I dream of jewel beads and mopped floors…

Here’s to all the moms…

May your day be filled with jewel beads, clean counters and tidy rooms.

And if not, perhaps a lovely mess filled with love and laughter!

To the Mom’s – what has been one of your favorite, or most ‘memorable’ gifts over the years?

And to the rest of us ‘kids’, is there a gift you remember being so excited or proud to give to your mom?

Happy Mother’s Day!

Hometown Girl

The old saying, ‘you can’t go home again’ has some truth to it, as we know.  However we choose to define home, the place where we ‘grew up’   –  whether physically or metaphorically –  we all know that we can’t go back and expect things to be the same, just as they were. Our mind plays tricks on us ; we often remember things as larger than they really were, selectively omit certain details and attach specific feelings to smells and sights.  But, perhaps, we can go home if we understand that we will find a new version, with new layers that add to our memory and the richness of all that we have received from that zip code specifically imprinted upon us.

I grew up in a small town and even as a kid, knew that I would need to stretch my wings in a locale not edged with orchards and one little main street. I’m convinced that came from my parents, who had lived and experienced so much of the world before settling in what became our home town.  Dad had left home at the age of 13, putting  himself through school, jobs; ultimately serving as an Army Colonel in the South Pacific during WWII. The cabinets in our family home contain boxes upon boxes of his military photos, many of which capture him in uniform, touring Sydney, AU and out in the bush of aboriginal New Guinea seated with the natives – and their lack of attire. Post-war, he became a self-made man as the only optometrist in our small town.

Having grown up in Seattle and then San Francisco, Mom was a city girl. And though barely 5 feet tall, she could finagle the worst traffic in San Francisco with the grace of a ballerina and the mouth of a locker-room jock.  She could bully her way into just about any parking spot she had her eye on and then stroll into I. Magnin with no one the wiser; she had exquisite taste in shopping and a culinary gift that clearly has not carried on with me.  And a heart softer and kinder than I can explain in words.

McDonald Manhattan: 2 parts bourbon, 1 part sweet vermouth, splash of bitters. On the rocks.

In our home, dinners were often a formal affair, with the table set beautifully with all elements of the proper stemware, silverware and dinnerware. Our mother took great pride in presenting a meal that not only earned her the chops as wonderful chef, but her presentation was always perfect. In her mind, it had to look as tantalizing as it would taste. She would undoubtedly agonize over the details, often wearing herself out and then serving herself last; a true hostess.  Ours was a home where napkins were placed on our laps, cocktails were often served during the 5 – o – clock hour, with hors d’ oeuvres in actual serving dishes, in the formal living room. Ours was a home with a set of every day dishes, a set of ‘nice dishes’, and a set of china.  Ours was a home where people were always welcome, but by golly the house better be clean, all the way down to the baseboards.

We said goodbye to mom nearly 16 years ago, and my father, now 92, still lives in our family home along with my brother, who is beyond a shadow of a doubt, one of the most patient men I have ever known. He cares for our dad, with the assistance of a part-time care provider, Gloria. Last week was John’s birthday and my son and I hit the road and made the three-hour trek south for the celebration.  The childhood teasing he subjected me to does not merit my mercy, but I will conveniently omit his age [you are welcome John]. But, let it be known that he is my OLDER brother!

Arriving at my childhood home, and walking into the kitchen, I could not help but notice that the table – the very same dining room table – was set impeccably.  The decor, though decidedly a departure from what my mother would choose, was so well thought out, down to the last detail, and so perfectly created with my brother in mind. Gloria – the mastermind behind this party – had brought items from her home to create a setting fit for the celebration. For family celebrations, my mother would prepare a leg of lamb that as a 12 yr old I knew was special; and Cornish game hens that still make my mouth water when I remember them; and countless other dishes made to perfection. To the same height, Gloria prepared a feast true to her family; two recipes of fantastically homemade enchiladas, beans, rice, salad and more. “Juan” made the salsa and guacamole.  On tap were beer, wine, tequila and drinks for the kids.

My nephew, now 21 and soon to graduate from college, played soccer with my 9 yr old in the backyard, the way that I used to entertain my nephew when he was the only little kid in the room.  Friends from our childhood joined us for the evening and stories ranged from reminiscing of the old days, to forging new ground with sharing about the loss of our parents, and a spouse far too early in life, family dramas and old secrets, our parents’ marriages and world travels.  We exchanged these stories with a fluency only spoken by those who have come up through the same ranks, inexplicably knowing we belong to each other, because our parents had forged the the bonds for us an entire generation ago.  Photos were posted to Facebook and viewed on our phones while sitting 3 feet away from each other, in a living room where as kids we played and hung out, and would never fathom the advent of social networking or smart phones. Shots of tequila were consumed, and with my mother’s every day dishes put aside, we continued to drink and play Mexican Bingo. I quickly became unpopular as I called out “el lotteria’ over and over again. The cards were somehow stacked in my favor; which meant, that everyone else had to drink. While others could walk home, or were home, I had an early drive back the next morning. I needed those wins!

I sat and marveled at this new version of home, my home. My brother’s home. My mother’s dishes serving a beautiful meal that was never part of her repertoire, raucous laughter and banter from an unlikely group that spanned the ages from 9 to 92 and everything in between.  Our childhood friends, and folks I had never met, but hope I see again, all sharing the same dining room table where I had sat as a child. English, Spanish, and probably some Spanglish mixed in.  At one point, I looked over and  my dad was mixing a martini; 10 minutes later in the same spot, my brother was attempting to learn to dance the Salsa, in spite of a knee refusing to let him forget his age,  in the same kitchen where so many of our memories are safely held. And before I know it, my father has produced his trusty harmonica and proves that though his mind is a bit fuzzy most days, his lungs work just fine.

Report from the home front as I write is that the party may have been too much for our Dad; yesterday he had a martini at 3:30 and a bowl of cereal at 5:30. Who needs rules when you are 92!?

It seems plausible to say that it’s true, you can’t really go home again. Everything changes. We change. Physically and otherwise. The streets change, the landscape changes.  It will never be the same as it was, and it really shouldn’t be.

But, after this last visit, I find myself realizing that maybe we can go home, if we can accept that things have changed, that we are different, and when we understand that what we remember will always be with us, a part of who we are.  Perhaps the key is letting ourselves allow our memories to welcome new ones – new stories, new people, new recipes – in layers, like the perfect birthday cake?

Happy Birthday John…you are Juan in a Million!

So that, combined, with each layer resting upon the next,  as if held together by the most perfect frosting  - all the delicious life we savor during the years; the joys, losses, comforts, people, perspectives – is the “home”  that we can return to whenever we need to.

An Almost Ordinary Friday Night

It was an almost ordinary Friday night, save for the full moon, 70 degrees at 8pm, the new Mumford & Sons cd playing and my kiddo and his dog in the backseat. We had just finished up getting dinner and doggie treats and on the way home, it came over me to just drive, get away from the city lights with the music loud, sunroof open, windows down,  and 2 of my favorites with me. I just wanted to go.

Mom:  ”Wanna go for a ride”?

Kid: “What? Huh?

Mom: “Do you want to go for a drive, you know like that night we drove home through the mountains from seeing Uncle Hank?”

Kid: “Sure, can we drive to Oregon?”

Mom:  ”What? Huh?”

Kid: “Sure, where are we going?”

Mom: “I’ll find a spot…”

We drove out of the city, on the freeway, and I was feeling that spontaneous, free, expansive, wide-awake feeling where thoughts seemed clearer than clear, and yet rushing in from all directions. I was thinking about things I had read that day, the simplicity of dinner with my boy and his dog on a warm-summer-is-over-but-it-doesn’t-feel-like-it evening, the music and lyrics and how they filtered in and out and attached to passing thoughts, formed new ones and helped make some thoughts just make more sense. Music has its way with us, yes?

Feeling the undertow of all this, we sped down the center lane of the 3 lane highway, when a car on my left raced past me,  cutting me off as it darted at a diagonal to make the off-ramp on my right. It was alarmingly close and in the split second it took, I realized how fast things can change sometimes; in just an instant. The car sped off down the off-ramp, my heart raced, and I second-guessed whether I had tempted fate by taking this detour from our normal routine.  I curbed my enthusiasm to use some four letter words, remembering I am already in debt to my kiddo for ‘indiscretions’ already made…

I found my country road and the darkness I was seeking so that the moon could cast its glow upon the faces of my companions, cuddled up in the back seat. We took turns standing up through the sunroof, moon bathing  of sorts. As much as I liked this solitary location, in equal amounts I felt uneasy about being out in the dark countryside sitting by the side of the road.

So, off we drove, onto a road with gently rolling hills, undulations you might say.

I would speed up, and then coast down the descent, each time feeling in our bellies that swoosh you get with each downturn on a swing. My grin matching his giggle, I heard the words, “this is awesome”.  We turned around, and rode the hills, heading for home. But, I realized I wasn’t done yet.

Mom: “Do you want to do that again?”

Kid: “Only if you do”

Mom: “No, it’s for you, do you want to?”

Kid: “If you do”

Mom: “No honey, if you want to then let’s, if not we can head home”

Kid: “Mom, if you want to, then let’s do it”

Mom: “Nah, that’s ok, I thought you’d want to”

I am headed towards the freeway entrance when I hear:

“Actually, I do kinda want to do that again…”

Just in time, and with a grin as big as my face, I turned the car around, found the rolling hills, all lit up by the full moon and we laughed our way up and down, up and down.

It was an almost ordinary Friday night.

Come along for the ride…windows down, volume up loud [go full screen if you can]…

One

One thing can make all the difference in the world.

How one father’s life taken, far too early, can inexplicably change the course of a family for generations, forever.

How one  person can change an entire day with just a smile.

How one mother can forever change the world of one little girl.

How one person who abuses their power can cause the suffering of an entire people.

How one child makes a family.

How one leader can dash the morale of an entire soul.

How one partner can render someone invisible to themselves.

How one comment starts a conversation.

How one degree hotter makes water boil.

How one conversation can start a friendship.

How one word can change a whole story.

How one song can lift spirits.

How one friend can make you feel so at home.

Yes, one thing can make all the difference in world.

Do you have a one?

Double Dog Dare

Summer is officially over, and tomorrow commences a new season. But, before summer packs its tank tops, shortens our days and flip flops out the door to let fall rush in, I bring you one last bastion of summer.  A follow through on a dare from my friend Paula at Stuff I Tell My Sister.  It was a double dog dare that we turned into a double triple – three of us, three times.

If you are like the 17 yr old I asked to take our pictures in Round One of this dare, a teen who ever so subtly rolled her eyes when I asked her to snap the shots, as if to imply that ‘duh, old lady, yes, of course I know‘, then you will know what planking is. But if not, she did indulge me and snapped away while we adjusted knee caps, ribs and other ‘parts’ on the uneven surfaces of gorgeous, but oh so unforgiving, granite boulders so that I could make good on this dare and bring you proof of having carried out the planking promise I made to Paula.

TRIAL RUN

First up was a test run with the junior member of our planking team – (there are different ideas of proper form in planking, and we opted with the one you see here) -  and you will see a slight faltering in his form – hands and feet should not be touching the surface, but his face is correctly nose to the grindstone, so he gets points for that.  He did move on to the first round of the finals and served as mentor to our other planking amateur.

–ROUND ONE–

Judges rank of the plank:  so so. Those hands should not be waving, we need to see some superman action here.

And, you know what they say, the family who planks together,
stays together. .

Family wins ROUND ONE

The planking mama and kiddo, surveying the land for our next opportunity to strike a pose.

–ROUND TWO–

You can see we each competed in our own category:
kiddo’s involved a bit more of a handicap with that granite ledge.
My older, ahem, wiser body couldn’t wouldn’t quite ‘adapt’ to those contours.

Kiddo wins ROUND TWO

–FINAL ROUND–

The Final Round went to extremes, planking on the edge of the earth.

My planking partner has some training sessions he missed, and so…
Planking Mama wins the FINAL ROUND.

Paula and I will be representing blogland in the upcoming international planking championships and we are recruiting members of the team. Applications are now being accepted.

Outnumbered

So, yesterday I had made a ‘committment’ to spend my Sunday drinking and browsing, but as it turned out, I was outnumbered and outvoted by the men in my house. Which doesn’t take much, as I am the token female in our family. The cat doesn’t count.

But, if I couldn’t spend the day in my pjs curled up with a cup of coffee and the world wide web, at least I could spend the day in my second choice favorites: shorts and a tank top and instead of the couch, here

The boys would have none of this lounging bit, so off we went for a day hike up in one of my favorite place, Desolation Wilderness.  I find it ironic how something known as desolation somehow lifts my soul no matter how many times I traverse it’s stark, surface-of-the-moon like terrain.

It was this guy’s first foray into the wilderness, and he held his own and set his sights on vistas far and wide.

We made our contributions to the ‘community rock garden’

and despite the fact that I was out voted on the pajama day, I managed to wrangle a lizard like nap in the sun

And when I am a middle-aged woman, I shall, I will,  (I do now – thanks to the clearance rack at the REI on the way up the hill)  wear purple hiking shoes; for in my middle age, I somehow forgot to bring my hiking shoes, for our day of hiking. Tally one for ol’ Twinkle Toes!

And at the end of the day,

I’d say it was more than a fair trade; the wildnerness in place of the couch, and purple shoes instead of pajamas, to spend the day in one of my favorite place.

There’s always tomorrow!

Jeepers, June is over? How about a little June-a-gram

Below and Above

We took off for a family adventure last weekend; it was a birthday present for that guy I call husband. He’s impossible to shop for:  he is not the gadget guy equivalent of my gadget girl, clothes are ho-hum in his opinion and there is no fancy finery he pines for. What he does like are cool experiences shared with his family. In years past it has been things like kayaking, scavenger hunts, hiking,  private plane rides, and last year I had promised him a zip line adventure. Then, I got stuck in the sky, well, the airport actually, in Denver on the way home from a conference, and we missed the whole day.

We made up for that this year and headed south + east of our zip code and made our way to the Mother Lode country. Theres gold in them thar hills. If only…

We started out with a journey to the center of the earth. Ok, just 165 feet  below the surface. 262 stairs down…262 stairs up.

Almost.

See, we got about 10 stairs down [see that first set of stairs in the image below],  and my kiddo decided something. He. Did. Not. Want. To. Go. Down.  His decision was firm, there was nothing wishy washy about it. But we had about 30 people behind us on a stairway maybe 2 feet across. We had to keep going, but we hear this,

“You can’t make me do it”

Well, sort of. He had to get to the bottom of the wooden staircase before we could pull away from the rest of the group.

We tried to allay his fears, but there would be no discussion.  So, birthday boy took the plunge to the depths of the earth while the kiddo and I remained on the landing.  We watched two guys rappel down through that ‘tube/chute’  - they floated down on ropes all 165′ down to the bottom.  All I could think, ‘you can’t make me do it!”

Do you know the difference between a stalagtite and a stalagmite?

I do. Now!

So, once back up in the light of day, above the earth’s crusty exterior, my kiddo is smiling again.  We had a little chat about fears, facing them and courage.  We were getting ready to take a little ride. A 1500 foot long ride, many feet above the ground. A zip line ride.  The harness doesn’t accommodate fear very well…

Sometimes, two heads are just better than one.  That’s when we ride tandem. He is old enough and weighs enough to ride solo, but based on the cave experience, we figured together is better.

We got geared up…

…and made our approach to the launch tower.  I have to admit, I was nervous as we went higher and higher and then when I caught a glimpse of the cables stretching out in front of us for what felt like forever, my belly did some flip flops and I began to question my sanity.

And I wondered about my kiddo.

He was riding tandem with his dad and I was getting set up to launch next to them.

[Launch = jump off a perfectly stable and perfectly fine platform...]

Together, they took the leap…

 …and they did great and make the perfect landing.  My fears about my son being afraid were unecessary! Whew!

 I shot a video as I screamed woo-hoo-ed my way down the cable on our first ride.  I will spare you that. You’re welcome.

We all loved it and couldn’t wait to ride again, so kiddo and I went tandem

and this guy flew like Superman!

The best moment was when I hear the kid strapped to my lap exclaim,

“This is awesome!”

as we went screaming through the air

Then it was on to the 38′ climbing tower. This time, it was my turn for fear to get the best of me. I was about to reach the top and ring that elusive bell when I just  wouldn’t couldn’t  go any higher. I was [enthusiastically] expressing my fear and trepidation about going any higher while the kiddo was at the bottom encouraging me and cheering me on.

The irony of the situation was not lost on me…here we were again having a ‘little chat’ about facing your fears…

So, I gave it what I had, and my brain said go, but my arms wimped out and my fear of falling prevailed. Yes, belay was on, but there is something unnatural about letting yourself fall…

The kid made it to the top though and rang that bell. Later, I was very proud of him when he said that was his favorite moment of the day. I was proud that despite the thrill and the instant fun of the zip line ride, for him, his best moment was an accomplishment only he could take credit for.

I regret not trying again to make it to the top and push a little harder, dig a little deeper, but it’s more important to me that my son had that moment of success and victory!

Apparently, Superman is also part Spiderman. Yes, he rang the bell too. 2 out of 3. Sigh…

On the way, home cruising through the charming old time towns;  we could just imagine them in their hey day, before time marched on.

But for us, I’d say, hands down, that our day was no less than…

It was indeed a very good day, and while I tease my husband, a day below and above the earth is much more fun than a new shirt. But, he got that too

Cheers!

Jump In :: Friday Foto

Sometimes,

you just have to jump in, hold your breath

and make a splash!  

Make sure you have your ‘safety goggles’ on…

…you never know what you might find

when you take the plunge!

City…’scape

It was hot. It was 107 hot. We had no choice. We just had to escape. It was Father’s day, so we had to go together. So, we ran away. To The City. My city. San Francisco. Well, it’s not MY city, except that well, it kinda is. I was born there. I spent the first many months of life there…my mama lived there….there’s so much more to the story, but that’s for another day perhaps.  Let’s just say there is part of me always there, and no, I didn’t leave my heart there. Well, in a way, maybe I did, just a little.

We just don’t go often enough, and it’s only 90 minutes away. What’s with that?

So, we escaped from a 107 degree meltdown and arrived in a 65 degree sunny breath of fresh air. Take a moment and have your own little escape too.

I have always adored the eclectic nature of SF architecture.

Makes me ponder about the unique lives housed within.

Land ‘scape…

A California Poppy.

Reminds me of our artichokes.

Nature ‘scape…

Baby Ostriches at  San Francisco’s California Academy of Sciences.

Seems they like baseball. Must be Giant’s Fans.

3 baby Great Horned Owls up in that tree!  Can you spot the third one?  Best shot I could get with my camera for regular people {300mm zoom} I ‘cried’ when I looked over and saw 3 wildlife photogs with what looked like 3000mm zoom lenses…sigh*

Family ‘scape…

I hope this never gets old when the small one gets bigger than the bigs.

Sky ‘scape….

We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect ending to a beautifully simple and simply beautiful day together.

We didn’t need to, the ending was just a beginning to a whole new show…

Night ‘scape