the golden years

Jason reminded me of this poem, a good follow up to my last post.


The Golden Years
by Billy Collins

All I do these drawn-out days is sit in my kitchen at Pheasant Ridge where there are no pheasants to be seen and last time I looked, no ridge. I could drive over to Quail Falls and spend the day there playing bridge, but the lack of a falls and the absence of quail would only remind me of Pheasant Ridge. I know a widow at Fox Run and another with a condo at Smokey Ledge. One of them smokes, and neither can run, so I’ll stick to the pledge I made to Midge. Who frightened the fox and bulldozed the ledge? I ask in my kitchen at Pheasant Ridge.

gated community

Zoralee and I like to watch "Silly Songs with Larry" occasionally. This gated community one really tickles me, perhaps because we temporarily live in one ourselves. Unfortunately, the people here don't get together for trios and quartets. If they did, or even if they opened their window shades from time to time, it'd be a lot more fun.

My mom secretly took this cell phone picture of us catching some rays in the back of the pickup - keepin' it real in our gated community.

fruit bar fever

stickers, stickers, everywhere stickers

a string of mini-christmases

Christmas has been a bit different for us this year, no family and no snow being the most notable. Jason has had to work a lot of nights in a row, so when he gets home in the mornings, we have a mini-Christmas, just the three of us.


First we watch one video clip or another of the Christmas story, ones we can all dig. Here are two of the three we've watched so far. The other was on facebook and not youtube, so I don't know how to share it. But it was of a friend of my cousin, a three year old girl reciting by memory the whole Christmas story passage in the book of Luke!





Then we eat breakfast and have a hot beverage, and we open one gift from each other or our far off friends and family. I like this method! It's a little something to look forward to each morning, and Zoralee has time and space to enjoy each book or toy. My husband surprised the snot out of me by getting me a real camera, which he couldn't hold off on and had to give me our first mini-Christmas day. He had been wanting to do it for many years, but was finally ready, in light of having a real job. It's so cool! I'm looking forward to posting photos from it as I figure it out. These are just with the old point and shoot camera (so yesterday, so outdated, so obsolete...heh heh).

bacon and rolls, the breakfast of mini-Christmas champions

Zoralee's homemade hair bows from Jannell and Cody

coloring book from Uncle Luke and Aunt Heather

And while I'm at it, here are pics of our tree, which we got and decorated while Mom and Dad were visiting a few weeks ago. We saw it at the grocery store for $20; I about fell over. I had no idea you could buy a tree at a grocery store for $20. It's all the way from Oregon and has given me many warm, fuzzy, northwest feelings. It's our first Christmas tree as a little family, because we've always been somewhere away from our own home for the holidays, so we haven't bothered with a tree.

We bought lights and a decoration for the top that reminds me of a group of celestial bodies. It's sort of a modern, scientific take on a star. I strung popcorn together, something I'd always wanted to try. We couldn't find the totally salt-free, butter-free variety of microwave popcorn, so I can't save these strands in a box for future years, but it was so fun I think it's going to be a tradition. Got mini cookie cutters and found a cinnamon dough recipe for the ornaments, which will save. The final touch was red ribbons tied here and there, for splashes of color.
 

the ornaments

Zoralee's ornament groupings

distant storm

Each Advent season, Tamie asks some of her friends, who come from a variety of places and perspectives, to contribute writings to her blog. Mine was posted there two days ago, and while I decided to post it here too, I encourage you to go to her blog and read others' writings. There's some really great stuff! You may pick up a bit of needed hope, inspiration, challenge, or just a sense of camaraderie among others who are waiting too.

   *   *   *   *   *   *

Several months ago, we bought a sound machine for our daughter, Zoralee, to see if it would help her sleep better at night. It did. Otherwise called a white noise maker, this little contraption paints a neutral sound canvas so that police sirens, car alarms, the freezer's ice maker, and children stomping down the halls of adjoining apartments can be woven more subtly into one's subconscious hearing.

 

One of the options on our machine is "distant storm;" this has turned out to be our favorite. Every night while I'm putting Zoralee to sleep, though it may be 80 degrees outside and clear as a yodeler's call, we listen to an impending storm. There are birds and crickets in the foreground, aware of the approaching weather, raising and lowering their cheeps and chirps as they consider plans of action. There are two dibbles of rain that hit the earth (then, oddly, hit it again 15 seconds later, then again in 15 seconds, but shhhh, never mind about the loop). What really grabs you is the thunder, several smooth but convincing rounds of it. Nothing ever happens, but it could! It's exciting, yet perfectly peaceful. It reminds me of the real storms, or passing trains, I've gone to sleep by.

 

But I've wondered ever since we got the machine - is this thing good for a kid? Is it healthy to hear, every single night and nap, something that's supposedly on its way but never actually arrives? At this point, we don't live in storm country, so Zoralee doesn't know enough to feel cheated by her sound machine. Still, this is the same question I've asked myself of our faith, now that I have a child to which I'm responsible to pass things along. We put our faith in a God who we hope sees and hears us, but who doesn't always answer. Is this a cruel thing to do to ourselves, and worse, to our children?

 

Well. Don't we humans have funny little ways? We live in houses removed from nature but are kept awake and perturbed by the blasted unnatural stuff. We solve our self-induced dilemma by importing synthesized woodsy or river sounds, plants, "natural light" light bulbs, and paintings or photographs of mountains and deserts. We turn on fans to emulate a nice breeze, and enjoy candles in ocean mist or balsam and cedar. And pets! Dogs, cats, snakes, gerbels, birds. This applies to all of us, even people who mistakenly think they’re not “nature-lovers” (a very strange term, since we are nature). We're re-creating the greater reality, because in the context of white walls and loud tile floors, by George, we've got to try SOMEthing.

 

Our sound machine is a pathetic substitute for an actual storm, to say the least, but right now it's all we've got to keep the nighttime noises at bay. Similarly, the stories of my faith, the Christian faith, form the canvas on which life is painted in all hues. This faith is interwoven into my language, my thought patterns, the repertoire of bedtime songs in my head. The whole package, despite what of it that enrages me, is a beautiful and strong story, one of redemption and hope, even one worth dying for. Somehow, we're assured, Christ will eventually redeem us and all that is good. We are waiting for the storm’s destruction and renewal.

 

So, the way it comes back around is this: my kids might one day shut off the sound machine. They might grow weary of the stories, expectations and priorities that go along with the Christian faith, or at least our family's interpretation of such. They'll say, "Enough waiting for this storm! We want to feel the storm! We want to see its power! We want it to do something!" Which is, I guess, how most of us feel about God on several days of the week. Many of the Scripture writers did too.

 

If the kids’re anything like me, they’ll find themselves waiting for many things through life. Waiting for my actions to line up with my deepest and best motivations. Waiting for an all natural toothpaste to do as good of a job on sensitive teeth as Sensodyne. Waiting for a famous movie producer to notice me in the produce aisle and say in sincerity, “You! You are exactly the next actress we’ve been looking for - someone with chicken legs and a forehead cowlick!”

 

While they’re waiting to come to terms with what they’re waiting for, the kids might go outside and hike around in the hills. Maybe paddle around a lake or scuba dive into its depths. And you know what they'll discover? The sights, sounds, and scents of the real world, the way things really are - the precious and the bitter. They'll be astounded at just how many legs a centipede has. They'll lose the baseball game, then friends, then their own health. They'll hear a distant storm and watch as it comes closer, intent on delivering what it holds. The waning and waxing chirps of the crickets might remind them of the sound machine, and that we're waiting for a bigger storm, and that they should ask their questions again. Keep asking, keep seeking. When, when, when, will God make justice happen on a massive, permanent scale? They’ll remember that, paradoxically, the Kingdom of God is already at hand; we are its occupants, so what should we do now? I pray they are comforted, knowing they are held, they are loved, they are safe in the most ultimate ways. This is the best we can do, these explanations we offer, because "now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." I Corinthians 13:12

 

The storm hasn't arrived.

We only hear it in the distance.

So, we wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And occasionally, we play Uno.

morning cookies

a conversation from moments ago

Zoralee: Oh, those are cookies! We should have one!

Me: Okay. We usually don't have cookies in the morning, but I guess you could have a little piece.

Zoralee: Aubreigh gave these!

Me: Yes, Aubreigh gave these to us.

Zoralee: [eating a bite] Oh, wow!

Me: It's good, isn't it?

Zoralee: You have no idea.

Zoralee's 2nd birthday

We had the world's lowest key birthday (for a kid), which was just perfect for this year. Between my pregnancy fatigue and having just hosted a big Thanksgiving shindig the week before, we took this one easy. 'Twas a leisurely morning, the adults drinking coffee whilst entertaining/being entertained by Zoralee and Bennett, and Zoralee trying to finagle as many chocolate cupcakes as she could ahead of the celebration. Then, in a little window of the early afternoon, when the kids were up from their naps and Jason hadn't yet left for work, Zoralee opened her presents, and we sang happy birthday and gave her another cupcake with a "2" candle in it. And that was it!

She wanted to play with each toy and read each book rather than move along to new presents. It really felt like we were encouraging ADD by giving her gifts one after the other. Somebody suggested that for a child her age, it'd be a good idea to let her open a gift each day leading up to the birthday. 

She loved her singing card from Grandpa and Grandma as much as any present.

The next two pictures are from the morning time, before Zoralee had opened her first present of new clothes. She got those leopard pajamas for her first birthday. They are wonderful pajamas, but every once in a while, when she drops her drawers and has messy hair or a dirty face, she looks like quite the urchin child. Just after the second photo, Zoralee needed to go tinkle. She found a nice patch of grass, but not wanting to step fully onto it, she gingerly put one foot on the grass and kept the other on the sidewalk. She did her business in a beautiful squat/straddle, and then leaned onto the sidewalk foot, slowly swinging her other foot around until it too was on the sidewalk. Then she looked over at me and gave a little hick chuckle and grin - with (and I am not making this up) chocolate cupcake stuck to one of her front teeth. 

"This looks like a post-domestic disturbance still shot from COPS. All Zoralee needs is a frying pan in her hand." - Rachel

times with the fam in Texas

My parents left Monday morning, having visited for 2 weeks. They spent every waking moment with Zoralee in one activity or another, much to her delight. We also checked out Mexican restaurants around town, went to the San Antonio Zoo, walked to the playground, and got into a philosophical debate or two. I got to nap a lot; it was heavenly.

Rachel and Bennett came in late Thursday night, so their visit with the folks overlapped for three days over Zoralee's birthday weekend. Our Pickle is a pretty lucky gal to have family travel to wherever she is just for her birthday! Last year it was Alaska, and this year Texas. We might have to move somewhere even more exotic next year to test the family's stamina. Oh yeah, we are - North Dakota! That'll be the true test, one of overcoming shame and humiliation. For you see, we grew up in Montana telling North Dakota jokes, which generally focused on a North Dakotan's lack of intelligence or good looks. Very mature, I know. For example,

Why don't North Dakotan's ever ride their bicycles in Montana?
Because there are too many chain removal signs on the mountain passes.

...and other riotously funny quips.
 
Anyway, that was a rabbit trail if there ever was one. First, here're some pics of the general family visiting activities, then I'll do another of just Z's 2nd birthday. Also, Rachel has more pictures and stories over at her blog. 

snakes are evidently not cool in Zoralee's book

the Okapi, a shining example of genetic indecision

self-dusting: similar to Zoralee's self-yogurting

wishing we'd gotten to the goat petting pen before it closed

helping Grandpa with his morning reading

greeting upon arrival a weary boy and his Mama

Chore #1: establishing positions on Grandma's lap

pull ups on the playground

The kids love each other, even though they continually wake each other up from their non-coordinated naps. As I write, Zoralee ran up to Bennett and patted his cheeks, saying, "Bennett! Bennett! Bennett! Bennett!" She concluded by shaking his hand and saying cordially, "Nice to meet you!"

remembering Pearl Harbor

Here is a song that remembers Pearl Harbor from the perspective of one of the ships, The USS Arizona. My brother, Luke, wrote it and put it to a slide show of old photographs.