesn't work for me; I just need to power on through my work and collapse when the day is over.

Storing the food can be helped by a few handy hints, too. I use freezer-quality storage bags, and heavy-duty foil. Go ahead and splurge on the extra-duty quality; it is not worth it to have the flavor compromised. Also, please remember to mark what you are storing. Sure, you know it is Mommy's Special Soup when you are pouring it in the bags, but in a few days it will look just like Daddy's Zesty Chile. Unless you want to serve Frozen Surprise for dinner, go ahead and mark it. You should also add the date, just in case something gets lost in the back of the freezer and you wonder which mega-cooking session it was that you made the hide-and-seek entree. Make sure that you cool your entrees before you put them in a free-standing freezer. This can be accomplished in your refrigerator, or in the freezer compartment of the frig. If you add a heap of hot food to the freezer it can cause an increase in temperature; you want to keep that freezer temperature as stable as possible. Also, it might go without saying, but make sure that your freezer is in good working order before you put hundreds of dollars worth of food in there. If my freezer fritzed right after I was done cooking, it would be a sad, sad (sad, sad, sad, sad) day. Better safe than sorry. I use my children as the transportation system out to the garage for storage, but I do check to make sure that they have closed the door firmly. We've come close to leaving it open too long, so I check it OFTEN.

I always feel the need to do a major cleaning of the kitchen after mega-cooking. Just like when you are canning jam or something else sticky, every surface of the kitchen seems to require a good scrub. Remember, it will be a mess when you are done, so don't be surprised.

So, you think you were nuts to try it, but it is done. Congratulations! Now, I would recommend going out to dinner with your husband, or just collapsing in a bubble bath with your favorite evening beverage. You have worked hard, your bounty is immense, and you can actually anticipate what you are having for dinner tomorrow night. The benefits of the insanity are on the horizon.

We eat frozen meals about three times a week, and that means our cooking spree lasts about six months! I cook a Mexican meal of some sort with my son one night a week, and we eat leftovers one night a week, and then my daughter and I are hoping to cook a new recipe every other Sunday evening. An occasional pizza or French toast dinner completes our repertoire.

Our list of entrees made in August 2005:

Quiche
Manicotti
Patty's Beans
Taco Soup
Bean Soup
Sloppy Joes
Teriyaki Chicken
Sweet and Sour Chicken
Chicken Pot Pie (filling only)
Meat Loaf
Sweet and Sour Meatballs
Calzones

In addition to entrees, we also freeze pie crust balls, dough for bread sticks or rolls, cookie dough, taco seasoned meat and chicken for Mexican meals, and cooked beans and rice. Anything that will make lunch, dinner and snack preparation easier is worth doing in bulk and freezing.

I have begun A Circle of Quiet Recipes as a place to post recipes that we use in our mega-cooking. I have only listed the quiche recipe so far; I will add more as time allows.

If anyone has a favorite meal that they freeze, I would be happy to post it on the recipe blog, with credit given. Just let me know.


Mob cap and latex gloves optional

Listening to Your Life

"Peace has come to mean the time when there aren't any wars or even when there aren't any major wars...But in Hebrew peace, shalom, means fullness, means having everything you need to be wholly and happily yourself.

One of the titles by which Jesus is known is Prince of Peace, and he used the word himself in what seem at first glance to be two radically contradictory utterances. On one occasion he said to the disciples, 'Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.' (Matthew 10:34). And later on, the last time they ate together, he said to them, 'Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you' (John 14:27).

The contradiction is resolved when you realize that for Jesus peace seems to have meant not the absence of struggle, but the presence of love."

Listening to Your Life by Frederick Buechner

Watching, reading, listening

One of the benefits of listing out what you have been reading and listening to, or watching and talking about, is that you see common ideas and themes begin to emerge. Over the years these ideas can solidify into some good ol' fashioned self-education. My thoughts have been rambling about the worlds of science and faith and how they have interacted throughout history. Another recurring theme is how to be a good critic (constructive criticism is almost painful for me to offer; I consider this a weakness that needs work.) Here are a few of the ways that we have been enjoying our minutes, hours, days and weeks:


Something the Lord Made
A fascinating movie about Dr. Alfred Blalock (played by Alan Rickman) and Vivian Thomas (played by Mos Def), the men who did the first open heart surgery. (FYI: be ready for some bad language, but I sure think the story is a valuable one.)


Life is Beautiful
We're still trying to catch up on years of never watching a movie. We watched this on my birthday and loved it. Plenty of tears, certainly, but what a fascinating story about World War II and how the seemingly insane imagination of one father can expose the real insanity of what happens in a concentration camp.


The Privileged Planet
The tricky thing about talking about Intelligent Design is that it makes all sorts of people irritated, angry, jumpy or concerned. Many creationists are uncomfortable with what they perceive to be a lack of concern for Biblical inerrancy; Darwinists just wish that the ID folks would come to their senses and accept that their work is not real science. Sorry everyone - I find the world of ID fascinating, and I look forward to what is learned in my lifetime about the design of our universe.

Autumn In New England
This is a favorite CD to play as the family is waking up. When we pull this out to play on our school mornings, I can almost feel the chill of the coming months. Soothing, peaceful, a gentle encouragement to get your sleepy head out of bed and enjoy a brand new day.


The Best of Al Jarreau
Once again, we resort to the music of our early days together when we need some fun. Al Jarreau's voice is a great instrument, and the boppin' music makes for great housecleaning tunes. Not a deep or significant (or even necessarily audible) lyric on the whole CD, but it still makes for some fun. It can't all be substantial around here.


Galileo's Daughter : A Historical Memoir of Science, Faith, and Love by Dava Sobel

Halfway done with this one, more thoughts on it soon. Remarkable to read the letters that talk about Galileo's studies, his struggles with church authorities, and his hunger to make sense of the universe.


Before We Get Started : A Practical Memoir of the Writer's Life by Bret Lott
I'm working on offering criticism...but all I can think about this book is that he is trying too hard. I'll have to think some more. A worthy read, but not because it is good. That makes no sense, but I'm working on it, okay?


The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby
Hornby is a good critic, and an unapologetic one. I could learn from him:

"A hilarious and true account of one man's struggle with the monthly tide of the books he's bought and the books he's been meaning to read."

"First, an apology. Last month, I may have inadvertently given the impression that No Name by Wilkie Collins was a lost Victorian classic (the misunderstanding may have arisen because of my loose use of the phrase, 'lost Victorian classic'), and that everyone should rush out and buy it. I had read over two hundred pages when I gave you my considered verdict; in fact, the last four hundred and eighteen pages nearly killed me, and I wish I were speaking figuratively. We fought, Wilkie Collins and I. We fought bitterly and with all our might, to a standstill, over a period of about three weeks, on trains and airplanes and by hotel swimming pools. Sometimes - usually late at night, in bed - he could put me out cold with a single paragraph; every time I got through twenty or thirty pages, it felt to me as though I'd socked him good, but it took a lot out of me, and I had to retire to my corner to wipe the blood and sweat off my reading glasses."

The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins

I'm at what my husband refers to as "the point of no return" in The Woman in White, and I am going to have to stay up and read to the end. I like how creepy the story is, but the tension is too great and the questions are too many to imagine sleeping without some resolution. There is something perfectly disturbing about the shady characters in this book!

Chasing the light

It happened again tonight. I was working away on the computer, facing the window that looks out over the front yard. The view is to the west, and I somehow knew I had to look up. Someone seemed to be calling to me, willing me to look up and see them from across the way. But, no, it was the setting sun, casting the long shadows and brilliant colors of an approaching autumn across the trees, shrubs, fences, and swing set.

In my search for summer contentment, amidst the season of heat that tempts me more with fatigue and discouragement than any other, I have found the light of the setting sun to be a worthy occupation. I have tried, again and again, to capture its magic with my camera, and I have never done it justice. The colors on the leaves seem to pale; the warmth, the almost audible call of the light, doesn't even begin to show in a picture. It is one of the things that you have to soak in and vow to remember, taking the time for it to be etched into your memory. Like a baby's giggle, or the face of your groom as you take his arm at the altar, there are moments that refuse to be pinned down on film. Each evening, as the sun sets and the trees are aglow, I have tried. It's times like these that I am grateful for a digital camera. Many frames have been attempted, but no film has been wasted.

I am glad that the light cannot be captured, and instead is left to dance on the leaves. It means that I must stop my work, go outside, listen to the sounds of evening settling in, and watch. Really watch. Long enough to see the subtle yellows and oranges and greens, to see the changes from minute to minute, and to stay to see the sun drop out of view. If life is particularly relaxed, I can wait long enough to see the first star appear in the sky; not to wish for something out of reach, but to see the magnificence of the sky's design, and to feel my smallness amidst such greatness.

My photographic skills cannot capture the light, and my memories may even fade one day, but for tonight I have the dance of colors and shadows to savor and remember. It's a gift, and I am grateful for the beauty.

Knitting Project #3

I've learned two new stitches, and I am halfway through a yellow and white washcloth. Yippee. Once again, deep gratitude goes to my Knitting Cyber-Professor, Miz Booshay .

Birthday reflections

Approaching the local video store counter tonight (an aside: does one still call them "video stores" if one is picking up DVDs? Maybe my sister-in-law can answer that?!!) anyway...approaching the counter, I hear the young woman at the register say, "I mean, like, he is FORTY-TWO and he still looks good!" As a woman picking up a movie to watch with her husband on her forty-sixth birthday, I could only hope that it wasn't all over before forty-two, let alone forty-six. Add this to the list of advantages for studying gerontology in college: being anywhere near forty is just the beginning, not old!!!

I confess -- I love presents, and this 46th birthday was overflowing with them. Many I am blessed to have each day: a really great husband, five interesting and unique children, a growing closeness with my mother (who lives next door), a night sky filled with stars, and a heart at peace with my God. But, special gifts of this day included having a latte with my mom, a lovely cake baked by my daughter, a banner made by my son, and hugs, kisses, and words of appreciation around the dessert table. Add to that the bright blue and pink flowers still working hard to bloom in the yard, the earlier darkness and the almost-a-chill on the evening air (signs of autumn -- oh, hooray!), a bunch of red roses, cards from friends, silly poems in the email inbox, singing children leaving messages on my phone... well, I have a pretty marvelous life.

I am thankful for friends. For family. For eyes to see the blessings all around me. I could focus on the weeds or the peeling paint, the cranky attitudes of this morning, or the smell of skunk wafting in my open window tonight, but the thankful list has won out once again.

My prayer for my 47th year:

Be Thou My Vision

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

The birthday girl with her latte pal, aka: Mum.

Field trip

The California State Capitol Building

Isn't this beautiful? Doesn't it just make you want to stare at it for a really (really) long time? Long enough for your neck to ache, but your eyes to want to continue feasting? The stairway around the corner caused a gasp of delight and awe to escape from my daughter's mouth. The view from the upstairs balcony? The elegant, colorful, historic Senate and Assembly chambers? All beautiful. But, alas, the tour made us go at a brisk clip so that we could "see it all."

I am grateful for the friends that planned the tour, but I would have much preferred to break away to linger over the beauty, to wonder at the bills that were being passed as fast as lightning in the Senate chamber, to imagine, as my daughter did, gliding down the dark wood staircase with a ball gown on. Life is short, but there is no need to hurry.

Lesson learned. Next time we go alone, and the watch stays at home.

A New Song

Sidebar alert: Yet another friend has joined blog-land. A New Song is fresh on the scene, but I anticipate plenty of intelligence, wit, down-to-earth "just do it" perspective, and (please!) stories about her family. Mindy is a cyberfriend that bridged into real life a few years ago. We've spent some great hours in parks, on the beach, and in various other spots in Cannon Beach, Oregon, solving all the home education problems of the world. With her interests and talents ranging from music and drama to reading and teaching, this promises to be a pleasurable destination for thoughtful folks.

My only warning? When she says she loves brie, believe her. (Just kidding, Mindy!)

Welcome aboard, beach pal.

Opening day breakfast

Company Breakfast Bake (from an unknown source)

1/2 lb. frozen hash browns
1 pound sausage, cooked and drained (I used a much smaller amount of ham, chopped into small pieces)
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
6 eggs
1 3/4 cup milk
3/4 tsp. dry mustard
1/2 tsp. salt (I used just a dash)
Dash of pepper (I used a big dash)

Cover the bottom of a 9-inch square pan with hash browns. Cover with sausage. Sprinkle with cheese. Stir together the remaining ingredients. Pour this over everything. Refrigerate overnight. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

(I doubled this and baked it in a 9 x 13 pan. I cooked it at 375 degrees (because of the coffee cake's temperature requirement) for 45 minutes.)

Quick Coffee Cake (from The Fannie Farmer Cookbook)

1 cup sugar
1 3/4 cups white flour (can use whole wheat)
2 t. baking powder
4 T. butter
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/2 cup milk
1 T sugar mixed with 1 1/2 t. cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter an 8-inch square cake pan. Mix the sugar, the flour and the baking powder in a large bowl. Work in the butter with your fingers or a pastry blender until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add the egg and milk and blend. Spoon into pan. Sprinkle the sugar-cinnamon mixture evenly over the top. Bake for 20 minutes.

(My daughter doubled this and put it in a 9 x 13 pan. We baked it for 45 minutes.)

Soundtrack for a Sunday Drive

On our way there:


All Right Here, by Sarah Groves

Thought-provoking lyrics and good ol' guitar and drums. Windows down, volume up, and just us two. Ahhhh.


On our way home (from the Irish winery):


Celtic Sunday: A Collection of Traditional Irish Hymns

Fully instrumental (harp, bodhran, fiddle, dulcimer, uillean pipes, penny whistles) playing favorites such as: Be Thou My Vision, Jesus Love of My Soul, All Things Bright and Beautiful, The King of Love My Shepherd Is...and more. So beautiful, and familiar enough songs that we could sing along with their instrumental accompaniment.

An afternoon away

If we can find a way to have an afternoon free for a getaway, a favorite place of ours is Fitzpatrick Winery and Lodge. A simple ploughman's lunch becomes a work of art, especially against the canvas of a spectacular view that goes for miles. We admired the rows of vines, the changing color of the grape leaves, the last cluster of morning glories that were splashing a bush with color, and the bit of breeze that made the temperature perfect. We had many things to talk about, but they suddenly seemed less important than just soaking in the view, enjoying each other's company, and pausing to be grateful.

The serious talk about our school plans and goals, and how we can support each other as the year unfolds, all happened later over espresso closer to home, but the rejuvination from a few hours of alone time was just as valuable for our preparation. Tomorrow is Day One of our new homeschool year. We'll have a ceremonious trip to the lake where we like to walk, complete with a picnic breakfast. We hope to enjoy a jog or walk around the lake, maybe even play some volleyball, and then have a good family talk about the year. Everyone seems excited, the egg/hashbrown casserole and coffee cake are all ready to bake early in the morning, and it has all the signs of a great beginning. The big bonus is that we are starting on a public school holiday, so my husband will be here. That is important because, even though he doesn't happen to be the one looking over everyone's shoulder or snuggled up on the couch each day, he is an integral part of what happens here, and we all like to have him here for as much as possible.

I have two things in the front of my notes as I start my school year (posted with deep thanks to the lovely woman at Seasonal Soundings.)

From T. H. White's The Once and Future King:

“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlyn... “is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, ...you may see the world around you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honor trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then—to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the thing for you.”

From St. Thomas Aquinas:

Creator of all things,
true source of Light and Wisdom,
lofty source of all Being,
graciously let a ray of Your Brilliance penetrate
into the darkness of my understanding
and take from me the double darkness
in which I have been born,
sin and ignorance.

Give me a sharp sense of understanding,
a retentive memory,
and the ability to grasp things correctly and fundamentally.
Grant me the talent of being exact in my explanations,
and the ability to express myself with thoroughness and charm.
Point out the beginning,
direct the progress,
help in the completion.
Through Christ our Lord.

AMEN!

Wish us well -- another year is underway.

As requested

by Donna at Quiet Life.

Something beautiful in my life -- the view from my living room, throughout the seasons:

Twelve years ago

This last Sunday, as guitars played and families sang, a beautiful nine-year-old girl crawled up into my lap and pulled my arms around her. We were camping in the majestic and scenic area around Lake Tahoe. The sunshine was beginning to filter through the evergreen trees, and the activities of the weekend had stopped long enough for us to have a family worship service. How did my dear girl know that what I needed more than anything else was for someone I loved to be close? She often just knows, and I was comforted by her cozying in during our singing and praying.

Sunday was August 28th. Twelve years earlier, my family was smaller (three very tiny children) but we were in the same neighborhood. Friends have a cabin just down the road from the campground, and we had spent the weekend together. We were away from television, radio and phone, and we spent the weekend relaxing and playing with our little children. August 28th was on Saturday in 1993, and we went down to the shore of Lake Tahoe to swim. There is an old building there, the Ehrmann Mansion, and as we all splashed in the water, my husband spoke of a time and a place far away where God Himself had mansions, and where He was preparing a place just for us to be with Him forever. It seemed incongruous that day -- young, healthy families, seemingly fixed to deep roots here in human time. Why speak of eternity?

When we arrived home, I will always remember our two older children tumbling out to play in the yard. John was with them, but our baby must have stayed napping in the car. I checked the answering machine and heard a message that changed my life forever. My mother had called, in the middle of Saturday night, to say that my sister had been in an accident. She said, in an unnaturally pitched voice, that my sister had been badly hurt, and that I should call the hospital to see if my mother was still there. "Still there? Why would she leave?" My heart was pounding, and my voice called to my husband in a way that had him running inside. There were many other messages on the machine, but message after message was someone hanging up. Finally, my mother's voice again, asking me to call her....at home. I called, and got the news that yes, my sister had died. It was a water skiing accident, the last run of the day, in the narrow passageways of a river delta.

She was my only sibling, in my not-so-close family. We were oil and water growing up, with every choice being opposites. Tuna vs. peanut butter and jelly. Clean vs. messy. Quiet vs. loud. Daring vs. cautious. But, as adults, we had one of those, "When I was five you...and when I was twelve you....and when you....it hurts" kind of conversations, and we became very close friends. When she went through a painful divorce, my friends and I packed her, moved her, and unpacked her. I babysat, I listened, and we grew as friends. Years later, she stood by my side as my matron-of-honor. She was in the waiting room down the hall when my first two children were born, but when I was expecting baby #3, I knew that I wanted her to be there. So, she was by my side to welcome my third born into the world, and she wrote to tell me it was one of the most important moments of her entire life. Three months later, she was gone. I didn't know she would die young. But, when we last said goodbye, she hugged me and said, "I love you." My family rarely hugged, and "I love you" was even rarer.

It has been twelve years, and the lessons of grief and healing have been taken to heart. But this year the anniversary has me feeling things I haven't felt for years. For the first time in those twelve years we have been invited to water ski. I can't, as much as I try to convince myself, but I am eager for my children to give it a try. I want them to feel the wind on their faces, and the spray of the wake as they fly through its mist. It is a great feeling.

On August 28th this year, after our worship service, we were splashing in the water below the Ehrmann Mansion once again. It was emotional to be there, on that of all days, but I could not help but think of Liz in her mansion quarters. If it is anything like here, there will be no peanut butter in her rooms. They will be perfectly spotless, and impeccably decorated. There will be plenty of surprises, and lots of laughter. Oh, how I miss my sister. As my parents have aged, and my father has died, I miss her support. But, far more than that, I miss having her to share memories with me. She remembered everything, and was happy to correct my slanted view. I miss her giggle, and I miss her generous spirit inspiring me. She never met my two youngest children, and yet I see more of my family's variety of spunk in my younger ones. Ah, yes, the family quirks will live on until we meet again in eternity.

When I returned home from camping on the 28th, we did the usual camping unloading, I took my required post-camping-bubble bath, and then I checked in on some of my blog friends before retiring. This post at Mental Multivitamin was perfectly timed. She says:

Simply put, it (her father's death) taught me that life is short. If I'm going to do something worthwhile with it, I need to it now -- not tomorrow or next week. Now. I need to find the joy or wonder or, at the very least, the lesson in each day's moments, not just for me but for my family.

Whether we have tasted it for ourselves or not, it is true. As we watch buildings fall at the hands of terrorists, or school shootings, or hurricane or tsunami aftermath coverage, the lesson is there. As we pass car accidents, or emergency rooms or funeral homes, we are given reminders that life on earth is passing by. I eagerly await eternity, and the chance to see the many people who have already died, but for now my job is to live with focus and determination, empowered by God's grace and, by that grace, to His glory. Eyes outward, attitude adjusted to reflect God's call on my life, and with a joy that says my life is a GIFT.

I have needed this time of reflection to remember where I have been, and to let the deep lessons sink in. Twelve years ago my life was changed, and I want to reflect the learning in the little choices I make everyday. I am not usually called upon to do big things in front of crowds that notice. I am in my small home, teaching my children, caring about my mother and adoring my husband. Small, private choices still require tender loving care! Today may be it - I refuse to let it go to waste.

Practical advice on the subject of grief support...

Recently there was a post on the Well-Trained Mind boards asking how to provide comfort or express sympathy to someone grieving the death of an adult child. I wrote this in response:

My only sibling died in a water skiing accident almost 12 years ago. People responded in many different ways, so here are my thoughts:

Some people sent cards, and some called. We certainly weren't in phone answering mode, but it still meant a lot to hear people's voices and to know that they cared.

Many took the time to come to the memorial service, and I know that for my parents, and for me, having people we knew there was a gift. For the record, many of them did not know my sister, but they were glad to get to know her, and to support us, through their presence at the service.

A couple of Liz's friends brought over meals that could be frozen. All of my mother's family came to town, so that was a huge blessing. It saved us money and time. Extra meals were frozen for when my mom would need them.

Friends at home gave us a large lilac bush in Liz's memory, and we came home from my mom's to a clean house, a frig full of easy to prepare food, and plenty of emotional support.

Donations to a trust fund for my nephew were appreciated (and often donations to organizations related to the illness or accident are possible.)

Since this family you know is from another faith, I will share this tidbit. I have a family member that is of another faith than ours, and she complained, within earshot of my mother and me, that the service was a bit too Christian for her taste. Remember, the service is for the person who died, not for us as an audience. These comments were not appreciated (to put it mildly!!!)

My sister's death easily took ten years off of each of my parent's lives. It was a terrible shock for them, and it remains a part of the fabric of their being (or did for my father until he passed away in 2001.) As you have an ongoing relationship with this doctor, it is good to remember that. He, most likely, will never be the same. For my parents that meant a lot of positive things, as well as the expected sadness and stress effects.

One of the hardest things to do is relate to someone that is grieving. I had three children that were three years of age and under when my sister died. I had friends that thought I didn't cry enough. Just the idea that there is a right amount of crying to do, or that people should feel comfortable crying in front of certain people, is silly. The only word I have come up with to describe grief is "convoluted". It makes no sense, and sadness comes and goes without warning. My mother just began crying at Christmas two years ago when my daughter got a pair of socks that reminded her of my crazy sister. It took ten years. That's a long time, but that is as fast as my mom could go. I grieve each year at this time, as the anniversary of Liz's death is Aug. 28th. To have someone, even a patient for an eye doctor, that can understand a little bit of that, is a GIFT. The friends that just walked the road with me were more precious than a pile of gold, I assure you.

These are only my reflections from my experience. Everyone is different, and every day can be different and unpredictable for a person in the depths of grief. I made it through my sister's birthday just fine, but had to pull over and sob as an unidentified ambulance drove by. I was as confused as my friends that were trying to help me. Easy answers don't work, because some life experiences just don't make sense. No, it is not a crisis of faith (necessarily), just a natural response to tragedy. Some people said incredibly insensitive things to me, but that's okay. Grief is confusing, for all involved. A lot of elbow room, an occasional card or casserole, and bucket loads of prayer are usually appreciated. Just do the best you can, and most of the time your care and concern will hit the spot.

Art Class

My art class began last week. It's strange to be back in the classroom, but a good kind of strange. There is no text for the class, just the usual arm-and-leg investment at the local art supply spot. I have enjoyed sketching for the last few years, but I want to come out of this class being able to draw with more confidence. I can hardly wait.

The assignment for this week? To scribble. Yep, scribble. First with the dominant hand, then with the non-dominant hand, and then gripping the pencil with both hands. Scribbling is a bit of stretch for me (no, not in skills, but in understanding the value.) She wants us to work through the developmental stages of drawing, starting back in early childhood. Like I said, this is a stretch for me, but, the instructor has asked us to trust her. She says if we just stick with it, and do what she assigns us, then we WILL be able to draw. I am ready to trust; we'll see how it goes.

While I work, I sure like all my new supplies. Brings back great memories of those early days of school, when a new outfit and a pile of pencils could float my boat. Hmmmm....maybe returning to my childhood is a good thing?

"Where's Mom?" "Did you look under that pile of manicotti?"

Sorry that the inspirational and literary posts have been few and far between. This is a grunt work few weeks for me, and today that means Mega-Cooking Time. We don't do things in halves around here, so when we prepare meals for the freezer, we do it on a ridiculous scale. Right now we have eight quiches cooling on the table, and six manicottis piled up for the freezer. Add that to the other thirty entrees we packed in yesterday, and you have a sticky, productive kitchen. We still have four more things to prepare and freeze, but then we are DONE. Four nights a week we will eat something hot and nutritious. For the other three nights a week, we have plans (new recipe with oldest daughter once a week, Mexican feast with oldest son once a week, C.O.R.D. (Clean Out Refrigerator Day) once a week) but those are all variables. On the four other nights, we KNOW there is a good meal coming. For some people (aka: the husband) that sends gallons of happiness to the love tank.

We have lovely music going, hard work from all family members (on cooking, laundry folding, or Boy Scout advancements) and even the all-important absorbing and chewing on what has been read, but I only have brains for recipes right now. I promise poems, book reviews, and other more stimulating posts soon. I may even post some details on what mega-cooking is for us, but I promise you will be warned and can scroll right past it if that kind of post makes you want to jump out of your body and run down the street.

Back to the freezer. See you soon.

Seasonal Soundings

One of my favorite cyber-encouragers has started her own blog. She has graduated her four students from home schooling, and she has often provided perspective from "further down the road" to those of us that need a little vision. She is also one of the most dedicated self-educators I have had the pleasure of corresponding with. I highly recommend to you this new sidebar listing: Seasonal Soundings

Sculpey

Our idea of Friday fun


Everything lined up just so (by her, not me!)


Tea cup and basketball hoop -- something for everyone.

Aaaaahhhh....

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)

One of those days

We drove down the highway this morning, on our way home from errands and piano. After a particularly stressful moment of defensive driving on my part, my nine-year-old asked me, "Mommy, what was that boy doing with his finger?" It's been a long time since I have been the recipient of such a gesture, but it pretty much summed up my day. It's been one of those days that needs to finish, and quickly. We're still sick, my mother is now sick, and we are grouchy. But, as I spent an hour blowing my nose and scrolling through some of my favorite online spots, I got this encouragement:

From Miz Booshay, the proprietor at Quiet Life

Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. ~Christopher Robin

This quote touches on all the dark voices in my head that like to tell me what a big loser I am. Christopher Robin, once again, has just the right thing to say. Thanks, Miz Booshay (who earns the award for Most Encouraging Blog in my corner of the world!)

From Dr. Grant's blog:

However long it takes, whatever the costs involved, however hard the task, and whatever the risks, principled leaders finish what they start. They fulfill their responsibilities. They are in it for the long haul. This is one of the hallmarks of maturity.

The most important part of homeschool planning for me is not the charts or the lists; it is to remember why I am homeschooling, who my children are, why I value and cherish them, what kind of treatment is acceptable between us, and Who is empowering this lovely sailing vessel that is making its way through sometimes murky/sometimes smooth waters. Sure, I make lists and charts (preferably with neat colors and little boxes to check things off); when I don't, I lose track of someone or something. But, this focus on leadership is what I needed to hear. I am a leader (duh!) and I want to show maturity to my group of leaders-in-training.

He also had this bit of kindred confession:

Winston Churchill once quipped that “In order to lead, one must read.” The best preparation for times of difficulty--and believe me, leaders will face times of difficulty--is a well-rounded, well-trained mind. Sloppy thinking is a terrible handicap in the day of testing—whether that day of testing is the loss of a job, the birth of a child, an unexpected medical diagnosis, the beginning of a new semester, or the resolution of an intractable conflict. I have always found that when the pressure is on my best course of action is feed my mind with provocative books. Of course, I need to maintain my spiritual disciplines, eat right, get plenty of rest, make sure I get out and exercise, and stay connected with those God has placed around me. But, if I am not reading, most of those other aspects of a healthy life seem to fall by the wayside.

Amen, Dr. Grant.

From: I Have to Say

My coming to faith did not start with a leap but rather with a series of staggers from what seemed like one safe place to another. Like lily pads, round and green, these places summoned and then held me for the next leaf on which I would land, and in this way I moved across the swamp of doubt and fear. When I look back at some of these early resting places...I can see how flimsy and indirect a path they made. Yet each step brought me closer to the verdant pad of faith on which I somehow stay afloat today.

Anne Lamott from Traveling Mercies

A beautiful description, and the picture -- you have to go see the picture. I love the photos on this blog!

And, finally, from our friends at Wittingshire:

How can we avoid painting our loved ones with dull colors?

"Humility is enough," Tolkien says.

Great words for parents, for children, for lovers. It's too easy for our view to get distracted; let's strive to keep the colors clear and vivid and rich.

On this crummy day, I say thanks to this assortment of virtual encouragement. My vision is restored!

Farewell, Thursday!

On sale: two-for-one

Just in time for Daddy's school year to start! Welcome back to the classroom, dear!

Soundtracks for long drives

If there is one recurrent theme in my life over the last two-and-a-half weeks it is On the Road Again. Vacation for us is a good twelve-to-fourteen hour drive (one-way), and this year I added two trips to IKEA when I got home (yep - two. If you live a distance from IKEA (like I do) I recommend you check to make sure you have all the pieces you need if you are building a bed. All of them. Every box. Trust me -- check with the service counter before you leave.) Then, just to get some variety of scenery, we drove to Reno to pick up my daughter at the airport. The savings on the ticket cost to Reno (rather than Sacramento) seemed worth it when we pushed "send" but, as I have finally surrendered to the cold germs swarming around the family, Reno was feeling like a trek-and-a-half yesterday.

The burden of each of these drives was lightened by great company (all or a select few of my family members, depending on the drive), and by nice weather. We had be-a-u-tiful fog in Emeryville at IKEA; the chilly, "why didn't I bring a sweatshirt?" kind of weather that I love. On the way to Reno we were treated to a show of lightning that was spectacular. My apologies to any Nevada readers, but the landscape just over the California border is usually downright ugly, but the darkening skies did something magical to the coloring on the hills and we were in awe of the beauty. The rain smelled heavenly, and the cat paws and other dust got washed off of the van.

Beginning with our first drive to Oregon seven years ago, we have made it a tradition to get books on tape. We made great selections this year, and we recommend them highly:

For the drive up to Portland:


The Magician's Nephew by C. S. Lewis, Narrator Kenneth Branagh

Narnia and Kenneth Branagh...need I say more? Just know that he does a great job on all the animal voices, and we were reluctant to stop except for the most desperate of needs.

The rest of the drive we listened to music, which is a new development. We often pull out "wake us up" music when we are driving at night, but the growing age of the audience in the back of the car meant requests for music during the daylight hours. We listened to:

The Best: Sittin' in Again, Loggins & Messina. Songs from our youth, it was fun to sing along.

House of Worship, Twila Paris. A good choice for the "Let's have some quiet" moments in the car. To wake up or to fall asleep, this worship music soothes and lifts our hearts to Him.

and the previously recommended:
Hot House, by Bruce Hornsby. Especially helpful during the afternoon dip, when a swim in a pool would be nice or just a frosty latte would suffice. In lieu of that, Bruce.


From Portland to the coast:

Abraham Lincoln and the Heart of America

"Laughter, tragedy and astonishing triumphs abound in this storytelling biography of our sixteenth president who used humor, strength and moral clarity to steer a nation and a people through their most trying times."

For most of our twelve hour blitz home (think horse to the barn) we listened to:

In the Reign of Terror , by G.A. Henty and read by Jim Weiss.

"As the French Revolution begins, a young englishman, Harry Sandwith, is hired by a French nobleman to be a companion to his sons. At first seen by the aristocrat's family as beneath their class, Harry soon proves himself by saving the lives of the girls in the family. Then, in the midst of the French Revolution, Harry must summon all his courage to save and protect his French friends. In the Reign of Terror is both a vivid picture of one of history's most important events and also a thrilling adventure."

I'm not sure what we will do when the family is done listening to Jim Weiss. He has always been an extra passenger on our travels, and a trip to Oregon wouldn't feel right without him. Hopefully, I will never need to know.


To IKEA:


Cinderella Man soundtrack.

I loved the movie, and had no recollection of the music at all. Our children danced to one of the songs with their friends, and they asked if we could get the CD. A little 20's jazz, some Irish jigs, and a lot of poignant tunes, it's a fine collection of music. I think the Depression era has a lot to teach about the value of people over things, and I am happy to have the music to bring it to mind.


7 Habits of Highly Effective Families, by Stephen R. Covey

Not my usual choice of audio companion, I decided to listen to these CDs in preparation for the new school year and in anticipation of creating a family mission statement. When it first began, my older boys were a bit taken aback. "Um, Mom, what IS this?" was the general reception it received. A few minutes later, quiet requests were coming for me to turn up the volume. I am not done listening yet, but I like what he has to say about priorities. Good stuff.

Now, I am going to stay home and blow my nose.

The March of the Penguins

I decided to take my children to the theater this last week. It is a rare occasion for us, so it would be something special to do while my oldest was gone. When Fellowship of the Ring came out, my husband and I had not been to the theater for fourteen years. Does that give you an idea of how rarely we go? Since then, we have spare change and good babysitting more often, and we appreciate more films that have hit the big screen, but it is still a special event.

Well, I took my four children and my mother to see March of the Penguins. My mother and I loved it. My older children thought it was "fine." My youngest, however, was very unhappy. There is a point in the movie where one of the baby penguins dies. This is a film about how hard it is for the penguins to survive, and some of them don't. Well, the mother is nudging the little bird, and she moans the most horrible sound. As an adult, and even as older children, we felt sad. My youngest, though, sobbed. I felt so terrible. This was not the only point in the movie that bothered my son. He didn't like that the mother or the father penguin has to go far away to feed while the other is caring for the egg or baby. He wanted all those penguins together, alive, and safe.

I am glad that he is a sensitive boy. He is extra tall for his age, and I think I have been caught in the trap of assuming he is older than he is. I found this easy with my oldest, simply because she was older than all the other children. Now, it is a temptation again. Tall, articulate, coordinated, he is able to keep up with the crew on the ski slopes, on the basketball court, and in the family banter around the table. I need to remember he is six. I need to remember he is, gratefully, a sensitive boy who still wants there to be a happy ending.

Until we meet again

At 8:40 this morning I found myself surrounded by my sons, our noses pressed against the windows of the Sacramento Airport. We were watching a departure with special care, unable to move until we could see the plane no more. On it was my daughter, and she will be gone for six days; this is her first flight without her family. I have been thrilled that she could take a trip to Idaho to attend Schola Academy with her online tutor and students from across the country; just as I could meet some of my blog homies last week, she can meet her online classmates. But, I found myself with a massive lump in my throat as the plane lifted off. I fully trust God for her life and my life, but we have been forever changed by the loss of loved ones at very young ages. Cancer, car accidents, water skiing accident, work-related accident, seizure...we have said goodbye to many, all under the age of forty. Those experiences don't make me cling or cushion those around me from possible disaster, but they do make me look in my loved one's eyes when I say good-bye. "I love you" gets said, hugs and kisses are given. The size of her lovely blue eyes, and the intentionality of her bravery as we said good-bye, showed me that these lessons have reached her heart as well.

This dear person just turned fifteen yesterday. It was our first day home from vacation (read: tired and laundry), she had to work, and she received the news that dear friends will be moving. But amidst the sadness there was plenty of celebration: the birthday breakfast, the cards and gifts from friends and family, the excitement of packing for a long-awaited trip.

When I think of my oldest, I am overwhelmed with the young woman she is becoming. She is talented in so many areas (languages, piano, needlework of many kinds, gardening, cooking, and writing to name a few), and she is growing in wisdom and grace. We talked around the table about all our favorite Birthday Girl qualities, and among the compliments were gratitude for time she spends with her siblings (reading Wodehouse to the older boys, The Hobbit to the younger two) and how she fills our house with her beautiful voice and her ringing laughter. She's quite a serious bible student, with a passion for literature and history, but she can find a pun or pull a practical joke with great skill and timing. She's been known to skin a snake and map out its internal organs, and yet would prefer never to be within a mile of a moth. This unpredictable girl is a TREASURE!

I don't usually post pictures with the full-on view of my children's faces, but I could not resist today. This was taken in the airport, just minutes before she boarded the plane. Somehow, we all couldn't get close enough.


The big sister

(Note: the little sister -- the one with the two-pack-a-day cough - was home with Daddy today. We drove off to IKEA after the airport, and just the thought of coughing her way through the warehouse was enough to make her want to go to bed. There seems to be a nasty, choking-cough-kind-of-cold going around. It's a lingerer...beware.)

So, we will continue to appreciate our Birthday Girl in her six day absence. I feel like Sophie the dog, constantly watching out the window for her return. There is the usual work and play to be had this week, and we have every intention of living it to the fullest, but I will have a chunk of my heart in a northern Idaho farm house, as I pray my way through each day.

May you have the time of your life, snug!

Vacation: the film version

Mt. Shasta



Friends



Haystack Rock in the morning mist



Coffee, monks, ocean -- aahhh!



Flowers



A view from the forest

There is a significant piece of our week that is missing here. In addition to the cute youngsters on the swing, our week was packed with great visits with other friends. Friends from our Bay Area past as well as newer ones. Of special note here in the blogosphere is that I was able to meet the couple that write at Wittingshire and dear Sparrow from Intent at MomBob's beach house (MomBob of WPMs fame.) The transition from cyberspace to face-to-face life was a real pleasure!! More stories will come, along with grateful reflections on my now-fifteen-year-old, but first I must launch my daughter on her first flight without her family, and make my semi-annual drive to IKEA for a few essentials. You'd think I had done enough driving in the last ten days, but I guess not.

Home sweet home

Our vacation is over, and we are HOME. The work of unloading is done, the really gross items from between the van seats have been extracted, the third pile of laundry is already in the dryer, and we have settled in quickly. Thirteen hours of driving today (including three meal stops and a handful of other rest stop moments) and we are happy to stretch, be alone, be quiet, be loud, be HOME. There are many stories to tell, and pictures that will tell it better than words. But, for now, my lids are drooping and I am still needing to play Birthday Fairy for our eldest daughter who turns fifteen tomorrow. Sixteen years ago today I miscarried our first baby, and I remember wondering if I would ever have another child. A year later, as the pains of labor began, I was so grateful for a full-term baby. Well, honestly, I was a little cranky at having an eleven days overdue baby, but thrilled to be a mother.

Fifteen years ago...wow. It's been quite a journey.

More soon.

It's good to be home.