Sunny Legs Revealed

I know everyone is clamoring for the missing photo from my last post. After weeks of waiting, here it the photo in question!

Notice the dent in my shin where a log from the woodshed pegged me! Ouch!! It doesn't look bad, but geez, it hurt!!

Depression vs. Skin Cancer

I left my camera at my sister's house. On the camera is the perfect photo for this blog. It is a sunny photo of my white legs, pulled up pants, pushed-down striped socks, and heavy winter shoes. I was sitting outside of a gymnastics meet for my kid at Stanford. It was sunny and 'warm'. I would wait to get the photo off of my camera so I could use it for my blog, but by that time, this post will seem irrelevant. It may be June before I see that camera again, so I'll get it off my chest now.

I have been thinking about the fine line that I walk in the winter between Vitamin D and Prozac. I know the sun is low on the horizon, and that I get less UV during the winter. I also get that I get less "D" over all during this long season. Only to make things more complicated, I am a sunscreen-aholic. I have to be a devout sunscreen-etarian so that I don't get overwhelmed by the sun during sunny months. Even though it is February (no sun, not for days, weeks, and months), I feel a pang of guilt when I don't put on my SPF 15 every morning. I wonder if I feel disproportionate guilt due to the fact that I may now have seasonal depression.

Am I overreacting due to my dislike of dairy products and that glowing orb in the sky? Have I been out of the sun so long that I can't get control of myself in the longest months of the year? Do I like getting carded for buying alcohol so much that I would have to check myself into a sanatorium? Maybe a few more wrinkles on my face would be worth it through the winter.

In a valiant compromise, I decided to pull up my pant legs and let my shins see the sunshine. I ate a hot dog (summer food) and let folks laugh on the inside as they passed the goofy red-head in the sun, outside the Gymnastics Center at the prestigious institution that is Stanford University.

Wrestling the Angels

After last week's Wednesday, I woke up ready to greet this one with a smile and routine.

Last week, a coyote scared my kids into hiding in the car, and our dog scared it off of the deck. I was right behind the dog chasing the coyote away with shouts. Running in the morning ice, I fell hip-first onto a deck chair. This is the hip that has clumsily hit the ground hard, more times that I would like to admit (see previous posts).

Later that day, I found the body our our cat outside in the grass. The reason the coyote was on the deck in the first place? He was there to eat our cat, and we scared him away before he carried her into the woods, though not before he loudly killed the cat and scared the kids. I had to bury the cat in the yard with two crying kids.

After a week of ice packs and sleeping on my right side (which is the wrong side) I decided to take an easy walk up the hill. This was after a perfect morning of stay-at-home-mom-ness. I even thought to myself as I walked up the driveway, "what a perfect way to redeem last Wednesday" beyond my folded laundry, clean house, full fridge, and clean floor.

Walking up my little road to nowhere, I saw cars parked to the side, and a woman crying. I got closer and saw a man stroking the head of a half-dead baby dear. The failed christian in me turned to walk home, but the tears of the woman and the kindness of the man moved me forward. The woman grabbed me and hugged me. I told her I was so sorry. She cried more. If the man moved away from the deer, it would struggle to run. It was a gruesome sight. The woman cried more, I stepped closer to her side. We waited for the sheriff to come to get the deer, and it seemed like ages, though at most, ten minutes.

No sheriff arrived, but a Grass Valley policeman. He was very neat and trim and young. Summing him up, I didn't really think he had much to offer the scenario until he put his hand to his side to unlock a gun from his holster. The woman cried and ran to her car not wanting to watch, just as two more cars came to the scene just trying to head up the road and stopped.

I turned to look away, but not in time. I saw the officer take out his gun and shoot the baby in the head. There was blood. A terrible thing to watch for us all, but not as bad as watching it struggle. A terrible thing for a passerby to drive up to during lunch time. The officer put on some gloves and pulled the body off the street. Everyone turned and left slumping a bit.

I had some time to think about what had happened as I walked back to my house. Last week's trauma was about how things we work hard for can easily be lost. I am still recovering from falling in the ice, I am still sad to see the bag of kitty food in the laundry room. This week's trauma was about what I do have.

I came upon that scene, not by accident. The reason is who I am. I can comfort in the midst of suffering. I didn't turn and leave, telling myself that I would only be in the way. What I brought to the woman, was who I am. Who I am is all I have. I didn't add to the gruesomeness of the moment by walking away. In this way, last week's trauma was redeemed with this week's trauma.

My hip still aches terribly. It looks terrible. Today I'm going to use it to remember.

Camera Curve

Our little Kodak point and shoot camera broke/died in October. I have been taking photos by hauling my laptop around, and relying on others to document Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, a trip to the ocean, a family wedding, 2 giant snow storms, my sister's 30th birthday, and Justus' gym meets.

Yesterday our new camera arrived in the mail. I was as excited as if I were 6 years old getting my first Cabbage Patch doll, or my green banana seat bike. I was excited because the photos I have been able to take in the last several months are really poor quality. I was also excited to get a really nice camera and take some good snaps, until I opened the box last night.

The line between excitement and anxiety is quite slim. There are 5 manuals in as many languages, not to mention photography jargon, a dozen buttons, and hundreds of settings. I'm overwhelmed with where to start. Do I start at YouTube or the jr. college? I think I start by taking photos. I almost forgot that I could start learning by taking photos, which is where the word 'overwhelmed' really suites the situation. I'm going to give myself more than 12 hours to get the hang of it. I am also going to post one of the photos I took last night, just cause I can (as opposed to yesterday at this same time).

Appropriate Idiom

I can't think of the best title. There are too many hokey puns and applicable idioms, that there isn't a 'best'. My favorite ones are 'a head above' or ' hard headed husband' (just for the alliteration, not because he is). As you can see, this is about my husband, and I don't want to make fun of him with a pun or saying, so I'll just leave the title alone.

In a dramatic turn of events, Silas forgot to put the guard onto the hair clippers, during what was clearly a bleary-eyed, early morning, repair job. He took the blade to his head, leaving a 2 inch strip of pure Silas head. We all came running to the bathroom to the sound of laughter, and then we joined in! There was no working around it, and Silas had to shave his already balding head entirely.

This style seems to be quite popular for men our age. I have yet to decide what I think of it, even as some of you reading this have this exact same 'haircut'. On one hand, it is handy. An easy way to ease one's way through rough patches of balding. It is an immeasurable step up from the comb-over. It isn't denying the change, and yet steering one clear of the Bozo the Clown look. In this same category I am lumping those men who for simplicity sake, just shave their noggins.

Then, there are the other guys: The kinda tough jerks who shave their head so that people will do what they say! I would lump them into an insecure military/police/skinhead crew. The kinda folks who are just not happy with themselves, and the rest of us have to suffer. The problem for me is that sometimes one guy can be in both groups. Or, I might assume the latter when it really is the former or vice-a-versa. I guess the point here, as in my previous blog, is you really can't judge. I sit around and think about this kinda stuff anyways, so then I do judge now that my very own husband is in the 'bic-club'.

Since this is a new idea for me, and I spend a lot of time looking at and thinking about my husband, I'm going to have to get used to it. 15 years ago we cut his long fluffy hair on the back porch of his parent's house, so he could join the Air Force. Every 2 weeks or so, since then, Silas or I have cut his hair, to regulations, whether he needed it or not. Now we can wait a few extra weeks, and it will be back to how it was before, balding on top (and on the back) and thick and dark on the sides. Then I won't have to think about it...

Chicken Tacos

We were starving and a bit sick after a very curvy car ride from the coast. It was that kinda starving that makes you irritable, as if you could cry, in fact, my son was crying at the very thought that he might not get a bowl of Mexican food. The line was LONG and SLOW, and I was taking deep breathes, and thinking, "chicken tacos". Things were not going my way.

So none of that really has to do with this next bit, but it was in that long and slow line, as I was searching for my happy place, that the young lady behind me made a phone call. Yes, I absolutely hung back to listen to every word, once I heard what she was talking about, this is how it went:

Hey, guess what? Yeah, I finally told my parents about my boyfriend.
No, they were fine with it. They just asked what he was in for.
As long as he didn't hurt anyone, or steal anything, they didn't care.
Yeah, they were fine with it.
Now I can stop waiting for his letters and rushing to get them before my parents.
I'm writing him a letter everyday. Yeah I'm so glad....
Huh? No way am I missing my 21st birthday, no way...

They just asked what he was in for? Huh? Really? In so many ways, that is so messed up. I thought the very reason one spends time behind bars was mostly because he has hurt someone, or he has stolen something. Everything else that I can think of to put one behind bars, besides these two criteria, area also terrible. This is attractive to someone? Clearly, yes.

I really am trying to give folks the benefit of not judging them, especially perfect strangers in line at a taco stand. So in this case, I was judging the stupid girl, her stupid parents, her criminal boyfriend, and the extremely impacted taco-makers. This really isn't what I was wanting to do, but I was starving. I get that everyone deserves to be loved, and was glad that these folks were not my responsibility.

I'm my responsibility. Now that my belly is full, and my blood sugar is back into a reasonable range, I am still judging. I am judging my my stay-at-home, mountain town, organic garden, 30-something lovable husband, energetic happy children, caring friends, healthy family, and very centered life. I like it!!

Atrium Construction

Got the place finaled, and now we are putting in a floor!! By 'we' I mean Tana and Silas.
Looking Good!!

Emma the Pug

After 5 years of yearning, Justus got a pug. Her name is Emma, and she is 4. She came to live here from my friend, who was overwhelmed with child rearing and doggie-rearing. She is a good girl, and so tiny compared to our other dogs.

Sail Away With Me.

Just a few of my favorite folks sailing, on what was nearly a perfect day. Okay, as perfect as humanly possible. What a joyful day. Just after this, we caught up for a moment with a pod of dolphins. I am guessing there were 100. We were calling them like Burt calls fishies on Sesame Street onto his fishing boat. Fortunately they did not fly into our boat.

Dressed to the Nines

Here we are dressed up for Halloween last week.

We are dressed to the nines, in that we have 9+ yards of fabric on each!! Well except for Justus, who is wearing just 2 yards.
We went the whole nine yards on cloud nine that evening!!

Searching for a Heart of Gold

Nevada County is my hometown. I know that there have been 33 years of change, since I got here, but what is good, is that it is slow. Slow changes, as opposed to the changes I see as I drive into Sacramento, or out of Reno. The pace there is faster, there are more cheaply made homes, tilt-up commercial buildings, wide roads and jammed cars. The pace in other places is too fast for its own good, but that is not what this is about. Here, certainly is not there, and yet things do change.

Take for instance the "Heart of the Gold Industry" mural on the Del Oro theater. Some time ago, the owner painted the building (which was in disrepair) covering up the mural that has been there for my lifetime, and then some. Now, after great deliberation, expense, and time, a new fancy mural is going onto the wall.

It is just the thing for angry, sentimental bloggers and snarky letters to the Union editor. There are many reasons folks dislike the newness.

I found myself out late, and alone last week. It was still and cold. On the scaffolding for the new mural, were flood lights and workers (artists?) putting up the mural in the dark cold.

I also found myself feeling sentimental and sad as the men worked. I'm glad I'm not writing angry, foul words in local paper about how I HATE it, because I don't. I simply felt sad that they would be working in the dark. It was like watching a theater production that no one was supposed to see, knowing how terribly angry this new art is making some folks.

I think my sentiment points out something bigger inside me. I'm having trouble changing. I also feel as if I had to paint over some old murals that were a sign of who I am. It is an expensive, deliberate and time consuming process. I feel sad to see the old parts of me needing to be repaired, but glad there is a light shining in me while construction continues at night.

Super-Busy

We got our room finally finalled. This means it is no longer the building dept. problem, and all the finish work left is ours.
The kids made it on a pretty long up-hill hike to Loch Leven Lakes.

A tiny kitten was in our gutter, all flea ridden, covered in burrs, and starving. It survived a week, and now is 2x as big. Should we name it? It maybe too late, we already love it!

In other news, there is no news. Nothing ironical, nothing unusual. Just routine! Life is full and wonderful!

We Will Not Comply

This is "old" now, but still relevant for me.
I hesitate to post it only 'cause it might not be as meaningful and powerful to you. It is mainly too personal for this introvert, on the public internet.
I guess I am feeling radical tonight, and don't care to hide.
It broke a beam of light into a dark bit of my heart.
It is radical! Maybe it will be for you as well.

School Kids

A theme in parenting for me has been an understanding of how little control people actually have over the universe. In 1999, as little control over the situation as I could have, I did. After that, it was a slippery-slope of learning my life isn't really about me. Since then I have had to surrender two times to fortune, messy bedrooms, and mostly unselfish love!
All of that to say, my kids are out-of-control CUTE!

Justus, age 9, grade 4
Scout, age 6, grade 1
First day of school 2009

August Garden

No real change in how the garden looks, but the big change is the food! I guess I should post photos of that. Really what is the point of a garden?

Scarry Tree

This tree used to look like a Christmas tree. I would post a photo of what it used to look like, but you know what a Christmas tree looks like already, so I'll post a photo of my dead Christmas tree.

Last summer, this tree died.
Then it's needles fell off in the winter.
Then it sat there looking very grim, and quiet.
Then, about 3 months ago it started making noise.

I pass this tree every time I go into my garden, which is quite often. At the beginning of the summer I started pushing the thought aside that this tree actually was making a very loud noise. I assumed that I actually was loosing my mind. Trees, for the most part, are a quiet species. Maybe they are quite loud in a wind storm. Maybe they are loud when children are in them. Maybe they are loud in their last days. I believe that is why this tree is so loud. It is beyond it's last days, even.

My assumption is that it died because of whatever is making noise inside of the tree, and making sawdust. Whatever it is in there, is very very loud for a quiet tree. I can only describe it as clicking/chomping/sawing noise. Passing by you can hear it. If I hit the tree, it stops, but as I walk away, it starts up again.

This to me is a bit frightening. I think everyone hates hearing something destructive, but not being able to see it. And the tree looks so, well, dead. dead things usually aren't loud.

Termites!!

CZR

Here are some photos of my time in Czech Republic.

My students were so fun, I could not have asked for better kids.

My fellow Americans were so fun, inspiring, smart, and enjoyable. I could not have asked for a better set of people to get to know.

The Czech team was like coming home: my sisters and brothers. I could not have asked for better friends in Eastern Europe.


God actually is good.

Apprixomate Math for the Overwhelmed Overachiever

On arrival home from my time teaching English in Czech republic, I've been behind. Here is a post to catch up, cause stuff needs to get done. Here is my list of what I need to keep up on, for the most part. I'm sure I'm missing nearly 1000 things:

• School supplies
• Clean, well-fitting clothes for school
• Dog to vet
• Buy new car
• Back to school haircuts
• Catch up on the laundry
• Justus to gymnastics
• Scout to soccer
• Exercise
• Restful sleep
  
• Tend the garden
• Keep dishes out of the sink
• Hang with high school and jr. high students from SPC
• Keep healthy food in the kitchen
• Manage my children's bickering
• Tend my aching back (aka chiropractor)
• Hospital chaplain
• Quality time with family and friends
• Reading a good book/making music to keep my sanity

Of this list, I have accomplished (if I round up) 2-ish. That is about 15%.

15% of my dishes, laundry, garden, exercise, pet care, child rearing, etc. is not super. It is an "F" in school. Though I am aspiring to cast off my over-achiever-ness, 15% is clearly less than what I was aiming for, by not pressuring myself to do all, and be all.

So my plan is to just let it go, by sitting her at the messy kitchen table, and blog. Then I'll hit the dishes and the counter-tops, then the laundry. Then I'll take my kids to the pool next door, and they'll be happy, and I'll be rested. I'll remind myself that life is good. Then I'll drive and pick Silas up from work in our new car.

Enjoying CZR heading to bed after a long 2 days

July Garden

My garden is making food.
Here is the 3rd set of photos I took of it on July 1oth.