Home

In 1919 my grandfather moved to our family farm. He celebrated his 5th birthday here in December. He then spent his lifetime here nurturing the land and livestock. The rust has replaced the paint through the years, but the legacy lives on through the next generation. It is not an easy life, but to me it is home. My childhood memories come alive here...



in the blustery, cold prairie winters.



Not much has changed...except the address.




Kiahra never fails to warm us with her famous Chex mix...and the aroma makes it feel like Christmas!



Then following the lunar eclipse early on December 21, the evening moon was utterly magnificent. The orange orb glowed in the nighttime sky welcoming winter solstice. The longest night of the year was welcomed by this moon. Everyone stopped to appreciate the majesty of the moment that the camera couldn't do justice to.



Astronomers estimate there was maybe one day like this in the last 2,000 years when the lunar eclipse coincided with winter solstice. It will happen again on December 21, 2094.

Wi-Fi

Living on the edge of Silicon Valley, my wireless internet access is unlimited and speedy. I rapidly acclimated myself to this. Perhaps I have even taken this level of service for granted and become the lady asking if wi-fi is available everywhere we go. Generally it is not. The eyes betray their irritation with my inquiry--like I have an addiction issue. Perhaps I do. I have seldom had internet access during my vacation. Initially it stressed me out, but I have slowly discovered that I can survive without it. No treatment necessary.

Redneck

Belle Fourche, South Dakota.

The little cow town now has it’s own wine label. Of course, this meant we needed to bring a bottle back to the house only to discover the Klinghagen household does not have a wine opener, but you know you are from Belle Fourche when this doesn’t matter.

It isn’t exactly a corkscrew…




But with a little help from the claw…PRESTO!





However, you know you have been in California longer than you thought when the wine lacks a smooth finish…perhaps too many tannins?



California wine was served up redneck style the next time!

Sunday, December 19

Four inches of snow fell overnight, so we stayed snuggled in our warm little beds until nearly 7 AM. Delighted with the fresh snowfall Kiahra snapped this photo from our room window. Shortly we were loaded and ready to roll. We grabbed a quick donut…and a snow globe…and a keychain…and something else that eludes me. Beware of travel centers.

As we were ready to leave, we noticed some fine feathered friends huddled together in the crisp morning air.

At 9 AM we were on a snowpacked and icy interstate moving slowly with rest of the Sunday morning traffic…the truckers. Eventually as the miles slipped by the roads became slushy. The snow showers remained light and scattered. The GPS didn’t want to go the way we wanted to, so I kept changing the programming in an attempt to outsmart it. Was this my feeble attempt to justify our route by seeking approval from the GPS…really??

Delighted, my eyes drank in the endless sage brush and distinctive buttes from my window as we rolled on down the road. It meant I was getting closer to home. Admittedly, the familiar landscape has never looked so good; however, Wyoming is a big state, and patiently we tried to endure.

For a change the wildlife outnumbered the people. Kade called, “Look, cantaloupe!” The Yukon rollicked in delight as California was miles away. The antelope didn’t mind, as they just kept grazing peacefully. Of course then the jack-a-lope became a conversation because unsuspecting folks from other parts of the country and world are simply not savvy with this critter, creating fun for us. Kiahra was snapping photos as “proof” for later use.

Luckily when we stopped in Casper, we remembered that during our cross country move this summer, Kade had requested a stop at Taco John’s. Pennsylvania doesn’t have the chain, and he figured California wouldn’t either…so thus his request for his last supper that ultimately went unfulfilled. Recollections of this resulted in a unanimous decision for our lunch destination. Potato oles and nacho cheese, and Kade smiled the rest of the trip!

As we neared the South Dakota border, we paused for a quick pit stop in Newcastle. Within an hour, my cousin was baling out to join his mother, and we were minutes from home.

When we pulled into the familiar driveway, I heard someone comment that our arrival had been noticed from the soft glowing windows. Soon cousins were running out the door to embrace the weary travelers. The noise and laughter echoed across the vast, cool prairie.

Home.

1,481 miles. 26 hours on the road.

Saturday, December 18

6:58 AM--Seven of us piled into the car in the drizzling California rain. Soon we were cruising down the interstate in the gray dawn. Quietly the crew settled into the rhythm of the windshield wipers and lull of traffic.

9:22 AM--Traffic stopped. "Oh my gosh, SNOW!" uttered one of our sleeping travelers. We were approaching Donner Pass. It was snowing/sleeting. In California it is law that one travels with chains in the winter. Eventually, we understood why the traffic was nearly stopped. One lane was closed for all those required to install chains. Men in bright yellow slickers were directing traffic into their areas to put on chains in exchange for $30. The truckers were crawling around in the water putting on their chains.

Slowly, we climbed over the pass lost in traffic. My dad had told me the Donner story the day before. Then my uncle emailed my cousin commenting on the Donner experience. Conspiracy? We weren't sure. So in all fairness, we paused to pose the question of who we would eat first...

Luckily we made it over the famous pass and cruised down the mountain uneventfully and reached Reno, Nevada.

11:06 AM--Olive Garden seated our large party of seven. Afterwards we pulled into the filling station to feed the Yukon. Ron discovered his debit card was missing, so back to Olive Garden we went and retrieved the pesky plastic.

Cautiously we cruised across Nevada with near freezing temperatures and scattered rain showers. The horizon was magnificent. The blue winter sky was glazed with white clouds. The basin that Jedediah Smith was the first to cross in hardship was picturesque.



5:34 PM--The endless Great Basin slowly brought us across Nevada. In Wells as darkness settled in, we fueled up again and then went for a quick cruise through the sleepy little town where occasionally the neon lights were reflected in the snow. Luckily traffic was minimal (nonexistent) and our search for food ended at Quiznos. A quick pit stop for some truck stop movies and we were on the road again!

The Astronaut Farmer lit our "big" screen as we cruised across the Utah salt flats. The lights of Salt Lake City glowed in the distance as the rain started again.

With renewed momentum we reset our destination goal for Evanston, WY.

As we drove through the mountains the falling temperatures and sleet required diligence in navigating road conditions. Elevation changes brought snow. As the hours wore on the traffic disappeared and the snow reappeared. We cruised past Evanston and on into the night.

The snow started coming down heavier...and heavier. Finally at Little America we decided to stop for the night.

12:21 AM--I step out into the cool night temperatures amidst the swirling snowflakes to join the end of the line of weary travelers waiting for a room.

1:32 AM--All was quiet throughout the room.

928 miles logged on the odometer...and the Yukon rested below slowly buried in a blanket of snow.

A Date

Ron and I went for a late dinner at a local restaurant last night. The waitress asked about the kids... Evidently we don't get out enough. Anyway, we chatted and ate and chatted and ate and reluctantly decided we needed to return to our responsibilities. As we leisurely walked, I had my arm on Ron's. Still talking he unlocked the door on the passenger side, waited for me to climb in, and closed it before walking around to his door. Then he heard a voice..."They definitely are not from here." Grinning, he jumped in and relayed the story to me, but the speaker was right...men do not open doors here.

Love at First Sight

The beautiful baby girl arrived to make my sister a mother and my brother-in-law a father. Kaiya has made them a family...each member with a new name. Each name special and beautiful.

Though mommy and daddy are not new names, they are handed down as a rite of passage when a family is created. Names that make me smile in their unfamiliarity as they define new roles of a family...of Kevin and Kristi. A journey that simply cannot be described, but one I can hear in my sister's voice and in the words she uses, see by the softness in her adoring gaze, and even feel in the quiet pauses. The utter overwhelming love of a mother has permeated every cell...and it makes my heart overflow with happiness.

My kids tease me about my enthusiasm at Kaiya's arrival...but when the first pictures arrived we squeezed tightly and excitedly together to admire the tiny baby...and again on the streets of San Francisco we happily huddled around the tiny cell phone screen for a glimpse of the new family...completely enamored.

We practice her name. The kids comment that it is weird to think of Kristi and Kevin as parents. So many changes. So many smiles. So wish we were there to hold and admire our 8 lb. 15 oz. niece with curly black hair, soft, fluffy cheeks, and tiny, tiny toes.

We are so proud to welcome Kaiya into our family and so grateful we will get to watch her and her family grow in love together. We love you, Smyth family! We miss you!

San Francisco at Christmas

Into the city we trekked with six kids. We started in Union Square with all the famous department stores. Then I wanted to ride the trolley to Fisherman's Wharf, but the trolley was not operating, so we opted to meander the streets of San Francisco.

The fog hung overhead, but the temperature was a comfortable 60 degrees.



Slowly the leaves are falling.



At the official entrance to Chinatown, we paused for a group photo.



The festive lanterns and banners zig zag the streets of Chinatown.



Sipping Starbucks, the girls absorbed the sights, sounds, and energy of the city.



Up the hills and down, we eventually arrived at Fisherman's Wharf.



The infamous Alcatraz was shrouded in fog.



Look! My mother rode a horse like this when she was a little girl!



This smile proves the carousel on Pier 39 was a magical adventure.



On the Pier we stopped at Bubba Gump Shrimp Company for lunch. Ironically, we had just recently watched Forest Gump again, and the restaurant is dedicated to this movie. Afterwards, we browsed the varied and eclectic shops. Chocolate Treasures was my personal favorite. The chocolate covered peanuts were wonderful! Sorry, Dad, I couldn't resist...there are none for you!

As the sun set, we boarded the trolley back towards Union Square where we were parked. As the trolley clattered down the street, I wearily smiled at the days adventures and memories.

Gradually, San Francisco is becoming home...

Road of Life

My sisters and I are sitting here in the middle of the country road that runs by the family farm. A few miles down the road we grew up...together.

I left home first, and I remember the homesickness that would creep into my heart at night for those pesky little sisters. Then they grew up and left home too. Now we are miles apart. However, we still travel down the road of life together because we are close in heart.

Today I sit here remembering the arrival of my oldest daughter. I remember labor...delivery...and looking at her face for the first time. I remember my sister, Kristi, holding her for the first time. In her face, I could see she was enamored too with this little girl. Later I remember Kristi and I sitting with Lisa in the labor and delivery room together waiting for another baby. Sisters sharing and waiting. Today, as the nostalgia floods me, I am waiting for another baby to arrive. This time Kristi is beginning the offical journey into motherhood.

Another bond for us to share as we travel down the road of life. Together we are sisters. Together now we will be mothers. Together we cry, laugh, celebrate, mourn, and live...

and wait...not so patiently...

Dear Karen,

Yesterday.

When I saw the rose bud in my yard, I thought of you.

When the kids tumbled into the car, I thought of you.

When I gazed up at the vast, clear California sky, I thought of you.

When we joined hands around the table last night and said grace, I thought of you.

When Kade grinned at me, I thought of you.

When Chayse kissed me good-night, I thought of you.

As the days slipped by this past year, I have thought of you often. It was never contrived, as your memory always slips in at random moments. Sometimes it strikes my fancy and I smile. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes my heart was lonely and I would want to call, but instead I had a conversation with my heart.

You were always there.

I miss you, though.

Gingerbread Houses

Saturday night.

7 kids. 4 pre-made houses compliments of Costco. 2 patient parents.



The race is on...



Sweet trimmings. Some for the house. Some for the tummy.



Sticky sugary fingers.



Houses and trees still standing amidst the chaos and laughter.



A gingerbread lane fills my mantels and amidst the drippy sweets I can hear the laughter and love echoing!

Dreidel

Last night a knock on the door brought the energy of Hanukkah as neighborhood kids tumbled inside. Around our table, we gathered and the game began as pennies were distributed. She carefully removed the dreidel from its bag and soon it was spinning around our table as we each tried our luck with the Hebrew symbols.

Learning. Stories. Laughter.

The game drew nigh and into the night the host departed for her second night of Hanukkah.

On the second of December, Chayse proclaimed she wanted to stay up on Christmas Eve, so she can talk with Santa because she really wants her very own girl Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, so she can fly too.

"I am sure there is a girl too, Mommy!" she responded to my quizzical look.

It is what she really wants for Christmas, as she enjoyed her Hanukkah chocolates.

Our Christmas road trip is approaching. We were chatting about the details of our travel. Hours and hours and hours in the car. The paradox of packing light and warm.

When...

out of her chair, Chayse arose with a clatter.

"Mom, I know! We will just stay up very quietly until midnight, and when Santa comes down the chimney, we will just hop in his sleigh and ride to South Dakota with him."

Thanksgiving

An unedited sequential photo documentary by Kiahra.



Sparkling apple cider.



Delightful cranberry relish.



Heavenly cinnamon rolls (better than Cinnabon according to Kade) complements of our guests!



Exploring with cousins. Hello, puppy!



A busy Thanksgiving table filled with family...



...lots of laughter...




...curiosity...



...yummy jelly...



and eventually...empty plates.



At the end of the day, our backyard guest came to dine on his own Thanksgiving dinner.

Hazardous Weather Outlook

As I read the report with fascination, I was informed of a frost advisory and a freeze watch. Our overnight low may drop as low as 35 degrees. Currently, it is a cool 52 degrees and the wind is blowing.

A Montana hazardous weather outlook is also posted. Snow, blowing snow, and subzero temperatures are predicted. Currently it is -5 and snowing (according to the National Weather Service).

I have slowly understood that weather advisories are tailored for the area. A frost advisory seems ludicrous to me...particularly on November 23. However, it evidently is not typical and if I look around, everything is still green here.

Nevermind the current 60 degree temperature spread between California and Montana. Nevermind that I cannot fully wrap my brain around the weather warnings...after all this is what makes it feel like fall to me. Nevermind that I still don't even wear a coat here.

A Haircut

Nikela requested a haircut. I made a call. The thick accent and no need to make an appointment scared me after Ron's experience. I made another call. An appointment with Amanda.

As Amanda clipped Nikela's locks, she chatted. Suddenly, she was excited to hear that we once lived in Montana. As stories unfolded, we discovered Amanda grew up in northeastern Montana.

Together everyone talked and chatted about all things familiar to us and memories of home--including the speeding ticket she received in Belle Fourche, SD.

Then, the anticipation for trips home for the holidays was obvious. She is younger. She has been in California four years. We are all a bit homesick.

Snow. Cold mornings. All the things that herald the season. AND family.

Yesterday in San Mateo we found a friend whose heart is close to the land and country we miss so.

Indeed it is a small world, and we find each other at the best moments.

PS Nikela left with her eyebrows intact.

Flip Flops

73 degrees. The sun is beating down. It is warm. So, I brought out my summer stuff again. Nevermind about the boots yesterday. Flip flops are in for this week.

BUT...how do you find your holiday spirit without crisp cool mornings? Swirling snowflakes?

I wanted to scream when I saw the Christmas display yesterday. It is summer. It is not Christmas, much less Thanksgiving. Then I paused. It is the middle of November, really! One week until Thanksgiving. Five weeks until Christmas??

Then I remembered my sister sent me a message about Christmas that I didn't have time to answer because I have plenty of time.

Well, maybe not. I am totally and completely seasonally confused!

The Boots

Kiahra's knit UGG boots...except hers are a beautiful deep maroon.

She purchased them a couple months ago. I discovered them a month ago. The boots are the ones I wore to Indiana that my sister recognized curbside complete with insider information (that they were Kiahra's) thanks to her blog.

I love them. They complement a few of my outfits perfectly.

Though I always try to ask permission first. Friday night Nikela wore them with permission.

The travelling boots.

Three girls with the same size of feet.

Perhaps Ron may mistakenly believe this would be convenient and cheap...after all we can share. However, I suspect this merely gives us more shoe options. For the record, I have not been a fan of UGGs...at all. I teased Kiahra that they are UGG(ly). However after slipping them on for a quick errand and discovering their stylish comfort, now I must humbly wear the boots.

Kiahra is our shoe queen, so Nikela and I can try out the different styles complements of her. THEN we can go get our own shoes.

PS. She claims I owe her boot rental...

Yesterday

Yesterday I paused several times as thoughts of my grandmother flooded my memories. I knew she passed away last November, but I hadn't remembered the day. Dates are details I often forget. I remember the stories. I remember our last conversation the day before...or was it the morning...anyway, she told me she was tired. I told her I was too, but it didn't seem like the kids ever gave me time to rest, and she quipped, "Well, I took a nap for you too!" Then she laughed. The laugh from my childhood that I will always hold dear. The familiar laugh that I still echoes in my heart and comforts me.

This morning I discovered the date...November 10, 2009. Funny my heart already knew what my mind had forgotten.

One year ago, we were each making plans so we could hold each other close. In the following days, our family arrived...her children and every grandchild from across the country gathered to celebrate her life. Oh, we cried too as the warm memories tugged on our heartstrings, but the smiles emerged through the tears. I am grateful for all the years we were blessed to share with her, and that she so faithfully drew her family close...even in death, the bonds of family were rekindled through her spirit.

Throughout the past year those bonds that time and distance had weakened have become stronger.

Today I am reminded of the importance to hold family close.

Been thinkin'...

about my writing. Been wonderin' if I should write more. Been tryin' to find the courage.

I receive a nudge now and then from different folks, and it causes me to pause and ponder my dreams.

A long time ago, I shared the following excerpt from my writing journal with a dear friend. She was quiet for a bit before she said to me, "Lori, you need to tell stories." She is gone now, but her words have come back to me...gently nudging me.

His blue eyes were similar to the vast Montana sky—clear and endless. The Big Sky Country, as it is aptly nicknamed, is so blue and void of any texture that it renders the artist’s palette useless, as only one shade of clear blue will duplicate that pureness. Despite the apparent clarity, the complexities of life and land had taken their toll on those eyes, though he shared the same blue with his son whose vision was yet to be clouded by reality and the harsh elements of the ranch and life. His eyes held the hope only a young man can have with dreams as vast as the Montana sky, but after all what did dreams hurt? Sometimes it is tempting to share those realities, but is it worth dampening the enthusiasm of youth? No. Better to nurture the dreams and gently hold a hand out hoping that the outcroppings are less cumbersome for the younger generation.

A slow smile crossed his face as the young man beside him aptly jumped out to open the gate and drag it across the road before turning to face his father with a knowing nod.

The younger blue eyes watched the battered truck slowly ease through the fence and roll to a stop patiently as he secured the gate with the rusted wires reinforced with each generation. As he briskly returned to the familiar green door and hopped aboard once more, he was anxious to observe the pasture today, as he and his father silently scanned the hills, valleys, rocks and trees for any changes in the landscape. This was his favorite part. Silence never made him uncomfortable instead it was comforting to not have to be forced to share the words that never really described the feeling anyway. At college, the constant chatter and banter of his roommates sometimes suffocated him.

The lines in the man’s face were relaxed too. He also found comfort in this quiet companionship. Suddenly a hawk swooped down and snatched a little field mouse from the hillside. The eyes of both men immediately stopped on the scene and watched the hawk soar skyward again before continuing their wordless scan of their route. There is a writing conference in February in San Francisco, and I'm thinkin' it may be time to go.

Home Again

Showered with hugs and kisses, I felt very special. My family missed me. I missed them too.

However, I had a wonderful, wonderful weekend with my sister and her husband. I was welcomed with my sister's lasagna--my absolute favorite! Throughout the weekend I enjoyed a quiet lunch along the Ohio River in Newburgh, IN at a darling little Italian bistro, admired the handsome, old homes along the riverfront in Evansville, meandered through the flea market, survived Walmart, curled up on the couch in conversation and even watched a little tv, captured a few photos, browsed in a few stores, discovered how much has changed since I had children...and reluctantly said good-bye yesterday. I hugged my sister tight at the airport...my heart reluctant to leave. I miss my extended family so much! But next time, I will get to squeeze my new little niece. So impatient.

Admittedly, Ron's weekend was far more eventful than mine as he navigated the kids' schedules and even managed an ER visit for Kiahra. She sliced her finger open with the hand blender. The concept makes me queasy...and admittedly I still haven't seen it...I just can't look. However, I reassure myself with the hope she will heal well and quickly.

Nonetheless, I am home. Renewed. Relaxed. Ready for the next trip...

The orange leaves dance in the breeze outside my sister's kitchen window as the morning sun glistens. I seek out opportunities to stand by the window. It reminds me of my woods in Pittsburgh that I miss so much.

I landed safely in Evansville yesterday afternoon. The sleepy little airport sharply contrasts Dallas and San Francisco. I stepped out onto the sidewalk so quickly I was caught off gaurd. I immediately was scanning for the familiar car of my sister just to remember she had bought a new one, but was driving a loaner (long story). I was at a complete loss, so I picked up my phone. Turns out she was in a little blue Aveo which my husband would label a pregnant roller-skate...and the irony that my very pregnant sister was driving it made me smile. The airport was unfamiliar. The car was unfamiliar. The baby belly was unfamiliar. But my sister's beautiful smile was so familiar.

Utterly wonderful to see her. Then she tells me she loves my boots...and by the way did you read your daughter's blog? She is slyly grinning, so I know that somehow she knows I am wearing Kiahra's boots. The answer lies on Tween Sass

This morning, I awoke to a quiet house. I didn't realize how noisy my life is...

Then my sister tells me I need to read Nikela's blog...and I am reminded how noisy my life is :)

Happy Anniversary!

Today is my parent's wedding anniversary. 43 years.

I suspect my father is driving a truck down the road somewhere. My mother is working quietly at her desk. I also suspect their evening will be quiet as the farmhouse fades into the setting sun.

I appreciate their quiet dedication to each other and their family. I am so lucky.

Often, society encourages celebrations and flamboyance to mark special days. Hallmark has built an empire on this notion. With age, I realize that an anniversary really marks another year of living and learning and working hard at a commitment to each other. It isn't always easy. It isn't always fun. It isn't always a celebration. It is quietly persevering through the challenges of living that are inevitably wrought with frustrations and intertwined with joy.

This fall, a new friend was sharing a story with me about some folks in their quiet little Arizona town. The story has stayed in my heart. He is a janitor. She is a wife and mother. Together they raised six children. They lived humbly in their modest home. They carefully provided for the needs of their children. Early in their marriage they agreed to forego presents for each other, choosing instead to spend their money on the necessities. Their children are grown now and a testament to their commitment and hard work.

Upon the approach of their 50th wedding anniversary, the husband quietly came to my friend. He wanted to buy his wife a present for the first time in celebration of their anniversary. He wanted it to be special. He had been carefully saving for months. He thought a special perfume set might be nice, but he was unsure, so he was asking for help. She affirmed his choice and helped select a beautiful perfume set. He presented his surprise gift to his wife on their anniversary. She was so delighted. Later he shared how he watched his wife clear her little dressing table and gently unpack her first gift and proudly display it. Her obvious joy brought him so much happiness.

50 years.

It really is about the little moments. The thought. The gesture. The complete love and devotion.

A Visit

The California sunrise tinges the sky with rose-colored hues against the pale blue. The sliver of the moon still visible. The rare clouds adding texture to the skyline.

Today it will be 80 degrees. Today I am packing my bags. Finally, I depart to visit my sister early, early tomorrow. When I land tomorrow in Indiana, it is forecasted to be 48 degrees.

In a month my sister and her husband will be welcoming their first child. This weekend it will be just the two of us...well, three...but one rides along cozily (and quietly) unaware that she hinders my sister's mobility and comfort :)

As I sit here, trying to recall the last day we spent together...just the two of us...I think it was in Bozeman, Montana. She was looking at wedding dresses. We had lunch at a delightful little restaurant downtown. We sat outside in the sunshine. We laughed. We talked. Just us.

A few years have slipped by since that day.

I don't take these moments for granted. Life is filled with milestones, and we merely pause together in those moments as time pushes us forward. I seldomly remember the details of those moments...like what we had for lunch...but I do remember the feeling. The friendship. The anticipation of my sister's marriage...and the future.

Again I find myself anticipating the arrival of my niece, but I am so grateful I have the opportunity to pause with my sister this weekend...to curl up on the couch with tea and talk...laugh...dream...wonder...live...

My niece...

is adorable.

This morning her mother shared the following with me via text.

"Mom, beep!"

"Beep...Beep...Beep."

(Obviously, I detect "Mom" is distracted...so my darling niece desperately tries again...)

"PLEASE, Mom, Beep!"

This plea was for help to...(are you ready?)...to "snap" the snap on her dress. Beep...snap...it is all the same, right?

Cute? Adorable.

Love you, Jaela!

Texas Toast

The San Francisco Giants won the World Series last night. The city is celebrating!

We lived in Pittsburgh when the Steelers captured another Super Bowl title and the Penguins brought home the Stanley Cup. Now we are in San Francisco watching their baseball team bring home the coveted World Series title. What are the odds?

Perhaps I should place an ad...To increase your city's chance at a championship title recruit the Klinghagens!

Twas the day of Halloween...at school.



My little pioneer girl was darling, but no one knew who she was...Laura Ingalls Wilder was unfamiliar too!




A little clown came home from the Halloween store with his dad last night. He is quite charming. I love his oversized hands as they squeeze his red squeaky nose and that twinkling mischievous eye!



A Renaissance mama freeze danced the morning away at my party station. Whew! Those kindergarteners' gave me a workout!

Yesterday, I was driving the "big" girls to their orthodontist appointment.

"Who is going first?" inquired Kiahra.

"I always go first," retorted Nikela.

"I know you do. That is why it is time for a change!" Kiahra proclaimed in her best politician's voice.

"Wow! When did you become a politician?" I quip. "I am convinced."

Peels of laughter. A dash to the door.

***********************

Today, Nikela asked me if I was going to be a witch for Halloween and for the Friday parties.

"Well," I responded slowly, "I think it is time to retire the witch and try my renaissance costume."

"What? You have always been a witch. You can't change being a witch. Don't listen to Kiahra. Change isn't good!"

Elevator

As I rounded the corner to the elevator, a gentleman stood there quietly waiting, eyes downcast. As he slowly looked up, I smiled and he gave a quick nod of acknowledgement. From beneath the ten gallon cowboy hat, long gray hair cascaded. The hat had been his partner for a few years. As I spoke, he listened carefully with his gentle eyes set in a face that is lined with years of work studying me. When I was finished, he was quiet a moment before slowly articulating his thoughts. I smiled. He smiled beneath his whiskers. As we talked, I fell easily into the slow rhythm of our conversation.

A man in a classy suit joined us, and I could sense his discomfort. With the quiet pauses, he would shift his weight. It was then I realized the slow pace made him uncomfortable. He was accustomed to the staccato rhythm of urban conversation.

As the doors opened, the brim of his hat tipped in farewell as his head bowed, as he waited for me to exit. As I glanced over my shoulder as I headed down the hall, I saw him looking down at the unfamiliar papers in his hand as he sauntered away in his new wranglers.

As a family that likes to bicycle, this is the attachment that creates a tandem bike for kids. This is how Chayse and I ride to school every morning.

This morning, as I continue my battle with a nasty cold that now includes an exhausting cough, we headed out. The first block was tough. I just didn't realize how sickness affects my stamina and strength. The second block, I wasn't sure I could endure the 1.4 miles. Irritated with myself, I focused on peddling. By the third block, the tandem started to sway.

"Chayse, please don't look around. Just peddle and balance," I pleaded.

"I am not, Mom."

"Well, then what are you doing?" I snap in exhaustion.

"I am peddling backwards."

AAaaaaarrrrrgggghhhh!!! Seriously? Added resistence that I didn't need? Resistence that I managed to counter (drag) to the point of making the tandem sway?

Next I am pleading in my nicest voice to only peddle forward.

Parenthood.

Some days I wonder if I will survive.

Dining out last night, the girls and I were laughing over dinner together when suddenly the entire restaurant erupted. Simultaneously, people were shouting and cheering as the waiters disappeared. At first I was puzzled by the timing...what was going on that it didn't matter where people were seated? A birthday celebration. It couldn't be. As the noise continued and escalated, I looked over at the sports bar through the adjoining glass, and at that moment I heard "Let's go, Giants, let's go!"

Aaaahhh, baseball. The Giants had pulled ahead in the eighth inning. Thanks to electronic devices no devout fan missed the home run, even if they weren't in front of the big screen, even if they were drug out to dinner.

Baseball is big here. San Franciscans loves their Giants. In one of the earlier games of the series, a very pregnant woman painted a baseball on her belly. Admittedly, these fans appear to be as crazy as Steelers' fans.

Last night, the Giants locked in their spot in the World Series. I suspect the adventures will continue.

This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy ate roast beef...

Roast beef. Mashed potatoes. Gravy. Veggies.

Ahhh, as a kid I loved to tumble in the door on a cool fall day to the aroma of my mother's roast beef dinner. Soul food. My dinner plate filled me from my stomach to my heart.

Mom's roast and potatoes have always been the best. No one else can measure up. As a farm girl, I was raised on these staples. I loved the fresh fall potatoes too. The frozen sweet corn from the summer harvest. The best. Unduplicated.

Yesterday, amidst the drizzle and gray I put a roast in the oven and baked it. The aroma drifted through the house. It brought smiles to my kids' faces when they tumbled through the door. Potatoes boiled. Succulent juices from the roast were drained into the pan for gravy. Dinner was served. It was almost as good as Mom's. Tender meat. Yummy 'taters. Decent gravy.

So, these little piggies ate roast beef until they were full.

Telephone Conversation

Hi Daddy! I miss you!

I miss you too, little bug. What are you doing? Did you do your homework?

No homework. It is all done, Daddy.

So, now what are you doing?

Playing.

That is all you do is play.

Daddy, that is what kids are made for...playing.

A different routine for our teamwork emerges when Ron is traveling. While he was trying to find a place to eat late yesterday evening, I was driving kids to various scheduled events. While he decided they must be in the hood where folks are not what they are born, I was driving through McDonald's in utter desperation to feed my children. While he finally dined, I was accelerating through the evening routine.

As I collapsed into bed, I realized that my throat hurt...really, really hurt. Kiahra brought me the medicine cabinet, and I fell into a fitful sleep. When the alarm rang at 5 AM this morning, I wanted to die. Feverish. Aching. Instead I got up.

I remember as a child being sick allowed me the comfort of lounging around. It wasn't until I reached college that I realized there is nothing like a mother to nurture you when sick. It was the first time I was left to fend for myself when I was sick. I didn't like it, but I got used to it. Then I became a mother, and suddenly fending for myself while sick seemed luxurious. I remember when we lived in Minneapolis I got sick. Pneumonia to be exact. I was really, really sick. I had three little kids under the age of 5. For the first time, I simply could not take care of my kids while I was sick. Ron came home. I have never been that sick again...gratefully. However, it was the one time when I cried because I had no one to help me. Homesick and sick.

I am definitely sick today. The fever is surging through me now, but I will go back to bed for a couple hours to try to help my body heal. I know I have no one to help me. I know I must let the laundry and dishes and chores go. I must attempt to take care of myself so I can find enough strength to take care of my family and get through the day.

This morning Kade was helping me. My compassionate little man could hear the roughness in my voice and probably see my flushed face, so he automatically just did more. He helped his little sister. He brought out the bikes. He rode slowly to make sure I was keeping up. We arrived at school, and as we pulled into the bike rack, I noticed he did not have his backpack. My heart sank. As I uttered the words, a look of horror crossed his face then tears ran down his cheeks as he hastily wiped them away. The panic of not having his work surged through him. We were fifteen minutes early, but I had to wait with Chayse until the kindergarten door opened. Kade opted to ride home the 1.4 miles unlock the door and grab his backpack and ride back 1.4 miles. I worried. I hoped he was remembering to ride carefully. I had assured him his safety was more important than his backpack. I had told him I would talk to his teacher, and he didn't need to worry instead he could just focus completing his errand.

Guilt surged through me as I stood and waited with Chayse, and as I waited for him after Chayse was safely inside her classroom. Finally, I saw him. His face was red. He waited at the light. I waited on the other side. Together we walked to his classroom. He was worried. I stepped inside his classroom, and his teacher assured me it was fine. She would just mark him tardy...it happens. I hope he heard her gentle understanding.

As I walked back to my bike, I hoped he would relax and test well. He has two tests today...and tests give him anxiety already. But I realized that I am so proud of him already today. He didn't stand by and pout or blame. He simply rode home and got his backpack. His initiative is impressive. I wanted to tell his teacher what an amazing kid he had been this morning. I wanted to tell her he took the initiative to lend a helping hand throughout the morning, and though he forgot his backpack, he simply did what it took to get it. I wanted to say it wasn't really his fault. I know that, but somehow it lessens what he did. Sometimes it is doing what is right and no one noticing...except me.

So I cannot sit here and feel sorry for myself any longer because today my son showed me how much he loves me. Ironic that in these humble moments of lifes' trials that I find I am proudest of my children.

Ocean.

It is full of surprises. In the wee hours of the morning Ron climbed aboard a fishing boat and cruised out into the ocean to go fishing again. The water was rough. The boat was full of fisherman (30). The sun rose. The whales played in the distance. Water spouting against the horizon. Tails splashing.

Soon arrival on location, the fishing began 200 feet beneath the surface where the lingcod lurked along with rock bass and redfish.

The handsome lingcod or is it the handsome fisherman sporting the largest catch of the day?

Yield

The first time I remember comprehending the concept of yielding was when learning to drive. My parents were adamant that when in doubt...yield.

Now I realize that I was learning to yield to impulses when my parents instructed me in basic etiquette. "No, don't pull your brother's hair. That hurts." Learning to yield is a basic life skill.

Anyway, I just recently realized that California doesn't have yield signs that I have noticed (and I have been watching for them).



The merge sign instead frequents freeways and byways. Until recently, I had been under the impression that one needs to yield and find an opening as one enters the flow of traffic.

No. It actually means drive faster and then at 70 yield slightly if necessary.

Sadly, I have learned this technique quickly. I drive at least 50 miles a day, and yesterday I realized that I have already found the California rhythm of driving. It is necessary for survival. The traffic never ends. Theoretically it is better some times than others, but honestly, the reality is it is always busy and traffic can stall at unpredictable moments. Thus the essential brake.

However, I refuse to utilize the California stop. Dad, you should be proud. I stop.

Posted speed limits are merely guidelines. In residential areas it is generally 35 mph. The main road through foster city is 40 mph and still frequently residential. The school zone is 25 mph. Basically, it averages 10 mph faster than any other city I have resided. As a mother, I am not a fan of this pace with children on the sidewalks. At all.

With these musings on my mind, I was reading the paper last night.

"It's true that, unlike other spots in America, we don't have the vast hardwood forests that explode in color with the first cold snap. Our tones are more subtle; the spectacle is longer lingering.

But nor do we have roads crowded with lumbering tour buses, inching bumper-to-bumper from the north woods of Maine to Virginia's Shenandoah mountains, where the brightest fall reds are brake lights."

WHAT?? First of all, Autumn is not San Francisco's strength. Subtle colors is right...I have been searching for signs of fall everyone to no avail. There may be a leaf here and there throughout the entire peninsula that turns a slight color. This morning I realized that the trees that are going to lose their leaves (which are few and far between) are just shriveling up slowly into hues of dead brown.

Admit it, Californians...this cannot even begin to compete with the vibrancy found in "other spots in America." Yield to the reality this season is not your strength, and rather than develop weak arguments touting your omnipotent magnificence focus on what is beautiful here like the truly spectacular ocean sunset along the craggy coast which is unique to you.

Secondly, "the brightest fall reds are brake lights" is California's truth...not the roads from Maine to Virginia. I have spent many fall hours driving through New York, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia not to mention the spectacular Wisconsin/Minnesota drive along the Mississippi or even Spearfish Canyon. I never saw the bumper to bumper brake lights. EVER. Until now. I want to drive out of the city to the pumpkin patch where I will drive through the limited fall foliage, but I am hesitating because I know I will travel at around 20 mph bumper to bumper to bumper to bumper...for miles and miles and miles.

Obviously, this feeble Californian attempt to compete with magnificent fall landscapes across the US has me turning red...perhaps that is why all the colorful characters are here...the landscape needs a bit o' color.

All in a Day's Work

And Ron said, "I knew I was in trouble when the biologist picked up the spider and carried it across the road."

_______________________________


Biological approval for demolition of a dilapidated shed on the job site was required, so the biologist arrived at night to check for bats. Deciding she couldn't see well enough to see the bats, she returned at 7 AM.

_______________________________




The job site sports a perimeter fence complete with mouse funnels to give the federally endangered salt marsh harvest mouse an exit, but not an entrance to the dangerous job site. Thus the bright signs marking the mouse holes. However, due to the lack of use, management is considering changing the signs to espanol.

The professional monitors of the salt marsh harvest mouse are still seeking a glimpse of the species.

In the meantime, mowing at least 5 feet from the exterior of the fence is necessary to ensure that the mouse does not climb the mustard weed and pole vault onto the job site.

Additionally, the wire cut from the rebar is a mouse hazard, as it lays on the ground the mice could potentially run by and stab themselves to death. Thus a giant magnet alleviates this safety hazard.

In response to the discriminatory treatment, the gophers have carefully created an underground railroad for the salt marsh harvest mouse and pickleweed shrew.

Columbus Day

In San Francisco this was a weekend to celebrate all things Italian...including Columbus!

The San Mateo High School Marching Band was among the Sunday afternoon Italian Heritage Day Parade line-up.

I love a parade. I remember being very young and going to the 4th of July parade with my grandparents. My grandfather would be neatly dressed wearing his cowboy hat and smelling faintly of cologne. His eyes would be twinkling, and he smiled all the way to town in anticipation. He loved a parade too. His couldn't wait to share it with us grandkids--his love was infectious as we lined up next to him. His favorite was the music of the marching band. Well, and maybe a piece of butterscotch candy.

Band music drew my grandfather to every parade for miles around (much to my delight). In the winter, I would sometimes visit in the evening. Grandpa would be reading and listening to his favorite records of band music.

I cannot attend a parade or listen to the band without remembering his passion for a good march. Over the past few years, I have been listening to a few band concerts as my children learn to play. However, Sunday was different. It was Nikela's first parade.

Kiahra participated in the morning church service, so we made a plan to drive to the nearest subway station and ride into the city. We managed to find the right train :) and arrived in San Francisco on schedule. Then we had to hike several city blocks...and when I say hike, I mean hike the hills of San Francisco. Nonetheless, we made it just as the first band was passing. Luckily, it wasn't Nikela.

On a corner in Little Italy in the shade, our family awaited. Across the street, Italian folks were enjoying outdoor dining in the sun with a bit o' vino. The entertainment never ceased.



Chayse was proudly waving her flag. She charmed a few folks as they passed.



The flamboyant floats glistened in the sun, but the quirky details entertained the kids.

Finally, the girl we had been waiting to see.



In uniform and on task!



As the parade marched on, I wondered if my smile was a bit like my grandfather's...neverending...



Then as we detected the roar of the Blue Angels over head, I felt my grandfather's patriotic pride surge through my blood. The glimpses of the Navy pilots' skill were utterly amazing. Though I will never forget watching the jet dive at San Franscico Bay and skim the surface as it swooped upward again...the blue smoke lingering as evidence that I had really seen it.

In your memory Grandpa, today I stood in San Francisco and watched your great-granddaughter march. I applauded the military men and women who marched for you...for me...for my country...for our dreams...for our memories.