There be treasure there, matey

The Crazy Towhead has been enamored of pirates and maps for quite some time. Any proof you need can be found in her Halloween costume two years ago, her insane love of the books How I Became a Pirate and Pirates Don’t Change Diapers, and the box she keeps filled with a map (of France), a compass, and a magnifying glass.

We recently rented Disney’s Peter Pan, and this seemed to ignite her adventurous spirit and take her back to the days when we taught her how to put a hand over one eye and growl,  “Arg! I’m a pirate!” It all started thus:

I was working on the computer at the kitchen table. She was drawing pictures on her easel. Lines turn into shapes; shapes resemble letters; and soon she was calling to me. “Mama, look! A “D.” And a’ “X.”

“Yup,” I said. “X marks the spot.”

“I need to draw a map,” she said. “With an X on it. For the pirates.”

“Are we burying treasure?” I ask.

“And for Caleb. He needs it to find his skunk.”

“Oh?”

Well one thing led to another. I got excited (I love treasure hunts). We found a plastic sheet that came with a set of jungle animal toys. We discussed the journey, how treasure maps work, what obstacles the seekers might face, and what the treasure might be.

The consensus was that the seekers had to go along the mountain tops, past the bear cave, and onto the plains. Once there they had to split up by gender: girls go north where they must find and put on a pink dress with blue tights. Boys head west, where they must don a purple coat and two rings if they want to proceed. They meet up and journey on until they find the box of stickers, which will detail how to navigate the swamp of snakes and worms.

At the Shark lagoon . . . well, there’s a whole story about what happens in the shark lagoon, but I’m not sure I remember enough to give you all the details. Anyway, the treasure, which used to be in the shark lagoon has since drifted up onto the plains. And that’s where the treasure lies!

On the back of the map CT titled the map, and we wrote our names in code. The map has mostly been shoved in this or that purse since then, just waiting for the moment when the adventurous spirit strikes us again and we wander into the mountains to find that treasure.

First snow

What is it about the first snow, even just an inch or so, that makes us all run outside like fools to throw snowballs and whirl around with trying to catch snowflakes on our tongues? All worries seem to take the sidelines. There is nothing more important than rolling balls of snow around the yard to make the year’s first snowman. Even the fire, which has been burning regularly in the fireplace lately, takes on a new – a more essential – glow. Hot chocolate and warm blankets are ready when it finally gets so dark you can’t see, and the workers come inside. And afterward we turn off all the lights to see our new snowman by the light of the moon.

Hummingbirds: What we do for love

I wish I could find a way to post this video on the mating display of the spatuletail hummingbird. Click on the link. Please. Watch this – it’s truly amazing what evolution can accomplish in the name of love!

It reminds me of a Pattiann Rogers poem, “The Hummingbird: A Seduction,” from her book Firekeper. This is erotica; this is love; this is sex as it should be.

The Hummingbird: A Seduction

If I were a female hummingbird perched still
And quiet on an upper myrtle branch
In the spring afternoon and if you were a male
Alone in the whole heavens before me, having parted
Yourself, for me, from cedar top and honeysuckle stem
And earth down, your body hovering in midair
Far away from jewelweed, thistle, and bee balm;

And if I watched how you fell, plummeting before me,
And how you rose again and fell, with such mastery
That I believed for a moment you were the sky
And the red-marked bird diving inside your circumference
Was just the physical revelation of the light’s
Most perfect desire;

And if I saw your sweeping and sucking
Performance of swirling egg and semen in the air,
The weaving, twisting vision of red petal
And nectar and soaring rump, the rush of your wing
In its grand confusion of arcing and splitting
Created completely out of nothing just for me,

Then when you came down to me, I would call you
My own spinning bloom of ruby sage, my funnelling
Storm of sunlit sperm and pollen, my only breathless
Piece of scarlet sky, and I would bless the base
Of each of your feathers and touch the tine
Of string muscles binding your wings and taste
The odor of your glistening oils and hunt
The honey in your crimson flare
And I would take you and take you and take you
Deep into any kind of nest you ever wanted.

Wholesome holidays scare me, so Happy Halloween!

For some reason I’ve started taking a self-portrait every year on my birthday. It feels self-centered in some ways, but I’m curious to keep a log and see how I change. I got to thinking about it when I started taking pictures of the Towhead’s hand next to mine each year on her birthday. This is what resulted this year.

We had a fantastic Halloween weekend. It was supposed to rain, but it never did. It felt like a very “wholesome” holiday(the sound of which scares the crap out of me). I made a similar comment to my neighbor, his response was, “Welcome to Washington.”  But we had so much fun! Mr. A woke up and finished packaging up the venison he got last week. I worked on processing more of the huge mound of apples that are sitting in the garage. After breakfast (Mr. A made srambled egg burritos), the Towhead and I went out onto the front porch to carve pumpkins. She picked out the design. I carved. She decorated by poking it with one of the carving tools and drawing on it with the pen.

In the picture you’ll see the lovely, incredibly colorful hat that I just finished knitting. CT has been bugging me to make her a hat since I finished knitting one for her dad. I let her pick out the yarn. And of course she picked out the most obnoxious  colorful skein available! I tried to downplay the insane color combination make it even better by adding some red stripes and a border. Go figure, my wonderful, fashionable daughter did alright because what came out of the project is beautiful! Colorful, warm, and very appropriate for fall. She has barely taken it off since I handed it to her.

It was supposed to rain on Halloween. When it didn’t we grabbed the chance and went to the park to play. CT chased her dad all over the playground, slides, and tunnels. Lately, Mr. A has been getting pouty about the fact the CT always seems to want “mama.” Like all dads he wants the satisfaction of being the “one” his baby wants. I think all moms know the joy (and frustration) that comes with being the only one who can make it better. Towhead loves her dad, but she’s definitely a mama’s girl. This weekend it was all about dad – and that was just fine with me. It was really fun to watch too. They are so good and so funny with each other. Mr. A has always been the other half of me – and when it comes to the girl he teaches her all the things that I seem to struggle with.

Sunday, when it didn’t rain again, we all went out in the yard to clean up leaves. We created a box of welded wire we can compost the leaves in. Of course Towhead wanted to get in with the leaves – what kid wouldn’t want to jump, play, and roll in a huge pile of leaves? And of course she didn’t want to get out either. After all the stubborn back talk I’ve been getting lately I think sticking her in a pen with some leaves is a fantastic idea! She seemed a little cold when we checked on her this morning, but otherwise she’s doing just fine. Mr. A is thinking we should get some chickens so she’ll have some company.

Getting off the Runaway Train

Preface: I should not complain about being active, doing things we love outdoors, seeing family, or filling our life with wonderful things I have longed to do for years now.

That said, I am SO glad the time has come when all those things are slowing down and/or coming to a close. I am feeling pulled in so many directions I can’t decide where to go first. Autumn and the holidays will still be busy, but hunting season is almost over, and I’m done teaching self-defense classes for now.

I love the adventures we often have as a family, but I’m noticing that my wee Crazy Towhead is a little strung out and more sensitive lately. This always weirds me out. She is such a good, easy-going, up-for-anything-we-throw-at-her kind of kid that she’s become my barometer for how we’re doing. If she’s “off” – not sleeping well, cranky, overly teary – then there’s usually some part of our lives that needs adjusting. And right now that barometric pressure is dropping. She’s my same happy laughing girl, but certain things are telling me that we’ve had too much for too long.

So, in small moments we’re learning to re-set the pace. There is a concept/practice in Aikido that allows the person being attacked, the nage ( pronounced nah-gay), to take a fast incoming attack and diffuse that speed during the technique or throw so that they are the one who sets the pace, not the attacker. The attacker, or uke (pronounced ooo-kay) can come in as fast as they want to, and although the initial reaction must match the speed of the incoming attack, once contact is made the nage can blend and slow things down to a pace that they are comfortable with. I keep thinking of this in terms of life events: No matter what the world throws at us, we are the ones who ultimately decide where and how that momentum is directed in our lives. It also helps me remember that I am not subject to the external stresses of life – the worls can throw what it wants at me, but I am the one who ultimately decides how it affects me.

But with autumn in the air and colder temps setting in I am all about sitting on the couch in front of a fire, knitting, and listening to some good music. I’m even thinking of taking up audio books. I’ve never been an audio books fan. I’d rather have music on long drives, and playing them at home always seemed silly. Me? Sit still that long? Who are we kidding here? But now that CT is so much more self-sufficient and I can knit for more than 30 seconds at a time (instead of waiting until after she’s asleep) suddenly audio books are sounding like a nice alternative to evening TV. I don’t suppose any of you out there have any good suggestions?

In general I feel blessed and loved, content and grateful. I love this time of year.

Did I mention that down the street there are the most amazing combination of changing leaves? A bright red maple across the street from an orange one and a brilliant yellow one sitting side-by-side, each bordered by evergreens. There’s also a wonderful tree around here, the larch (or tamrack). It’s a deciduous evergreen, and although it’s not quite as stunning as the huge aspen groves in the Sierras it made for a beautiful sight as we were out cutting wood this weekend.

Toes say so much about a person

I looked down today at my feet and realized that my transformation into a Pacific NW mom is pretty much complete. Which is good because I adore it here.

I think Towhead’s clothing tastes must be wearing off on me. For example, today CT’s wardrobe involved striped leggings, a brown shirt, pink jumper, and orange socks. (And yes  I let her go to school like that)

There is beauty in colorful things.

I have to admit that as much as like where we’re living, I had a bout of desert longing this weekend while visiting friends in Wenatchee. While walking through a short space of sagebrush to get to an apple orchard, I stopped and broke off a piece of sage and found myself kneeling amidst the brush to just inhale that familiar scent. No matter where we move I think I will always long for the smell of rabbitbrush after a rain, cloud shadows passing across the hills, and aspen groves in autumn.

When Life hands you wormy apples

 . . . what do you do?

 

 What else? Cut out all the nasty parts. Slice it up into managable pieces. And make applesauce!

 

 

And then eat it for desert. Warm. With vanilla ice cream on the side.

Undefeated!

Three years ago, when we were still living in Reno, a friend of ours decided to start a fantasy football league for a bunch of his friends and their wives/significant others. He said it was just for shits and giggles. The explanation I got from his girlfriend was that the two of them had very few things in common. Fantasy football would give them something to talk about and do together. The make up of the league was about 50/50 girls and guys, and all friends of ours so I thought it sounded like fun. I was staying home at the time, so I thought this will give me a way to further socialize with our friends, and learn more about football since Mr. A likes it so much. Oh, wait! I’m staying home with a small infant and can barely carve out time to check my email once every few days. Time to research football players and figure out who I’m going to play each week? Not going to happen. So I abstained.

For the last two years I watched Mr. A put together his team, shuffle players around, etc. I’ve laughed as I watched the banter and smack talk that goes back and forth between people in the league. It’s been fun. And this year, because I have more computer time now, I’ve actually been able to play. And I like it. Of course it could be because I am undefeated this season in Fantasy football! Which is funny, because I am not a big football fan.

My mom LOVES watching football. So does my papa, my father-in-law, and my brother-in-law. I like watching if I am invested in the game somehow. Like when several of my students were on the UNR football team I watched college football more. When the Chicago Bears went to the Superbowl we cheered and threw a party (Mr. A and I both have relatives from the Chicago area). But to me football has always been just predictable background noise on Sundays.

Mr. A played football in high school and was a starting player all four years. So as you can guess I am gloating at the opportunity to rub it in that my team is doing better than his. And of course he laughs at me. It’s terrible when your hubbie enjoys seeing you get all riled up and then just smiles, shakes his head, and laughs. He is absolutely maddening! And so cute ruggedly handsome at the same time.

I’m writing more if it kills me

OK. SO I’m getting tired of reading these wonderful blogs and then going to my own site and finding I haven’t updated it for weeks. And then thinking, “but I really don’t have much to say,” or “wow, so much has happened and we’ve done so much I’ll never get all the stories and pictures posted” and just closing my browser window because there’s other things I should be doing.

No more.

I love to write and tell stories. Ask my daughter who makes up outlandish tales about her mother in a wedding dress, who goes out, gets dirty, changes her clothes, and then flies off like a bird into the big sky. I miss writing and I have no excuse for updating my blog except that I’m not very good at status updates (except on Facebook) and I typically will not write if I think what I have to say is inane or not well-crafted enough to be posted in the blogosphere. The irony is that writing is itself an act of discovery. So how can I discover anything about myself, my life, or my place in the world if I deny these writing opportunities?

Good question.

So I’ve decided to write more. Post more pictures here. And generally contemplate the world and tell my friends how I’ve been doing. Because over the last year or so I’ve been pretty bad about it.

The funny thing is that I never think any one really reads this blog (besides my Nana). But then I speak with friends or family and they tell me how much they enjoyed reading certain entires. At which point I blush and think “shit, I need to write more.”

So here I go.

Open Lungs and Open Waters

I came down with a case of bronchitis a couple of weeks ago, and although I’ve felt better since the fever broke over a week ago, only now can I feel the last bits of congestion leaving my lungs. I feel like the world is opening back up again. My body and my focus are shifting from the tightness in my chest to what’s going on around me. Our summer has been so fun and filled with friends, camping, canoeing, and house projects that I haven’t had as much time as I might like to reflect on it all. I love the feeling of finally doing so many of the things Mr. A and I have talked about for so long. But the constant stream of activity has left us a little winded. Thankfully, the last couple of weekends have given us back that breath.

As my chest begins to open up I’m finding that my head is in a similar state. When the to-do list is long and there’s a lot of work to be done I tend to dig in. My shoulders rise as my muscles get ready for good, hard work, and I become focused only on the task at hand, to the exclusion of all else. But while the sweat and muscle strain feel good and seeing the results of my labor are nice, it means that I lose sight of what it means to open myself to the world.

The seasons are changing and it seems all my friends are saying farewell to summer (and getting sick). I am seeing the changes too.  The evenings are cooler and I can see the sunset kiss the trees before bedtime. The circle of activities is moving gradually inward. We do have one or two more fall camping trips planned before the weather begins to firmly dictate when we can get outside. I’m excited. I love fall. I love the close camaraderie and warmth that comes during the fall harvest as the leaves change. It means hot cider, crisp apples, big juicy tomatoes, crisp mornings, reds and yellows punctuating the green on hikes, and crunching leaves underfoot. These images, like here, fill my head and there is no other joy like it.  The Towhead has been my other source of joy with the spontaneous things she says and does.  She will often run outside in the morning as I am putting things in the car and throw her arms wide to the sun, exclaiming in her own improvised song, “I love the sun! I love the hot! I love the cold! I love the world and my (stuffed) kitty!” When I look around at moments like these all I can think is that this is where my center is, and I wonder what could ever be important enough to pull my focus away from this.

I’m not sure if it’s the rebellious part of my nature or the seasons that has me thinking about expanding my energy into the world when all else seems to be moving gradually inward. Or maybe it’s just the part of me that’s always in search of balance. My other theory is that it has to do with settling deeper into the life of a working mom, which I love and hate at the same time. I think the part that has begun to bother me most is the feeling of being sucked inexorably into the vortex of commercialism and expectations of the mainstream working family. Mr. A and I have agreed for a long time that we want a healthy and active lifestyle that includes:

• experiencing the outdoors and appreciating nature
• creativity and laughter
• being mindful and aware of the world and the interconnectedness of all things
• friends and family
• a wide variety of art and music
• toys that encourage mental and emotional growth, not greed and materialism

The pitfalls come when there is less time to carefully cultivate all the things that go into this mix and the temptation to just default to the “norm.” The norm is so pre-packaged, TV, and brand-name based that it drives me crazy. As grad students and then as a single-income family we avoided a lot of those things because of money. Now we avoid them by choice. But I’m realizing, especially with the Towhead in school and me working, how hard it is not to slide toward mainstream trends like cartoons in the afternoon and flashy treats for lunch. It’s strange for me when I talk to other working parents and I hear how much they talk about the newest Disney TV show, computer games, or dance classes. The first two are not really on our radar, and the last one we are just beginning to consider. I’m sailing into unknown waters. Is this what is supposed to be next on the charts? What things do I want to sail toward and what do I want to steer clear of? We’ve been in the lagoon where books, bike rides to the park, and homemade toys surround us.  New waters are coming but there seems to be a lack of variety when it comes to maps because there’s really only one corporate publisher. I know there are more paths, and that many trailblazers have come before me.  I just need to find their stories.

Maybe it’s the holidays that have me thinking about how to avoid cheap, flashy, Made-in-China, TV-character emblazoned toys. Maybe it’s the birthday party at Chuck E Cheese where the girl got 3 Barbie dolls. Or maybe it’s the normal questioning of what comes next in Towhead’s growth and development. I don’t want to fall into the trap of just defaulting to certain set of activities for no other reason than that everyone else is doing it. I seem to be filled with ever-changing thoughts and doubts lately. The sun is in my eyes and the way forward is not clear right now.

*Just when I begin to feel the most lost I seem to stumble upon what I need. This article turned out to be it: Lisa Bennett’s “Nurturing Creators, Not Collectors” in Mothering magazine. So often it seems like we compare ourselves to the images we see around us instead of the real people and voices in our own lives. I’m learning (and re-learning) to turn down the volume of pop culture and in the silence that follows, hear the beating of my own heart and the rhythm of life.