Little Snail

Yesterday on my morning walk beside the bay, a little snail was slowly moving across my path. I hesitated and then paused to study him as he slowly crept along. The anatomy of a snail is fascinating because what look like antennas are really eyes at the end of his tentacles.

The child in me wanted to scoop him up and bring him home and study him, but the adult in me refrained and resumed walking.

Though memories of snails came gliding back from when I was very young. I would play with the tiny snails in the run-off water from the stock dams in early spring. My brother and I would explore for hours in that little stream that held all kinds of wonders. Then we would gather whatever was handy to create dams...delighted when they would hold for a few minutes.

A child's play that taught me so many important lessons.

Last night the kids played in the cul de sac with the lingering sunshine. Their voices echoed down the street.

I smiled. Sometimes I really believe that our children are missing more than they gain as we immerse them in their nightly homework...

Sisters.

One of my favorite books is Sisters of the Heart. Sometimes I think I love it just because of the title because for me relationships with sisters truly transcend directly to the heart. It is an unconditional relationship no matter the differences.

On Sunday evening, my mother-in-law's sister arrived. Yesterday I could hear the smile in her voice and the throaty chuckle I love. I could sense a calmness had returned. I knew that the presence of her sister brought these gifts.

I met her sister 20 years ago when Aunt Judy came to recover from a divorce and stayed until she retired recently.

I remember browsing at Christmas time with my mother-in-law as she looked for the perfect little gift for her sister. She wanted a rose, a purple rose. She knew exactly what her sister wanted and she patiently searched. I remember watching her with a smile in my heart. She knew what her sister wanted and though Christmas was tough this year, she wanted to give her sister something special. It was her way of saying you are really special to me. Most of the time it goes without saying, but sometimes we don't say it enough...and we each say it in our own way...sometimes with a purple rose.

None of the girls in my mother-in-law's family like to drive, and some no longer drive, so when I heard Aunt Judy was en route, I knew her sister needed her and my heart smiled. I am sure she didn't even hesitate. I love this about relationships with sisters.

Yesterday I heard the spunk in Aunt Judy's voice as she chatted. Together they had a good day with Hoss.

Today is not so good, but the voice of my mother-in-law remains strong. I feel guilty that we aren't there to help, but today I realize that her sister is who she really needs right now. In this intimate journey with her spouse, she simply needs her sister.

Hospice is coming this morning.

My father-in-law is growing weary.

And here I sit, thinking about how this family has also become mine over the years and differences ;)

With the wisdom of the years, I embrace the memories.

Mother's Day is coming. My mother-in-law loves her flowers and her yard is a testament. Her flower garden is her joy. For as long as I can remember, Hoss always said, "It is time to get mother's flowers." It is his gift for her every year. It is his way of saying you are really special to me.

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine.
You make me happy
When skies are gray.
You'll never know, dear,
How much I love you.
Please don't take
My sunshine away.

Chayse's sweet voice tumbled from the backseat as we cruised down the road last week. The words chirping from her heart as she practiced for her open house performance bring sunshine to me rainy days.




Today I can hear her voice again, as I gaze lovingly at the morning sunshine after a long absence. It is radiating in through the branches...across the sky...smiling on my flowers.

I can find those elusive rays wherever I look, and my heart sings.

The sunshine is even reflected in my new kimono (a very clever surprise from my husband). Its vibrancy seems even livelier today as I touch the soft silk. I am curious. I want to wear it perfectly. I wish my friend Yoshi were here to help me. She and her little boy would meet Chayse and me frequently in Pittsburgh. I miss her friendship. She would know how to make my kimono beautiful on me. She would smile patiently as she worked with me. Her eyes would twinkle. We would laugh.



I know someone else can teach me, or I can uncover the secret via the internet, but today, I am basking in the warm memories of our friendship. One of the bright rays that my life's adventures have brought me.

"If you are out hunting for the bear, and the neighbor comes out in a bear coat, what would you do?" inquired a Japanese manager.

"Shoot them," quipped Ron.

Horror flashed across his face, as Ron continued, "It is the culling process."

After Ron laughed uproarously, he had to try to reassure him that he was merely teasing and then tried to explain that hunters wear bright orange in the woods or mountains.

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

The Japanese are not accustomed to American sarcasm, as Ron is fully aware since he has worked with several Japanese colleagues, but that does not keep him on his best behavior. It does however guarantee a memorable night for everyone.

Monsoon

The rain doesn't stop.

My backyard is flooding.

The ground is so saturated it cannot absorb anything more...anywhere.

And yet it keeps pouring.

I can hear Johnny Cash amidst the steady rhythm of the rain.

My mama always taught me that good things come from adversity if we put our faith in the Lord. We couldn't see much good in the flood waters when they
were causing us to have to leave home, but when the water went down, we found that it had washed a load of rich black bottom dirt across our land. The following year we had the best cotton crop we'd ever had.

I remember hearing:

How high's the water, mama?
Two feet high and risin'
How high's the water, papa?
Two feet high and risin'


"Ron the water is a mere foot from the backdoor. What should I do?"

I could hear him thinking in the quietness.

I continued, "A lady at the kindergarten told me I needed to get sandbags."

Now I have never had to buy sandbags, and it rains in Pittsburgh too. Then I heard Ron's voice tell me I could probably wait.

I know he is busy, and I really do hate being a damsel in distress.

As I looked out over the rising water, I knew I did not want the water flowing into my house.

As my mind raced, I realized I could just roll up my pants and find my favorite flip-flops and wade in to find this drain the little Asian neighbor insisted we had. Admittedly, I started looking for a high tech drain, but then as I moved things around, I realized that it was merely the three inch gravel strip between the sidewalk and fence. However, it was blocked with debris, so I started working. As the water slowly started to flow, I realized it wasn't level enough to be efficient, so water adventure continued.

By the time I came inside, my feet were a bit cold, but the water was receding. I had rescued myself, so of course I proudly phoned my husband. His response?

"You really are an irrigator!"

Let me digress, I graduated from a rival high school that called themselves the Irrigators. A scary mascot, admittedly, but reflective of how the farms survived there.

Dad, I may not have been technically irrigating because I was not watering crops, but I did manage to divert the water despite the rudimentary design.

I wonder where I got such a crazy idea anyway ;)

Chicks

Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!



One sound asleep on his feet. Another fascinated by her reflection in the fireplace glass. One atop the feeder dining with a friend below. They posed for the photo about like any group of kids...with complete disinterest in me!



Daisy was named for her sweet disposition.



These gentle hands were so cozy it became naptime!

All the kids were enamored with our suburban chick adventure.

For me, it brought back my farm memories when I was a very little girl. I would put my hand in my grandmother's and we would walk across the yard to visit the chicken coop. Together we would uncover the wonders from uncovering freshly laid eggs to nurturing the springtime chicks huddled under the heat lamp chirping incessantly. In my child's eyes, I loved the magic of the chicken coop.

Paul Revere became the black chick that always cheeped on top of the feeder. Lemon was another yellow chick who could be a bit of a sourpuss sometimes. Peanut butter was merely the creamy color.

Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!

Cannery Row

At the turn of last century, the fishing industry began to boom, and a salmon cannery was started in Monterey. More canneries followed and during the World Wars, the demand for canned sardines peaked. As one might imagine, it was tough work. Life was hard.

As the canneries fell into demise when the overfished sardines disappeared from the bay, John Steinbeck published his book, Cannery Row in 1945. A renewed interest in this rich history resurfaced and helped preserve Cannery Row. Though most of the buildings have been modified to cater to the tourist trade, a few remaining fishing companies operate on Cannery Row.

I had just started Steinbeck's book when I found myself walking Cannery Row this weekend. I love Steinbeck. His portrayal of life is frequently harsh, but somehow he manages to find strength in the human spirit despite it. He doesn't judge but merely presents them with all their shortcomings and strengths. As I continued to read last night, I couldn't put my book down...well, technically my iPad and it's dictionary feature which helps me navigate Steinbeck's rich vocabulary, so I don't miss any of the details.

My love of this story is directly linked to my exploration of the ocean and bay. The life of the sea has come alive for me throughout the past six months, and it is so vastly different than anything I have experienced that I am enamored. Plus the voice of the author is powerful because Monterey was home to Steinbeck, as he was born 30 miles away in Salinis.

As I explore my new home, I have the opportunity to explore the voice of one my favorite authors anew...watch out future students!!

Monterey

On Friday around noon, a storm rolled into the Peninsula, and as it poured rain I gathered my children and packed the Suburban. We headed a few miles down the Peninsula, and my cousin and her kids joined our excursion. Six kids and two women embarking on a road trip to Monterey Bay.

My GPS was unknowingly set to the shortest route, so we meandered through the maze of byways as we journeyed, and Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman entertained the kids. The rain came and went but the grey clouds hung overhead. Nonetheless, we were cozily tucked in together for the start of our weekend adventure. Conversations flowed easily and comfortably, and eventually we arrived at our destination for the night. The storm had just passed through Monterey ahead of us. The kids tumbled out ready to embrace any adventure. They swam together as we awaited the arrival of their fathers who left after work.

Later in the evening, we dined together and the paper-lined tabletops were extensively decorated by the kids in their own voices.

The dawn of a new day brought us to Point Lobos State Park.



At our first stop in Whaler's cove, we watched the otters and their babies play in the water. The seals would poke their snouts above the surface from time to time. The mother otter would call when her rambunctious youngster would wonder too far. He would poke his nose above the surface and as soon as he identified his mother he would quickly dive beneath the swirling water and pop up quickly at her side. Then the otter family would roll and play.

The ocean was roaring with swells of 13 feet, but the smiles prevailed...complete with braces!



As we hiked along the coast, we uncovered the wonders of nature in spring.



We meandered the mossy coastal woods.



Little imps appeared from time to time after scampering along the trails.



The majestic power of the ocean rolled into the craggy cliffs.



Nature's sculpture was breath-taking.



Carefully hidden amongst the trees, the doe carefully watched us.



Afterwards, we had lunch on Cannery Row in Monterey where we could see the otters playing again from the windows. Then we explored the Aquarium that showed us the hidden wonders beneath the bay.

We topped off the evening at Ghiradelli's for ice-cream before tumbling exhausted back into the Suburban. The screens played as the lull of the wipers accompanied quiet heartfelt conversation.

A magnificent weekend adventure ended too quickly...



and the rambunctious smiles were still willingly shared at the end of the day!

A crazy day awaits...track meet, ballet, open house...and the kids need to be with me through it all. Kiahra is evidently anticipating a few shortcomings on my part (fair enough), so she helped me out with this note on the front door this morning since I was already in the car enjoying my morning commute to high school. Her organizational skills are amazing--I like to think the chaos has taught her well :)

Now, if I can just remember...or maybe I should just go do it right now!

I stumbled across this photo today, and I remembered...



A little girl who seemed to absorb her food by osmosis because it was always everywhere.

She was always smiling.

Dirt was magnetic.

Her favorite dolly was always nearby.

She could find trouble in a New York minute.

Where o where did that little girl go so fast??

Breakfast

Today after dropping the kids off at school, I cruised...well not exactly, but it sounds far more romantic than "I sat in stop and go traffic"...south to meet my cousins for breakfast.

Leanne, Shari, and I haven't dined together since we were teenagers, and, well, let's just say it has been a few years.

College. Careers. Marriage. Children. Life.

So much has happened in that time, but yet, when I see those familiar faces...and again in their children...it feels like yesterday. My cousins knew me as a kid, and in that knowledge is a familiarity that never leaves, as is evident in conversations that roll easily and laughter that flows often.

Interestingly, California has brought us all together again, as Leanne's husband embarks on a career change in Silicon Valley.



Life, particularly mine has been filled with change in recent years, and sometimes adjusting to a new community is wrought with moments of loneliness as friends and family are so far away. Those golden relationships are so easy because without saying they know the path you have trod and some things go without saying. Perhaps it is a bit like a favorite pair of shoes that you know will not fail you when the going gets tough.

This morning, I needed to be wrapped in the familiar...to feel the unconditional love of my extended family, to hear the familiar banter of voices, to relax amidst the laughter...and embrace the new...to see the sparkling eyes of the next generation, to embrace our California adventures, and though reluctantly at times, to share the wisdom of age.

Though as someone astutely pointed out this morning, when one is young, it is coolest to be the oldest and when...well, let's just say, now it is coolest to be the youngest. Though in all actuality the difference is minimal, but for now, I will now admit to being the youngest...and yes, I still think you are the coolest!

Humbling

On Friday, after the devastating earthquake in Japan, extensive tsunami warnings followed for the West coast and Alaska as folks braced for the worst. My morning news thoroughly covered the course of action. The people on the other side of my county along the coast were streaming out of their community and headed to higher ground. It is the home of my favorite reef explorations spots, and I could only see in my head the tsunami evacuation route signs that I had never failed to notice. It made my heart flutter to watch...as families held each other close and left their homes. Priorities.

Crescent City in Northern California was the first to be hit that morning. This little community has been blasted by tsunamis regularly throughout the years, and as their emergency plan was implemented, many fishermen headed out to sea in the wee hours of the morning to weather the storm.

Initially, I could not fathom this response, but now I am beginning to grasp the rational. Fishing is the only industry left here after the demise of the timber industry. Many of these boats are privately owned and operated. It is the blood-line not only to the community, but the source of food and provisions for many families. If a boat sits in the harbor, it will probably be destroyed by the tsunami as the owner watches helplessly as it crashes ashore, capsizes, or slams against other boats, but if it is out at sea, it is, ironically, far safer because out in the ocean, the tsunami is a three or four foot wave...just a bump.

The ocean is a powerful force. I frequently stand on the shore of the Pacific humbled by the immense, powerful body of water. Perhaps as newcomer, I feel it more acutely, as the father of the missing 25-year-old man commented, "He just didn't respect the ocean and didn't understand the tsunami."

I know the father is heartsick, but as a man who has witnessed the ocean in its unpredictability, he understands what happened. In 1964, 11 lives were lost in this little community when a tsunami hit.

As I watched the waves hit Santa Cruz later, I observed with inexplicable fascination as the harbor patrol struggled to get people to safety because it seemed intuitive to me to avoid danger.

I realize the damage these little harbors suffered is insignificant compared to the tragedy of Japan, but to these little communities along the West coast it will be devastating to navigate in the struggling economy.

Strangely, my husband seemed a half a world away from me when he felt the earthquake hit and less than 12 hours later, my world was impacted by this same earthquake. The same amount of time it took his plane to reach Osaka.

No wonder the Greeks never wanted to invoke the fury of Poseidon and humbly approached the powerful god.

Landed!

Ron's plane is on the ground...we should see him soon!

Flight 886

The radiant sun is seeping through the blinds hearkening a new day.

A day that should bring my husband home. Ron's flight should touch down here around noon today. He called me from the boarding gate in the middle of the night. The airline had tried to remove him from the flight because (gasp) it was overbooked; however, Ron explained that while he empathized with all the displaced travellers, that did not justify displacing him from his original ticketed flight. Somehow, the argument appeared to work, but as he stood apprehensively at the gate, he hoped he would be able to board. Evidently, he is aboard because he did not call back.

As I check the flight status again, I have discovered that the plane left a few minutes early and may touch down 30 minutes early :)

Reassurance.

Now about that lottery ticket...

Distractions...

Despite my cookies and milk, it has been a long week. The news does not comfort me nor does the lack of communication. I have not heard from Ron again. His flight had been removed from the United Airlines itinerary this morning, so I decided to keep myself busy by running errands.

My first errand was to complete the smog test for my suburban, so I could turn it into DMV for my license plates. All the rest of paperwork and fees were completed nearly 60 days ago with a temporary plate issued.

1:00 PM Smog test appointment.

1:30 PM Arrived at DMV.

2:15 PM Reached the window at DMV and take my assigned number.

2:24 PM My number is called :)

A few minutes later the lady and my paperwork disappear. I can see she is conferring with her supervisor. Many minutes later a gentleman comes and asks to see the vehicle. I take him outside and he requests I pop the hood. He points to the placard on the engine that states the emission standards and explains to me that for California it clearly stated N/A. Evidently California has a law that states any vehicle under 7500 miles must meet the emission standard assigned by the manufacturer, and he informs me that mine does not.

Irritated, I explained that I have already registered this vehicle and paid the sales tax and fees, so I questioned how there could be a problem is now. He relented and told me to come back in and they would see what they could do.

So return to the counter, my heart pounding with uncertainty and the stress of the day pulsing through my veins. Finally, the lady returns wordlessly and hands me a paper that states unless my vehicle meets the three exceptions listed below it must be removed from the state of California immediately. YOUR VEHICLE MUST BE REMOVED FROM THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA IMMEDIATELY. It screamed at me.

I burst into tears, as I stammered that I was told I just needed the smog test to complete the process, and that we had already completed all the legalities of licensing during which time I had read the law concerning bringing a vehicle into the state of California.

She shook her head no and informed me it was done incorrectly.

At this point, the fight came back. Sobbing and frustrated, I responded. "This 2011 Suburban was manufactured by Chevy to meet and and exceed the federal standards including all 50 state standards. Logically, do you think Chevy manufacturers California vehicles separately? Absolutely not. N/A could mean that this particularly vehicle was not sent to a CA dealership, so it wasn't necessary. It does NOT state it fails to meet the standard, so your assumption that that is what it means is completely ridiculous, and to be perfectly frank, I need this vehicle to be licensed because my husband is in Japan, and I have not heard from him in 15 hours, my father-in-law is in critical condition in South Dakota, and I have four kids and no family here, so I need this vehicle!"

Did I mention there were a few people to witness my complete breakdown? At this point Chayse is hugging me tightly and trying to comfort me.

Between sobs, I continued, "I was told this process was complete during our last three hour visit, why is it suddenly different now?"

She stammers something quietly about the vehicle inspection stating something...then suddenly, she picks up the paper and leaves. As I finish crying and pull myself together, she returns 15 minutes later. Quietly and abruptly, she tells me to meet her at the vehicle inspection station and turns on her heals.

Now, I have already had the vehicle inspected, but I just did as I was directed.

Promptly, she personally met me at the bay and began the inspection wordlessly, as I looked through my manual for the document that stated it met California Standards.

Then I heard her call over the inspector who had already expressed concern that was she completing the inspection herself and asked him to explain the placard.

He stated, "It states here it meets the federal emission standards for 2015, and the California standard does not exceed that, thus the N/A."

She finished her work silently and asked me to meet her at window 1 after parking my vehicle.

There I was presented the sacred plates and registration along with the unnecessary smog test paperwork. Humbly she extended a nice apology on behalf of DMV, and then informed that I was overcharged $154 so I would also receive a refund...again. Perhaps to absorb the cost of the unnecessary smog test?? I simply didn't care at this point, as I accepted her apology and left.

3:15 PM I left the DMV with my sister's number dialing...it is a good thing she is quiet, so I could raged on and on and on.

Ultimately, my errands certainly distracted me, and in retrospect, I think that the sales tax and fees on my new suburban were significant enough to pay their furlough wages, so really they should have been far more accommodating. Though the competency for the wages I did pay makes me see red!

So...I am thinking perhaps there is no need to play the lottery this week...

In the meantime, I am going to put on my new plates.

AND after checking for the millionth time...I just discovered Ron's flight is back on the United Airlines itinerary for tonight!!!

That would be the greatest lottery of all :)

Sakai, Japan

The telephone rang again...a bit later than usual. Ron was on the other end.

"Earthquake."

My heart started pounding even though I knew logically he was fine because he was talking to me. As he described his first experience of a surface earthquake, I was immediately online trying to figure out where it hit and the magnitude, so I could tell him.

The irony of technology. He can experience it and moments later I can find the details. The 8.9 magnitude earthquake really rocked Tokyo which was 231 miles from the origination point, and Ron appears to be 500 miles from the source. Ron felt the 7.4 aftershock quake 30 minutes later.

Evidently, everything stopped at the factory as the earth shook. Ron said it was a crazy feeling watching the building out the window shake like crazy. Initially, Ron was worried he was getting sick--as he suddenly felt queasy--which probably originated in his sensitive feet which felt the vibrations that weren't immediately identifiable. As a man who has spent most of his life underground, he is immediately aware of movement at a subliminal level, as it is a survival instinct that has been carefully honed from years of mining.

Now, I can't sleep again as I watch the news roll across my screen with the tsunami warnings. At this time, the warnings to do not extend to California or Alaska--which they often do. However, the first tsunami has already hit the coast of Japan.

Maybe some cookies and milk will help...so I can go to bed instead of watching the magnitude reports keep increasing. It has been a long week.

Tooth Fairy

The tooth fairy visited our kindergarten girl last week. It was nearly one year ago that she recieved her first two visits.

"Mom, I figured something out about the tooth fairy."

"Oh?"

"Yes. She doesn't give you as much money if you whine and cry about your tooth."

"Really?" I questioned while thinking perhaps her father was very clever because this was news to me.

"Yep. The first time I got $4 for my tooth because I was so good and didn't even cry! This time I only got $2 because the tooth fairy was mad at me because I whined and cried.

I looked at her, completely intrigued, "You figured this out all by yourself?"

"Yep," she proudly asserted herself, "you have to be careful with the tooth fairy!"

Sunrise

I watched the colors fill the sky this morning, as I drove Nikela to school...early. Yesterday the sky poured rain. Today the sun will shine.

My father often said to me, "Tomorrow will be a new day."

Sometimes as kid, tomorrow feels like light years away. I know my kids feel this way sometimes as they navigate all the changes in their lives...but truly tomorrow is always a new day.

A new day finds grandpa stabilizing though he remains in ICU.

A new day brings emerging blossoms to my yard.

A new day..even a Monday...elicits rambunctious smiles in the kitchen as kids pack their lunches.

For each new day, no matter the challenges, I am grateful.

The Telephone

It rang at 2:21 AM. I paused and answered. I though perhaps it would be my husband a half a world away. It was my sister-in-law trying to reach her brother...to let him know his dad had just arrived at the hospital via ambulance.

As I slowly regained consciousness, I told her Ron was in Japan and his telephone service was sketchy at best. Then I listened...fluid...fluid in lungs...low blood sugar...

I hung up a few minutes later to attempt to reach my husband. Unsuccessful and now wide awake, I sat in a flood of thoughts. I called her back because since we were both awake we might as well talk. All the children are miles and miles away in Alaska and California...well, Japan...Texas...Arkansas...but she wants us to wait and see what the doctor says.

Finally, Ron reaches me and we try to converse for a few minutes at a time as the cell phone keeps dropping the call.

Then another quick update...ICU...ventilator...paracentesis...

The ringing of the telephone has filled my early morning hours, and now my household is quiet again as the kids sleep...unaware. My feeling of helplessness makes me subconsciously await the next call...and yet I am not sure I really want the phone to ring again.

Osaka, Japan

Ron is a day ahead of us since he crossed the international date line, and as Kiahra and I were chatting this morning, she was wondering if when he returned home next Saturday he would get to live Saturday twice or if it would just be the longest day of his life??

Just when you think no one notices...

A few days ago, I had to make an early morning pit stop at the grocery store for a few forgotten items for the dinner I was trying to create in the crockpot--my feeble attempt to be proficient on my busy days.

I love the grocery store in the early morning hours. I love cruising through the aisles alone, and I utterly love the fact I almost know the aisles well enough to find my ingredients proficiently! Re-learning a grocery store after relocation is so frustrating.

Anyway, as I approached checkout the clerk was busy, so I opted for self check-out...and frankly it is my habit.

Then as I left, I dropped my basket in the stack by the door when I heard a voice. I turned, and the busy clerk inquired if I collected the stamps for their promotional items. I admitted I did, but that I hadn't spent enough to request any.

Smiling she unrolls the stamps and generously rips off a chunk for me, and whispers conspiratorially, "Don't tell, but you have been so sweet and thoughtful this morning. Thank you."

I smiled and thanked her. As I walked out, my heart was smiling too.

Who needs reality TV?

Last night, as Kade was typing his poetry project, Ron reminded him that it would help qualify him for the communications badge for cub scouts.

With nary a pause, Kiahra quipped, "They teach boys to communicate? Isn't that like teaching a dog to talk?"

Recycling

A while back, Ron and I were attempting to navigate the narrow streets of an unfamiliar neighborhood. As we searched for our destination, we could see a man ahead bent over the curb. As we watched, he leaned down and picked up a select few cigarette butts (there were plenty to choose from). Suddenly, I realized what he was doing.

Horrified, I gasped.

"It is just recycling California style, Lori. It is a shame to let all that good tobacco go to waste," my husband tormented me.