Sum-sum-summertime

Summer is in full swing. This too snuck up on me, as most things tend to do these days. I think it has to do with spending too much time indoors. I don't have the seasons to remind me when it's always air-conditioned. I could guess, from more fleas and hot spots, that it's warmer outside, but I haven't actually spent much time there.

It's puppy season, and that's always fun. Not as many kittens this year, but we're seeing lots of puppies and a few litters. I get jaded about some things, but I still enjoy working at one of the few professions where you get to play with puppies regularly. I was at a coworker's house for a cookout and several of us spent awhile just watching puppies wrestle. There are worse ways to spend the time.

In lieu of actual deep thoughts, I realized I could recycle old stories while I'm (that thing you call it when someone can't think of what to write; not stuck, not plugged.... BLOCKED) while I'm blocked. And not just for the right word.

I was recycling this for a client the other day: years ago at the Dallas clinic I had just finished a mastectomy on a rat, who was recovering in an incubator. I still remember the bill: $100, a phenomenal bill at the time, especially for an exotic. Couldn't believe someone would pay that for a rat. I walked by the incubator carrying a bag of food for the hawk that was hospitalized in the back, and I had to stop. I looked at the $100 rat, recovering from her surgery, and then I looked at the bag of identical rats I had in my hand, frozen and ready to thaw-n-eat for my hawk patient.

It's all depends on who you know.

Vacation 2007

Washington is an endless series of mock palaces clearly built for clerks. Ada Louise Huxtable

That may well be, but we went anyway. It's been awhile since we had a vacation just with our family, so the discussion of where to go was all over the map. Literally. We told the kids we had to stay within the Lower Forty-Eight, and California was bandied about, but I stuck to my guns. D.C. is where I wanted to take them before Sean graduates, and in the end, D.C. is where we went.

Day One: We fly into Richmond and head over to the Confederate White House. It's closed on Wednesdays. We turn and make our way down to Maymont, where I find myself walking in a Japanese garden and feeling the stress just ebb away. The house is beautiful, although they make a point to differentiate between life upstairs and down. The basement itself takes awhile to go through to see all the rooms and labor it took to keep the household running. Seventeen people to take care of thirty-three rooms and two other people. For dinner, it turns out that Virginia Arby's have veggie plates! I make a note to write corporate.

Day Two: We drive down to Colonial Williamsburg. We went ahead and purchased tickets, but there is plenty to do without tickets as well. After missing the buggy ride in Southlake last year, I told Emily we'd take one here, and it was fun. Our driver kept us entertained with stories of present day Williamsburg. More house tours, more searching to find something vegetarian in the fast food world. This time it's potato soup, but the pool of butter on top makes me stop halfway through. Emily's pb&j is very dry, so we somewhat swap, and finish off with chips.

Day Three: Washington. We go early to get tickets to the Capitol, then go to Air and Space Museum, American Indian Museum, and the Botanical Gardens (one of Dale Chihuly's glass sculptures is on the left). Air and Space has a gallery of favorite items from the Museum of American History, which is closed for renovation. This becomes Emily's highlight of the trip, when she spies Helen Keller's watch. I resolve to make sure we visit the National Cathedral later, where she's interred. I get to see R2D2 and C3PO, where I try to keep my enthusiasm down to respectable levels, but it was really them! And then there were a bunch of planes and moon rocks.

At the last of the day, we get thirty minutes in the Library of Congress, with its beautiful architecture (above, right). We get to look in on the main reading room, normally off limits unless with a guided tour. OK, now that's where I want to go someday.

This is the day when David and I vow never to chaperone a group of school children to Washington. One group at the Capitol had Lou Gossett, Jr. for a teacher, only he was white, female, 50ish and loaded for bear. She was in those kids' faces, barking orders, all but telling them to drop and give her twenty. Another chaperone at the food court next to Air and Space (tomorrow's goal: eat in a decent restaurant) had had it. "I know where that boy's parents live, and don't think I won't tell them how disrespectful he's been!"

Day Four: We let the kids sleep in; lots of walking these last two days. Then it's up for Monument Day. We got to the Washington Monument around 11 (yup, that's it) then hit the World War II Memorial, strolled down the Mall to see the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, then the Lincoln Memorial, Korean War Memorial, FDR Memorial (that's Fala on the left), Jefferson Memorial (on the right), and back home. Lunch is at a kiosk on the mall; hot dogs for the guys, pretzels for us. Emily's diary reminds me that we saw a starling that could do tricks. Especially if you were tossing crumbs to him!

Day Five: Today, the International Spy Museum. This one deserves its reputation as one of the most popular museums in town. Great stuff! We go across the street to the National Portrait Gallery where we got a poster of this. If you can't see it, that's the Preamble to the Constitution, spelled out in license plates. After that we took in the museum at Ford's Theater (there was a matinee going on, so we didn't get to see the actual theater) and the house where Lincoln died. That's the bedroom where he died, above right. The furniture is not original, though.

Lunch at a great little restaurant, finally!

Day Six: The National Cathedral and the National Zoo. After all the buildup in my imagination, when Emily sees where Helen Keller's ashes are interred (or at least the brass plaque stating it) she said.... "Oh." The cathedral was beautiful, though, and we stayed for an organ recital. And it's Episcopalian. Who knew. The zoo was a zoo, but with pandas. The zoo did have veggie burgers, which were even bigger than the beef burgers. I secretly gloat.

Day Seven: I'm beginning to flag. We ask the kids to choose between the Museum of Natural History and Mt. Vernon, and the museum wins, so back we go. They've kicked it up a notch since I was a kid. Same dead stuffed animals, but in nifty new cases. More interactive exhibits, more short movies. After this, lunch at the Old Post Office, which has a food court and the second best view of Washington from the bell tower. I know I could have put the standard views of the Capitol or the Washington Monument here, but what fascinated me was the life going on on the rooftops of the office and residential buildings. Check it out!

Day Eight: Going home! We spend the day in Richmond, where we're flying out. It's mostly a mall and movie day; we see Shrek 3. It's not Oscar material, but not a waste of money either. Home, work, laundry. We resume our normally scheduled programming.

Both Sides Now, May

Emily: Yes! Finally! School is almost out, and summer’s here!
Karen: I know. This has been a longer year than usual.
Emily: That’s because of so much excess homework.
Karen: You didn’t have any more than most kids your age.
Emily: Then I feel sorry for them, too.
Karen: What do you think will be the best thing about next year?
Emily: New people. I’ve heard rumors that there will be a new sixth grade teacher next year.
Karen: I bet you’ll miss your old teacher.
Emily: Yes, I will. She told us stories about her childhood and she really socializes with her students. I wish we could have her next year.
Karen: I know you do. It’s hard to change sometimes.

The end of the school year always gives me a reason to sit back and take stock. What have we accomplished? Where do we want to go? How are we meeting our goals? I sometimes wonder if we wouldn’t be better off just observing where we are rather than always looking ahead to the next item on the agenda.
It’s hard to stay in the moment. I tend to either dissect the past or try to predict the future, and I can easily miss out on what’s going on around me right then. Mindful living is not as easy as it sounds. It takes many gentle reminders to keep yourself from missing out on what’s going on right under your nose. Yes, the kids grow too quickly, but they’re growing right there in front of you. All you have to do is really look at them. Give them your attention. Live today with them.
Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time.” If God truly doesn’t give us more than we can handle, then we’re simply not meant to handle more than this next twenty-four hours. Let’s turn the verse around: Sufficient unto the day is the good thereof, as well.

Karen: I can’t believe you’ll be in the youth group at church next year.
Emily: Me neither. I don’t know where I’ll sit in the auditorium during the service.
Karen: Anywhere you’d like.
Emily: It’s just because I’ve noticed that all the youth group sits in one section of the auditorium and I don’t really want to.
Karen: You don’t have to. It’s really up to you. Change is never easy. You can take it at your own pace.
Emily: Speaking of sitting, our class at school won the award and we can sit anywhere we want to next Tuesday!
Karen: There you go. Freedom of choice.

Chasing my tail

Three long, long weeks ago I started working more. Have you heard the one about the stay-at-home mom who didn't anymore? Yeah, I didn't think it was funny, either.

The tired part is like a whole new thing. It's fall-asleep-at-the-doctor's tired. Fall-asleep-in-front-of-the-TV tired. I fall asleep at the office, in the school pick up line, at stoplights. Yes, I'm getting seven hours a night, most nights. Go figure.

The cases keep me up some nights. I second-guess everything. The list of what I need to do grows.

I haven't knitted in three weeks because I fell asleep when I sat down.

So.

I've added on vitamins, gag-inducing minerals, omega-3's, and such things as to give me the stuff I supposedly need. I'm exercising; not much, but more than before. I've cut waaayy back on the junk food and replaced it with Ghirardelli Dark, to be taken internally, one per diem.

After the May sweeps, I'm tossing most of the shows. Guess what? On CSI Anywhere, someone will die and then someone else will furrow their brows and run about in high heels and zoomy camera shots and figure out who done it. On Grey's Anatomy, someone will sleep with someone else, and God help those poor people in the hospital because they're essentially on their own. They find themselves having to perform life-saving maneuvers on each other because the doctors are all in linen closets having carnal relations. On Desperate Housewives, the carnal relations bloom all over Wisteria Lane, and another minor character dies. (Hint to up and coming actors: if they want you for a three-episode arc on DH, run!) I'll keep ER, well, for the same reason that you keep inviting Aunt Betty to Thanksgiving; you've had her at the house every year for so long that Thursday dinner just wouldn't be the same without her.

That'll free up several hours a week.

Giving me time to fall asleep in many new places.

Good thing I love my job.

Oxymorons

Not like a new classic, or all natural artificial flavor. No, this is increase your time at work, get more done at home. I could have an infomercial.

Admittedly, we're operating on day 3 of the new schedule, and it's the day I'm off, so it's quite possible that this time next week I'll be rocking on the floor mumbling to no one in particular, but this is now.

I'm now working two mornings a week, two full days a week, and still alternating Saturdays. David is home now, Sean will get his license in another month or so, and our classes are all ending, one by one. Even Emily's school will be out in a month. Theoretically, this is a good time to do this, especially since my job would go away if I didn't. Permanent relief jobs usually don't last forever; they evolve into part-time associates, like this one, or go away entirely. And I like this job and its convenience to home, so we'll see how it goes.

The odd thing is that even with more than doubling my hours at work, everything has gone fairly smoothly. Emily has two pet-sitting jobs going on, I've made dinner both nights, the kitchen is currently clean, the laundry is mostly done, if not put away. I seem to function better on deadlines and adrenaline. It may not be best for the cardiopulmonary system, but it's great for schedules.

I just know I need to schedule downtime too. David volunteered to go to a meeting at church last night and it really helped me out to accept that and get some things done here in the meantime.

Hope everyone had a great Easter.

If you didn't get a visit from

the Easter bunny, this may be why:

Both Sides Now, April

Here is our column for the women's newsletter at church this month:

Emily: Spring break this year was great, don’t you think?

Karen: I really liked getting out of town and spending a few days with just us girls. San Antonio with the whole family was fun, too.

Emily: I liked getting splashed by Shamu! Apparently you didn’t, since I had to stand in front of you.

Karen: And don’t think I don’t appreciate it.

Emily: I like getting away because I wanted to go someplace different. I’m tired of following the same schedule every single day.

Renewal is something we tend to put off. We’ll get to it when we have time, when we can take a break. And although I certainly felt somewhat refreshed after the trip last week, it was partly negated by the mountain of laundry and overdue chores that awaited us when we got back. You know. You’ve been there!

I don’t think renewal is something that can only be accomplished by a vacation, preferably far away and accompanied by the spending of large amounts of money. If we wait till we’re on vacation, we’re raising our expectations to the breaking point. In two weeks or less a year, you have to cram family time, quality time, entertainment, education, and personal growth, while saving gas, avoiding fast food, and enjoying yourself, no matter what. It’s no wonder that we return more tired than when we left!

Find renewal wherever you are. It can be in your garden, in a few minutes at the park, or curled up with a magazine. It can be in your early morning Bible reading, or a cup of overpriced coffee. It can be at a stoplight if you wish. Cultivating a sense of constant renewal, being aware of God’s presence in our lives and trying to understand His plan is part of our humanity. We must step outside ourselves and maintain that sense of perspective and balance that is afforded those who walk in the Light.

In an age where being busy is a badge of honor, embrace that which is slow. Look for the quiet spots, and remember them. Surround yourself with time enough.

Karen: So where would you like to go on a vacation if you could go anywhere?

Emily: Hawaii, or Africa, or England. Those are the places I’ve always wanted to visit.

Karen: For me it would be New Zealand or Greece. I’m afraid we’re going to have to just explore Flower Mound for now, though.

Emily: I guess that’ll have to do, then!

Spring break

The guys had to work, but us girls had a few days off and I had no intention of spending them in the city. Not this city, anyway.

Emily and I packed up and took off to my uncle's farm ("Ranch!" she says) in Brenham, TX. To be honest, one of the biggest reasons was that a few months ago she looked up at the sky at night and sighed, "I wish I could see stars." You don't see them here at night, with the lovely yellow-washed nights next to DFW airport, and I thought it was worth a field trip.

On the way, we stopped by Washington-on-the-Brazos, to see where the Texas Declaration of Independence was signed. That's it, right there in the picture. It was a bit underwhelming, but hey, not everyone has Philadelphia.

The farm/ranch was great, as usual. Emily and my uncle rode horses and the four-wheeler, while I got to catch up on knitting and sitting. I did get called into service to check out this creature:

I hadn't seen a soft-shelled turtle outside a zoo, so it was pretty cool. I carried it down to the creek and we released it there.

After two days we came back home and then headed to San Antonio with the guys. Walking the Riverwalk and SeaWorld took a couple of days and then we were back home. It gets the wanderlust out of my blood for a little while.

The big knitting projects are out of the bag now. I decided it wouldn't be prudent to keep them secret if they didn't fit, so when my parents were here a couple of weeks ago I took them out and let them try them on. There will be a little reconstruction on one, but nothing too bad. I just hope the yarn there holds out, or it's back to Ebay for more. Pictures to come!

The mall on a Saturday

I had 30 minutes to kill before the hockey game, so I ran over to the bookstore for an Earl Grey and a peek at the latest knitting magazines.

Will not buy any new knitting magazines until I'm back lifting weights and sticking to my diet. How's that for a carrot?

Had to bite my tongue several times during my walk, so here's everything I didn't say:

Dear Skinny Chick: Wearing a large belt around hips the size of my former waist does not make you look like you have a figure, unless you're wanting the figure of a nine-year-old. Please. Eat a brownie.

Dear Cute Dark-Haired Mom: You have an adorable daughter! Just as I'm about to give up on capris, misused and abused as they are, your girl rocks them. They were denim, frayed just right, with a raglan shirt and scuffed tennies and a matching ankle bracelet. It was the perfect preteen ensemble.

Dear Tall, Tall, Skinny, Skinny Lady: Omigosh! Are you all right? Apparently your cell phone battery leaked acid in your jeans pocket, eating a perfect square hole where your pocket should be. It's far too high up for a normal jeans hole, so I can only assume it was an accident and you are frantically looking for a pair of jeans to buy so that you can hide a spot that would normally be covered by a bit of panty. It's also nearly eye-level for me, so you can imagine my distress. Hope there's no permanent damage.

Dear Horse Lover: I love horses too! Aren't they wonderful animals? I know it's hard to leave the jodhpurs at home, and I know that wearing them makes you feel that much closer to your horse. Or perhaps he's right outside and you just ran in for a moment to grab a Starbucks. That would explain the boots and riding pants. Tally ho!

Dear Teenage Asian Gang: Love the look. Seriously, you'd all look great in one of the store windows. It's working for you. Unless you're the same gang that was hogging the kiddie rides last week, in which case I hope you don't sit down for a month and if those pants are any indication, you won't be able to anyway.

Both Sides Now

Emily and I are writing a column for our church's ladies' newsletter. Here's our first one:

Emily: I like my school. One of my friends has been going to that school for five years and my other friend’s first year was last year. One of my old friends told me that the boys wear church shirts and knickers, but I told him what we really wore. I think the uniforms are good.

Karen: See, I thought you might not like having to wear the same thing everyday.

Emily: I didn’t at first, but then I saw all the varieties of the clothes that we could wear. Before I started school I thought it would be like the schools on TV with the plaid skirts and white shirts. That scared me.

Karen: So you like khakis and polo shirts?

Emily: Yeah, sure.

Karen: It’s kind of how we have to live under God’s rules.

Emily: Are you trying to make little things into educational things again?

Karen: I like metaphors. Work with me here. You have to follow certain guidelines, but within those rules you can wear any color of shirt or style of khakis. And if we live by God’s rules, we can have freedom there too.

I’ve been thinking a lot about rules lately and how they govern our lives. Our first few years of homeschooling were delightful as the kids and I explored books and went on field trips and did our science experiments in the kitchen. As they’ve grown, though, so have the rules, and our lives seem more structured than ever before. It’s hard to see the freedom still available to us sometimes. It struck me that it’s the same dichotomy that exists in our Christian living. To those outside the church, we seem to be regimented, blindly following rules that don’t make sense, but we know better. One of the greatest gifts that Christ brings us is freedom, the freedom to truly know another person through marriage, the freedom to raise our children in faith and love, the freedom to believe in a God who is so much more than we can grasp. It’s hard to communicate that freedom to those who only see the outside of the church building. I think that’s why Jesus didn’t confine himself to the synagogue; he went where the people were and showed them the freedom they were missing. He wasn’t afraid to break the rules. We shouldn’t be either.

Karen: I notice that you always wear something to set yourself apart from the other kids, though, like bracelets or necklaces.

Emily: I like to be different and try new things.

Karen: Nothing wrong with that!

Rock On

Styx was playing.

No, it wasn't 1978, when I attended a Styx concert, not because I liked Styx or even knew who they were, but because I was trailing behind a guy who liked Styx. You know. You've done it too.

But there they were, nearly thirty years later, in my car, on a palm-sized metalloid disc that still looks like science fiction to me.

Sean switched it to "Babe."

Oh, I thought. "Beth," by Styx. I said so.

No, he said. It's "Babe."

"Beth."

"Babe."

This would have gone on for hours (the Pointless Offspring Discussion, similar to PSD but with more emotion) except I began to realize he was awfully smug. And seemed to be sure. And wanted to place a bet. AND had a younger brain.

It was the last that swayed me.

"Well, maybe it's not 'Beth.' Let me listen to it... no, that's not. I'm wrong. Never mind."

He got smugger, if that's possible. "Don't want to bet anymore?"

Of course not. I'm not an idiot. I checked the CD case. Yep, "Babe." Of course. I knew it wasn't "Beth." That must be another one of their ballads, but for some odd reason it wasn't included in this two-disc collections of hits. Hmm.

So I just came home and quietly Googled and I'm sure you know this, but "Beth" is by.... (deep, deep sigh) KISS.

Note to my parents: I never went to a KISS concert. Don't worry.

And I know I'm too old to care about mistaking one rock band for another, but here it's a matter of self-respect, as well as the only topic of conversation at times. Both the husband and the son find it endlessly amusing that I can't tell Def Leppard from Rush from Black Sabbath, although I do know my Metallica. It's whatever's on the radio that sounds just like what I hear from my son's amplifier.

In the last week, it's been his new Relient K CD on all the time, though, and that's been a relief. Actual singers, with harmony! Not a bad career move.

Aging rapidly...

You know how you 'll see a picture of yourself, not realizing it's you, and you wonder who that old person is? That happened tonight at the end-of-year slide show at Enrichment Classes. It's always a little pick-me-up, to see yourself as others see you, especially when they are apparently not telling you what you look like.

It also followed earlier today, when my youngish co-teacher mentioned Cyndi Lauper, and then laughed when none of our students knew who she was.

"Don't you get nostalgic for stuff like that from your childhood?" she asked me perkily.

My childhood? Cyndi Lauper?

I rolled my eyes. "I can remember Nixon's elections, the end of Vietnam, and the Beatles breaking up, " I said. Her eyes got wide. She thought I was 38, bless her.


Our movie last week was A Man For All Seasons, but I just couldn't inflict it on the kids. I previewed about thirty minutes of it, and it was putting me right out. So I jettisoned that, and went with O Brother, Where Art Thou? What a great movie! It was better than I remembered it; definitely one that improves with viewing. I reviewed the story of the Odyssey with the kids, and then they hunted for analogous characters during the movie.

I finished the socks for Emily and one fits, while the other is too narrow and too long. Two socks at a time from now on! I started a crocheted ripple afghan for Halfknits, which will seem like forever when it's done. Crochet just doesn't do my wrist right.

Catching Up

Sorry about that. February just sort of slipped right by me! It's been your basic short, cold, wet month, until the last few days when we've had some glorious afternoons of sunshine and 80 (count 'em!) degrees.

It's been a month of decisions and changes. Emily is signed up for Coram Deo next year again. She wants to be in the wind ensemble and is currently deciding between the trombone and the flute. This means Friday enrichment classes are not going to fit in the schedule, so we'll be dropping those next year, but I'm going to teach 6th and 7th grade science classes at the Circle of Sciences. That way, she can take her science there, and Sean will take one or two classes as well. They're moving to new quarters in May, so there wil be a lot of work to do. Sean is wanting to take some classes at a junior college to earn dual credit, so I need to find out how that works. David is now able to work from home every other week, so that's been a big benefit.

I'm still knitting the big projects; in between I'm finishing Emily's sock, finished the scarf and a hat to go with it, and am starting a chemo cap for a friend.

The movie class is going well; we just did The Music Man and while the adults enjoyed it, the students were less than enthusiastic. It does have a song and dance number that was also in an episode of Family Guy, though, so for three minutes, it was a cool movie.

The Flu down in Fluville

Count Rugen: Get some rest. If you haven't got your health, then you haven't got anything.

Well, Emily has the flu. I haven't had it since vet school, lo these 21 years ago, and I still remember how miserable it was. My flu test was negative (and don't they have the niftiest little tests now!) so we're both on the miracle drug Tamiflu, so she can get well and I won't get it at all. At least, that's the plan.

I'm still shaking my head at my reaction to the doc last night when I took her to the walk-in place near us. He said she could return to school next Wednesday, and without even thinking about it, I said, "What about Tuesday, because they're having standardized testing?"

He said that would be fine.

No, it wouldn't, said my brain. It's not fine at all because I just went on record as wanting to cut corners to accommodate STANDARDIZED TESTING. This is not fine. My tongue should snap off its roller. The earth should swallow me. What is wrong here?

How quickly I can revert to the whole schoolish mindset. I keep telling her that her grades aren't important, but she sees my face when she has a 50 or 60 on a test, and it speaks volumes. It's going to require a lot of honest talk about these tests next week. She needs to know that they're essentially worthless measures that people spend a great deal of time and money on. Actually, not a bad lesson, at that, for future reference. I'll show her some of the tricks in test-taking, and how they're not scary, just boring.

As long as we're past the flu, it'll be fine.

The Pursuit of Busyness

When did the response to "How are you?" change from "Fine" to "Busy!" When did we start bragging about it? Oh, it won't sound like bragging; it either has a touch of martyr or shades of superiority, but it's still bragging. I'm busier than you, therefore I am a more important person. The world would grind to a halt without me. Even worse, my children might get bored.

"We've been so busy."

It's a choice, is it not? No one forced me to teach these classes, or homeschool my children, or work. They were all choices that I freely made, perhaps so that I could have bragging rights.

Today I've been stopped in my tracks by a virus that we shall hope is not the flu. It's a flu-wannabe, because I don't have time for the flu. I've cleared my schedule and the whole day is ahead of me, and it's not so bad. I will do some things today, leave others undone. I'll drink lots of herbal tea. I won't be busy. It's a start.

The industrial revolution

Well, it's not really a revolution, more of a way to whip out some hats in a hurry. I doubt that the Innovations knitting machine would ever be someone's main knitting outlet, but for what I bought it for (hats, more hats) I think it'll work fine. It's a bit hypnotic, watching the little hooks go 'round and 'round, as your arm begins to seize up.

Color my world

I got up yesterday and for the first time in days? weeks? the sun was out and the world a wash of color. Blue sky, green trees, the cheerful orange of the construction barrels. I was home.

Because Saturday I drove to Oklahoma City and back, in a canvas of grays. It rained the whole way there, and by the time I passed Ardmore, there was snow in the fields and the trees were dripping with ice. The roads just stayed wet, though, and I arrived in time to browse Hobby Lobby, buy some yarn and jewelry supplies, and then get over to the restaurant to meet some of my vet school classmates for our twentieth reunion. We had about 18 show up, and it was great to see everyone. I headed back home, arriving at midnight, so the Sunday morning sun was a welcome change.

Tonight Emily got her ancestry project done. Full disclosure: I photoshopped my and my mom's pictures. I figured, hey, I could have powdered my nose to get rid of the shine, so why not this way? And a few less wrinkles can't hurt.

Isn't my grandmother pretty? She's really working the flapper look!

"Snow"

Today's Weather:

Hildesheim
44...50 F
Searcy, AR
30...39 F
Bartlesville, OK
23...34 F
Springfield, MO
26...32 F
Flower Mound, TX*
28...30 F

What's wrong with this picture? If I wanted to live with snow, I'd live somewhere like Germany, where they are perversely enjoying sweater weather today. I didn't even know it had "snowed" until I saw the school closing notice in my email this morning. (For any Northerners who may be reading this, in Texas, "snow" refers to any flakes falling, whether or not they "accumulate.")

Even worse are the TV morning shows. I haven't seen Matt and Meredith in three days.

"We're going live to Tom in the Mixmaster. Tom, how are conditions there?"

"Well, Jane, it appears that the snow is still falling. Let's look at the live camera we have on the roof of the TV van, and yes, I believe that is snow. Going back to our live shot of the Mixmaster, you can see a truck making its way slowly along the overpass, and ... oh.... well, it looks like he's going to make it, but there's no doubt that it's actually snowing out there!"

"Thank you, Tom. Now we'll go live to Mick who is standing by live on Central Expressway. Mick?"

"Hello, Jane. I just made a snowball."

"That's quite a snowball, Mick. How are conditions there, live?"

"Well, Jane, it looks like traffic is moving along nicely, although that fellow there is going a little too fast.... no, it looks like he's going to be fine. But do be careful out there. Those roads are going to be slick! Maybe there will be accidents. Live!"

"Thank you, Mick. We'll go back to Dave in our weather center. Dave, how are conditions on the roof where you're live?"

"I just made a snowman, Jane. Tell Mick I have more snow here than he does."

(Chuckling) "You sure do, Dave. How is the snow?"

"Well, it's still here. Sure looks like snow. Here's a live closeup of the other camera, and if you'll zoom in there, you can see how it looks like snow. We'll be standing by, live!"

Sheesh. Schools are closed, offices are closed, people are stocking up on soup and water and firewood. Meanwhile, we'll be hunkered down here with a half gallon of milk, hot chocolate mix, tea, and homework. The electricity's on, I have several knitting projects to choose from, Christmas decorations to store away, and one library book I haven't finished yet. It's not perfect, but it's pretty darn close.

Speaking of knitting (she said as she glanced at the title of the blog) I've been waylaid by a couple of charity projects. I've set aside the big stuff for now to get this done:

On the left we have a scarf for a friend who's collecting them for a fundraiser. The yarn is Joann's Sensations Angel Hair, one of those foofy yarns I hardly ever buy, but it's what she'd chosen. It's wonderfully soft and nice to work with. It's hard to see the detail, but I realized I'd be cross-eyed if I did the whole thing in rib as I first planned, so I adapted an online reversible cable, and that's what the main pattern is. There's one cable on one side and two on the other. The little cap is for Halfknits and I'm going to put a brim on it. Should be cute!

In other news, hell freezes over

Oy vey. What happened to the America we know? The one where things made sense, where women and men saved the day, and themselves, and the ranch? Every couple of weeks I spend a few hours with real people like Humphrey Bogart and Cary Grant and Maureen O'Hara and Harrison Ford and Katharine Hepburn and John Wayne. They speak to us and show us how to deal with situations we hope we never encounter. They make sense. (And by "they," I mean the writers and directors and producers as well, of course.) They tell stories that build you up, that make you think, that make you want to be better.

And then, last night, Sacha Baron Cohen won a Golden Globe award.

I need a Jimmy Stewart fix.

Plastics

Mr. McGuire: I want to say one word to you. Just one word.
Benjamin: Yes, sir.
Mr. McGuire: Are you listening?
Benjamin: Yes, I am.
Mr. McGuire: Plastics.

Apparently, I wasn't listening. I know plastic breeds. It sits in your cabinets quietly reproducing, setting up new colonies, electing representatives to Congress. You think it's under control until one day when you open the door and the whole plastic civilization decides to immigrate across your borders and there's nothing you can do. I know that. So there's really no excuse for this:

I was determined to get the situation under control, though. We'd bought the most cunning little interchangeable system of plastic storage containers As Seen On TV (not to mention As Seen In My Mother-in-Law's House) over Christmas and this meant, of course, that I had to make room for it. I went on a controlled rampage yesterday and out it all went. Out with the leftover Rangers cups, and Grapevine Mills cups, and the "disposable" Ziploc containers, and the egg-dyeing kit, and the cookie cutters, and the Jello mold in the shape of a train, and the little shower caps for bowls, and the sports bottles. It all went away and now I'm happy. The kitchen is a baby step more organized. And in the cupboards, the elections are getting underway.

Ancestors

Emily has a school project coming up: report on the country of one of your immigrant ancestors.(Native Americans need not apply for this one.) Since I was bitten by the genealogy bug a few years ago, I have quite a bit on my Family Tree Maker software, so we sat down and looked through it. I realized that I had our maternal ancestors going back eleven generations, which is unusual for a maternal line. The last ones I have are Rebecca McClarn (McClaren), born in 1761, and her mother Margaret, last name and birthdate unknown. Since that's a Scottish name, Emily will wear a plaid skirt and present her maternal lineage, while passing out something Scottish and edible. Offhand, I can't think of anything besides haggis and oatmeal, neither of which seems suitable for the classroom, but we'll make a trip to the British Emporium and see if they stock anything from the north country.

Genealogy is like crack for me. I was up till two the other night chasing down more online leads. I literally can't allow myself to open up the software very often, because hours disappear.

I asked my parents to send over the three photos they have of my great-great, g-g-g- and g-g-g-g-grandmothers. I got them all cropped and ready to go, but poor Valera Irwin here has a problem:

Admittedly, she is not a handsome woman. She doesn't seem particularly happy either, but that's neither here nor there. The water spot just isn't doing anything for her. But with my new Photoshop skills, voila!

She's still not handsome, nor happy, but at least we can see her face. Whether that's a good thing is entirely a matter of opinion.

So, thank you Margaret, and Rebecca, and Margaret, and Valera, and Marinda, and Elenora, and Alice, and Ruth, and Claudette, and me, and Emily. For coming to this country, for raising strong women, and not least, for the mitochondrial DNA.