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!