Outside on a day like today...

I just finished up a couple of exhausting and, as usual, humbling migraine-y days that began with a lot of pre-migraine symptoms, which were then followed by the actual migraine and then more actual migraine and then some crazy post-migraine, which was mainly just more exhaustion and not nearly enough a-ha-ing, for my taste. (A-ha-ing being one of the better side-effects of the migraine state of mind.) The pre-migraine this time had a lot to do with not being able to focus and feeling just very generally overwhelmed and done, and coming after Christmas- what turned out to be a very hectic-feeling Christmas for me, at that- it was a bit much. And part of that day was spent at Toys R Us. Right.

So, today was a huge relief and I spent a good bit of it outside doing yard work, cleaning up the patio, and raking leaves in the back on the patio and in the front in the foyer, which feels so clean and open now. All of that raking I put off back in October and November to either spend time with Maxwell or mourn Maxwell's passing has been- at least in part- taken care of and well worth putting off.

It was exhilarating being outside in the December sunshine with the geese flying overhead, particularly after the migraine was over. There tends to be, for me, a lovely sense of calm and clarity after a migraine that I wholeheartedly appreciate. A bit of silver-lining after the storm, if you will. Being outside really accentuates this feeling, what with the other creatures around me continuing on with it all and the enduring beauty of the world, punctuated {today} by circling seagulls and my rescuing of any number of stranded worms after I had raked up their adopted habitats. These are the sorts of things that will keep my eyes misty and searching on a day like today.

In between bits of sunshine, we had some *very* wintry weather, complete with the longest hail storm I have ever witnessed, or so it seemed at the time. This was followed by several variations on the theme of frozen-water-falling-from-the-sky, including {what I would label as} sleet, a little freezing rain, some slush and then a bit of regular rain. We are supposed to get some actual snow tonight, which would be fun, but I would enjoy an ice storm as well. If it's going to be impossible to drive around here, it might as well be as lovely as it can be. (Winter! Go ahead and pull out all of the stops. I know you are nearly done here in Oregon, as far as any freezing temperatures go {really} and ready to return to rain at any moment.)

Merry Christmas!

Two more pictures from our holiday walkabout in downtown Portland-



Samuel and I near Pioneer Square.



Eva and Samuel with the reindeer at Santa Land.

portland christmas

I forgot to post about our Christmas-y holiday day downtown. The day was clear and sunshine-y. I think. At least I remember it that way. It must have been a little bit like that to get us out there walking around. It was also warmish, as in there would be no snow anytime soon, but coldish {enough} to warrant a stop at Stumptown for coffee and hot chocolate {for Eva, who, by the way, thought the hot chocolate was better than Starbucks, but not as good as the hot chocolate she drank a week later at the Elephant deli we discovered after Shoemaker and the Elves.} Then we walked up to the Benson Hotel to look at the Gingerbread exhibit, which was fun, but smaller than I had envisioned it. Although, after thinking about it a bit and reading the little info-flier the concierge gave me, I had to admit it was something else. The chef made a small part of the city of Venice and hid three or four holiday figure made of mascarpone among the buildings and streets. The kids found those and we walked around the hotel a bit and looked at their decorations. We also took in the decorations of the National Bank across the street.

And then it was off to Santa Land at Macy's and over to Pioneer Square to see the big tree. We ate tacos at a restaurant nearby and ended our walk about with some pomegranate-raspberry frozen yogurt from one of the food carts nearby, which I had been dreaming about since the last time Eva and I tried it.





The kids had a lot of fun looking at the ornaments outside of Santa Land.

All of that shopping going on indoors, here's what's going on outdoors.



A little sandbox optimism. Life continuing on wherever it finds itself, even {or is it especially?} in the wintry muck that is our sandbox this time or year.



And underneath, it's a mossy wonderland.

holiday zen

We went out today to do some last minute Christmas shopping, which I am usually completely opposed to doing. I do not like to venture out into crowds during normal life, much less during the holidays. Still, it had to be done, and I went out into it with my eyes wide open, aware that there would be crowds and traffic and other things I normally keep at bay by choosing to go to the woods instead of the mall whenever possible.

Need I even say that we ran into crowds? So many people. Lots of shopping. Spending. Traffic. {The traffic was un-be-liev-able. Memorable, even. Making a left hand turn proved to be next to impossible and I decided that my good deed for the day was to let anyone who was trying to make a left hand turn in front of me, be allowed to do so. Those people needed all the help they could get.} The kids and I fared pretty well, I think. I am feeling the effects of it all now with the customary thick-headed feeling I get when I am overloaded, but I managed to get through it with a mostly upbeat feeling- maybe because I knew what I was getting myself into before I started? Not sure. What I do know is that I appreciated {when I noticed} each and every bit of holiday cheer, smile, each look of recognition at this state of affairs we all found ourselves in. Each bit of consideration helped to offset the push and rush that *is* the holiday season.

Not to say that this is the meaning of the holiday season. Far from it. And yet, we continue to do it, at least in part, to prepare for the meaning. Our meaning. Whatever that may be. At some point, each of us {mostly} finds ourselves out-in-it, to a greater or lesser degree, depending. Being able to notice the humanity in this shared experience- to notice each other!- I have found, can make all the difference. Being able to create meaning and bring awareness where traditionally we have been taught there is none is a gift each of can give to one another, if not all the time- let's be realistic!- at least once. Then again. And again. The baby you smile at. The woman who says excuse me. The check out woman who winked at my son while we waited in line. The man who waited until Eva got into the car before pulling out and then waved to all of us with a smile. The woman, so grateful, who was able to finally! make her left-hand turn. These things change the face of our day. These things make a difference. And while we bemoan the consumerism and traffic and spending and crowds as most definitely not the meaning of this season, these acts of kindness and grace we can each be a part of during this time of overwhelm, most definitely are the meaning- at least some of the meaning- of this season. Of every season we find ourselves apart of.

At least these thoughts helped me through most of the day- the bulk of a potentially trying situation. Now I am going to take a hot bath and hope that this will pick up where my good intentions left off. At least I don't have to go out into that mess again tomorrow. I probably- to be honest- don't have to go shopping like that until next Christmas. If at all. If only I could get my planning just right, I might never have to go shopping again...

solstice cookies

It's looking like it might be possible for us to see at least some of the lunar eclipse tonight. (I love that the last time this happened- a lunar eclipse of a full moon on the winter solstice- was in 1638!) The kids and I just went and checked on the moon and it was still there. We could see it, that's for sure, which bodes well for us being able to see it again at another point in the next few hours. It is fairly overcast but a glimpse is all we need.

Eva and I had an impromptu mini-solstice celebration tonight. We rolled out some gingerbread dough, made lots of gingerbread men and families, hearts, snowmen and the the like, and even hung some on the tree. This is something we did when I was a kid and I love the tradition. It is also an easier tradition (and one that others are willing to undertake with me) than the other one I love, hanging stringing popcorn and cranberries. When I was a kid, we used to string several strands of popcorn and cranberries in anticipation of the tree. They would be hanging across all of the tables in the kitchen and dining room, and even off of some chairs, before we were done. Alas, no one, not even myself, can be urged to string them these days. It seems like we've done them a few times over the years, but nothing like hanging cookies on the tree.

Of course, when we hang the cookies on the tree, we have to make sure we hang them high enough so that Jack won't eat them all. One year he nibbled most of several cookies that a toddler Eva had hung on the lower half of the tree. That year had to have been a boon for him, one I am sure he looks back on with fond memories, or a belly ache, because he ate A LOT of cookies. It is a hoot to watch him try and eat the hanging cookies without falling into the tree, which is a liability of the project for him and one that will happen if he leans too far in and tries to eat the whole cookie. He must leave just enough cookie so that he doesn't have to lean too far, but not too much that he feels he isn't getting enough cookie. And then he juts his lips out, and his teeth out, and gingerly grabs hold of said cookie, gently pulling it toward him, nibbling off as much as he is able. Then it's on to the next one. And the next. This year I've already found one Jack-eaten-cookie on the tree. Eva hung most of them up higher than he can reach and he's having to do some detective work to find a few that he can stretch up to. I almost want to make it a little easier for him, if only to catch a video of the scene.



Incidentally, the kids and I only got to see the very beginnings of the eclipse last night, which actually was really nice and a good visual to help them imagine what was to come. We even stayed awake- mostly- to see if we could see more later. It began to rain, though, and stayed overcast for the next several hours and is still overcast this morning. I was wondering about the people who lived here back when the last eclipse on the solstice full moon happened. I wondered if they had a clear night to view the eclipse. What kind of celebration they had. And if they knew that we would be here so many years later, hoping to catch a glimpse of the eclipse and wondering about them. When I told Samuel how long ago the last eclipse like this had been, he became very excited and wanted us to keep going out to check. He even went out himself once, sometime very close to 11:30, "We have to do this," he said. "I didn't realize we were making history!"

shoemaker and the elves

We went and saw the Shoemaker and the Elves today with the Tears of Joy Theater in downtown Portland. The kids and I see quite a few plays and musicals and such during school performances during the week. Seeing one on a Sunday afternoon was fun. Next door, the Oregon Symphony was playing Handel's Messiah and the streets around the Oregon Performing Arts buildings were packed with people dressed up for the holidays. There was a festive air and I was in one of my moods where I really enjoy seeing what people have chosen, who they are out in the world. The man who chose the yellow running shoes, for instance, and the woman who chose the long purple coat. Who is going to the symphony? Who has chosen the puppet show? Many of the people at the puppet show were families with children, often small children, but there were quite a few people there without children as well.

So I'll be honest, one of the reasons I chose to take the kids to the this show on a Sunday was because it has become increasingly difficult to work with the Tears of Joy Theater people as far as getting tickets to their school performances for homeschoolers. There are a few organizations like the Northwest Children's Theater and the Oregon Ballet Theater who make it very easy. I can call them up and order three tickets to see any of their shows during the day when they have a school performance. Other venues, like Do Jump and the Oregon Children's Theater, are willing to sell tickets to homeschoolers for their school performances, but there is a minimum number of tickets we have to buy, usually ten. And others, like the Tears of Joy Theater, used to let us buy tickets in groups of ten but have become increasingly rigid on this point and will now {mostly} only sell to the very largest homeschool organizations like Village Home.

I buy a lot of my tickets to different shows from a fellow homeschooling mom, but even she, who often buys in large quantities, was not able to buy tickets from Tears of Joy this time around. (I know, because I specifically asked about Shoemaker...) So she stopped trying. And I wonder if the people at Tears of Joy understand that there is a whole section of the population out here who has basically given up on seeing productions from them, whose kids are not going to see their puppet shows? I chose to spend the extra money to see the Shoemaker and the Elves this time because it's the holidays and because I really love that story and {I'll be honest again} because Tears of Joy has a tendency toward moralizing in the stories they choose, in my opinion, and I didn't think there would be very much room for that in Shoemaker.

And I was right. In fact, it was one of the first things that Samuel mentioned when we left the theater. He had, apparently, been trying to figure out which moral angle they would take with this story and was relieved that they had decided to just stick with the good deed and the thrilling gratitude. So the kids and I talked about the show and morals and the characters. Samuel, I would say, enjoyed the show and the characters the most of the three of us. Eva and I were not quite as taken with the elves as Samuel was (mischief making elves who even Santa had to let go...). And I have to say, after hearing Samuel go on and on about how much he enjoyed them and remembering how much he had laughed aloud at their antics during the show, I was doubly happy I had gotten the tickets for us. We ended our afternoon out with hot chocolate, coffee and snowman sugar cookies.

guinea pig love

Albert playing hospital/vet, no doubt.



Albert and Terrence and a pink plastic turtle, in the sink waiting for their bath.

hat knitting

I finished my hat! Here's a link to the pattern at Purl Bee. I modified it slightly by casting on 108 stitches and knitting at a gauge of 6 stitches/ inch (stocking stitch) rather than 4.75, with #3 needles for the ribbing (I did knit 1, purl 1 rib rather than knit 2, purl 2.) and #4 for the stockinette stitch part. I used roughly 1 1/4 skeins of Jojoland's sport weight cashmere, which, can I just say, has been fabulous to knit with. I think I might even have enough in the second skein to make a pair of matching fingerless gloves!



Here I am in the hat and here is the hat all laid out. It is *much* longer with the ribbing being 6 inches and the height of the rest of the hat being 7 inches.

summer upick chronicle

While moving around some papers near the phone today, I found the upick list that I kept from this past summer. It has on it the number of times I went to the upick and what I picked each time. Amounts picked can usually be assumed to be in flats (or 12 pints). I stopped keeping track of exactly when I went to each upick around about the time that I lost the list for the third time. There are a few dates written down to give a sense of what was in season when, but no more than that. I also kept track of how many pints I picked from our own blueberry bushes out front. This year we got 38 pints or roughly 40 pounds, which definitely cut down on the amount of times I picked blueberries at the upick.

So- all in all it looks like my kids and I went to a upick of some sort or other 21 times, mainly assorted berries, depending on the season, with some peaches thrown in at at the end. We skipped major apple picking this year and didn't end up picking any cherries, either, though I heard it was a good year for them out in the gorge for sure. We also went back to GM Farms to pick up pears and some apples that I used for canning.

1. strawberries at krugers (06/16/10)
2. strawberries at krugers with ellen
3. raspberries at the pumpkin patch on sauvie island with ellen
4. strawberries at baggenstos
5. strawberries at baggenstos with ellen, evan and gemma
6. sylvan blackberries, tayberries, red raspberries at west union gardens (07/02/10)
7. red raspberries at west union gardens
8. red raspberries at west union gardens (07/17/10)
9. blue berries at bonny slope
10. blue berries at bonny slope with esme and nicole
11. marion berries, boysenberries, red rapsberries at west union gardens
12. marion berries, red raspberries, black caps at west union gardens (07/21/10)
13. red raspberries, black caps, currants at west union gardens
14. red raspberries and peaches at sauvie island farms with ellen
15. peaches at gm farm with ellen
16. blackberries at west union gardens
17. fall red raspberries at west union gardens
18. yellow raspberries, black berries at west union gardens
19. yellow raspberries, black berries at west union gardens with ellen
20. yellow raspberries, black berries at west union gardens with my dad
21. apples, peaches? and maybe pears at josey farms, although my memory is mixing years for this one

I obviously love to go to the upick. It is one thing I miss during the cooler weather months and am happy to have some greens, carrots and onions still growing in my garden, in addition to various herbs that I can use here year round. I grew up in Wisconsin and the weather here is very mild to my Midwestern sensibilities. I also lived in California for nine years, which turned out to be way too warm for my taste. Portland weather is amazing to me and most of the time I'm happy with what's going on here. There is a small window in December and part of January when I dream of moving back to the snow, somewhere or other, but all of that dreaming stops when the flowers start to bloom here at the end of January and early February. Spring here is long and amazing. I start dreaming of the Midwest again during the summer when I sorely miss thunderstorms and the like. But you can see that the upick and the abundance of berries helps to balance things out a great deal. And on a night like tonight, when it is 60 degrees, misty with a touch of fog, my neighbor's holiday lights glowing in the darkness, it seems just about perfect, whatever the month or season.

match point

I've been on a bit of a Woody Allen kick for the last couple of months. Tonight I watched Match Point, after reading something about it being one of his top ten best movies and a big comeback for him after several let-downs in a row. I really enjoyed it. For a while I thought the subject matter was quite a bit different from some of the other movies of his that I have liked so much.

(It was even a little too much of a thriller for me at one point and I went and looked for a spoiler. I have no problem watching a movie like that after I know what is going to happen. Even then, it usually still turns out to be a bit on the intense side for me. It's been a while, too, since I decided it was fine if I looked ahead in books, movies, what have you. Gave myself permission, at it were. It is supposed to be fun, after all. I feel like I have enough not-knowing in regular life without it taking over in the fiction I read and watch. Unless I want it to, that is.)

...but then, the ending {in particular} really brought home some of the meaning-of-life (and is there meaning to life?) questions that had been posed during the movie- if seemingly briefly- and included some extra introspection about luck that I especially enjoyed. It got me thinking again about the Luck Factor that I read earlier this year.

card making project {3}

Eva and I made 20 holiday cards together and here they are at last!











We aren't going to send out any of these this time around, so if you know me and would like a holiday card, pick out your favorite from those pictured here and imagine me sending it to you in the mail. Then imagine you pulling your chosen card out of your mailbox in about a week or so and how much fun that would be!

early december

yesterday was an incredibly stressful day. today was *much* better. i took samuel and eva to the last art class in a series they have been attending wednesday mornings for the past several weeks. last week they did miniature natural worlds with plants, each building tiny houses and putting in fairy-sized pathways among the plants. this week they each made a geoboard. the project was complete with sawing, sanding, designing, hammering and finally rubber-banding. i was worried about it when we arrived late to the class and everyone who was already there had been sawing for a half hour already, but eventually everyone had their wooden square and the rest of the project proceeded well.

then we went out for lunch with good friends from the class and met another friend at the park for some lovely december sunshine. tonight eva and i made both {our annual} pomegranate granita (technically, a sorbet this year {again}) and meringue puff {cookies} for the tween holiday party we are attending tomorrow. the tween group is a new group for us and is specifically for the westside of portland. we went to a book club last month sponsored by another woman in the group. it's funny to me calling samuel a tween. not since my kids were preschoolers-although i don't remember using that term often, so maybe it goes back all the way to when i had toddlers?- did we have a specific label for one of my kid's age range. so tween it is. at least in this group.

incidentally, i doubled the granita recipe this year and used 4 pomegranates (for 2 cups pomegranate juice) and added that to 1 cup water combined with 1/2 cup sugar (cooked until dissolved) and put in the ice cream maker until done. you can make a true granita by pouring it into a bowl and setting it in the freezer. periodically go in and break up the forming chunks so that it doesn't freeze solid.

the meringue cookies are 4 egg whites with 1 cup sugar added 1/4 cup at a time after the egg whites have been beat to stiff peaks (but not dry- because they always say that, although to be honest, i have never actually seen dry peaks, that i know of...). when you have stiff peaks with the sugar, spoon onto parchment paper lined cookie sheets and cook- watch carefully- at 200 for an hour or so. remove before they darken, although it's not the end of the world if they darken. i'm going to experiment with drizzling chocolate onto them tomorrow after they have cooled. should be a fun experiment.

resolutions

No card-making-photos today. No time. Instead, here's a 2011 New Year's Resolution link, with some very interesting resolutions. I've actually made some of those resolutions myself at different times of my life, during different times of the year. I'm not even sure at this point how I feel about New Year's resolutions. Still, it's something to think about, with the New Year fast approaching...

card making project {2}

Eva and I finally did our holiday card project. Tonight.



Here she is getting all set up for it.

I'll post a picture of the finished cards tomorrow after they have dried. There is an awful lot of glue and glitter and such that needs to sit still awhile before we photograph. And- while I swept up as much glitter as I could, I'm sure there will be quite a bit of glitter around the house for a while, such is the way of glitter. But that doesn't bother me. It's the tension of the actual project that bothers me.

I wish I could say that making the cards was fun. At least Eva said she had fun afterward. And during, I think. She said she loves doing projects like this with me. So that's something, at least. And I did calm down after a while. I relaxed. But I have to say this type of project triggers all that is stressful and tense in me and suddenly nothing that I can do looks quite right. Or turns out. I talked myself down, though, and managed to pull it together to play a bit with Eva and by the end I was mostly fine with the project and even managed to enjoy myself for some of it. Good grief. At least it seems like that now, in retrospect. And when I look at some of the cards, I definitely have a positive memory associated with them, so that's another something.

Still, I had to take so many deep breaths during and after and I feel like I am still recovering from the project a full 1/2 to an hour later, even after clean up. I'm not exactly sure what this is all about but I have a feeling that throwing myself into a few more projects like this- with Eva- just for the project's sake {and the connection time} could help quite a bit.

As it turns out, we may not even send out any of the cards. Eva hadn't wanted to send out any of the cards that only she worked on and I was fine with that. Now she wants to keep my cards as well, which I guess I shouldn't be surprised by. I don't know what I thought was going to happen. Did I think I would smuggle the cards out of the house without her noticing? Still, I think we can come up with a nice way to set them up so we can enjoy them over the next couple of weeks, whether we end up sending any of them or not.

And, as tense as the project was, I am glad I did the project. I'm glad I got the idea and shared it with Eva and made up the list. I'm glad we bought crafty goodness and put it all together, together. I'm glad Eva enjoyed herself and I'm glad I made the time for that type of connection with her. And I'm glad it's all over. Until next time, when I hope it's not quite as bad. Practice makes perfect, as they say. Or how about practice relaxes. Practice makes deep breathing second nature. Practice makes comfortable. And the like...

knitting woes

I'm about 3/4 of the way done with a hat I have been working on (more hats = more head warmth = more health. or something like that.) and I ran out of yarn. Yikes. It definitely happens. I was surprised this time, though, because I thought I had enough. {grin} To be fair, I *did* change the gauge from the one in the pattern and that is most likely what did it. So- I was upset and in yarn-crisis-mode, calling around to yarn shops in the area because, of course, the Knitting Bee, where I had bought the original skein (and which is one of my two main yarn shops), was out. {It was gorgeous yarn, after all. And the holidays. Etcetera.}

I wasn't really freaking out, just, you know, a little louder than usual. Definitely dismayed. And that was clearly conveyed in both my phone conversations and in my self-talk as I mumbled around the kitchen about my hat.

While all of this was going on, Eva wandered into the kitchen and said in an incredibly nonchalant voice, "What's going on? Out of yarn?"

And then me, sadly, looking up, "Yes. For the hat I'm working on."

And then her, "Sorry." Sad face. She understands.

Then she wandered out of the kitchen and into the living room where Samuel was sitting and she said to him something like, "All of that over some yarn."

And Samuel chuckled and said, "Yeah, I know. Crazy, huh?"

And then Eva, "Yeah. Crazy."

And then me, chuckling in the kitchen. It was one of the few good moments between them this whole week and hey, if they can bond and feel good over my yarn woes, so much the better. I knew there had to be a fortunately in there somewhere. (Oh- and I found a place that had two more skeins in stock. And all I need is one. So we'll be going there tomorrow. And I'll get to check out a new yarn shop.)

We are well into Tom Sawyer but I wanted to post a quote from the last book we finished, the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg. We enjoyed the book although neither kids were thrilled with the Claudia character. Let's just say that if she homeschooled in Portland, we would most likely not be seeing her on a regular basis, but she might show up at a museum day or a play we were going to and the like. We'd definitely recognize her, that's for sure.

I really enjoyed the way Konigsburg wrapped up the story and sent the kids home, making their time away seem so much longer than it actually was, and giving us a better understanding of why Claudia had wanted to run away in the first place.

During their time at the museum, the two kids spent time each day learning about different exhibits, a very unschooly thing to do in some ways, in other ways not so much. I love this quote at the end that gives a nod to the time in-between learning, the down time, the transition, the rest. (See yesterday's post winter expansion to follow my flow here about growth and rest...)

"Claudia said, 'But, Mrs. Frankweiler, you should want to learn one new thing every day. We did even at the museum.'

'No,' I answered, 'I don't agree with that. I think you should learn, of course, and some days you must learn a great deal. But you should also have days when you allow what is already in you to swell up inside of you until it touches everything. And you can feel it inside you. If you never take time out to let that happen, then you just accumulate facts, and they begin to rattle around inside of you. You can make noise with them, but never really feel anything with them. It's hollow.'"

winter expansion

When I took the compost out to the compost bin this afternoon, I noticed the buds beginning to form on the maple tree. Buds that will become flowers and bloom sometime at the end of January or into February, if I am remembering correctly. Maybe a little later? I don't think it's all the way into March but right now I can't be completely sure and I don't want to take the time to look it up. (OK- I looked it up. Looks like our maple is one of the first maples to bloom, which could mean as early as mid-February {or early March} here, what with our mild climate...)

I was reminded again of how much growth actually occurs- is often prepared for- during times of rest. Think of it. Our maple has just barely lost all of her leaves and is already replacing them with small buds. Readying for expansion even in the midst of winter (well, autumn. but nearly winter. that whole transition thing, and all.). This came as an even more poignant thought to me today {than it otherwise might have, although let's be honest here, i am fairly prone to poignancy most of the time.} because I am currently sick- sick enough to need quite a bit more rest than I had initially planned for this week. And I was surprised by it. The illness surprised me. I didn't think I was getting sick until I was already sick. No amount of hat-wearing and kombucha drinking were able to ward off this illness. Not this time.

But that's OK. For the most part. That's what I'm trying to say. And- that- while being sick is certainly not my preference, there is a particular quality of epiphany and understanding that can come from this state, that seems to be born from it. That I am privy to *only* when I am this sick. If I allow it.

And I'm not saying I want to stay ill. Or that we can't understand things {other things} when we feel healthier. I wouldn't want to quantify it in that way. Or compare. Just that this morning I recognized this certain bit of illness wisdom and was happy for it. And decided again- always again- to not push against the virus or my body, but to do what they both asked for. To take care. To rest. To be sick. And to listen to the wisdom that can only be found therein.

boxes

So the Christmas gifts are arriving and I have been doing my best to wrap them and put them up on a high shelf inside a box that no one can see into and mostly don't care about because it looks so normal. But then today two very large boxes showed up and I need to do some camouflage or some such on those two boxes because some people in the house (not me, I already know) are interested in them and their contents. My stance on this- because *I* was told when I was a kid that if I looked at anything, everything would be sent back- is to tell the kids that if they look, they simply won't be surprised on Christmas. Still, I like to help out with that in any way that I can and not leave things lying around to test or trap or teach lessons about. It's supposed to be fun, after all.

These boxes are particularly disturbing because there are things- toys- found therein that certain children in my house have said they no longer want. They changed their list. After some things were already ordered. Only they don't know. And I intend to return those unwanted things before anyone is the wiser. But first, I have to open the boxes, wrap and hide what I am going to keep. Then, I have to box up what I am sending back and get rid of it- soon. But those are extra steps and I am sure will invite extra questions. Plus, one of the boxes will rattle if shaken, which will give away the contents. Possibly. And on and on. So now, while the oldest child has been talked into taking a bath! I am going to go and figure out what to keep and what to send back and what to order in its place. Which seems like a pretty straightforward plan, at least in theory. Wish me luck. I thought I was done.

December

I spent some of the morning before my kids woke up reading quotes about the month of December. I expected some of the drearier quotes- the ones that focused on the lack of flowers and sunshine {and truly this *is* one aspect, I don't deny it. but only one aspect, not all aspects...}- but was thoroughly delighted? (an underused word that brings to mind other underused words, poetry, maidens dancing and the like...) to find so much poetry and many thoughts reflecting on the beauty to be found in this seemingly quiet month. Many of the quotes focused on the holidays at the end of the month {true}, but many others spoke of the cold still winter season and the grace found within. This one by Wallace Stevens was one of my favorites. I didn't think I usually liked him. Either way, I may have to revise my opinion of him after this poem-

"One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is."
- Wallace Stevens, Snow Man