Monthly Archives: October 2014

Dressing Up and Letting Your Hair Down

Posted on October 31, 2014 by Kami
Boo!

Boo!

Dear J, J, L and L,

All week I’ve had mini-flashbacks of various versions of each of you in costume over the years.

I recall a Frankenstein’s monster, a beauty queen, tiny witches, cute witches, a leopard, a black cat, an epic version of Johnny Depp’s Jack Sparrow, a ninja, a devil, a wizard, superheroes, insects and Indians and dozens of others long past.

Of the non-holiday version I recall Wilbur the pig, Tatiana from Midsummer Night’s Dream, a pilgrim, an egyptian queen, poodle-skirted teens a pioneer and a cowboy.

I’m pretty certain we came up with costumes for school projects, spirit weeks and other odd events at least three times a year. Multiply that times the four of you. Add in Halloween and we had the drama department at the high school outgunned in costuming paraphernalia.

The sewing machine got a great workout every October, as I attempted to make reality of who you wanted to transform into that year. Lucky for me sewing costumes don’t require great skill, just adequate knowledge.

I miss those days of dressing you up for so many different events. Perhaps that why I started dressing up myself for Halloween a few years ago. Or maybe I’ve just acquired a need to be someone else for a day once or twice a year.

Last year’s witch costume on Halloween night, scared a few children away from the candy bowl. Perhaps it was the green face, or more likely the cackling, high-pitched, evil sounding voice that involuntarily took over who I was under the costume. Strange how that happens.

A couple years ago my Biker Chick outfit, complete with pleather pants and a real leather biker jacket, felt wild and empowering. So opposite to my recognizable personality, that costume rocked a few people’s perceptions of me. I enjoyed it though, for that one night.

Being a pirate wench the year or two before taught me that I probably ought to be careful what sort of characters I choose to become. It’s easy to do and say things that aren’t your usual fare when you’re somewhat disguised.

This year, sadly, I have other obligations during the Trick or Treat hours. And surprisingly, I wasn’t invited to any Halloween parties where I could take on the persona of some other creature for a while.

I suppose it’s best that you’ve missed this side of my odd personality, this need or desire to dress up and play pretend. I guess I’ve never really grown up in some ways.

Where’s the fun in that, anyway? I like having a childlike part of myself that I can access when the need for silliness arises. I only regret there’s only one time every year that I can let my hair down like that.

I’ll spend the next twelve months with an occasional question about how to dress up next year. Just the planning of such nonsense brings a smile to my face.

I highly recommend accessing your inner child when the opportunity arises.

Happy Halloween my little goblins!

Love always,

Mom

Categories: Family, Friday Letters, Holiday | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

It’s Really Gratituesday Every Day

Posted on October 28, 2014 by Kami
One of a hundred sunrises I enjoyed.

One of a hundred sunrises I enjoyed.

It’s Gratituesday! I wrote this a while ago hoping to sneak in a quick write before a certain one-year old woke up from a late nap and before a three-year old moved on to a noisier, less productive project. Turns out I abandoned this and just today, a month later I picked it up again. Now it’s nearly November, but I still feel thankful for a Summer enjoyed.

One month snapshot of from my Gratitude App.

One month snapshot of from my Gratitude App.

Favorites

Looking back over the summer in my Gratitude App, it turns out I’m often grateful for those two little people. Also turns out I’m frequently thankful for a favorite six-month old and a favorite thirteen-year old, too.

Walks

And walks. I took a bunch of those this summer, in spite of the heat. And because of the heat I went early enough that I ended up grateful for sunrises nearly every day. Pretty much any activity that took me outside made my gratitude list, family reunion, camping, time on a porch swing, swimming, picnics, outdoor dining, gardening, yard work.

That's a lot of rain for the Sahuaros to drink up.

That’s a lot of rain for the Sahuaros to drink up.

Rain, Oh My

The rain made itself known more than a few times and I’m always grateful for that, even when it comes four inches at a time. But then, my house didn’t get flooded like others in nearby towns did.

Sleep

Not the least bit surprising, sleep came in as a big winner in the frequently appearing in my gratitude list contest. Probably number one if I took the time to actually count. Right after food, bread and chocolate.

Work, the Volunteer Variety

The surprise that showed up often as something that adds light to my life falls in the volunteer work category. You’d think that wouldn’t get mentioned, but I always find myself helped more by helping someone than any amount of help I’ve given.

Quaking Aspen. I like to think of it as a family tree.

Quaking Aspen. A family tree.

Family

Time with family topped the summer gratitude list. Extended family, my kids and their spouses, my four favorites, their pets and of course, MSH.

What didn’t land on the lists very often? Things.

Things.

Should I be more grateful for STUFF? I don’t know. Probably, yes.

I don’t often list as Gratitudes all the luxuries I live with like a washer, dryer, electricity, a home, a safe neighborhood, a working air-conditioned vehicle, a soft bed, plenty of food, clean and copious amounts of drinking water. Do I take them for granted? I hope not. Maybe I view them as background to what seems really important like people or experiences. Maybe I should verbalize some gratitude for those as well.

Proof

Surely I basked in a summer of blessings. I’m glad I kept track of those daily joys. Otherwise, I might have looked back over what looks from this distance, like merely another hot summer endured. Instead I have months worth of happy thoughts and proof that life smiled on me.

And I smiled back.

Condensed sunshine.

Condensed sunshine.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Happiness | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Hot Pink on a Harley

Posted on October 22, 2014 by Kami

Friday Letter to my Kids-

Dear J, J, L and L,

This weekend marks year four of Big J’s big Harley ride with his hot woman for the annual “Bikers for Boobies” event.

Makes me laugh every time to say that out loud.

Makes me proud that you’re doing something to help raise awareness and funds for cancer research.

Makes me terrified that your charitable inclination involves a Harley.

I have nothing personally against Harley’s, or Honda’s or any other brand of motorcycle. I just get a little woozy when I think of people I love out on the road with other maniacal drivers who might not pay much attention to the loud roar and flash of chrome.

To quote your Grandma M from my teenage years:

“It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s everybody else.”

I’ve had a little experience with motorcycles in my past life, believe it or not. My first ever chance driving one on my own happened in our back yard. At eleven years old I may or may not have been a little too young for the attempt. The tiny Honda 50 was so cute and fun looking. “Nothing to it,” my Dad said.

honda 50

Vrooooom!

I threw my leg over the seat, sat down and grasped the handlebars. My dad explained the gears, first, second, third. He talked about the clutch. He reminded me I had to pull in the clutch when I braked. I said, “Okay, I got it,” when I really didn’t understand about ninety percent of what he’d told me. Mostly what I heard was, “pull in the clutch when you want to brake.”

So I let out the clutch in first gear and the thing almost left me behind. I remember hearing yelling, with grass and dirt flying. I was so busy trying to figure out why pulling  in the clutch wouldn’t stop the bike that I failed to turn. Next thing I know the bike and my flailing body launched off a foot high drop off into the garden and then across the garden down another small drop off. Luckily a chain link fence finally stopped the bike and what was left of my quivering body.

Dad ran over and caught the bike before it fell over on me and said, “Why didn’t you push on the brake?”

And that’s when I realized that braking involved more than simply pulling in the clutch. Ding, ding, ding!!! Light bulb!!! I needed to push the brake with my foot at the same time as pulling in the clutch.

My ego took a far bigger hit than my jostled and bounced around butt ever did.

You can bet that the next time Dad let me ride I paid attention to every single detail he told me. Luckily, I had other chances a year later and soon became a fairly brave rider when we’d take the bikes up to the mountains and ride around the dirt roads and wide trails. Those were some fun years buzzing around free and fast.

Can you picture G and G M on one of these? Cool!

Can you picture G and G M on one of these?

My dad went on several weekend long trail rides on various motorcycles. The trails he rode scared me even back then before I developed my fear of all things high and dangerous. (He also did a multi-day cattle drive on horseback once, but that’s a different story you’ll have to ask him to tell you about.)

Here’s something I’ll bet you didn’t know about your Grandpa M. He had said back then that when he retired he wanted to buy a Honda Goldwing and tour the country with Grandma. Sadly, that never happened. I think all us kids took the oomph out of his get-up-and-go. Not to mention, priorities change as life morphs and lengthens.

The Happy Harley couple last year…or the year before.

The happy Harley couple last year…

That crotch rocket you drove for a while, Big J, just about wore holes in my knees for how hard and often I prayed that you’d be safe out there.

When you and your newly christened Mrs. left the reception for your wedding night roaring away on that Harley, I thought my heart would bust wide open for joy and fear at the same time. I know you couldn’t hear me but I yelled, “where’s your helmets?” That would have spoiled the effect, I know.

I’m glad you’re living your life and taking measured chances and enjoying your youth. Don’t let my worries hold you back.

You other three, don’t be thinking I’m giving you permission to take up motorcycles. Not that it would matter what I thought at this point, right?

Have a fun ride this weekend, my sweet son, with your blonde bombshell wife on the back holding on tight. You’ll always be my little guy no matter how old you get, so I’ll always worry. I’ll also always be happy knowing you’re happy.

All my love,

Mom

"Bluebird of Happymess"

“Bluebird of Happymess”

p.s. Just wondering if you’ll wear sunscreen this year… 😉

 

~~~~~

“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.” ~ Edward Abbey ~~

Categories: Friday Letters, Fun | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Like A Ride on the Vomit Comet, But Not

Posted on October 21, 2014 by Kami

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m grateful for gravity.

Something felt off before I ever opened my eyes. A light-headed sensation perhaps? Awake but still dreaming maybe? Or, dang it, not again.

This last weekend I woke up to a raging case of vertigo. That isn’t terribly uncommon, but it’s been a few years since the house rocked and rolled and pitched like that.

For those of you personally unexperienced with this particular malady from the *book “Weird Things Your Body Does To You Just To Mess With Your Head” you can read up on vertigo at your leisure.

A little known tidbit: I woke up with vertigo on my wedding day. (Sorry, no one gets to hear that story today.) I think in my case vertigo also comes on when I’m under extreme stress. But that’s just a guess based on certain undisclosed files hidden in a closet somewhere.

Whoa, Nelly er… Kami

In the past when vertigo has hit, I’ve often seen it as God’s way of telling me to slow down and get some much-needed rest. I’ve come to that conclusion because when vertigo happens nothing else in my life happens, no matter how important. Everything comes to a dead stop, especially your body. Any movement, no matter how slight sets the world spinning again and this time my stomach joined the game.

Oh sure drugs exist that I could take. They’re usually named some weird word that ends in “-ine” which translates into an extremely buzzed and sleepy me. The result turns out the same. I get nothing done that day except either sleep or lying around trying not to move.

Is It Like Insanity in that You Get It From Your Kids?

My dad recently started experiencing frequent bouts of vertigo. The doctor he saw recommended head manipulation therapy a newer idea in treatment options. Now, anytime he feels vertigo coming on he simply goes through these exercises and his dizziness problem dissipates quickly.

Image By marcello from potenza, italy (Dizzy thorns)

Image By marcello from potenza, italy (Dizzy thorns)

You see, vertigo happens because…all sorts of complicated details…but basically the mechanism that keeps you balanced gets out of whack. The current very sound (pun not intended) medical theory says moving your head in very specific ways and sequences resets or removes problems in that mechanism.

They taught Dad some home remedy treatments, movements and exercises to do when he feels the onset of the dizziness. Now he’s in control of his equilibrium again. Pretty cool stuff!

Trained Professional, Do Not Attempt

Knowing this, when I woke up on Saturday with my world spinning, I Googled “how to do head manipulations to self-treat vertigo.” (Yay for Siri and YouTube, because reading wasn’t happening with all that whirling and spinning.)

Too many videos to choose from! I wanted fast results since I had a full day ahead of me and I felt lousy! In my hurry I kind of skipped over one very important detail and took a shortcut I shouldn’t have.

Don’t Shake the Soda Bottle

Photo by Michael Murphy (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)

Photo by Michael Murphy

The most critical part in doing one particular exercise, I learned the hard way, is knowing which ear is unbalanced. (You tend to feel dizzier while laying down on one side or the other.) Obviously I guessed wrong on which side needed resetting. When I finished the exercises my results were similar to what happens when you shake a bottle of Coke and then open the lid.  I immediately started puking my guts out all over a handy-dandy i.e. washable, throw rug.

That’s not the results my dad gets when he treats his vertigo.

I’d never had any dizziness this bad!

When I finally recovered enough to pull myself off the floor I moaned for MSH. He helped me get settled in to where I didn’t have to move my head or body. He placed himself at my every whim all day. What a sainted husband I have. He even stood by as I puked what was left of my insides into a garbage can.

I Would Make a Lousy Astronaut

Does NOT look fun to me! (Nasa File Photo)

Does NOT look fun to me! (Nasa File Photo)

After a day of doing nothing but sleeping and eating the occasional saltine cracker, and a few Otter Pops, my world began to stop spinning in multiple directions. The nausea stuck around another eighteen hours as a reminder of what I’d just gone through.

There’s good reason they call that plane NASA uses for anti-gravity training and experiments “the vomit comet.” I have newfound respect for what those people go through.

I decided later that day I would make a lousy astronaut. I definitely need gravity and my inner ear working in tandem to keep my balance recognizing up from down and left from right. Not to mention to keep my lunch where it belongs.

Thank goodness the world spins the way it’s supposed to, creating that magical thing called gravity, so that I can keep my two feet solidly planted and my head on straight.

~~~~~

* not an actual book, but makes for a catchy title don’t you think?

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Lost in the Translation or Perfectly Rendered?

Posted on October 20, 2014 by Kami

photo 1-5 copy 9

Yesterday my favorite three-year old gifted me some drawings from pages of her “books.” These books of hers consist simply of a nine by twelve sheet of paper folded in half, then folded again, creating a four page book. Not bad work for a budding artist. I admit to some partiality.

I didn’t take the time to ask her about each drawing, which I should have done. I suspect one is a ghost and another a pumpkin since she’s been into Halloween stuff recently. I like that her people are smiling. That’s a good sign.

photo 3-4 copy 16Do people really look like that when she sees them through her young eyes? I doubt it. Round orbs with sticks for legs and arms. No. I’m sure she sees what you and I see, a fully fleshed out body with nuances and structure and complexity. But with her raw young skills with crayon and pencil the translation of what she sees into what ends up on paper captures only the barest essentials. Eyes, a smile, stick limbs, a scratched scruff of hair convert successfully, for her anyway, into a person.

It struck me this morning as I looked over her drawings, that we all lose something in the translation of what we see and think and feel as we try to communicate it. We also stumble in translating and converting desires and dreams into reality.

I often have ideas I want to convey but try as I might the words fall short in giving skin, bones and muscles to an idea sufficiently so that anyone else can understand. Or I might get the gist of it, but not the whole as I thought of it. That can frustrate an artist, a writer, a musician, a human.

If as an adult I struggle with this translating process, imagine how frustrating it is for young children to try to convey thoughts and feelings into understandable ideas and words.

The secret, I would guess, lies in not giving up too soon. Not giving up in conveying the ideas, as well as not giving up in trying to understand them.

Her momma, perhaps, since she has long flowing hair.

Her momma maybe, who has long flowing hair.

In fifteen years my favorite three-year old will look at these drawings of hers and scoff at their simplicity, and that’s a shame. She’ll compare it to her artistic abilities after years of practice and lessons and laugh at her young self. I would hope she’d also see the purity in her efforts.

We all struggle to translate what’s inside our heads and hearts into understandable terms that forge relationships and communicate ideas. We’re all at different ages and stages of skill at making sense of the world. We wrestle making tangible the visions of who we are or want to be.

A secret life-decoder ring would come in handy wouldn’t it? Dial a few codes in, and read an outcome, carry out the instructions and voilà. But, that’s not how it works. Ever.

We explain, puzzle out, infer, deduce, interpret all the time. And so often, so very often, the messages end up lost in translation.

My take on all this?

1. We’re all drawing the best we can, with what we have, where we are.

If that isn’t true, if we aren’t putting our best efforts into being and doing what’s before us then we sharpen our colored pencils, or peel back some paper on our crayons. Then we pull out a sheet of paper, and see what sort of drawing we can come up with when we try a little harder.

2. Everyone else’s drawing means something to them and probably something slightly different to us. Maybe I ought to ask what their drawing, words, music or actions mean so I can understand better.

It shouldn’t hurt to ask. It only takes a second. “So tell me about this,” you could say. Or maybe, “I like your color choice, any particular reason you picked that color?” A thousand other questions could clarify, untangle and help us understand better.

That’s all.

Maybe I’ve overthought this whole thing. That’s certainly a strong possibility.

Sometimes a stick person is just a stick person.

Part of the halloween book. A monster maybe?
A story involving a pumpkin (orange orb, no face, and “writing” on the rest of the page)
Ghost. (no arms) with writing, or mist, around the ghost.

~~~~~

“Art is as natural as sunshine and as vital as nourishment.”

-MaryAnn F. Kohl

Categories: Books, Communication, Family | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

My Window Escapades

Posted on October 17, 2014 by Kami

Friday Letter to my Kids –

Dear J, J, L and L,

I used to climb out of my bedroom window when I was younger.

It’s not what you think at all. I didn’t slink out when grounded, or try go with friends late at night, or to sneak off with some guy. Nope.

I climbed out in the early morning hours around sunrise, usually on a Saturday.

Unlike my siblings, I loved early mornings. I loved the quiet before everyone was awake. Seemed like a natural thing to lean towards with three brothers and three sisters. Our house seldom knew the meaning of silence.

Problem was, Mom and Dad rose early as well. No way could anyone wake up earlier than they did. I just wanted silence and the freedom to think and be and ease into my day. On emerging from my bedroom one of them would hear me, or see me or speak to me and the magic of the morning shattered and fell like so much crystal around my feet.

So, I learned to climb out of my bedroom window. We had windows with a crank that opened like a door. And fortunately for me, a small brick ledge circled that part of the house under my bedroom window. Then I lowered myself so I could reach that ledge with my toes, just barely. Then holding to the woodwork on the house, I’d ease my way around to the side and shimmy down a drain pipe.

When I got a little older and braver I’d just jump from the ledge. (I’ve looked at that ledge as an adult and it isn’t that high, five feet up at the most. )

Free from the possibility of running into family, I often wandered to the park down the street, or over to the apricot orchard. It just felt good to not have anyone know what I was doing or where I was going.

Sounds scary and dangerous in today’s world, but back then, in the Jurassic period, I felt safe enough. I wasn’t usually gone very long. Mostly I just wanted time to wake up with my own thoughts to wander among. I loved, even way back then, to watch the day begin. I especially liked watching the shadow of the mountain near us grow shorter as the sun rose higher.

As you can imagine, getting back in the house through my open window wasn’t as easy as getting out. Usually there was a woodpile, or a wheelbarrow, or some contraption leaning against the house that I could use to boost myself to the ledge. A quick side stepping got me back to the window and inside easy enough.

I wonder now if the neighbors ever mentioned seeing me climbing out or in to my parents. Probably not, or I’d have heard about it.

Having enjoyed my morning and some quiet, I could cheerfully enter the household fray. (My mom would say I wasn’t very cheerful, especially as a teenager, and that’s true, but that was mostly on school days.)

What you see isn’t always what you think you’re seeing.

I’m not sure I could have put that into words as a kid. I’d have probably really caught some flak if I’d have gotten caught. It would’ve been worth whatever punishment I’d have earned. Luckily that never happened.

I’m still very much a morning person. If your Dad wakes up early it can throw my whole day out of kilter. Poor guy. Poor aggravated me. But, that doesn’t happen too often. Good thing.

So, now you know one of my childhood secrets.

Lots of Love,

Mom

~~~~~

"Bluebird of Happymess"

“Bluebird of Happymess”

“People could behave how they liked, but Allan considered that in general it was quite unnecessary to be grumpy if you had the chance not to.” ~Jonas Jonasson

Categories: Family, Friday Letters | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Bunny Hop, Hop, Hop

Posted on October 13, 2014 by Kami
By Masteruk (Own work)

Contemplative Bunny Photo by Masteruk (Own work)

I’ve observed this fun play at the Riparian on my morning walks over the past few months. Two rabbits face each other, then one hops straight up while the other one runs under it. The hopper turns midair and lands facing the other rabbit who turns almost immediately upon running under. They repeat this behavior taking turns on who hops and who runs. It’s a bit like watching popcorn popping when several pairs are hopping and running in the same general area.

This fun behavior seems to have ramped up with the cooler weather. I’ve wondered what it all means.

At first I thought it was some form of Bunny Jousting. Or perhaps it’s where the name of the popular wedding reception dance “The Bunny Hop” came from. (Could be.) But I did what any self-respecting blogger would and engaged in a bit of research before making a fool of myself online.

Turns out it’s part of the mating ritual between a male and a female. Looks fun!

Since my video attempts came out grainy and unclear, I’ve included video someone else shot of the same behavior.

Given the amount of such frolicking and the frequency of the hopping going on over at the Riparian a bumper crop of bunnies ought to make a huge showing in about a month.

Apparently there’s good reason for the anonymous saying, “Let happy thoughts multiply like rabbits.”

~.~.~.~.~

(If you’re really into Bunnies and all their nuances, this website has more information than the average person would ever need or want to know. But if you’ve got a son working on his rabbit raising merit badge, it’d come in really handy.)

Categories: Mondaze, Nature, Outdoors | Tags: , , , , , , | 1 Comment

What’s Missing?

Posted on October 8, 2014 by Kami

I wrote this post on Tuesday. Specifically for Gratituesday. And then I couldn’t make myself finish it, or push the publish button. I suppose because it’s the kind of irritating writing I don’t like to read, especially when my day-to-day life seems composed of nothing but uphill struggles and crap to muck through.

Let’s be honest here, shall we?

It’s not always easy to see past difficulties and troubles in life and count blessings or feel grateful. Why is that? Lack of perspective? Lack of sleep? Lack of understanding?

The inability to feel gratitude, to notice and appreciate the good and great things about my life occasionally overtakes me and then I feel miserable.

Sometimes, on Tuesdays I feel almost like I’m bragging, although I don’t mean to. Sometimes on Tuesdays I feel embarrassed by the abundance I have in my life.

And then sometimes on Tuesdays I struggle to find something I feel grateful for. And then I feel ashamed that I could feel that way.

Just one tiny spot on the planet where poverty thrives.

One tiny spot on the planet where poverty thrives.

By any measure, particularly on a global scale, my life is one of riches, comfort, ease, wonders and glorious blessings. Even the poorest person in my city is better off than most of the world. Compared to eighty percent of the people on this planet I am a wealthy person.

Maybe I need to convince myself when I’m having a bad day, when the bills pile up, when the troubles I face feel extra daunting. If that’s the case maybe I should look at what’s missing and what’s not missing in my life.

Missing:

  • I’m not homeless.
  • I’m not hungry.
  • I don’t wonder about fuel to cook with or light at night.
  • I don’t fear reprisals if I voice my opinions or disagree with authority.
  • The air I breathe isn’t contaminated or polluted or making me ill.
  • Little restricts me if I choose to travel.
  • No major disease riddles my body or challenges my health or life.
  • Access to all sorts of information isn’t restricted or filtered.
  • I’m not persecuted for my religious beliefs.

Not Missing:

  •  I have food in the pantry.
  • Clothing choices abound, as do shoes.
  • Clean running water comes into my house with ease.
  • I’m safe in my neighborhood and in my city.
  • A variety of transportation is readily available.
  • If I really need medical care I can find a way to get it.
  • I’m able to communicate with extended family easily and quickly.
  • I can read and write, and so can my children.
  • Growing up I had two parents and siblings and everything I needed.
Not my neighborhood.

Not my neighborhood.

All of that reads like fairly basic, and almost silly stuff that just seems commonplace and ordinary. It’s only basic in some limited parts of the world, and even then only in some parts of some cities. The whole world isn’t like where I live and work and play and write. Hardly. I live in a utopia, a wonderland, a bubble.

I’ve heard people say things like, “Oh, real poverty could never happen here in America, not now, not anymore.”

I cringe when I hear such isolated and naïve talk.

To those who think such thoughts I say this:

Drop by a food pantry sometime. Volunteer for a day or two. Talk to a few of the people who come in for help. Open your eyes.

Google this term: “Countries at War.” Enjoy that reading. Or look up “Global Poverty” then look around you. Want a more realistic comparison? Then just ask your search engine to look at  “Poverty in the U.S.”

Sometimes we just don’t see the gloriously green forest all around us because the tree we’re banging our sad little head on gets in the way of our view. I’m one of those most guilty of such behavior.

Blessed beyond measure. That’s me!

Grateful for it all? You’re dang right!

I hope your view turns out as spectacular or better than mine.

~~~~~

“May our effort, confidence and concern for others be the altar from which we pray for personal abundance.” ~Laura Teresa Marquez

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, The World | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Home Again

Posted on October 6, 2014 by Kami

After my acrobatic stair performance and subsequent recovery, coupled with a too long battle against Zombie’s taking over my lungs, I’m finally back to my morning walks.  I had missed that quiet time, I just didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until I stepped out of the car and set foot on the trail this morning.

Stunning, yes?

Stunning, yes?

The biggest difference? Twenty degrees cooler! Last time I went for a walk the pre-sunrise temps hovered at eighty-three. This morning? Sixty-three! Glorious! Even once the sun’s southern-leaning rays reached my skin I didn’t feel overly warm or wish for a water bottle. Summer seems almost behind us now. (It still hits ninety-something during the day.)

Other differences I noticed included:

'Shrooms!

‘Shrooms!

Mushrooms? Not normally in the desert! But yeah, two major rainstorms, nearly five inches the first time and two inches the second. A year’s worth of rain in one month did a number on our little dry patch of earth. Fungi popping up all over the place.

Green! More than normal. Every plant seems intent on growing faster and bigger than its neighbor.

Fewer rabbits. Not sure why. Too cold? Coyotes perfecting their hunting technique? They’re sleeping in and waiting for warmer late morning temperatures?

Three little birds…singing a sweet song…a melody pure and true.

Three little birds…singing a sweet song…a melody pure and true.

The birds seemed extra cheerful and more willing to sing out. Maybe that’s just a result of being away so long I’ve forgotten their sounds. I think they’re every bit as happy about the cooler weather as any other desert dweller, human or otherwise.

More night herons out and about. I had wondered all summer long if they’d moved on to other feeding grounds forever, but I saw more this morning than I’ve seen in the past four months combined.

Things that stayed the same:

My coyote friend still frolics in the tall brush of the dry ponds and watches from a distance as I watch back. I’d like to think we share a sort of connection, but I’m not fooling myself with that idea.

Yellow hollered for attention, too.

Yellow hollered for attention, too.

That creosote and mingled dust smell still permeates the air. Some people don’t care for it, but to me it’s the scent of wildness and quiet. Some days I go out of my way in the car to drive past with my windows open just to get a whiff of one of my favorite places.

Peace abounds and wraps itself around me as I walk. That, more than any other aspect of my morning ritual summarizes best what I missed the most this past month. Lacking a brush with nature, I stumble around off-kilter and unfocused. It’s not something I ought to neglect.

 

 “This early piece of the morning is mine.” 
~Wallace Stegner 

Categories: Nature, Outdoors, phoenix | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

Hidey Holes and Other Scary Times

Posted on October 4, 2014 by Kami

Friday Letter to My Kids – October 3, 2014 –

Dear J, J, L and L,

When we moved to Oklahoma one of the first things anyone said to us was, “Welcome to Oklahoma. If you don’t like the weather just wait ten minutes.” That sure proved true. Blue skies could change to threatening wall clouds and potential destruction in just a matter of minutes. Then sirens could start blasting and we’d tune in to the local news to see where the radar signature of a tornado might be traveling.

Luckily we never saw one in person.

Luckily we never saw one in person.

Do you remember hidey holes?

The first time we had to crouch and hide from a tornado it was in a one and a half-story home with that odd loft. The smallest and most central room in the house was the bathroom. That’s where we hid out when the tornado sirens blasted.  I had all four of you climb into the tub where I covered you with a big  quilt. Then I hunkered down beside you. Dad must have been out-of-town or at work.

Lucky for us the sirens proved unnecessary and no tornado touched down anywhere. I imagine the adrenaline of that first time kept us all awake late that night.

There’s an odd sensation of wanting to stand at a window and try to see this phenomenon live and in person. It seems to outweigh the logic of hiding out in a closet or bathtub. Nowadays with smart phones, weather cameras and non-stop storm chasers we could snuggle safe in our hidey hole and still see what’s going on.

Our second home in Oklahoma had a bigger, better sheltering spot, in that big weird closet that wrapped around the back of the rock fireplace. Remember that closet? It could have served as an extra bedroom it was so big.

I have to admit I’m glad we didn’t have a storm shelter. The idea of crawling into a glorified hole in the ground and waiting out a fierce storm scares the heck outta me. Remember how I don’t like basements, dark places or small spaces? But we’d have had a better chance if our house had taken a direct hit by a twister if we were underground.

The closest we ever came to real danger was a cluster of tiny tornadoes that sort of skipped over our neighborhood, tickled a few rooftops, took out a few small trees and then dissipated. And once a gas station in the town just north of ours took a direct hit. Phew.

I see news footage of some of the havoc from big storms that sweep through towns and feel grateful we never saw anything like that firsthand. Moving to “tornado alley” turned out okay for us, but the idea sure sounded ominous at the time.

Fairly self-explanatory.

Fairly self-explanatory.

Even in Wyoming you’ve encountered scary stuff. How could you ever forget the time you were staying at Grandpa and Grandma’s house Big J? Lightning hit in the middle of the night and blew the TV out. Grandpa said you made the leap from your bedroom to theirs in one bound.

I suppose anywhere you live there’s some kind of danger. Some areas habitually rock and roll with earthquakes. Others experience frequent flooding. Then there’s the coastal threats of hurricanes and tsunamis. Not to mention volcanoes, drought, landslides, ice storms, sinkholes, dust storms, hail, blizzards. There’s always something.

Life itself plays out as a risky undertaking. Knowing that, we brace ourselves for uncertainty and bumpy roads while enjoying the ride and scenery as much as we can in the meantime.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve found myself less willing to risk even simple things. I’m sure I’m missing out, I’m just not sure how to combat that inherent fear.

Jarek Tuszynski [CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Jarek Tuszynski [CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Hard to believe this now deathly-scared-of-heights woman, your very own mother,  is the same one who introduced you to rock climbing and rappelling you when were four and five years old. Who was that woman and where did she disappear to? (Remember days spent at Spire Rock?) Little J picked up the nickname Arachnid for her mad climbing skills back then.

Maybe it’s a hormone thing. Maybe it’s insanity, or maybe it’s actually sanity finally settling in. Staying safe, avoiding risk and searching for a solid footing seem to make up a significant portion of my daily efforts. Feels a bit like I’ve taken up permanent residence in a hidey hole.

That’s silly.

So far, each of you have braved new adventures with eyes wide and anticipating what’s next. Fortunately, I can also see your wisdom in “setting protection,” like a smart rock climber would. You’re on belay and working your way up to new, fun and spectacular vistas.

It’s scary and exciting to see you progressing. I want to save you from rock fall, wild weather, and anything that might prevent your happiness. But I can’t. Even if I could it’d be unfair of me to deprive you of the learning opportunity of hardship. (Have I mentioned how much I hate learning from hardship? You should at least know that much about me by now.)

About all that I can do involves praying for you which I do daily and fervently! Wherever you go and whatever you do I wish you courage, calm winds, safe passage, sturdy shelter, and plenty of joy.

 

Love Always,

Mom

"Bluebird of Happymess"

“Bluebird of Happymess”

 

“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.” ~Rabindranath Tagore

 

 

 

Categories: Family, Friday Letters, Nature | Tags: , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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