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Junior High...here comes trouble!



First grade...all day!



Queen of the Mountain...in the eighth grade!

Buttocks augmentation is hot in California. Plastic surgeons claim that they can take the fat from another place in the body and graft it into the buttocks.

Our little sheltie queen has two perfectly symmetrical fatty tumors on her rump. Natural augmentation.

The vet is not impressed.

Portia doesn't mind. She struts her stuff like the queen of England complete with a bustle from a couple centuries ago.

The vet wants to biopsy the tumors to ensure they are not malignant.

As I gazed at the queen in my rear view mirror, she was laying regally across the back seat. I thought.

The cost of a needle biopsy? $678

I didn't ask how much the surgery for removal would be. I rest assured that it would be in the thousands.

Portia will be nine in October. She is active and her movement is uninhibited. She is happy...well except when I left her at the vet's for the afternoon. Then she howled mercilessly in their kennel for most of the afternoon.

The hospital is not for a queen.

Anyway, fatty tumors are generally not malignant according to the internet. The vet didn't share this with me...but then again he is in the business of treating animals. In all fairness, I am sure the only way to tell is to biopsy, but then what would I do with the information? If she if fine, I lose $678. If not, then I have to live with my decision not to have surgery.

Thus I have decided ignorance is bliss.

The queen will continue to rule as long as her days.

The Ride

My red and white mountain bike missed me this summer.

As I strap on my red helmet, my heart beat in anticipation of riding down the bay trail. Hopping on and cruising over to the trail, I feel good. The knobby tires buzz over the paved trail as I settle in for the ride. The cross breeze greets me coolly as the evening sun warms my skin already tingling from the exercise.

A mile disappears.

As I round the corner into the next mile, I could see the bay a quarter of a mile away. Within minutes I round another corner as the trail curves to the north following the shore of bay. The salty coolness blasts my face as I head straight into a head wind rolling alongside the crashing waves. Suddenly the scenery drifts from my peripheral vision, as my muscles burn with the sudden resistance. My focus shifts solely to crawling ahead.

Another mile marker appears.

The wind burned my eyes as tears squeeze from the corners, as I embrace another mile. I met a few bikers whizzing nonchalantly down the trail southward. For a moment frustration filled my competitive heart even though I knew better. Breathing hard I hunker low over my bike, as every muscle works to keep the bike moving forward on the trail. My eyes are glued on the road just a few feet in front of me.

Finally, the third mile marker appears, but I don't even see it until I pass it...my concentration intense.

The trail curves sharply and weaves under the freeway bridge, as I wrestle with the reality that I may have to modify my 10 mile goal. Experience has taught me that the wind will be stronger on the other side of the bridge. Nonetheless, I catch my breath as I follow the turns in the trail. The wind does not disappoint as I emerge. The white caps crash into the craggy rocks. My muscles try to respond but I feel my strength waning quickly. I slow and make a u- turn.

As I settle into an easy rhythm, I notice the landscape once more. I am looking down the trail anticipating my next move. I shift up and the increase in tension doesn't even phase me as I seek to maintain a strong pace.

My mind embraces the ride as the miles whiz by...though I am still disappointed that I wasn't able to meet my goal. I must admit to myself I wasn't strong enough to add the extra miles. I shift my mental strength down and start setting goals to make my ride a reality. It is so easy when the wind is behind you.

Some days as I round a curve in life I am so unexpectedly blasted, I stagger. As I regain my footing, I push forward.

It is in these moments I grow the strongest...when I feel the weakest.

Irony.

Mommy Guilt

One year ago Kade was ice-skating daily. His goal? Hockey.

He practiced hard. Then he played hockey hard.

He took the summer off, but he started practicing again for hours at the rink again this month. Hockey season has started again, so he has resumed playing weekly at the in-house program.

Last Sunday, he had a great game. He made a goal. He skated hard. He played with heart.

His coach noticed. He suggested Kade consider participating on the travel team. The team has a couple spots open after try-outs.

A travel team practices three times a week at different rinks. One of the rinks is 25 miles south in rush hour traffic. Then every weekend for nearly nine months the team will meet their opponents. Sometimes the road trips are longer than others, but several hours would probably be average.

Of course the privilege of playing for a travel team are numerous. Experience. Teamwork. Coaching. Opportunity.

Did I mention price? It also comes with a price tag.

However, as I try to balance the opportunity with reality I am left feeling guilty. I cannot support hockey four days a week with three other children. Everyone in our house has an activity they love and that we support.

I have presented this balance of our family, as the team attempts to persuade us to join.

Let me digress to Kade. He would love to play on a travel team. It has been a goal he set for the future. He was walking on air when the opportunity presented itself so soon.

I am convinced that an eleven-year-old boy needs to be a kid. I am convinced pushing kids early is not healthy. I am convinced hockey should not rule our family. I am convinced we can find the balance.

Then the mommy guilt infiltrates my being. Am I really denying my son? Is he the kids who will say I never had that opportunity? Or will he be fine?

He will be fine...I hope...won't high school be soon enough??

The irony of my situation struck me as I was driving yesterday. Many parents push their kids to excel in sports. Many start their kids young to make them better...and here I am holding back saying "no".

I can't wait to see Kade play his next game. I really do love watching him on the ice. I hope is assuages my guilt.

Apple Crumb Cupcakes

The aroma of cinnamon and apples wafts upstairs where I am trying to exercise. The elliptical is brutal by itself. The tantalizing smells are simply inhumane.

I try to never complain when my kids cook. I will even go to the grocery store for ingredients...but seriously, Kiahra, why can't you make granola? Or tuna?

Granted she did downsize to mini-muffin pans which I assure myself helps the calorie count.

But how can I go to bed with these tasty little morsels looking at me??



The truth from any angle? I can't.

Small World

I love Schwan's ice-cream. I was hoping my driver would stop today.

He did.

Last time he shared a Nigerian folktale with us.

Today I learned he spent his first Christmas in the United States in Bozeman, MT. One of his college instructors took him to Bridger Bowl. With laughter, he was delighted to share the memories of his first skiing experience!

One of his sisters lives in Gillette, WY. Her son plays hockey.

I love how small the world really is...that I grew up 100 miles from Gillette as he grew up in Nigeria...that I lived 70 miles from Bozeman...and here we are together in San Francisco.

Stylin'

Generally, I tend to be a bit flamboyant in my hair styles and color, but since we moved I have not found a hairdresser that suits my style, so natural it is.

However, on the day I had coffee with my sister and we browsed the delightful little fabric store across the street she found these great vintage fabric headbands. Thought I would try it out yesterday. I loved it!

I even had a 60s poof behind the band for a while, but evidently I don't know the secret to making it stay that way. Help??

Anyway, I am loving this flamboyant touch. I am thinking it is an excellent solution!

Creative Spelling

Doctor's office this way.



The doctor is in.



The patient supply was low. Only the scuba diver endured his physical...and passed. No one else could be convinced to visit the doctor.

So...the doctor changed occupations.

Sign up for the Mexican Hat Dance.



**As an English teacher I am not proponent of creative spelling, but as a mother, I am charmed.

Snorkeling

Christmas occassionally presents itself at our house as we pillage through unpacked boxes seeking something. Kade uncovered his snorkeling gear while searching for paint brushes.

Suddenly he disappeared...for a long time, as I dutifully washed dishes...by hand because my dishwasher is not working.

Then I heard the jets on my jacuzzi tub start.

Hummm...I suspected I should investigate.



A tub big enough to go snorkeling. No wonder I seldom have the patience to fill it.

Walden Moments

The canyon road meandered up the mountain slowly, as the crisp, clear water rushed down picturesquely amidst the bounders. A few mountain sheep grazed by the roadside.



We dined at Rocky Mountain National Park as we gazed across the meadow of wildflowers. Soon we were hiking the trail through the meadow. The warm sun encouraged us to move slowly and savor the moment. The kids scampered down the trail with their cousins. They would pause under the guise of waiting for us with bright red cheeks.



As the trail shifted up the mountain, the trees offered reprieve from the hot sun. Though the mountain stream called out to the kids. Quickly they were standing by the cooling waters as their red cheeks faded. Then fallen logs tempted climbers, and soon toes were enticed by the water beneath.





Copycat.




I love the mountains. I could sit by the stream all day, but on this particular day it was special because I was sitting with my cousin reminiscing about childhood adventures, as our own children explored their emerging world. Not sure where the years have gone, but I don't mind pausing on the trail here with a childhood comrade who is now a parent comrade. Grateful for the years and adventures of living that can be shared and treasured. And the good entertainment at Rocky Mountain National Park on August 6, 2011.

Feelin' their oats...well not really. The kids were far from pleased with the impromptu photo shoot before lunch. (Bad timing, I know.)

Anyway, the littlest bug present was shorter than the oats! And the biting bugs were abundant.

Not sure how I captured a moment with primarily happy expressions--I suspect my oldest daughter probably had something funny to say at my expense.

Baseball

"Take Me Out to the Ball Game"

103 years ago this song drifted into the American psyche. For me it was merely a catchy tune that accompanied a sport I know very little about. Last summer I attended a game in Evansville with my sister and her husband who is a fanatic, I mean fan. I sweltered in the 90 degree heat, but we were in good company and it was fun. I even picked up a few concepts about the game as my brother-in-law patiently explained the game to my son. I had one other minor league game under my belt when we were in St. Paul many years ago.

Then Ron came home with four tickets to the Giants/Dodgers game. My oldest girls insisted it was "my turn" to go to the game. They assured me they would be fine and told me to have fun a bit too quickly.

Well, I relented, and with our younger kids in hand we were swept into AT & T Park with the flood of Giants' fans. Admittedly, the energy was entertaining. Then we arrived at our seats. Check out this view from row 12.



As the game started, I found myself intrigued by the action unfolding in front of me. I had to concentrate to understand the game, but as the innings progressed I became completely immersed in the action. As the score favored the Dodgers I sat on the edge of my seat. Then the runs by the Giants brought the crowd to their feet and the stadium roared. Delighted with the action I stayed in my seat, as to not miss anything; however, one trip to the restroom for Chayse did reveal the fans on the shores of the bay.



Then I begged Ron to stay until the end of the game. Yep, you read that right. I wanted to see the entire game. I watched the Giants most famous pitcher strike out a few players and end the night.

As the tide of people went out, the seagulls descended for their bedtime snacks.



I loved my first major league baseball game. I am ready to go again. Of course, I would like those seats again too :)

Road Trip Queen

3,950 miles.

2,800 miles were all mine with 4 kids, 2 dogs, and 1 travel trailer embraced along the way by our friends and family.

Home.

We stepped out into the evening air and scrambled to find jackets. Kade was positively excited to leave behind the heat--grinning from ear to ear when he proclaimed, "Ah, feel the cool air!"

I complained all summer about it being too cold, and I even had to admit that it felt good to be home in the distinctively cool climate of San Francisco.



However, now the memories keep me warm...like this rainy afternoon in Belle Fourche, when my sister and I (with all the kids) took cover in the little coffee shop before browsing through the quilt store across the street...and then the antique store down the street.

Floating through Summer

We bid South Dakota farewell and headed south to Colorado.

As we approached Fort Collins, Chayse asked, "Are we almost to our destiny?"