holiday stress

Maybe it's the sugar overload. Or the travel overload. Or the schedule overload. This Christmas is less relaxed than Christmases past. Here are the lists I made when I got up this morning.

 To-do lists for myself and each kid. Pack list for California. Shopping list. Maia's birthday party list.

On a happier note, my niece Jessica got married in the Portland temple last weekend and we were able to travel to both beautiful Oregon receptions.

And as an added bonus, we got a picture of our whole family smiling (sort of) and facing the same direction (sort of) in the temple atrium. Hooray! That is a rare occasion, indeed.

there's no business like show business

BFFs: emily, katie, maia, and syd

For days I've been waiting for the girls to crash or meltdown or both. The late nights, irregular mealtimes, the spotlights, the chaos, the constant party backstage, the make-up touch-ups, the braiding and rebraiding of the hair, the stress, the fun, the hilarity...but these girls are superstars. They have taken it all in stride. In fact, I'll just be honest, I'm the only one who has had any meltdowns around here lately. The post-play let-down is a bit brutal.

So as reality sets back in, I keep coming back to the question--is it all worth it?

I've been ambivalent about "Annie, Get Your Gun!" all along, for various reasons. Some of which I've already written about. But I didn't even know until last week that this version isn't the same as the one we saw this summer. When I saw the "revival" ending, in which Frank throws the match because Annie is throwing the match, I felt enormous relief. Great job, Rogers and Hammerstein, on fixing an adorable yet flawed storyline. Both the gender-tension and the race-insensitivity are toned down to a palatable level. Toss out "I'm An Indian Now," and "Annie's" songs are among the most catchy and comical of all the musicals out there. It is a darling, entertaining play.

there's no business like show business. i'm in the middle, second row.

"Moonshine Lullaby." my trio with new friends, Erin and Margaret

steve ashby with his dinner-run daughters

But still, is being in a play worth the time and effort? The neglect of other areas of life? The delusion that because something is all-encompassing it is actually important? Here are the "lessons learned" I've come up with to justify the last couple of months. I learned to smile, cooperate, dance (sort of), and harmonize while spinning. I have marveled at the talents of others and enjoyed seeing them get their time in the spotlight. Even though some, like Heidi, Heidi, Judy, Jill, Julianna, and Laura weren't under the literal lights. I just can't believe how amazing they are. Old friendships were strengthened and new friendships were made. Plus, it was fun!

waiting in the wings for their time on stage

I could do a whole blogpost on lessons learned from ballroom dancing. I had to deal with some of my issues--like following someone else's lead, spinning, wearing something too beautiful to hide in, falling backward hoping someone is there to do the catching, physical coordination, and overall exposing myself to scrutiny. All of those facets of fear turned into great learning experiences. Plus, again, it was fun! 

curtain call, with my brave and dashing dance partner, Steve

It may be a once in a decade experience, but it has been unforgettable and I wouldn't do anything different--except maybe feel less conflicted about it from the start.

Let's go on with the show!

poe-mance

I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me.

I'm having a little romance with Edgar Allen Poe this week, inspired  by the spirit of the season and all things spooky. I am not a fan of modern horror, but I love the good old classic stuff: a man sealed in by a brick wall, a heart pulsating loudly under the floorboards, a costume ball crashed by a sinister uninvited guest...

The Sylvia Beach Hotel on the Oregon coast has each room decorated for a different author. Mike and I once stayed in the Edgar Allen Poe room, which will give you that Halloween vibe any time of  year.

At the flip of a switch, the blade really swings over the bed. There is a closet door that opens to a brick wall (with toes pointing out), lush dark walls and decor, and a black stuffed raven, which probably still stares at guests today. Evermore.

I've been treating/subjecting the kids to dramatic poetry readings, and I think the first Poe I ever heard as a child is still my favorite today.


ANNABEL LEE
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea. 

Family: Thanks to Aunt Gail, I have an audio cassette preserving that great old 3-D's record. But do any of you  have the original vinyl? Mom? Carl?


HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! 

know your religions

Test your knowledge of world religions at the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life by clicking here: QUIZ

I got 100%, but that's no surprise. I was educated at Brigham Young University, after all. Apparently atheists, Jews and Mormons score highest. Why exactly? Do they feel more compelled to study religion because they find themselves needing to defend their faith (or lack thereof)? Or do they value education more than other groups? Or is it the other way around--could there be a correlation between being educated and ending up atheist, Jewish or Mormon?

I'm going to refrain from editorializing on the specific questions specific groups missed until you all get a chance to take the quiz. Spoilers are welcome in the comments, however!

Here is an extra little quiz. Name the three religions (in order) represented in the edifices below:

on his birthday

My Dad is

supportive Kind loving true sympathetic loyal DEDICATED creative thoughtful CURIOUS  frugal willing understanding DUTIFUL helpful realistic steadfast caring careful funny energetic personable SMART  thrifty diligent PROTECTIVE  honest HONORABLE down-to-earth 

Our GRANDPA is

friendly FUN sneaky manly artistic athletic enthusiastic CRAFTSY excited contemplative welcome accommodating ENGAGED NICE easy-going  motivated  experienced  prepared happy welcoming

Mike says, Eldon is

anxiousy-engaged selfless accomplished GENEROUS equitable  outdoorsy FIT well-read  pensive  learned PRACTICAL

 seven candles, one per decade!

where there's a will...

there's a way.

But what if there's no will? That's me tonight. Too tired. No will, no way.

slurp [slurp]

–verb (used with object)

1.

to ingest (food or drink) with loud sucking noises: He slurped his milk.

2.

to upload the contents of a blog into a bookmaking program, like Blurb.

 

imagine the possibilities...

As soon as I finished graduate school and moved out here I found myself at loose ends. I was Berkeley's mommy and little else. I baked so many cookies Mike's coworkers began to make fun of him. Then Sam came along...and since then I've been at full tilt. (...and then I had the girls.)

Now I'm slowing down a bit. You'd think with the youngest in first grade I'd have some serious life-long plans coming swiftly to fruition, right? But no. It's been the same-old. Laundry, dishes, housework, grocery shopping, running art literacy, grading SAT essays, serving in the church...all the stuff I did before, minus the cute little pitter-patter and endless prattle to accompany me. Don't get me wrong: I'm not bored, or even that lonely...but I don't feel as accomplished at the end of each day as I was expecting to.

So I'm wondering if maybe I were REALLY disciplined, and got myself into some kind of schedule, could I accomplish more?  
Maybe I could...
Work out religiously
Learn how not to kill plants
Knit booties for all my future grandchildren
(Learn to knit)
Publish a cookbook
Get better at the guitar
Record a cd
Write my personal history
Make jewelery
Create photo books for every vacation we've had in the digital age
Organize all my closets, cabinets and drawers
Learn a language
Become a great scholar of scripture
Take some art classes
Get another degree...

Feel free to add to the list! What possibilities do you imagine for yourself (whenever you get a little extra time)?

shallow waters

I know I promised some deep thoughts when I announced I would be blogging every day. But they haven't really surfaced, have they? You just can't force these things.

I was sitting in church last week, contemplating my soul and salvation, when a lady caught my eye. She had formerly been blond, and is now light brunette. I've been thinking about cutting my hair short, and now this new idea has seized me. Why not try a color change? And now that I'm fully accessing the shallowest part of my nature by blogging about my hair, I'm going to go ahead and ask for input. Short and brown. Long and brown. Short and blond. Or long and blond?

I admire those ladies who can do a complete change of "look." I just don't know if I can pull it off.

Nothing like this:












Maybe something like this (Who is she, anyway?):

oops

I missed a day. Mike was on my computer when I was getting on my jammies. Next thing I know I had dozed off and it was 12:04 am. Too late to blog. Or maybe I was just too tired to make it happen. I blew it!

Do I have to remove my NaBloPoMo insignia?

OR how about I do two posts today?

art education

Every child is an artist. Adults? Not so much. At some point in life, while riding the conveyor-belt that is modern education, most people get the artist-within stamped right out of them. When they are given a blank canvas and supplies, they ask, what do you want me to paint? What are the steps? The procedures? Is this good? Is this what you wanted?

Children can enjoy the process. Dipping the brush in the paint, watching forms appear. They may or may not  have a plan, but they are generally proud of their results. If you give them direction, they say, "okay, but can I do such-and-such instead?" They are natural-born creators.

Monet's "Water Lilies"

We had our first art literacy meetings of the year. Art Literacy is our school district's answer to insufficient funding for real art teachers. Parents volunteer to teach a monthly one-hour lesson. I get to help plan those lessons and train the parents. We begin this year with Claude Monet, who saw the mottled light in every outdoor scene and strove to depict it with short, dabbed brush strokes. The kids get to see slides of his art, then try their own little Monet project. They dip a Qtip into liquid starch, then into powdered pigment, then dab it onto watercolor paper. They create a painting out of little dabs.

These kids are six! Isn't their art wonderful?

I am no artist but I love teaching art to the children. And the adults. My experience with training adults is that they pay close attention to the directions, ask lots of questions, feel insecure about attempting projects themselves, and then often disparage their own art. BUT they also tend to feel the sheer pleasure of having created something. We should all resuscitate the inner-artist once in awhile!

I love being a mom because...

Among a billion other reasons, it's an excuse to get excited about things. Things an adult isn't supposed to be excited about, like an airplane flying by, a squirrel in the tree outside, or cupcakes with sprinkles...

Or the next HARRY POTTER MOVIE!!!

Fifty-eight days and counting!

meet me at the equinox

After days of gloomy rain, today felt like a peace offering--a reminder that while summer can be dark and rainy,  autumn can be clear and sunny. The girls and I took a long walk in the sunshine this afternoon. I ambitiously put in an order for more fruit, so next week will be all canning, all the time. I love this time of year.

But I want to remember some of the good times of summer, so this post will be a photographic tour of highlights. (Please remember, my decent camera is broken, so these are from my phone--lame, I know.)

First, my beloved Camp Alpine. My family wasn't able to have our annual family reunion, and we wanted to keep our foothold in the reservation system. So my parents let me invite a few friends that week. Between new friends and old, we were able to conjure up a pretty realistic looking fake family. We even had the traditional (un) family talent show. 

My parents came out each day to enjoy the food and company, and to make sure we didn't sully the family name. I enjoyed every minute, but also realized how much my parents do each year to make it all happen! Thanks, mom and dad!

We also enjoyed a few different fun trips to the coast. This is Sam with his buddy Ian, constructing a deluxe "fairy house."

 

We also got to help celebrate friend Katcina's nuptials. Every reception should have s'mores at the end!

We took the obligatory trip to Utah, for a great time with girl cousins.

We also played in our backyard nearly every day, goofing off with friends.

And we did some amazing things with berries. Maia is happier than she looks, posing with our "pavlova," a meringue filled with deliciousness, topped with whipped cream.

 

Sigh... now I guess I'm ready to embrace a new season.

fragrant harvest

Mmmm... I spent the day turning this

and this

into these

Grape juice and peach cobbler. My house smells amazing right now.

annie, get your gun

Our local church is going to do "Annie, Get Your Gun." Coincidentally, we had the opportunity to see a production of it when we were in Utah last month. I dragged everyone there to try to drum up enthusiasm because I have fantasized about being in a play as a whole family. I wanted all of us to try out together.

Although I am a huge fan of theater, I have limited acting experience. In high school I played Ado Annie in "Oklahoma!" She's the girl who "caint say 'no'"--the hilariously dim strumpet who gets kissed a lot before settling down with one lucky farmer.  As opening night approached, I talked it up to everyone: friends, my teachers, grocery store clerks... I remember one teacher looking me right in the eye and saying he would not be attending because he was opposed to the gender stereotypes perpetuated in plays like "Oklahoma!." Um, yeah. That was me--Ado Annie--one of the worst female stereotypes on stage. I was self confident enough to go on with the show, but his comments stuck with me.

As we watched "Annie, Get Your Gun" last month, I squirmed a little at the end. I forgot that she has to fake incompetence to win the man of her dreams. He loves her and she loves him, but her talent gets in the way. The production was great, the music is so fun, and being in a musical is a magical experience. So magical it's hard to see straight. My girls were entranced...here they are with the spunky sharpshooter herself.

Annie Oakley is a much better role-model than Ado Annie, and YES, we're going to be in the play (just the girls and I, just as "townspeople.") Hopefully my girls will not get sick of me whispering to them my own editorial in the wings: Annie didn't have to sell herself short. A girl shouldn't have to apologize for being better. (But she probably doesn't need to rub it in a guy's face, either.)

binge and purge

We took the gang out to Izzy's buffet tonight to celebrate Berkeley and Matthew's PRs (personal records) today at their Cross Country meet. We are so thankful for cross country and good coaches. We are especially thankful for good friends like Matthew. The teenagers made the mistake of asking where the phrase "Maybe the dingo ate your baby..." originated. So we had to watch this youtube clip several times.

It was all fun and games until Maia's fifth trip to the icecream bar. For some reason she asked for a bowl of clam chowder. Then she started to gag a little, holding her hand over her mouth, indicating with wild panic that she was going to lose it. We didn't make it to the bathroom.

I felt a little mad at her. As I cleaned her up I impatiently asked, "didn't you listen to your body? And why on earth would you ask for clam chowder?" She said "I was listening to my body! My body said maybe that was too much chocolate, so I made a sundae with caramel and then one with strawberry, then my body said that was too much, so I tried just vanilla, you know. And then my body said, it's just too much sweetness. So I thought, maybe some clam chowder."

Yikes.

instruments of rock

Our boy Sam started sixth grade band and chose the flute as his instrument. Mike was worried that it's a bit effeminate, but Sam would not be dissuaded. My feeling is that any instrument can rock. So the other night I showed them a flute solo by Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull. Just watch a few minutes and I think you'll agree, a manly man can play the flute just fine.


Go Sam! It may just be "Hot Cross Buns" for now, but you're rockin' it!

to the little gray-haired lady in the red trans am

When I saw your car pull up to the corner I leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the driver, because a red trans am circa 1979 catches my interest. I wanted to see if the driver had the right bravado to pull off such a car. I expected a mustached man in a muscle shirt, and I had distinct plans to peek at him without making eye contact. But it was you, little gray-haired lady, peering over the steering wheel. You're my new hero.



You inspire me. When I am old, not only shall I wear purple, but I may even drive an old red trans am.

decree

All males in this household shall henceforth wear the same brand and size of socks.

Any male found not in compliance will forthwith become his own laundress.

All previously owned socks are now considered banned and will be disposed of on sight.



Effective immediately.
Signed, the Queen

p.s. Girls--we're going to adopt a similar plan. In a couple of years.