your almost-4-yr-old uses the words “opportunity,” “required,” and “glimpse” at the dinner table all in one night and knows what each of those words mean.

Look out world! You don’t stand a chance against this one!

Mr. A and I have been looking for a dresser for almost two years. We’ve been to tons of furniture stores but either a) they didn’t have anything we liked, b) it was too expensive, and c) it just didn’t feel right buying a piece of mediocre furniture made in China when there is so much second-hand furniture out there that’s better built and more reasonably priced (ya know that whole reduce, reuse, recycle thing).

So we’ve spent the past couple years scouring craigslist, finding nothing. Craigslist here is funny. There are tons of listings for certain items (like beds) and none for others (like bookshleves). We found tons of junk dressers on their last leg, or ones with only one nightstand (we need two). But we finally found what we had been looking for. It was bought brand new in March 2008 and has sat in a spare bedroom since then. It’s in perfect condition! Two night stands and a dresser. Mission style. With a mirror. I told Mr. A, I feel like respectable adult for the first time in my life. We are finally getting rid of almost all of our college-quality, hand-me-down furniture. I’m not sure I’m ready for this

Fine hair has its blessings, and curses. I’ve learned to deal with the peculiarites of fine, thin hair that doesn’t grow very fast. The Towhead has my coloring to a tee, and although she got my fine hair, thanks to her dad she has quite a bit more of it. I’ll be the first to admit that it’s very convenient we can use the same clips and rubber bands, but it does feel a bit pathetic in its own way.

I’m not sure if it’s a kid thing or perhaps Fate’s way of punishing me for being proud that I produced a kid with a decent head of hair, but I realized the other night that we’ve had more than our share of hair mishaps this year. I think it all started when she got sap in her hair on a camping trip . . .

The answer: olive oil. Situation was not nearly as sticky as it sounds.

Then there was the incident around Labor Day when she decided to crawl under her art table and create some new bangs for herself after we’d spent the last year growing them out. Luckily, it was not the scalping that many kids give themselves. Just a few strands near her face that went from chin-length to being about even with her nose. Again, not as big a deal as it sounds.

Now we come to the last two weeks (drumroll, please). At a co-workers retirement party she managed to do this:

Yep. Burrs. Hundreds of them. Right up next to her scalp. The next hour was a fun one. My thanks to the other people there who helped us get them all out. The upside is that they did all slide out – no cutting or olive oil required.

But the most recent was by far the worst. What could be worse than sap, worse than scissors and cockleburrs? I must painfully admit that it happened at the grocery store when I wasn’t paying attention. There was a small fan on the end of an M&M Christmas candy tube. You see, the Towhead loves LOVES loves M&Ms (thanks to her Papa). And I mean passed-up-a-cool-doll-so-she-could-get-a-small-package-of-M&Ms loves them. Would-refuse-her-mama’s-out-of-the-oven-cookies loves them. So when we saw a tube of M&Ms in the store with a cool little fan on top I told her we were NOT taking it home but that she could hold it while we were in the store. She was fine, and very well behaved, for a bit. But when I turned my back to grab some rice off the shelf I find her holding a huge chunk of her hair, saying, “Mama, sorry, but . . .”

“What happened?” I asked, wide-eyed. “Did you stick the fan in your hair?”

“No. It just got stuck.”

The worst was not the cut hair though. It was the area above that that had spun itself into small, tight little knots. I laughed. The look I got from her was one one of confusion, like she couldn’t tell whether I was ok with it or I had lost my mind.

Eventually she laughed with me as I untangled her knots and made her answer the question over and over, “What did we learn today?”

“Don’t stick a fan in your hair!”

For some reason they are all around today — the sweet little bloopers that make me love my family so much.These are the mistakes I will never correct or comment on because they always make me smile:

When Towhead asks to be picked up, Mr. A and I will often tease her by only lifting her part way off the ground. Her response is usually, “No, I want upper.”

Mr. A’s use of the word “plausibility” instead of “possibility.”

My father-in-law’s spelling of “Christmass.”

Towhead’s requests for a “dambaid” when she has an owie.

The times when Mr. A pronounces celery the same as salary.

I am so grateful that I have such sweet and wonderful people in my life. I love hearing the laughter that greets me on so many mornings, often before I even get out of bed. The abundance of silliness, the chasing, the tickling, the games and fun that make up our family make me so warm and full I don’t think I’m going to need food on Turkey Day this year.

**As a postscript, I discovered three more eardearing word I don’t want to forget: Daddy drinks “beard” with dinner, Airplanes land at the “oar-port,” and after a storm it’s often “froggy” out.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.