Marigraph

August

2011-08-17T16:37:00.001-04:00

Now that CP's back to work, the girls and I have gotten out for walks a couple of times. Here, N takes the stroller. Yesterday, though, she opted to walk the whole quarter mile to the playground. These days, there's no end to how she surprises me with her grown-up-ness.

Compared with the July heat wave, August has felt almost fall-ish. To keep H from getting chilly on our final appointment with the midwife, I dug out the rainbow leggings that N had worn. They were a bit tight around her thighs. She weighed 10 lb 11 oz (going on three pounds' gain in five weeks).

N enthusiastically shares one of her passions--books--with H. N's current read-aloud is Little House on the Prairie. She enlisted my help to find all the books in the series that we have on our young adult fiction shelf and lodge them on the shelf in her own room, so that she can visually anticipate reading them all.

Thirty Days Young

2011-08-09T22:51:00.001-04:00

Keeping Our Cool

2011-08-01T22:06:00.001-04:00

Here's how we've survived the heat wave of the past few weeks.

Shedding clothes and taking lots of baths:

Hiding out in the basement (here N is playing "doctor," taking notes):

Working our tails off (well, at least some of us):

Ice cream:

Lots and lots of desserts, such as birthday cake, requiring ice cream accompaniment:

Sleeping (here, H joins friend M, 12 days her senior, on the sleeping baby train):

Tea parties:

Here at Last

2011-08-01T21:49:00.005-04:00

Let me introduce you to the newest member of my family, HV.

Hours old:

The birth team (minus my husband, the photographer). L-R: Sister H, me with new daughter, midwife M, apprentice, assistant. My sister and my midwife arrived minutes before H's birth. The other two missed it.

Getting acquainted:

Grandpa and Grandma meet HV. Note Grandma's latest baby quilt creation in background:

Riding in style:

Cousins from afar meet the babe and feast on corn:

HV communes with cousin-still-in utero:

The new family unit:

The End of an Era

2011-06-02T16:47:00.002-04:00

Maybe that's a bit melodramatic, but last night's end-of-term potluck at the adult program where I've been teaching was a sort of milestone. If and when I return to that job, I will be the mother of not one, but two children.

Evening ESOL teachers, L-R: My intermediate level co-teacher; advanced level teacher; me; beginning level teacher (my friend K, who introduced me to the job originally--notice we're both pregnant roughly to the same degree, and thus both taking leave from the program).

Our class (only about half of the students are pictured, but they're among the most regular attenders). Countries represented this term included Laos, Brazil, Cuba, Mexico, Honduras, Eritrea, and Ukraine. I was impressed by the students' participation, motivation, and progress.

My Brazilian student (second from L) hit it off with the Cuban husband/engineer-wife/lawyer-brother/veterinarian trio (center). He and his family are moving to Russia, where he hopes to connect with the long lost brother of two of the Cubans.

Another recently bygone era has been marked by N's graduation from toddler wheels to pedal-pushing. It's astonishing that just three years ago the same child was tasting her first solid food, blowing spit bubbles and babbling.

First she tried out the trike at Grandpa and Grandma's.

That was just the jump-start she needed to practice on her new bike at home.

A serious biker needs a serious helmet.

Reader

2011-01-16T17:47:00.002-05:00

NS loves listening to stories, but she's also delighted to read to a rapt audience (thanks to JMB for the photo).

Soup Success

2011-01-10T08:17:00.001-05:00

The other day I made tomato soup to go with grilled cheese sandwiches and dill pickles. To my amazement, the flour did not clump and the milk did not curdle. For the first time...maybe ever?... I turned out a tomato soup that I would have been proud to serve to company. It was herbed and tomatoey and creamy, without being overly rich or thick, or too watery or milky.

If you're hoping for a recipe...sorry. There is none. In fact, I have no idea why it turned out better than usual this time. I followed my normal pattern of sauteeing onion and lots of garlic in a little butter and oil, stirring in a few tablespoons of flour and a pinch of sugar, sprinkling oregano, basil, salt, and pepper to taste, and dumping in a quart of home-canned tomato juice to heat. I did deviate from the standard by adding maybe a cup of leftover home-canned pasta sauce. Then I mixed some hot tomato juice in with a several of cups of milk (1%, to be precise) in the room temperature tomato juice jar before slowly stirring it all back into the soup pot to reheat.

Do you think I can pull off the magic next time?

Epiphany 2011

2011-01-10T08:05:00.001-05:00

At our house, we celebrated Christmas without stockings or gifts or a tree. NS' birthday, which happens to coincide with Christmas, did involve a modest showering of presents. Still, Epiphany (a.k.a. Three Kings Day) provided a unique opportunity--at least in theory--for everyone in the family to experience the joy of giving. Besides, a post-holiday holiday can help ease the transition to the new year and daily routines.

On the eve of January 6 we each placed a shoe on the hearth. Morning brought a few merry surprises. There were watercolors for NS and homemade coupons for CP. I, the instigator of this first annual tradition, found my lovely "mothers naturally" bookmark which NS had confiscated, then later, in a generous change of heart, instructed me to hide in my own shoe.

NS also helped me to make a tea ring with a shiny 2010 penny hidden inside. Alas, none of us was the lucky finder of the coin. Uncle J found it in the piece we gave him.

December 2010 Highlights: Part II

2011-01-07T08:56:00.001-05:00

We spent the last week of 2010 with my sister and brother-in-law G&M and their children. The 12 hour trip there would not have been too bad, except that we forgot to take most of the listening entertainment that we'd borrowed from the library, and the car made weird noises, causing us to spend the night at a motel to avoid getting stranded on the highway in freezing temps. All's well that ends well, and we gratefully arrived at our destination the next morning. Several days and a large check later, the local mechanic ensured a smooth trip home.

We had two days of good sledding and one of great snowman-building, followed by a couple of unseasonably warm, snow-free days. Baby nephew got his first taste of speed. I read Sarah, Plain and Tall to my older niece and nephew. The kids conned the adults into giving them an impromptu puppet show from behind the couch. Baby boy charmed the socks off us all. And we had a jolly good time.

Note: In the third-from-last picture, nephew N demonstrates the proper use of his present from Grandpa and Grandma--a set of small PVC pipes.

December 2010 Highlights: Part I

2011-01-07T08:36:00.003-05:00

My second term of teaching intermediate English wrapped up with an amazing international potluck. I came home with so many leftovers that we invited friends over to help us eat them. Here's my class, minus two students. I'm second from right; my co-teacher is second from left. What a great bunch!

Sometimes NS likes to read "books for mommies."

We witnessed the butchering of Dad's deer. NS wondered if the meatballs were going to fall out. She ate six pieces of venison tenderloin for supper.

NS helped Grandma make gingerbread cookies. Here's one she designed and loaded with gumdrops.

NS cuddles with Grandmommy and her handmade, personalized blanket.

The artist in her studio:

When they came on Christmas Eve, NS read Grandma and Grandpa one of her favorite story books. They reported that some parts were verbatim.

Our present to NS for her third birthday was a set of baskets with dress-up clothes. She went straight past the firefighter, doctor, frog, and cow costumes to single out this princess dress.

Based on her favorite Little Bear book, NS chose birthday soup and birthday cake. She helped to make and decorate the bear-shaped chocolate cake.

By the time the whole gang of aunts, uncles and grandparents got around to dessert, NS was too tired to blow out the candles.

Next afternoon we all reconvened at Auntie A and Uncle D's house for tea, more goodies than we could do justice to, and a goofy white elephant gift exchange. Note NS' golden slippers--her other favorite item from the dress-up box.

2010-11-15T21:46:00.000-05:00

It's time for a photo update. Some of these are already a month old...

A great-grandparental visit:

A grandparental visit:

Bedtime!

The other week NS and I got to go for a hike with sister and bro-in-law C&D on a local trail. It was our first time there; I was pleased as punch with the discovery. About halfway through, NS surprised me by asking to get out of the backpack and hiking on her own two feet the rest of the time.

Oh, Happy Day!

2010-10-27T12:37:00.000-04:00

Monday: Oh, happy day! The diapers are finally packed away!

Tuesday: An unexpected autumn joy: fresh salad! The lettuce re-seeded in a thick springy carpet of baby greens. I yanked some and savored it with garden tomatoes, radishes, peppers, and even bits of late green beans.

Quotables

2010-10-10T19:06:00.001-04:00

Tonight as CP prepared dinner, the nasal melancholy of Willie Nelson's "The Last Thing I Needed First Thing This Morning" wafted up the stairs, "...The alarm clock rang two hours late...And this morning at breakfast/I spilled all the coffee," etc. From the bathroom I heard NS exclaim with a laugh, "Mom! That music is sorta funny!"

Earlier this week, NS demonstrated her comprehension of the danger of going near the road. I asked her to walk with me to take a letter to Dad and Mom's mailbox, which is on the other side of a busy rural thoroughfare. As we left the house, hand in hand, she slowed and said seriously, "I don't want to go on the road because a car might bump me. Then I would be dead and we wouldn't have any girl."

Familial Influence and the Slippery Slope of Confection

2010-10-10T18:59:00.001-04:00

Way back in March, my sister-in-law documented on her infamous blog the perfection of whoopie pie filling. Last summer, as a honeymoon send-off treat for my newlywed sister and brother-in-law, Mom and I whipped up a batch of whoopie pies. I suggested we try out the new filling recipe that boasts no egg whites and loads of butter. We searched out the online recipe, copied amounts and multiplied them meticulously.

Much to our chagrin, we overlooked the instruction to mix in the butter and sugar "when the milk has cooled to room temperature" and ended up with a triple (or quadruple?) batch of rich, runny icing that undoubtedly would not have stayed between its chocolate layers. Mom sent me home with a large container of the botched batch, which sat in my freezer for several months.

Several weeks ago, at an annual gathering of my husband's female relatives and honorary relatives, my mother-in-law was singing the praises of pretty layered cakes like the ones they made for her parents' anniversary bash some years back. Fancy, frosted layer cakes may be worth gold at the corner bakery these days, but they're common fare in my mother-in-law's kitchen. When I got home and spied the glass cake plate she'd given me, I was inspired.

With visions of a whoopie pie cake daintily perched on its crystal stage, I went to work, making the simplest chocolate crazy cake in my repertoire and unearthing the runny icing from the deep freeze.

The results, though tasty, were precarious at best...

...and soon resembled an earthquake zone.

I scrambled to move it to a more stable location...

...before the top layer's demise was complete.

Thanks, sis-in-law J, mom, and mom-in-law for your respective roles in teaching me that layer cakes are not my forte!

Miscellaneous Fun

2010-10-10T17:43:00.000-04:00

Auntie A played wheel barrow with NS last week when she and Uncle D came for supper.

Last week NS announced, "Mom, I'm going to paint my toenails blue." And she did, aided only by a blue marker (fortunately, not permanent).

Then she proceeded to "paint" her fingernails, too.

She and I had a grand time at her Grandpa and Grandma's place this week. She got her first quilting lesson!

Our Red Letter Week

2010-08-22T22:07:00.001-04:00

It started out ordinarily enough: grumpily canning tomato sauce together on CP's last day of vacation, waving him off on his back-to-school bike, juggling babysitting, peach jam, and class prep, trying to keep the rain-starved fall garden alive on hose rations.

On my return from teaching Wednesday night, Christopher showed me a stainless steel bowl on the kitchen counter with tufts of gold curls lying limply at the bottom: NS' first-ever haircut. She'd accomplished it on the sly with illicitly acquired child scissors, more than six weeks after watching me get a professional haircut. Fortunately, the instrument was dull enough that the damage is virtually invisible to the untrained eye.

That same day my sister-in-law had told me about puppies "(sooo cute") for sale at the orchard where she buys fruit. CP had been trying to persuade me for--well, he'd probably say years---that we need to own a dog. After realizing that this could be a seriously sore spot in our relationship, I decided that, of the two apparent options, a good dog and peace in the family would be better than no dog and and incessant arguing about dog ownership. (Isn't there a proverb about that?) So I took the matter into my own hands, called the farm, and quickly researched the puppies' pedigree. I presented the information to my husband; the ball was then in his court.

We agreed to drive out to the farm the next day, after CP got home from work, following a hurried and inconclusive dialog about shots, spaying, and cost analysis. The tricky part was not committing in our daughter's mind before making up our own minds. We swung by to pick up a borrowed pet carrier, then told NS we were going to pet some puppies. Much to my chagrin, we spent probably half an hour lingering by the dog pen, petting and observing the roly poly, gingery pups, while CP wet his cold feet in the waters of responsibility and consequences that I'd been wading in all along. I had been counting on his gut to make a snappy decision for all of us. Apparently, he'd been banking on NS' instantaneous infatuation to sweep away all our doubts. They both let us down.

Finally, CP stated, "I think I'll be glad we did it," then stammered, "NS, do you want to take a puppy home?" We wrote the check and carried off our membership prize for the foolish dog owners club.

A note here for the detail-curious: NS tried out several names, including Goldbug and Officer Flossie (of Richard Scarry fame), Clifford (the Big Red) and Rosy (friends' grandparents' dog). I suggested Carmela, a Spanish girl's name that evokes, in my English brain, the dog's caramel-colored coat. However, Noemi pronounced it as Canela (cinnamon in Spanish, part of her kitchen vocab), which is what stuck. As for pedigree, according to the original owners, the mother is a Shiba Inu and the father is "some type of hound." We're hoping for the best of both: mom's calm intelligence and cleanliness and dad's good looks, loyalty and hunting instincts, with an average of their sizes.

Saturday NS spent the morning with friends in town while CP and I had a morning gig with our band at the farmers market. (They showed up for part of the performance, just as we were singing the song we wrote about NS when she was a baby.) We sang for a full two and a half hours with no break. It was a record-breaker for our less-than-a-year-old band: longest nonstop performance, largest audience, most tips so far ($73) and most promising leads (contacts from two downtown restaurants expressed interest in our performing there). Records aside, it was a beautiful day, an enthusiastic reception, and a thrill to see people of all ages--friends, family, and strangers--listening, dancing, and singing along to our music.

NS skipped her nap that afternoon, after having woken up at least an hour earlier than usual. She climbed right out of the crib. CP and I looked at each other. "It's time."

We spent the afternoon cleaning house and rearranging furniture to accommodate an upcoming renovation project, and incorporated the crib-to-toddler bed graduation. The change generated much excitement on NS' part. I anticipated that her sleep deprivation would precipitate a super-early bedtime despite the excitement of a new bed, but alas, the stoic pixie pulled a 14 1/2 hour day. As you may imagine, bedtime was a frustrating and protracted endeavor.

The good news: after falling asleep, she didn't patter into our room until 5:10 am, when the putting-to-bed process all started over again. The bad news: Canela woke us periodically throughout the night with her persistent, pathetic howls and yowls.

I'm glad this week is history.

Reading? I can do it with my eyes closed!

2010-08-03T15:10:00.000-04:00

The Latest Styles

2010-08-03T15:05:00.000-04:00

Two and a half years and counting, and no scissors has yet touched her silken curls. They're too much fun the way they are, I guess.

Recently NS set a record for leaving ponytails in (granted, most of the time consisted of a nap in the car).

And just a month or so ago she became the first of her generation to claim the Horatio Hair title (named after a messy-maned stuffed lion). That's a challenge, you little bed-heads!

What We've Been Up To

2010-08-03T14:39:00.001-04:00

The way I talk, you'd think I never lift my nose out of the garden or the canner. However, our family has had some other fun this summer. Here's proof, in no particular order.

Sporting sunglasses

Picnicking with cousins

Visiting great-grandparents K

Roughhousing with cousins, aunties and uncles

Taking the stage with cousins

Jamming with uncle Z

Camping out with cousins

Taking Our Places

2010-08-03T14:25:00.000-04:00

At a recent reunion, my Mom, her ten siblings, their children and their grandchildren formed a spiral, standing in order of appearance in the family. Tall, short, gray, and towheaded, we took our places, centered around numbers 1 and 2, empty chairs representing my late Grandpa and Grandma. Mom was #30; I was #37, and my daughter numbered 114. The total number of family members is projected to reach 127 by the end of 2010.

A slide show of my great aunt's photographs with narration including excerpts from Grandma's diary gave us another peek into the past. Mom and all her siblings posed in imitation of a photo of Grandma and Grandpa, aged 40 and 41, surrounded by their 11 children, ages 1-18.

Next, they all found nieces, nephews, grand nieces, or grand nephews nearest to the age that they were in the original photo, substituting themselves with the next generation. Two of my cousins represented my grandparents.

Wedding Celebration

2010-07-28T15:35:00.007-04:00

My younger sister H got married a couple weekends ago. It was the second family wedding my parents hosted in six months--and, hopefully, the last for a long, long time.

On Friday night friends and family gathered around the groom's infamous giant sub sandwich.

During dinner there was a poignant reunion with my newest nephew and his family, who arrived from afar.
L-R: Mom, Dad, groom, bride

After months of hard work on groom M's part, the Cricket waited at the ready to whisk the couple away on a three-week honeymoon.

Groom M wowed the crowd with his ingenious pyrotechnics after dinner.

On Saturday, the most recently wed couple in the family helped us inject fun into family photo time by showing up en mass wearing bright green T-shirts to match the getaway car. After the prank snapshot, we shed them quickly, due to the intense heat.

L-R: Nephew N, Mom, sister-in-law A, Dad, brother D

The pranksters (older sister C and husband D):

Yours truly with NS and CP:

Oldest sister G (who would start chemotherapy four days later), brother-in-law M, and trio of sweetness:

And of course, the couple of the hour, M and H:

The winsome wedding ceremony took place in a hilltop meadow before sundown.

Bride and Mom conferring at the reception:

Twins' salute:

Mulberry Season: Hand-To-Mouth

2010-06-07T17:51:00.000-04:00

Zip Trip

2010-06-06T22:08:00.002-04:00

We made a last-minute visit to Dad and Mom's place this weekend. We devoured a whole strawberry pie plus a birthday supper of homemade pizzas and brownies by CP (accompanied by the customary treats: salad, olives, potato chips, and ice cream). N helped Grandma and Grandpa pick me a colorful bouquet for the occasion. They also collected eggs, played with lace (draped over N's aloha shirt, they looked more like leis) and played soccer (a.k.a. "básquetbol"). Some car checking, window washing, singing, and plenty of conversation found its way into the short weekend.

Green Stuff

2010-05-16T21:13:00.004-04:00

My garden is finally starting to look like one. So far I've harvested an assortment of salad greens (largely by thinning) and a couple of diminutive broccoli heads that were starting to flower. The spinach has been a big disappointment--too much heat and sun with no rain, I guess.

The big bare spot (rear center) will soon (hopefully) sprout green beans and cucumbers. The long grassy patch of rye grass (rear right) will be replaced with little tomato and pepper plants. But that'll have to wait for next week. I'm playing it safe, in light of last week's frost that spurred me to race the sunrise to hose down the already-producing strawberries.

But that's not all. This spring we had a whole new plot (dubbed the Creekside Garden) plowed at the bottom of the pasture. In no time at all, it filled up with potatoes, corn, edamame, and dry beans, leaving only enough space for a row or two of sweet potatoes (on order at the local greenhouse).

As if I hadn't already bitten off more than I can chew--possibly even literally--CP dug out a trench for 25 asparagus crowns resembling dried squid bundled with a rubber band. Already I'm basking in the delight of harvests to come.

Epilogue:
In the four days between my starting to write this and posting it, the garden has taken off at a gallop. Catching up precludes my re-doing it with up-to-date photos. Strawberry harvest is peaking, meadow grass is reclaiming the Creekside Garden and the spindly tomato seedlings are begging for a transplant. See you bright and early in the garden....

This Little Piggy

2010-05-12T07:20:00.002-04:00

N's current default preference is to leave her hair flopping free.

But the other night, after bath time, peer influence ("like [my friends] P and S!") inspired her to ask for pigtails.

A goose chase with the camera ensued.

What She's Been Up To

2010-05-12T06:58:00.000-04:00

playing motorcycle

picking strawberries

hanging laundry (a serious job, sometimes requiring 11 pins for one little washcloth)

meeting new babies

Where I Come From

2010-05-10T15:11:00.007-04:00

It's feedin' the chickens...

Where I come from, there's lotsa back porch sittin'....

Where I come from, it's back porch drawlin'...

...sofa slidin'...

and backyard bathin'...

...where I come from!

Year Two

2010-04-21T16:59:00.001-04:00

This weekend will complete our family's first year in our current home. Just like last year at moving time, spring is spilling out all around.

Sunrise from the front porch:

Inherited tulips:

And as for our daughter, who's now a Terrific Two....

...you've come a long way, baby!

BathTime

2010-04-21T16:00:00.001-04:00

One chilly day last week, N decided it was time to give all her friends a bath. I oversaw the dishpan-filling with warm water from the bathtub and helped her carry it to the front porch, where she went through her mental list of friends, getting them cleaned up.

The cat numbered among the lucky (or unlucky) bathees.

At last she announced it was time for US to take a bath. "You and me!"

"Oh, no," I replied hastily. "I'll take a bath tonight. I don't want to right now."

This time she filled the tub all by herself (with cold water), carried it out, stripped down in sight of the neighborhood, and sat down. She did most of the cursory washing. Not about to let an easy bathing opportunity slip by, I lathered up her hair. But the cold water rinse was the last straw. Gasping and shivering, she climbed out and donned her pajamas for nap time.

Tulips

2010-04-21T07:42:00.001-04:00

Before the engaged couple left the continent, we had a regional family dinner in spring style. Note the creamy tulip buds on the table.

The tulips are lodged at my house until their owners' return. I've enjoyed watching them open.

Nursing the Baby

2010-04-21T07:21:00.001-04:00

Since the recent birth of a baby to a couple at our church, one of N's old dolls and this newly acquired doll have become known as "Baby L".

N has spent many an hour playing with Baby L in her various forms (including invisible). One evening she decided to nurse Baby L before bedtime.

"Your turn, Daddy."

Two little buddies jumpin' on the bed

2010-03-25T15:22:00.000-04:00

Engagement Bubble Toast II

2010-03-25T14:25:00.003-04:00

Engagement Bubble Toast I

2010-03-25T13:56:00.001-04:00

Singing Buddies

2010-01-24T22:10:00.001-05:00

Here I am with my new friend just before going onstage for our rescheduled Christmas concert in January. What fun! We got to sing Rutter's Magnificat and part I of Handel's Messiah. Now it's on to Mozart's Requiem and Te Deum for the spring...

We've had dinner at each other's house. NS loved playing chase around the living room with her 13-year-old son.

To Light a Fire

2010-01-05T14:23:00.003-05:00

Snowed In!

2009-12-20T16:18:00.007-05:00

Friday:
The sky looked ominous; CP's last day of pre-Christmas school was shaved off an hour early in anticipation of the Big Snow. Nonetheless, at 5:00 I was all geared up for my choral society's Christmas concert. Supper was in the oven, childcare arrangements were made, and my black choir dress was laid out on the bed. As I reviewed the directions over the phone for CP's brother and parents who were en route to the concert, the stunning proclamation arrived via email: the concert was canceled! They changed course for our house, ducking in out of the already-swiftly accumulating snow. Overcome with excitement, NS zipped about, talking three times too loudly. My sister-in-law's family (the Ms) from half a mile away announced their a surprise visit by pummeling the house with snowballs. Inside and outside the frosty doorway, we sang "Happy Birthday" to Grandmommy and "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" to each other. After they went on their way, we cozied around the fire and turned in early.

Saturday:
We woke up to snowfall and all day watched it fill up the world. Shoveling was a strenuous exercise in futility, as the wind swiftly drifted and masked our paths. CP burned the brush pile in the pasture--something we'd often talked about doing in conjunction with a hot dog roast and sledding party--but the snow was too deep and fluffy for sleds, and there was no way we could get to a store for hot dogs. A walk to the compost pile through knee-high snow left me breathless.

Apart from a frightening lunchtime episode of back pain on the part of my father-in-law, the day floated on in suspense, a hush in the clamor of routine obligations. The mail did not arrive.

Evening time brought the Ms back over the 0.6 mile trail lugging baskets of turkey, gravy, stuffing, three cranberry sauces, and a stellar array of Christmas cookies and candies. After they shook the snow off, everyone gathered around the festive table for a feast including green beans, baked corn, and mashed potatoes...and, of course, another round of "Happy Birthday."

Sunday:
Church services were canceled. CP, Z and I got to work on the driveway. Fortunately, the neighboring farmer had plowed the lane up to our gate, so we only had to dig out a path for the cars from the house to the gate. It was a three-person job, especially given the measly tools--one smallish snow shovel, a dirt shovel, a bedraggled broom. I used my boots more than anything. Late morning we were able to get the cars out and trek over to the Ms' house to tank up on nourishing chili and luscious, homemade glazed donuts. As JJ observed, we lived fully during these snowy days!

NS rugging with Grandmommy:
Drifting made it hard to determine snow depth, but it was around two feet:
Some drifts were waist-high (on me):
Holiday feast:The birthday girl:

Twinkle, Twinkle

2009-12-19T15:50:00.002-05:00

NS: A November-December Gallery

2009-12-18T13:55:00.005-05:00

Bedtime story with Papi (a.k.a. Daddy):Cookie baking with friends P and Auntie K:
Cooking cousins:
Even on the chilliest days, sometimes this is the outfit of choice:
Sunday morning family photo attempt in the backyard:
Hair styling (this occupied her for probably half an hour one evening):
Fashion show (in case you can't tell, it's a backward sleeper with a shirt for a do-rag):

When Parents Fight...

2009-12-07T16:11:00.004-05:00

...toddlers giggle and ask for more. At least when it's a snowball fight.

Early Thankgiving

2009-11-13T19:46:00.005-05:00

Last weekend about half of my side of the family--the regional contingent--convened at our house for a mostly traditional feast consisting of (in mostly reverse order): apple pie, pumpkin pie, cranberry salad, turkey, stuffing, gravy, baked corn and edamame (tender soybeans boiled in the shell).

Afterward we sang some Thanksgiving-themed hymns, then sat sleepily around the living room, trying to rally our creative powers for a goofy game of "two truths and a lie" which included guessing who wrote the statements. At least one of us was snoring on the floor before the game ended.

Dad, Mom, CP, NS and I had worked up a decent appetite during the day by planting Norway maples, oaks, pony tail grass and a rhododendron bush around the property. NS got to ride in the brand-spanking new blue wheelbarrow (not pictured) arguably purchased for the occasion.

Leaf Series

2009-11-04T13:58:00.004-05:00

Fallin'

2009-10-22T14:44:00.003-04:00

Mum!

Blueberry

Good night, garden

Collection

Maple (eastern view from front porch)

Buddy

2009-10-22T14:17:00.002-04:00

Today it may as well be summer, but a few days ago, N was getting appropriately dressed to go outside: two jackets and a coat. Not wanting to leave Buddy (the beloved stuffed gerbil/hamster/guinea pig? pilfered from Grandmommy), she tucked him into the front and off they went.

Biker-Teacher Makes It Big!

2009-10-14T20:53:00.004-04:00

The National Milk Campaign recently got wind of CP's athletic and professional prowess and contracted him for their celebrity milk ads. Be sure to look for him among the ads in your next issue of Newsweek or U.S. News!

Snapshots from the Life of a 21-Month-Old

2009-10-14T14:01:00.005-04:00

Broadcasting smiles:Following in her father's fashion footsteps:Multi-tasking:
Snuggling against the cold with cousin R and Grandmommy:
Always moving forward:

Apple Season

2009-10-14T13:17:00.007-04:00

There's something irresistible about fresh apples.

Back in August I started pestering the local orchard, calling every couple of weeks to find out what they'd have and when and how much. Finally, early in September, sister-in-law A bagged some Gingergolds and Granny Smiths at the quirky S&P surplus store in town. In a joint applesauce-making day, we turned out 30 quarts of yellow sauce, trading our sugar-free ideal for an unlikely, but fuller-flavored, combo.

But that wasn't enough. I wanted to sink my teeth into those rosy fruits, so a trip to the orchard ensued. Two bushels of Jonathans promised plenty of juicy snacking and cinnamony dessert-baking. To make them last longer, I cajoled CP into an applesauce Saturday, producing 25 1/2 quarts of tangy-sweet pink sauce behind glass for the winter.

Alas, the remaining half-bushel of Jonathans are getting soft and spotty, even in the cold crisper. So I'm scouring the cookbooks for apple-anything and -everything. I stumbled on this simple, tasty Saudi Arabian dish from a vegetarian cookbook called "The World in Your Kitchen" (thanks, sister H!). It's a sort of curry, but mild and sweet. The three of us ate it all in one dinner.

Apple Bean Pot

2 Tbs. oil
1/2 onion, sliced (I used 1 small)
1/2 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp ground allspice (I omitted, not having any on hand)
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp cumin
2 cooking apples , chopped small
1 1/4 c lima or butter beans, cooked (I used more) with liquid
1 tsp sugar (opt.)
salt/pepper to taste

Heat oil. Saute onion until golden.
Add spices and cook for 2 min.
Add apples and sugar. Stir to coat fruit and cook until soft.
Add beans and enough bean liquid to cover bottom of pan.
Add salt and pepper to taste and simmer 5-10 minutes.
Serve with rice or cracked wheat and yogurt.

Still I wasn't satisfied. This morning I made another orchard run and came home with one bushel of Staymans and a half-bushel of Empires, for baking and eating, respectively. If they go soft on me before mid-winter, what'll I do? Applesauce, apple snitz, and frozen apples for pie. What else?

August Past

2009-09-13T21:07:00.006-04:00

It's already mid-September, and I'm still in semi-denial of summer's demise. Here are a few looks at my final summer fling.

Taking an unprecedented five-day leave of absence from motherly and wifely responsibilities, I took a 15-hour road trip to attend a friend's wedding as a bridesmaid. Carpooling with two other wedding guests, I stopped for the night at sister GG's conveniently located B&B. Happily, we arrived on her birthday (we seldom are together on her birthday due to geographical barriers) and got in on the silly celebrating.

After dinner Bro-in-law M whipped out a providential "Filipino" cake replete with beach, plastic palm trees and rubber slippers (a la Hawai'i):

Sistah A licked the icing off the bottom of a slipper (which we soon discovered to be magnetic):N-boy contemplated his slice of the beach before digging in:

Some of the wedding party (official attendants) and the newly dubbed "wedding posse" (unofficial attendants) collaborated to arrange floral centerpieces. All flowers were grown by friends/acquaintances of the bride:

The bride seemed to be thrilled with her bouquet:Bridesmaids' bouquets:

The glowing almost-newly-weds:
As a bridesmaid I got a makeover and hairdo (both of which are practically foreign concepts for me):The bridal party table:
The "fruit tree" centerpiece at the reception:The bride and her wedding posse (fast friends from college days):

August Portraits

2009-09-13T08:18:00.006-04:00

Ruby slippers model:

My whole immediate family got together for the first time in about five years (unless you count brother D's wedding day last summer):

The sibs:

The Kitty and her Manager

2009-09-13T07:49:00.003-04:00

Here's NS at one of her favorite activities--micromanaging Bandida's provisions:

Bandida loves a ride as much as her manager. Leave the car door, trunk or window open, and you're likely to have a feline stow-away. Leave the stroller on the porch, and she's sure to take a nap in it. When CP leaves his commuter bike on the porch for even a short interval, she finds a way into the bags for a comfy snooze. She hasn't sneaked a ride all the way to school...yet.

Finger Painting

2009-09-13T07:34:00.002-04:00

Last month I tried finger painting with NS. I made the nontoxic paint by mixing a few tablespoons of flour and water with several drops of food coloring. We used wax paper taped to the tablecloth as a canvas. The colors lacked intensity, but that could probably be remedied with a little experimentation. What captured NS' imagination more than painting was the opportunity to stir and mix liquids using little bowls and spoons.

Huevos Verdes Con Jamón

2009-09-13T06:59:00.003-04:00

This is NS' favorite book recently--Dr. Seuss' Green Eggs and Ham in Spanish. Lately she's taken to reading it by herself. ("Shall I read it to you?" we ask. "No 'anks," she replies matter-of-factly, clambering up on the chair.)

The Spanish version involves a pesky, insistent character called Juan Ramón, whose name provides the essential rhyme pattern for Huevos Verdes Con Jamón.

NS' version of the title and the story itself: "No! 'món!"

Canning Season

2009-09-13T06:53:00.002-04:00

On Labor Day weekend, appropriately, NS got a little help from Grandma with the tomato canning.

Up

2009-07-17T20:25:00.004-04:00

Today I stepped outside to find my 18-month-old daughter arduously ascending the board-and-nail rung ladder on the mulberry tree next to the garden, all the while chanting her new favorite word, "Up. Up. Up." As I tore across the yard to spot her, my mind a-whirl with competing terror and admiration, I had to wonder. If she's determined to climb six feet up a tree trunk at this age, what heights might she attempt in the future?

Garden Stop-N-Go

2009-07-15T19:15:00.004-04:00

Here's the happy-looking garden. If you look closer, though, you'll see its smile fading in the dry summer sun. Productivity has slowed to a crawl to conserve moisture.

Meanwhile, the bean beetles and borers are stepping up the pace, chomping up green beans and wilting yellow squash and zucchini vines right and left.

Here I go to do pest/drought combat before dark.

New Neighbors

2009-07-11T16:57:00.006-04:00

Last week a bunch of slick teenagers showed up next door. They turned out to be a rowdy crowd. Shameless, too. Within days they were audaciously eating my black pole beans. Too bad I didn't know the rascals were moving in when I planted my black beans on the fence row.

Privilege

2009-07-10T14:04:00.013-04:00

My ESOL class shrank by 50% on Thursday when one of my two students didn't show. The result was a one-on-one tutoring session during which we practiced check-writing, comparisons/superlatives and wh- question words.

After class, "Victor" started explaining why he only went to school for three years in Mexico. In intermediate-level English he described how his parents abandoned him at a young age and his grandmother raised him. They were dirt poor; he often lacked shoes and could not afford to continue attending school. So at the age of eight he got a job at a city marketplace helping shoppers with their bags. He worked from early morning until evening to help support himself and his grandma. A native speaker of Otomi (an indigenous language), he learned Spanish as a child laborer.

Victor was a farmer before coming to the United States. Now working nights at a poultry plant, he occasionally sends money to support the family that never supported him. "I go to church," he shrugged, "so I can't do to them what they did to me."

With his bulky frame, easy grin and silver-lined teeth, Victor is my age, although he looks to be ten years older. He has a wife and three children (3, 11, and 15 years old). The two older children have both surpassed him academically.

At last the opportunity to continue his own education has presented itself: to study his third language, English.

And I get to be his teacher.

This Is Not a Complaint

2009-07-10T14:02:00.003-04:00

Weather report for July 10: 10:30 a.m. Snapping green beans on the back porch. Breezy, overcast. 69 degrees. I go inside for a jacket.

Weekend Away

2009-07-06T14:22:00.005-04:00

CP, NS and I had a mini retreat at Mom and Dad's over Independence Day weekend. Brother D and bride A were there to add to the hurrah. Not pictured: NS wading in the creek for the first time, picking lavender, mint, and other garden delights, gathering wild black raspberries (with minimal success), searching the dusk horizon for fireworks (with negligible success), trying to beat Dad and Mom at a game of backyard quoits (similar to horseshoes--with no success!). Considering the fun that was mixed in (berries on ice cream, fields of lightning bugs, campfire on a cool evening, singing and talking) I'd say success is just overrated.

Just my size:

Egg-gathering:

The swing:

The turtle:

What We Found...

2009-07-06T14:08:00.006-04:00

When we returned from a weekend away, this is what we found in the garden:
And green beans are ready for picking today!

Silliness

2009-07-01T17:08:00.003-04:00

A Chat With Grandma

2009-06-29T15:32:00.004-04:00

A few of my favorite things...

2009-06-29T14:44:00.005-04:00

Reading with new friends:Eating cherries:

Getting around:

Cleaning the house:Trying on ruby slippers:
Playing with 'Dida:
Reading with Papi:

Father's Day Weekend

2009-06-28T21:47:00.005-04:00

NS consumed fresh shell peas from Grandmommy and Granddaddy's garden to her heart's content :The gang's all here--including CP's paternal grandparents (NS' only living great-grandparents):

The excuse for getting together was a Father's Day picnic gig performed by yours truly, CP and brother-in-law Z. Here we are on the final song, joined by NS (she was dancing the rest of the time):

The very next week, we said good-by to the trusty red truck and officially became a single-vehicle family:

Good-bye, apartment. Hello, springtime.

2009-06-28T21:20:00.003-04:00

NS in a shawl that I wore as a toddler (probably hand-knit by my great aunt) and a hat from my friend KS:

NS explores the sandbox:

I can't decide which hat is my favorite!:

On sunny weekends, the bikes beckon:

Uh-oh...caught playing with Bandida's food and water again:

Ha! I'm Back.

2009-06-28T21:00:00.005-04:00

Eleven weeks have passed since my last post. I've had lots to write about: moving from an apartment to a house in the country, holding a part-time teaching job, getting a kitten, watching my daughter's marvelous growth and listening to her linguistic capabilities skyrocket, performing fun music with my husband and brother-in-law, celebrating a birthday with family, tending a fertile garden and preserving the first fruits of the season in our new chest freezer.

The trouble is, I'd rather be picking blueberries with my daughter than sitting at a screen and writing about it.

Finally I'm stealing a few minutes in a ditch attempt to catch up my readers (if there are any faithful still out there!) on the past several months, in a series of captioned photos and videos, not necessarily in perfect chronological order.

Enjoy!

On the Phone, Part II

2009-04-11T21:34:00.002-04:00

Spring Break

2009-04-11T21:07:00.007-04:00

Well, yes, it was a break from spring, if you want to look at it that way. Eleven and a half hours in the car put us in another zone, meaning that we woke up to a couple inches of snow in April. In spite of it all, we had fun with NS' cousins, auntie and uncle.

Artists at work--Cousin N and Cousin A:

While we were there, NS had a couple of rough nights and a miserable day or two. We got through it with a few doses of trusty Tylenol. It turns out she was working on a couple of teeth:

Otherwise, she was a happy camper, even in the car:

Grinding dried corn into meal with an old-fashioned hand grinder--quite the work-out! We were rewarded with a scrumptious dinner of buttermilk cornbread and chili:

"Hey, kids, let's make a snowman," GG and I suggested. It turned out to be more of a grown-up activity after all:

Reading:

And more reading:

The hard-working teacher maximizing his time off (G-dog makes a great foot rest):

Spring Timing

2009-03-25T12:41:00.008-04:00

Springtime usually coincides with my annual--no, perennial--urge to agricultivate. One recent day when NS and I returned from a walk, the garden outside our rented apartment had been plastered, Wizard of Oz-style, with a small house (a.k.a. "shed"):
The timing couldn't have been worse.

To be fair, the landlords gave me plenty of advance notice so that I could rescue the tulips and garlic that had trustingly sprouted. And just before the driver of the blue excavator leveled the perennial garden (brown dirt patch to the right of the shed) he asked whether I wanted to dig out the remaining flowers. I hastily stuffed them into makeshift planters to await transplanting at our new house:
On second thought, because I have a new house and garden in which to plant, maybe the timing couldn't have been better.

It looks like my daughter may be catching the gardening bug early...or so I hope:

Helping Out

2009-03-17T06:52:00.003-04:00

A highlight of NS' weekend with Grandpa and Grandma was helping to pick up sticks in the backyard. She was more interested in pushing the wagon and wheelbarrow than in taking rides!

Moments

2009-03-09T21:21:00.004-04:00

NS wants YOU!
Upwardly mobile, whatever it takes:

Gotcha!

Dream

2009-03-09T20:50:00.010-04:00

Last night I dreamed that NS, only 14 months old, flabbergasted us all by uttering a complete sentence.

I was elated, yet slightly disappointed that her first sentence was in English, not Spanish.

In reality, her vocabulary has been lurching ahead. Recent additions include "papa," "ball" (first object word), "bye-bye," and "amen." That brings the grand total to approximately seven (plus "woof," "moo," and "boo").

NS' communication is much enhanced by her ten-or-more hand signs. Lately she's been using two signs together, as in "water, please" or "milk, finished." "Help" is a high-frequency sign, used both to request help and to express a desire to help (i.e. stand on a chair and get her fingers in the batter, dishwater, etc.). She's started signing "music" (i.e. "sing a song!") during diaper changes, in the car, and when reading books.

I'm delving into Bill Bryson's The Mother Tongue: English & How It Got That Way--a delightful foray into the curiosities of linguistics that leaves me amazed and amused. Language--its creation, its evolution--is as strange and marvelous as nature itself.

No less wonderful is the fact that it all begins in the brains of little babes.

Blessed

2009-03-05T15:44:00.005-05:00

Last week I heard this poem read by a worship leader (a former English professor of mine) as part of a Sunday morning service. How often does contemporary poetry find its way into the pulpit? I don't remember exactly how this was woven into the theme, but for me it struck a resonant cord (or chord; choose your metaphor).

Blessed are the poor in spirit

I am not made to pray. I close my eyes

and float among the spots behind my lids.

I chew the name God, God, like habitual

gum, think about dusting the shelves, then sleep.

It is hard to speak to the capital LORD

who deals in mountains and seas, not in a woman

rewashing her mildewed laundry while scolding

her toddler through gritted teeth. I should

escape to the closet and kneel to the holy

singularity who blasted my cells from a star.

I should imagine the blood soaking

into the cross's grain, plead forgiveness

for splintering my child's soul. But the words

never find their way out of the dark.

Choirs and candles shine in his bones

while I doze at the door of his body.

Tania Runyan

--from CHRISTIAN CENTURY, March 10, 2009

On the Phone/Hablando por Teléfono

2009-02-12T21:26:00.003-05:00

Skill Building

2009-02-07T21:45:00.004-05:00

Family Times

2009-02-07T20:32:00.007-05:00

My sister CJ's brief sojourn in town on business provided the occasion for the latest family get-together. Mom and Dad brought along a package they'd received from my sister HB, on the other side of the globe. It contained gifts made by skilled local artisans. DH tries on his new shirt:

I've Got Wheels, You've Got Wheels

2009-02-07T19:20:00.002-05:00

We seized the spring-like day (the bank thermometer proclaimed 64 degrees as I pedaled by) and tried out the new child trailer: NS was a bit sleepy, so it was hard to gauge her enthusiasm:

Sleepover

2009-02-07T19:16:00.002-05:00

Last weekend two of NS' cousins came for a sleepover. She was thrilled to romp with the older girls. As you can see, they had an action-packed evening:

Weather Ups and Downs

2009-02-07T16:42:00.008-05:00

This week yielded yet another snow day, this time due to a genuine snow fall. The cheery sparkle lasted several days, thanks to a cold snap:This weekend, temperatures soaring into the 60's took a toll on our snowman. Before and after:

Snow Day #2

2009-01-28T10:32:00.007-05:00

The first significant storm of the season landed CP two consecutive days at home. Snow days always mean a chance to do some things out of the routine:NS tries on my sneakers:On the first night, Auntie A and Uncle D braved the icy streets and came over for pizza, rummy and a movie. They had both had the day off, too:
NS helps Papi tune up his new bike:NS plays in the snow. Note the bags over the shoes. (In fact, she was more interested in climbing the still-icy steps than playing in the white stuff.):CP plows through Gone with the Wind, while NS peruses a favorite from her shelf, This Little Piggy:

Things To Do

2009-01-26T20:26:00.001-05:00

It's a typical Monday once again, which means that I'm baking bread and doing laundry. Today it's Pan de Agua (similar to whole wheat French bread, I think, though this is my first go at it) and diapers hanging on a drying rack under cloudy skies and sifting snow flurries.

Almost every day except Sunday I write myself a To Do list. In fact, I often write it the night before and then add things as they come to mind. Take today's list for example (in no particular order):

call ____________
call ____________
make supper (I have a fat little notebook for jotting meal ideas and page numbers of recipes. Over the weekend I brainstorm five or six meal plans and write a grocery list accordingly.)
wash diapers (this is necessary every two or three days)
jog (sometimes this happens if weather, napping activity and all other factors are favorable; often it doesn't, or morphs into a cardiovascularly innocuous walk)
blog?
call _____________
dishes (Although CP claims that dish washing is relaxing, even he sometimes gets sick of coming home to a day's heap of pots and pans.)
bread (I scrutinize ingredient labels in the grocery store and seldom can bring myself to buy loaves whose first few ingredients include water and high fructose corn syrup: all of them. Besides, homemade bread is one of my favorite foods.)
lunch options (Packing CP's lunch for the following school day is often what I do while he washes the supper dishes. Bread and cheese are staples.)
email ____________
baby book (NS was 13 months old yesterday, and she made it through the entirety of a formal church service in the pew--with a little help from Grandmommy and Granddaddy.)
journal
sing (CP and I have some gigs scheduled for the first time in almost two years, so we need to get back in musical shape. Lately, though, practice has been complicated by NS' pulling my pant legs and howling in protest. It seems she's jealous of the guitar and my/our divided attention. But then sometimes she really is tired and hungry...whatever the cause, it makes singing, let alone guitar playing, virtually impossible.)

What doesn't make it on the daily list, but always gets done:
feed NS (six or more times)
nurse her (four or more times)
change her diaper (eight or more times)
play with, read to, and hold her (innumerable times)
check email (innumerable times--an excessive habit, thanks to DSL. This is how CP and I communicate during the work day since he doesn't have a classroom phone extension.)

8:06 p.m. Monday's list is 67% checked off.

Goldilocks

2009-01-19T11:27:00.003-05:00

This is especially for Auntie HB, who has yet to see proof that NS has real hair, and who was herself a little Goldilocks once upon a time:

My Monday

2009-01-19T11:11:00.006-05:00

It's been full of pleasant surprises.

*I tried out a five-minute artisan bread, which emits a satisfying crackle as it cools.
*A quick snow shower dumped a white frosting, no more than an inch thick, prompting me to listen to Vivaldi's Four Seasons (winter) and resulting in an early release for CP's school. Now the sun's back out.
*The broker called to inform that our offer on a country farmhouse has been accepted. We're meeting to sign a contract today!

Overheard After Church...

2009-01-15T14:36:00.003-05:00

One gray-haired lady to another, admiring NS:

"She's beautiful, ain't she?"

"Beautiful."

"And that hair. I know a lot of ladies would pay big money for hair like that!"

January Picture Potpourri

2009-01-15T10:04:00.007-05:00

CP and I celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary by going out for Chinese, then hot chocolate (note slightly warped self-portrait):

At an especially messy dinner, NS models one of the notorious homemade (still unfinished) bibs:NS lounges nonchalantly on the sofa after laboriously hauling herself up via the footstool...while I wasn't looking!

Scrapbook Addendum

2009-01-15T09:57:00.007-05:00

Here's a peek inside NS' child scrapbook from Great Grandma H.
Inside front cover:Inside back cover:Sample pages:

Scrapbook

2009-01-13T08:29:00.005-05:00

My maternal grandmother was a master scrapbook maker. As a history buff, she filled page after page with clippings of news items and family happenings and photos. But Grandma's creative streak inspired another kind of scrapbook that she industriously churned out for each of her thirty-some grandchildren (and as many of her great-grand-children as her health allowed).

The child's scrapbook, let's call it, is a smorgasbord of pictures--flowers, birds, animals, scenes from Bible stories, houses, children, trains and tractors, autumn landscapes--ranging from full-page to nickel-sized, cut from magazines, greeting cards, and newspapers. My mom (a picture-lover herself) was tickled to inherit what's left of Grandma's collection of pictures, probably hundreds of them, organized in categories.

Interspersed with the pictures in the scrapbook are poems about animals, the seasons, and virtues such as kindness, Bible verses, and nature articles (the busy lives of ants, how animals change in the springtime, a family's maple sugar farm). Most of the poems and verses were typed by Grandma herself--on an old-fashioned typewriter, Mom tells me--and cut to size with pinking shears.

NS is the privileged recipient of one of my grandma's last child scrapbooks. Its pages (laminated, fortunately) can hold her attention for an amazingly long time and probably will for years.

Pattern

2009-01-12T20:47:00.006-05:00

It's official: I hate sewing.

I got the bright idea to make some large bibs for NS (she's outgrowing the "Got Milk?" and "Drooling is Cool" ones). Sister-in-law AL graciously agreed to let me use her sewing machine Saturday morning. Armed with a few pre-stained tea towels, bright orange second-hand trim, and a vague pattern in my head based on homemade bibs I'd seen around my mom's house long ago, I hunched over my task.

An hour and a half later, my back hurting and neck aching with tension, I was reminding myself to breath deeply and fighting the urge to literally throw in the towel. The pattern in my head wasn't materializing as I'd hoped. I didn't have material for the tie in the back, and the seam kept veering aimlessly off the trim and into maddening oblivion. (I was having flashbacks of grade school standardized tests--the section ominously entitled "Spacial Relations" that required identifying a 3-D object turned on a different axis, producing panic as the time limit approached.) It didn't help that the machine kept sticking and I'd promised to be home by noon.

"Maybe you need an 'I Hate to Sew' book," brother DH suggested helpfully, referring to the life-changing I Hate to Cook Recipe Book that my sister GG made for me for my 14th birthday at a time when cooking engendered the same pain in the neck that sewing still does.

Believe it or not, I walked away from Christmas at my parents' house with a nifty apron sewed by yours truly from my recently deceased grandma's cape dress. This was only possible, however, because sister CJ sewed one, too; she thought up the design and demonstrated each step, dashing headlong with characteristic disregard for the possibility of Messing Up, while I tagged timidly behind. When it was getting late on the last day of the visit and I was frantically trying to finish, Mom took pity on me and did my buttonholes and buttons.

"If you had to learn, you could do it," Mom tried to reassure me when I ranted over the phone about my more recent clash with sewing. It's true; my lifestyle does not require sewing as a basic necessity, which is probably why I abandoned the art that she so valiantly tried to teach me. Even so, it would be nice to have the skills (like certain people I know) to create something useful and attractive--let's say, a handmade gift or simple article of clothing--without a dangerous spike in blood pressure.

The unfinished bibs lie on the dresser along with the additional trim and scrap material that I later bought in a burst of determination to get the pesky things sewn. I guess some people are just cut out to enjoy sewing, while others of us occasionally get suckered into it and end up in a tangle of chagrin.

Happy Holiday Snaps Part II

2009-01-06T11:06:00.008-05:00

Getting acquainted with Sarah the cat (NS' attempt at "gato" or "cat" comes out "caca" and is now being applied to most animals): Romping by the toasty woodstove after bathtime:Playing with the jack-in-the-box:Playing outside:Helping Grandmommy with dishes:

Happy Holiday Snaps Part I

2009-01-05T15:07:00.004-05:00

Decorating gingerbread cookies with friends (note the looks of intense concentration):

Cookie-tasting:

Blowing out the birthday candle:

Taking the cake:

Cheers!

Opening presents--the packaging is the most fun part!

Walking the walk:

Reading with Grandpa:

Reading and riding with Grandma:

Labor Day and The Best Christmas Present Ever

2008-12-25T07:08:00.005-05:00

Christmas Eve was my Labor Day, the day when I looked at the clock periodically and recalled what I was doing one year ago at the given time and the stages of labor that culminated early the next morning in NS' water birth. As folks invariably remind me when they find out she was born on December 25, "That's the best Christmas present ever."

Still, CP's gift to me this morning deserves honorable mention.

At 12:32 a.m. (the hour of NS' birth) I was plucked from my dreams and led into the living room. CP had smuggled in fancy crackers with brie and sparkling apple-cranberry juice ("Celebration Beverage"). Watching a slide show of marvelous birth photos (Merci, Auntie HB!), we munched and sipped and toasted our first year of parenthood.

Caroling, Caroling

2008-12-24T14:00:00.006-05:00

One of the highlights of the past weekend (ostensibly a birthday bash, but Christmassy nonetheless) was caroling door-to-door in my sister-in-law's rural neighborhood. We bundled up against the bitter evening air and tramped through the misty drizzle. The children lit the way down the road and up the farm lanes with Grandmommy's cut-out milk jug luminaries and took turns delivering fancily wrapped sourdough loaves to surprised neighbors. We rotated through favorite carols including "Joy to the World," "Away in a Manger," and "Silent Night," always closing the serenade with "We Wish You a Merry Christmas." Between houses we bellowed "Jingle Bells" at passing cars. NS silently took it all in from CP's backpack.

We sampled Christmas cookies in lieu of birthday cake:

Presents for Grandmommy:

Fiddle tunes and Christmas songs:

Elizabeth and Mary

2008-12-23T19:59:00.009-05:00

If, like me, you've attended church for decades, you've probably heard countless times the stories of Elizabeth (mother of John the Baptist) and Mary (mother of Jesus). Last Sunday, while listening to yet another Christmas sermon hailing their exemplary obedience to God, I was struck by a new thought.

All they did (as recorded in the Gospels) was give birth to and raise children. That's all. They didn't start a non-profit, devote their lives to providing health care for the destitute, get an education, write books, travel the world, or rise to leadership positions. They lived the life that was before them--no more, no less.

Apparently, Elizabeth and Mary--a respected postmenopausal woman and a girl from nowhere--didn't even have a choice about the life-changing turn of events that were announced by angelic visitors. ("You will conceive," Gabriel informed Mary. Not, "Do you want to conceive?") The only choice they had was their attitude, and by all accounts, they jumped in with both feet, singing with glee and gratitude, as if they'd been invited to a grand adventure.

The "adventure" involved the raw, primal labor of childbirth, followed by the painstaking, seemingly incessant tasks of feeding an infant and changing diapers, the tedium of planning and providing meals for a family. This is the stuff of ordinary life, as is caring for patients in a clinic or teaching in a classroom, or whatever forms one's daily framework.

Mary's response to Gabriel reads like a morning prayer: "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."

Christmas: Call It What It Is

2008-12-19T13:32:00.015-05:00

In the past few years, a perceptible linguistic shift has occurred in how the U.S. public talks about the cultural/religious season in which we find ourselves this time of year. The other day when I imported a new CD (a freebee that came in the mail) entitled "Merry Christmas 2008" into my music library, the genre designation automatically appeared as "Holiday." A quick cut-and-paste job reunited the ten songs (seven of which were carols about Christ's nativity) with their cousins in the existing "Christmas" category.

The switch from the specific religious term "Christmas" to the all-encompassing "holidays" may be decried by some Christians as yet another attempt to "leave Christ out of Christmas," adding insult to the injury of the slangy-sounding "X-mas" (which, ironically, originated from Greek and Roman abbreviations for the name of Christ).

But the religious and cultural waters of our day have become so muddied that there is no distinguishing between the purely Christian holiday (a.k.a. holy day) and the secular wintertime celebrations we hold dear. In a misguided attempt to do just that, however, Christians have tended to deny the secular aspects of their celebrations, declaring vociferously that "Jesus IS the reason for the season."

But why should we insist on labeling as Christian a celebration that causes "civilized" human beings to literally shoot and trample one another to death in their rush to acquire this year's toys, convinced by the marketing industry that they or someone they love needs them? If Jesus were truly the reason for this kind of season, I would have nothing to do with Christianity.

"The holidays" is a useful term for describing the cluster of secular and religious festivities in December and early January, including Eid al-Adha , Hanukkah, Advent, Christmas, Kwanzaa, New Year, Epiphany, and doubtless others which with I'm less familiar. "The holidays" is also a more accurate label for the subset often referred to as "Christmas"--a blend of sacred and secular traditions that have developed through the centuries: parties and gift giving, travel and reunions, story telling and sentimentalism, feasting and decorating, music making and church-going.

If only we could slice neatly between our secular and sacred practices. Then we could enjoy baking cookies and crafting evergreen wreaths without wondering what this has to do with the birth of Christ.

In the midst of the ethical confusion, it's refreshing for me to focus on an observance that is unique to the church: Advent (at least I don't recall ever receiving junk mail advertising Advent sales). Quite simply, Advent (the four weeks preceding Christmas Day) is an opportunity to listen to the stories surrounding the entrance of Christ into humanity, and to reflect on their significance for our present lives.

The Birthday That Wasn't

2008-12-19T10:43:00.012-05:00

Some call it the holidays; for others, it's the Christmas season. For me, it's family birthday season.

You could say the birthday rush ends within the first two weeks of the New Year with my sister's and niece's birthdays. I suppose it starts with my Dad's birthday (although this year it was several days before Thanksgiving, so maybe that doesn't count). But December is when it starts getting serious.

See, this coming weekend is strictly reserved for the celebration of my mother-in-law's MOT (multiple of ten) birthday. Never mind that her birthday is not this weekend; it was yesterday.

Yesterday CP and NS cheerfully accompanied me to the doorstep of my brother DH and his bride, where we sang him an early birthday carol ("Here We Come A-Wassailing" lyrics were modified to fit the occasion) and delivered a giant cookie with one lit candle in the middle.

"We know your birthday's not today," CP explained, "but we're celebrating another birthday tomorrow." He did not mention the fact that I planned to return later in the evening to hide with his other friends in the dark living room and yell "Surprise!" when he and AL returned from a concert. (It was past NS' bedtime, so I represented the family.) That AL has a remarkable knack for pulling off last-minute parties--i.e. 12 hours in advance--complete with shoofly pie, pumpkin pie, apple tart, and enough guests to gobble them up.

Speaking of hours, my sister HB's birthday is also today (yes, they're twins). However, for her, it will cease to be her birthday at 7:00 p.m. Why? She is five time zones from here.

While we're on the subject of today and birthdays, allow me to reminisce. One year ago today was NS' estimated date of arrival. She declined to share a birthday with Auntie and Uncle and instead chose to share her birthday with Jesus.

Saved by the Beep

2008-12-18T15:33:00.012-05:00

It's not unusual in the least for me to pass a week or two in absolute silence (bloggerly speaking, that is). But on this foggy, chill afternoon I find myself irked by my empty bag of ideas. NS is napping; dishes and cleaning are crossed off the list. It's the perfect time to crank out a side-splitting comic piece, maybe a piercing satire, or even a Christmas devotional to make the reader gaze out the window and ponder the significance of the Incarnation.

But no, it's not to be. On this completely uninspiring afternoon, instead, I'm reading everyone else's cute, witty, intelligent writing, in between glum staring spells.

Then the phone rings. To be more precise, it emits one practical beep to notify me of an incoming call, so my ears aren't assaulted by shrill, insistent imitation music for as long as it takes me to snatch the phone.

"I'm at your house," announces my friend KR. "Can P and I come in?"

Saved by the beep!

Down the driveway they come, brightening the drear afternoon and saving my readers from a pool of aimless drivel...or at least me from another day of nothing.

The Miracle at Apartment A, With Postscript

2008-12-11T14:20:00.007-05:00

Disclaimer: The stuff of everyday life that feels dramatic to the protagonist may be yawn material for others.

It's nothing short of miraculous.

Just over a week ago, I was the dog-tired, frustrated mother of an eleven-month-old who didn't care to nap and woke me every few hours to nurse at night. Now, I'm gustily sleeping eight hours straight and enjoying an hour or two of daytime solitude during her morning and afternoon naps.

How did this unhoped-for miracle occur?

I decided I'd had it. "We just have to let her cry. Period," I told CP, soliciting his teamwork. We made a plan. If the crying dragged on too long, he would try to comfort NS and put her back down. But there would be no picking up between 9 p.m. and 4 a.m. (She had slept 7 hours straight a few random times in her life already, so we knew she could do it.)

"Let's sleep in the living room," CP suggested. Reluctantly, I agreed, never before so glad that we decided to upgrade the sofa to a futon several years ago. I bedded down nervously, expecting long, weary episodes of screaming.

The first few nights we heard her crying only briefly at the customary wake times. CP picked her up once, and on another night I nursed her between 4 and 5 a.m. But after seven nights, all parties had racked up seven nights of 8-11 hours' sleep per night.

We've moved back to regular sleeping arrangements, but the blessed pattern continues.

The seemingly unattainable nap routine started with several hellish times of letting her cry for an hour or so until she fell asleep. Since then, the average cry-time for naps has plunged, currently ranging from zero to ten minutes.

The other night over supper, after listening to me jabber about my day, CP commented, "You've seemed a lot happier in the past week."

I shot him a meaningful look. We both knew why.

A bit shocked by our first full night of sleep:

P.S. By the way, in case you missed it, the title of this post echoes the title of my most-recently-read book, The Miracle at Speedy Motors, by Alexander McCall Smith. Letting the luxurious sleep accumulation go to my head, I recklessly stayed up almost until 11:00 one night last week to finish it. It's the latest novel in my favorite fiction series, The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency. Reading this series is like eating my favorite chocolates. Both are rich, salty-sweet, and smooth-crunchy, an indulgence that's at least a little bit good for you and always disappears way too fast.

The End of an Era: Glimpses from the Celebration of a Far-Reaching Life

2008-12-05T13:04:00.007-05:00

My last grandparent, my mother's mother, died recently. I was privileged to be part of the celebration of her life and mourning of her passing. Here are some snapshots especially for the ones who were prevented by distance and commitments from being present.

My mom (far left) and her siblings--11 altogether--a formidable family bedrock.

The receiving line at the viewing, which took place at the retirement home where Grandma lived:

That's me with my little head-turner:

Gathering at the graveside to sing and drop flowers on Grandma's casket.

Generations two and four-Mom and AG brave the cold:

The stone church meetinghouse where Mom grew up attending (newer addition in foreground):

Cemetery where Grandma's remains rest with Grandpa's (he was buried in 2000):

In her lifetime Grandma canned probably hundreds of quarts of pickles, fruit, and vegetables for her large farm family, so the Thanksgiving display in front of the church where the funeral took place seemed like it was designed for the occasion:

She also made and gave away lots of comforters and quilts, like this crazy quilt. This display at the viewing included photos from her childhood through recent years:

Some of her many scrapbooks and photo albums were also displayed along with the family genealogy books she wrote:

As one of my family members has commented, Grandma's death marks the end of an era. As my aunt and uncle so eloquently reminded us at her funeral, Grandma was a teacher of many, many things, not only to her children, but also to her grandchildren. May we convey her lessons of learning, work, love, creativity, faithfulness, and much more, to the next generation.

Thanksgiving Sampler

2008-12-05T08:03:00.011-05:00

At my parents' home last week, all were "safely gathered in 'ere the winter storms begin"...all, that is, except my sister in Africa and my sister in South America. They were missed.

Story time with Grandma:Can't miss an opportunity for a family cheese:Grandparents with three little bears:Sporting his blaze orange for small game season, ND shows off gathered treasures:AG teaches her baby the importance of wearing orange this time of year:
On the Clymer Nature Trail, gathering berries and greens for wreath-making:
Hunters talking shop:
Artisans at work:
A few of the festive results:

Transformation

2008-11-20T15:38:00.010-05:00

Yesterday my 10 3/4 month old daughter took her first step. Standing unsupported, she responded to my invitation by stepping forward with her left foot before lunging into the safety net of my arms.

"Does that count?" I asked CP, unsure whether a single-foot step qualified according the the International Academy of Baby Books, or whether a First Step had to be with both feet.

This morning, my doubts were erased when NS did it again. This time, each foot took a small bite of carpet before she fell into my jubilant, congratulatory hug.

As my sister GG (mother of two munchkins) reflected yesterday, the transformation of a baby from an immobile, uncoordinated bundle to a walking, talking person within the first twelve months is simply astounding.

Day 1 (held by Auntie H):

In the next picture, that's not NS. That's Cousin AG, trying strenuously to reach the "baby [newborn NS]!" They're just over a year apart in age. By the way, the green shirt AG's wearing looks suspiciously like one that NS wears these days:
NS in a self-initiated game of peekaboo with Papi just the other day: