10.25.2007

Wordless Thursday: Autumnfest

(It should be Wednesday, and it should be wordless. But, well, this is what you get).



For family who were at Autumnfest I'll try to upload all the pictures plus this short sampling onto flickr or send them out via Kodak so you all have copies of the Three Stooges. For non-family, the Three Stooges refers to three cousins, all girls, all born within 9 months of each other. This is the first time they've been together since they all learned how to walk. And, as you can see above, their older cousins JD and JR got to join in the fun too. What chaos! What fun!

10.21.2007

Today I am Rocky!

Imagine me at the top of the stairs, dancing, throwing punches. Arms over my head yelling victoriously. Why? Because today my lungs and I went head to head, and for a change I won!

My lungs and I fight a lot. Especially when I’m running. They are a spirited and stubborn pair. Given the importance of breathing to that whole consciousness and physical well-being thing, they usually win. (Asthma attacks suck in case no one ever mentioned it.)

My asthma usually cuts in about the time my legs find their rhythm. In fact, it’s a rare occurrence when my legs are sore after a run. My lungs won’t let me go at a fast enough pace or for long enough to really get a burn going.

But not today!!

It’s been a long time since I could run two miles without stopping to walk or take a breath for a second. I don’t usually have to stop for very long, but I do have to stop and walk for a bit. For a lot of people running two miles is no big deal. I understand this. I know I haven’t done anything that impressive. But given the sad state of my lungs lately (and it’s been pretty sad), I am giddy beyond belief. We’ll forget the cough and minor wheeze that tells me my poor lungs are inflamed as hell. I just ran two miles without stopping dammit!!!

It was a good day. Tomorrow marks exactly one month before race day.

10.19.2007

NaBloPoMo 2007

So my friend Tracy has turned me on to National Blog Posting Month. It's a one-month challenge to post something on your blog every day of November. Yep, thirty days of consecutive posts. As they say on the website, think of "NaBloPoMo as a writing exercise, as an easier-to-accomplish alternative to the marathon that inspired it: National Novel Writing Month."

We'll see if I can do it. I make no promises with a wee one wanting to be in my lap or in my arms incessantly. I think of it like the 5K I plan on running on Thanksgiving Day -- if I can do it, wow. Let me prove to myself that it's possible. I need challenges like that lately.

10.18.2007

Bedtime Ritual

Mom lays her down in the crib, a sleepy-eyed Toddler who keeps shaking her head no -- she's not tired. Coaxed into compliance she settles dutifully into her blankets, clutching Big Bird. Mom turns out the lights and settles down in the chair next to her, staring at the clock.

7:47. Fifteen minutes and I might be out of here she thinks.

The routine is established. "Baa Baa Black Sheep" or "Twinkle, twinkle" must be sung at least five times if not more until the eyes begin to droop. Back rubbing is optional, it depends on the Toddler's mood. After a few minutes the singing must get softer and softer until it is barely a whisper. A whisper which, on her hoarser days, reminds Mom of something out of a horror movie. She finds it disturbing but the Toddler doesn't seem affected. And then we wait. This is where Mom's internal monologue always seems to take over.

Remember, don't look. Everytime I look at her, comforting, adoring, whatever, she stays awake. Must convince her Mom . . . gotta stop referring to myself in the third person dammit . . . I'm not available any more today. I'm not going to play, kiss, laugh or tickle. I am a comforting body, no more. Besides a watched kid never sleeps. Though a watched dog seems to do just fine. Crashed out in the dark doorway, oblivious to the world. 7:51. Why do I bother? Lately she never goes to sleep before 8:00 anyway. Like clockwork. This is my kid -- a mini cuckoo complete with small arms and a delicately carved face. Nap is one hour from when I leave the room, to the minute almost. Bedtime is 8:00. Doesn't matter if we start at 7:05 or 7:35.

I get so restless every night as I sit here. I used to think if I had to sing "Baa Baa Black Sheep" one more time I would scream, but now it's just rote. Like dishes, or brushing teeth. The Buddhist philosophy book I'm reading encourages staying in the moment, expereinceing life as it happens. But it's so hard when it's the same every night. The same viewpoint, the same observations to make. It's hard not to get lost in your own thoughts. Apparently I've still got a long way to go in moving toward stillness of the mind.

She is cute though, curled up on her side with that thatch of blonde covering her one eye. Her arm of purple fleece laying so gently across the blankets. Shit! I know better than to look at her! Now I can hear the arm flop. Once, twice, as she finds that comfortable place again. And the yawn. That sweet little exhale of breath. Like when I pick her up and the force of it creates a whoosh of air on my cheek as I settle her onto my hip. 7:56. Almost.

She is my life in moments like this. I can't escape it. There is nothing else to do, and I am trapped. Like the Sherman traps Mike uses to catch small mammals, it's not uncomfortable. It's roomy, secure, still. But too much stillness, too small, too much time staring at the same walls will drive you mad. Good question -- do the clinically insane stay insane forever, or does the manner in which we lock them up create a self-prepetuating cycle. Again, random morbid thoughts as I put my kid to bed. Great. 7:58.

And now I get to go back to my life outside. The husband I adore. The bank account that scares me and the shortness of breath that is my reality as the seasons change. Like surfacing from a dream, or a bad meditation session. I'm not sure which.

10.17.2007

It's a Zoo out there

So, in an effort to catch up on the adventures of the Bean we will be taking you back in time to September 24. Why is this date significant you may ask? Well, it's not.

But it is the first time Bean visited the Zoo. For any other kid this might not be worth mentioning, but in this case it is significant. We will attribute this to the fact that her dad is an ornithologist, her mom is a wanna-be environmental educator, and we've been bombarding her with animal names, noises, and camping trips since she was only a couple months old.

At this point on hikes she notices almost as many birds as her parents (no small feat).

But back to the good stuff. Much of the maternal side of the family - Nana & Papa (my grandparents), Nana Peg (my mom, in orange), and the Giant- rounded up Luci on this particular day and headed to the Sacramento Zoo. No one was sure who was more excited, the Bean or her mom. It was the first time Lu got to see lions, tigers, and giraffes in person, and the first time any of us got to see a red panda up close. With all of the Bean's various signs and words for animals, she split her time between frantically telling us what she saw and just staring. The pictures will fill you in on the rest. But in the end, what was she most interested in?

The sidewalk drain.

Only my kid could embarras me (by sticking her head in the ground) and make me proud (by exploring and wanting to know how the world works) in the exact same moment.



Thanks for playing the Giant's game of catch up. We will now return you to a blog in real time.













10.10.2007

Winter has Arrived

Yep, the cold snap came early. And it snapped like only a sassy low pressure system can. "You thought you'd enjoy a nice temperate fall. An Indian summer of orange and yellow aspens, apple spiced cider, and pleasant sunny days followed by crisp evenings. Oh, no you di'n't."

Yes, it has snowed twice, yes twice, here in Reno already. And as much as I love the mountains and the snow that settles softly on them in the winter, could we please, please have a transition here!? Reno is infamous for this kind of seasonal change. We get only three seasons max:

Summer: hot, dry, brown, dusty. Reno in high summer is not something to brag about. The saving grace of summer is that Lake Tahoe is so close. You drive forty-five minutes latitudinally, and ascend about 1500 feet in elevation and BAM, cool off by at least 10 degrees. Also, the Truckee River is a 5-minute drive (or 30 minute walk) with walking paths and lots of good shade trees. And then there's camping. And hiking. And gardening. And BBQs.

Fall: Days are still warm but evenings cool down significantly letting you bundle up in the down comforter while still wearing short sleeves and Chaco's during the day. There's parties and BBQs while everyone still clings to those last days of summer. And hiking. And amazing leaves that make you want to be on a hay ride. And while Tahoe is getting snow dusted on it Reno is still beautiful, resting comfortably on the edge of it all with an ease and grace that lasts until late October.

Winter: freezing, bright. Like ice. Cold but full of light. Reno gets an amazing 345 days of sun a year. Never mind that on some days we struggle to break 40 degrees. And like ice I tend to freeze up in the winter. I love looking at the the snow covered mountains out my window. I love snowshoeing. I love the fires in our fireplace where we curl up and watch movies or listen to music in the evening. But it takes every ounce of will I possess to get outside and hike and be active. The dual edge of this is that if I don't get out I go nuts. I get depressed, stiff, lethargic, sore and apathetic.

Spring: doesn't really exist. We go from snow to 70 degrees to snow to 80 degrees and then it's summer.

So you can see why I am loathe to head directly into winter. Fall is not only my favorite season, it's the ONLY transition we have.

Odd that in a time of imminent transition in our lives (Mike finishing his Master's) the weather gods refuse to grant me an easy transition into the most challenging of seasons. I really hope this isn't a portent of things to come.

Sisters in Crime







10.07.2007

Sensitive Spots

In spite of being majorly annoyed at the moment, I had an epiphany the other day. But first, let me digress.
I have a thing about my neck. Call it a phobia. Call it a byproduct of too much martial training. I hate, and I mean hate to have my neck touched, grabbed, handled etc. Especially the front part. My shoulders scrunch up and become knotty, like the oak that broke our wood splitter when I was young. My best friend grabbed me around the neck and put me in a head lock once, to see what my response would be, she said. I hit her in the stomach before I knew what I was doing. It’s not a moment I’m proud of. But I panicked.

Back to the present. Bean has this thing with my face and neck. She must touch, massage, rub, and otherwise have one or both hands in contact with that part of my body whenever she’s trying to go to sleep. Her most recent fetish is with a mole on my lower jaw where it meets my neck. It drives me nuts. But trying to take away her comfort zone, her “happy place” as her dad calls it, makes her extremely upset.

And it occurred to me yesterday, as I was putting her to sleep, that this is where our kids live. In those soft, vulnerable places that we don’t let the rest of the world touch. They will bring our best and our worst. They will embarrass and worry us like no one else can. And no matter how hard you may try to defend yourself and keep them out of those places, they will inevitably snuggle, wiggle, and smile their way into that sensitive spot (which makes it hard to maintain your cool when they are pushing your buttons). But I realize now, with a sigh and a smile, that this is where their supposed to live.

10.04.2007

AGGIES: Another overdue update

In September the UC Davis Aggies (Mike and my alma mater) had the first game in their brand new stadium. Not necessarily noteworthy unless you are a huge Aggie fan, which ironically we're kinda not.

But, I should mention that Mike's college roomate Troy was a starting offensive lineman all four years he attended Davis. So when he called and said he and his wife and baby son were going to the game, of course we had to go.


Synopsis: It was HOT (103 F)! We doused Lu (and ourselves) with water until we just couldn't take it anymore. We found shade as best we could (see Troy's baby J below), but you'd think in a place like Davis, where weather over 100 is the norm for a month and a half during the late summer, they would provide some sort of shade - just a little. But no. Top it off with the fact that we lost the game. Uggggh!

So after halftime (can't miss the Band-uh!) we headed to Woodstocks, ate pizza and caught up with Mike's other college roommate Benson. It was good to be back and see everyone. It's odd, and we've talked about this for years. I miss Davis, but I don't. Mike misses the good times he had there. We both miss biking everywhere with such ease. We both miss Hapkido a lot. I miss the smell of jasmine everywhere and the downtown center. But sometimes you're never sure if what you miss is the place or the memories associated with the place. (The fun question to explore is whether or not you can separate the two. Place is a funny thing - it's so much more than just a location on a map.)









We, of course, had to get Luci an Aggies T-shirt, which I am proud to say she now asks for by name. She gets into her dresser drawer and looks at me saying "Adgg-ie, Adgg-ie." Who says stuff like this doesn't run in the family?


Kissing Cousins

From August . . .
now that I FINALLY have my pictures back.
These are our nieces and nephew, JR, JD, and Sam.