How late will u be?

idk (I don't know)

What are you doing now?

Sitting in hell

There should be redemption since u r in church.

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

My text exchange with my oldest daughters. They are fulfilling a request to staff a nursery at a local church during a funeral service this afternoon.

My little lady was dashing out the door for dance, and I wanted to pause for a photo. The petals fall picturesquely on our stone walk from the flowering bush, and in a moment, the vision was suddenly clear for me. Her toenail polish even matches.

I love these moments that happen randomly in life where everything coincides beautifully and magic happens. A surpise package...only better.

Those little feet that charmed me at birth still hold the magic to melt a mother's heart.

Then I challenged her balance...



and captured an irrestible smile!

Continued...

As we settled into the warmth of the Suburban and cruised south on Highway 1, the landscape started changing. It became sandier and less rugged. The terrain was leveling out. Large painted wooden signs mark where fresh berries are available in the summer. The land was cultivated, but nothing was growing yet.

I saw long, dilapidated buildings tightly woven together. Housing, I realized, the infamous housing of the migrant workers. Occasionally, I would see a humble single family home along the way. However, the group housing captivated me. The harsh reality of living there and working in the fields from dawn to dusk made my body ache just thinking about it. The disparity of living conditions just miles from one of the wealthiest places in the country was shocking. Perhaps last week President Obama should have gathered around these tables instead of the table with the billionaire icons of Silicon Valley.

As a farmer's daughter, I am drawn to these observations because it is in my blood. My father would be evaluating the quality of the soil and the challenges of the growing season. I can hear his voice over the rumble of the highway. I can see that life is hard here for farmers. It rains only in the winter (averaging 30") and does not rain (not even a drop) all summer. These desert conditions make it challenging to farm. Irrigation is a solution; however, obviously, there is not a lot of water available for irrigation despite the presence of an endless ocean (thus the frequent presence of contaminated, limited water at the group housing sites.) Dry farming is promoted, but it reduces productivity and requires significant distance between rows.

As Santa Cruz came into sight, I let these thoughts drift away and begin focusing on our destination. We cruised down the streets randomly because we had to stop to actually program the GPS (safety feature), so instead we opted to explore. We found the ocean, but no boardwalk, so reluctantly we paused to program the GPS only to discover we just needed to go over the hill.

The boardwalk did not open for an hour, so we headed downtown to find breakfast. We stopped at the Bagelry. A local bagel shop where they actually made all the bagels. Fun.

Afterwards, we meandered back to the Boardwalk and found parking for the day for a price, of course. The seaside amusement park has existed here for 102 years. Reluctantly, Kade paused for me on the rail of the boardwalk.



The ocean theme pervaded the park.



Fascinating food abounded.



Lucky for us ride passes were 2 for 1 on President's Day, so off we bounded for the unlimited ride adventures as the stands began lifting their covers for the day. A little bug was frequently accompanied by a chaperon of her choice!



My first ride of the day was on the swing with all my kids. As we spun over the beach, the ocean view was magnificent!



Rock climbing is always a family favorite, and Kiahra rocked it!



When tummies began rumbling, we headed out of the park to the wharf where we found lunch with a view and yummy crab. With full tummies, the big kids dashed off to return to the park, as Ron, Chayse, and I meandered down the wharf, watched a few sea lions, and found a candy shop. Though the catch of the day was a new soft pair of jammies for me. The crabby morning theme is perfect for me, and I love the irony that this wonderful day started so early!




As the sun drifted over the ocean, the Suburban quickly fell quiet as we rumbled down the freeway towards home...smiling at the memories and echoes of laughter amidst the theme park music...

President's Day.

After a week of rain, lots and lots of rain, I made a plan for our sunny day.

5:30 AM--I start tugging the kids out of bed.

6:05 AM--Ron makes the final call for departure.

6:25 AM--We arrive in Half Moon Bay at Starbucks. (It was part of the negotiating deal for our early departure.)



6:40 AM--We are cruising down the coast on Highway 1, as the sun comes up.



It was my plan to watch the sun come up. I love the California sky. It is enchanting to watch it transform itself from night to day and day to night. The added bonus was we were frequently alone on the two lane highway.

7:15 AM--We pull up to our favorite beach. All the rain last week made a bit o' mud to navigate though...



The tide is out and we clamor along the coast, navigating a few obstacles along the way.



Spectacular sights rest in the tide pools.



Sea urchins cling to the rocks.



Though some urchins are bigger than others...



When we discover the seals resting on the rocks and watching us, we are delighted. Ron watches two curious seals swim close to Kade as he explores the wonder of the ocean; however, when Kade notices them and calls out to us they disappear.

Eventually, the seals lose interest...yawning (like this guy) and going back to their early morning nap.



A few minutes later we attempt to capture a photo of our own uncooperative little seals, as they bark, swat, and torment each other.

Until they finally define their boundaries and settle down...but no napping here!



At the lighthouse a little later, these two seem to say, "What are you kidding me? It is too early for visitors!"



The photo credit for the earlier seals must be given to the girl with the zoom!



Time stands still on the coast as freedom and quietness pervades the soul. (While coffee warms the body in the chilly coastal winds.)



Scenery to last forever.



9:16 AM--Time no longer stands still as we cruise down the highway to Santa Cruz. Barely morning and we have already covered hours of adventures.

To be continued...

It's raining, it's pouring,
It's raining, it's pouring...

My big girls are giggling in the kitchen creating cakes. It is their first adventure with fondant. Anastasia is playing in the background or should I say foreground at that volume??




My little girl is playing in her room. It is delightfully disastrous.

Kade is already off to the hockey rink.

I sit here awaiting inspiration.

My thoughts drift to my morning chat with my dad. He had watched Kade's hockey video.

He commented, "Boy, those kids can get around on that ice."

"Yes, it is definitely fun to watch. Kade was on the ice for four hours yesterday."

I heard Grandpa chuckle, and then he said, "I remember when my little brother learned to skate. He went down to the creek (that runs through the family farm) to skate every day when he got home from school."

I smiled. A little boy who was learning something new and tenaciously practicing. Kade will love this story.

Family stories create ties that bind.

Last night on my way home, a familiar song came on the radio, and as I listened, I commented, "You know I never really 'felt' this song like I do now in California. It had to have been inspired here."

It starts out like this...

Driving down the interstate
Running thirty minutes late
Singin' Margaritaville and minding my own
Some foreign car drivin' dude with the road rage attitude
Pulled up beside me talkin' on his cell phone
He started yelling at me like I did something wrong
He flipped me the bird an' then he was gone

Some beach
Somewhere
There's a big umbrella casting shade over an empty chair
Palm trees are growin' and a warm breezes a blowing
I picture myself right there
On Some beach, somewhere

I circled the parkin' lot, tryin' to find a spot
Just big enough I could park my old truck
A man with a big cigar was getting into his car
I stopped and I waited for him to back up
From out of no where a Mercedes Benz
Came cruisin' up and whipped right in

I breathe deeply. At the beginning of this year, a car had pulled into the entrance of the high school and stopped. I was right behind him. I couldn't go around. I needed to get out of the road and I eased ahead until I was kissing his bumper when I realized the light had changed and I needed to be able to get out of harms way. As I reached for the horn, my daughter pleaded with me, "Please mom, NO!"

On my way home I realized I had become a California driver with little tolerance for those who don't follow the rules (like the morning I stopped at the crosswalk near the school waiting for a pedestrian to cross, and the truck behind me roared around me on a two lane road--yep, I laid on the horn--but also to warn the girl crossing). I vowed that I needed to step back and replace my frustration with tolerance and patience. I also needed to accept that when I am driving legally that I need to ignore the impatient honks when I come to a complete stop or drive the speed limit...or refuse to exceed it more than 5+ miles per hour ;)

Then I read a letter in the newspaper from a man who expressed his frustration with himself when he lets 'those' drivers get under his skin and ruin his day. Epiphany. He was right, I was giving other drivers permission to irritate me. So back in the driver's seat I went with a new attitude.

I had been making significant progress on my new and improved attitude. Then two days ago, a guy ran a three-way stop sign and cut in front of me. I honked angrily. Then I tried to breathe. Then I remembered my 'new attitude'. I made a slip, but I was determined to rectify myself.

Last night, the kids were working on their homework and chatting with dad when Kade proclaimed, "Mom honked at this poor car that was sitting at an angle across the road, Dad."

Laughter started bubbling out of my husband, and he immediately commented, "You are such a Californian. I don't even honk at people!"

I heard myself stammering in my defense, "But you don't drive at least 50 miles a day in this crazy traffic!"

As Ron shook his head, Kade embellished his story. He still insists I honked three times. Nikela pipped up with only twice. I maintain it was merely a quick reminder the coast was clear, and they could go since it appeared they had forgotten what the *&^ they were doing as they sat diagonally in rush hour traffic. (Yes, horns express emotions and personalities in the way they are used--like a short, sharp honk to remind a driver on their cell phone a light has turned green...though a second longer and it suggests impatience aka hang up your phone and pay attention)

So here I sit this morning, trying to work on my attitude. Though I digress back to the song. Blake Shelton was right when he said Mercedes and foreign sports cars drivers. They think they have special rules. They dive bomb dangerously in and out of traffic. Their sense of entitlement evidently means that everyone will yeild to them, and they do come out of no where making vigilant driving a key to survival. Though I am always fascinated when I am driving my Suburban that they have the courage to cut me off because on bad days, I could just squish them like a bug...Merely a bump in my road.

Breathing out. It will be okay. I cannot let them. And my mind drifts to quiet country roads...

and it reinforces the idea I have been entertaining for this summer...another road trip but limited to only the back roads with meals at small town diners and conversations with all the folks along the way...and stories to share...

For you, Grandpa...

Q: What is the definition of a farmer?

A: A man 'outstanding' in his field.

Love,
Your Grandchildren

In our all daily cruising, Chayse has taken to trying to read the words around her or at least spelling them.

Mom, what is iiibbbmmm?

Where?

On that building. At the top.

IBM.

Oh, I explain the concept of an acronym which is tested a few minutes later.

ASB. Ayako School of Ballet.

However, the next one stumped me.

Mom what does SHLT say?

It doesn't have a vowel, so it isn't a word, maybe it is an acronym, I comment as I look everywhere to identify the source. We are at the junior high school waiting for Kiahra. I give up.

Where is it?

On that sign, mom.

I look at the sign. No skateboards...blah, blah, blah ordinance.

Yes, that sign, mom...see it?

Ah...a barely visible spraying of graffiti on the sign.

What does it say? she persists.

Well, that vowel that was missing...well it wasn't really missing. Sh*#.

I am left wondering why, out of all those words she picked that one, as I nonchalantly try to move on feigning I don't know.

Six months ago Kade embarked on his hockey dream. I took him to his first skating lesson.

Yesterday I watched my first game (bundled in my winter gear).

In the past few weeks I have observed his increasing skill each time he steps on the ice, so I was excited. Kade sports a dark red jersey that reads ICE on the front and 3 on the back. Click on 'game' above and it will (theoretically) link to my first YouTube download. It was our feeble attempt to capture a few minutes of play.

Nonetheless, Kade played with heart. He made his first goal.

Proud. Absolutely, but nevermore so, when after Kade had set up a beautiful assist for his teammates, and I heard in the bleachers, "That was a great set-up. Very nicely done."



The moment when he quietly set up his teammates for potential success made me the proudest. Teamwork--seizing the opportunity to work together. Sometimes when we aren't front and center we don't think anyone notices...but those are the moments everyone notices.


When Kade had the opportunity to shoot for the glory but instead shot for a teammate, I smiled because his hero is Malkin who plays for the Pittsburgh Penguins and often sets Crosby up for a goal.

At his first Penguins game, he selected a Malkin hat. That hat is loved. That hat is worn daily. That hat still makes me smile. Especially today.

Disclaimer: Do not touch the hat (not that you would want to!)

Wayne Koop courageously battled cancer. His quiet courage and strength inspired me and so many others his life touched…however closely, however distantly. For me, I loved his sense of humor which he never seemed to lose to fear or bitterness in the face of adversity.

For his family, there is so, so much more.

Today is his memorial service where I am in spirit.

His wife has honestly and poignantly shared their journey in her blog, In the Moment. It is a memoir in the present. It is a beautiful tribute to life lived. Beyond her family roles, she is a photographer. Her work visually accentuates the words of her blog. The courage with which she shares her daily stories and insights is a gift to the reader and reminder that life is not for the faint of heart.

Wayne and Val are a testament to courage.

I remember Val best as a tenacious little girl. I loved her sense of adventure when she would come visit Grandpa and Grandma. The farm was her playground. I remember her desire to climb on the hay bales. Now the small square bales were not near as tricky to navigate, except you had to be careful not to knock down any loose bales in the stack or there would be trouble to be had. However, the round bales were pretty daunting for a couple little girls. Nonetheless, in shorts (this is significant because there is nothing soft about hay…it is very scratchy and unforgiving), and with spirit I remember our plans to climb to the top. Of course there were always a few challenges, and I don’t remember if we ever made it to the top…but that is a testament to the importance of the journey because I do remember the teamwork and the occasional frustration that would be replaced quickly with laughter and the task at hand.

The spirit in that little girl is still evident. Though she has been plunged into difficult life circumstances, she has emerged like steel. Each unexpected tempering makes her stronger…slowly and carefully she has become molded into the woman she is. It has not been easy. Nor will the days ahead be easy, but I have faith that amidst the tempering her strength and courage have emerged and will carry her forth wrapped in the comfort of precious memories and surrounded by her loving, close-knit family and the little hands of her children.

I love you Val, Caeden, and Claire Koop!

I stepped outside this morning and this first blossom greeted me, though the bush will soon be in full bloom. I love the landscape surprises in my yard.

The vibrant pink reminds me of a little lady that I occasionally see walking along the sidewalk close to my neighborhood. She wears a fabulous red hat with a fancy ribbon. She is dressed in purple and red. She walks slowly with her cane. She has watched a few years come and go. I love her spirit from afar because she obviously embraces life with her own design. She sparks my imagination. I am curious about the stories she could tell. I do not really know what she looks like, though I would love to meet her at the bus stop and pause to greet her and let her know she inspires me.

Several months ago I read an article written by a woman in San Francisco. She shared the story of watching her neighbor grow older, and in the end her disdain for the physical aging process was evident despite the sweetness of the lady next door. Ultimately, the author, aware of her own aging body, stated with contempt she would never wear purple or enjoy being old.

This has haunted me.

Do we really live in a world that despises age? Is youth really the pinnacle? What about the wisdom of age? What about the lessons of living? My grandmother's wrinkled face was so endearing to me...I always looked at wonder at the photos of her youth...this pretty young lady that I never knew. The photo I love is of my grandmother with my children. Her gray hair and the lines that hug her soft smile...the familiar face that I loved so much.

Perhaps I am nostalgic, as I can see age is certainly wrought with challenges, but whatever my life's journey, I truly want to embrace the moment. I want to wear red. I want to wear yellow. I want to be wrapped in all the colors of the rainbow if I choose. I want to see the children on the sidewalk. I want to enjoy the warmth of the sunshine and aromatic, blooming flowers. I want to live.

I may walk slower.

I will see more.

I may not have the supple skin of youth.

I will have lines from years of smiling.

I may not wear the latest fashion.

But, I will wear purple.

Last night, after my phone had charged (it had died in the late afternoon), I was checking my messages. I learned my darling niece had a fight with her sweet brother. I absolutely love these stories because...well, because I remember these tenacious toddler days, and frankly, it is funnier when it is someone else's kids...particularly, your little sister's!

Nonetheless, it is definitely worth sharing. The text went something like this...

Poor Jag...Jaela bit a chunk out of him. After he quit crying, he told me (straight-faced, completely serious), "I think Jaela might be a little vampire, mom."

When life gives you lemons...

maybe it is time for lemon meringue pie. Also, perhaps we could create some lemon ice. This giant stainless steel bowl of yellow on my table is waiting.

In the meantime, we cruised down the coast yesterday. The tide was tumultuous as it crashed into the rocky coast line. I love the ocean. We also discovered a quiet little sandy beach nestled amongst the rocks. As we walked along the shore, the kids started to run and soon they were all running down the beach. As I gazed at their footprints in the wet sand, I realized that the imprint had toes, and when I looked up I saw Kiahra sprinting across the sand, shoes in hand as she raced after her brother, hair blowing in the wind and the faint voices accompanied by the crashing waves.

The ocean rejuvenates the soul. It is the meringue of California for me.

As I was navigating my nightly traffic jam, Kade commented on the crazy moon. A few minutes later, Nikela spotted the moon.

"Look, it is the Cheshire Cat!"

Sure enough, the moon was high in the sky and the tiny sliver that was illuminated across the bottom looked exactly like Cheshire Cat looking down on us with the cheesy grin.

California is attempting to balance the budget...so the headlines now read "Aren't you glad you are in California?" with photos of the stormy Midwest. Then the photos demonstrating the unrest in Egypt. Nevermind that those photos could soon be California. People are hungry here too. Finally, the budgetary issues are carefully tucked inside because the solution...are you ready?...means more taxes. I skip to the comics first.

All snow jokes are growing cold with me. Personally, I would prefer to buried under the snow and not more taxes.

The Pittsburgh Penguins were playing last night. The score was tied at the end of the game. Overtime. Still Tied. Shootout. First three players are chosen, and then each individually tries to shoot a goal. If no goals are made, then the shootout continues in sudden death mode. Thus the setting, as Kade watched it live. His voice filled the room. His enthusiasm undeniable. Finally in the seventh round, his beloved penguins won. Moments later, he was sharing the euphoria with his dad on the phone.

A bit later in the evening, Kade quietly mentioned, "Mom, I think I heard they found the body of the missing boy." My heart quivered, as I questioned if he was sure. Kade was pretty sure he had heard correctly, but he said nothing else was said. I let the conversation drift...

When the little four year old boy went missing, the billboards along the freeways were lit up with the necessary information in addition to all the other forms of media disseminating the news.

Today I confirmed that Kade had heard correctly. His little body was found in a canal. It wasn't just my heart that quivered this time.

Then I realized that a mother would never hear her son cheering on his favorite team.

Instead, I will try to find the words to share with my son about her little boy, whom Kade has worried about for two weeks. And justifiably so.