I'm Thankful for This Experience

Given the historic nature of last week's election, I wanted some time to reflect and digest before recording my memories. Today is my "How I Spent Election Night" Post. If you continue scrolling down, you can follow (in reverse order...) my day on Election Day. I blogged from morning until Ben & Jerry's. I didn't blog about post-poll-closing because I'd left my cell phone at home accidentally, which let me enjoy the evening fully immersed, rather than trying to record as I went (Rick appreciated my full attention for a change). Here are my observations after the fact.

On election night, after the polls closed and we'd gotten our free ice cream, Rick and I went to our favorite sports bar to watch the election returns, expecting that at least one of the TVs would be tuned to a station covering politics. Heh. Boy, were we unprepared. And given our city, I don't know why!! Here's the scenario.

We live in Cleveland Heights, the most liberal and most integrated city in the most liberal (by many accounts) county in the state. Cuyahoga County is reliably "blue". But Cleveland Heights is seriously crunchy granola. It's situated between 2 large universities and 2 small colleges, with 2 huge competing research hospitals flanking one of the universities. Our population tends to be students, faculty, and highly educated folk from all over the world that feed into the hospitals, research spin-offs, and academic world. Which means we also are balanced in a racial manner, too: my immediate neighborhood is interestingly mixed. 2 blocks north is the Hassidic neighborhood. Our own street is only 2 blocks long, yet is almost a tiny sample of the world as if it were on a prepared slide for a massive microscope. I love it.

"Our" bar is called The Winking Lizard. The closest one is practically walking distance from us, only about 2 miles away. The interior has multiple rooms, and each room has multiple TVs. Each room had only one TV dedicated to a sporting event, and the volume was selected to the CNN tv! :-) What? Worry about missing the election returns? I say again, "Heh!" EVERYONE in the bar was engaged with the goings-on, and talking with neighboring tables. It was an emotionally electric atmosphere.

And friendly!!! I have never seen such friendliness before, and this is a very friendly neighborhood! I felt so warm towards my fellow Cleveland Heightsians (or whatever we are...), and it wasn't just because 98% of us were there to cheer on then-Sen. Obama. Everyone was polite, too. No one got vulgar about the opposing ticket, though the opportunity was there. I really feel good about that. I mean, a few snarky comments were made, sure! But nothing foul, nothing that couldn't be said in front of a child or say, your great-grandmother. In fact, all that I heard that was said that night was considerably milder than things already said in the media or on SNL. I don't know if we were acting out of superstitious fear of 'jinxing' the election. All I know is that I appreciated the considerate behavior.

Many people left before the end; whatever the outcome, Wednesday was still a work day, after all. Rick and I stayed to hear the speeches, which beyond what could have been imagined, given the campaigns. We stood there in stunned relief with other bar patrons and workers, sometimes just listening, sometimes smiling at each other, sometimes spontaneously hugging each other.

There were lots of joyful tears.

Out on the street, people were honking horns and yelling cheerfully to each other. Strangers and friends hailing each other from across the street with the good news made it seem like New Year's Eve or some other grand, universal, secular holiday.

I've never experienced anything like it. I think it's unlikely I ever will again.

 

Serious Cause for Thanks

A year ago this month I was recovering from a lumpectomy.

It was my first time participating in NaBloPoMo, and I chose to participate specifically because I thought writing everyday would be a good diversion from whatever I might need diverting from, and perhaps a helpful therapy device.

As a diversion, writing about the experience wasn't always successful. As a form of therapy, I was grateful for the outlet.

My story from last November (which is accessible by clicking on the "November 2007" link in the archives section, just to the right) has a happy ending. The surgery, performed on the 6th, was textbook perfect. The results, which I received on the 9th, showed that my breast was cancer-free. My recovery was rapid; I never needed all the pain-killers provided in the prescription.

For all of these things I am deeply thankful.

I am also thankful for preventative medicine measures such as mammograms. Having said that, I should explain that my mammogram did not find my lump. I found it while in the shower. (Soapy water is the best method of discovery!) In fact, after I found the lump, neither mammogram nor ultrasound could definitively find it, although the lab techs were very able to confirm that it was there.

That was a terribly, profoundly, disgusting moment!! I had to admit to a small amount of relief that someone else was able to find the cause of worry that I had, yet it confirmed for me that I really did have something to worry about!!! The machines told me there was no lump. The humans in charge of the technology agreed (with me, not their tech-toys) that something was there. At least the humans were able to laugh with me and relate with me about the emotional conundrum I faced: "The good news is that we know you're not crying 'wolf', however, the bad news is that you may have something life-endangering growing inside you."

Again, that ended up not to be the case. I DID learn that the greatest benefit of preventative medecine is not always the procedures used, but the contact and reassurances one receives. I felt well-cared-for at each turn. That made a tremendous difference.

I have an obligation and an opportunity to get a mammogram every year. While I still must do my own self-exams, I feel like this clinical reminder is as helpful as anything else. It's as official as doing taxes and renewing license plates and voting. By putting that appointment on the calendar, I am making a commitment to my health.

I check my husband's breasts now and again, too. Breast cancer runs in his family. Never forget that men have breasts, and can be vulnerable to breast cancer! Because breast cancer awareness is not as promoted among men, it tends to be more lethal when it is finally detected, as it often goes undetected until a late stage of growth and has metastasized.

I celebrate my grim and joyful anniversary much as I spent my recovery: snuggling on the couch with my pets. Just for a moment, though. Life marches steadily forward, so I cannot stay here long! I embrace the activities with which I will fill the rest of my day.

I do enjoy this quiet moment as a gift.

 

Just some fun and mindless entertainment today.

A fun break from the election hoopla. A little nostalgia, a little video game mash-up!

Anyway, it's Mel's fault. She mentioned it on Facebook today, and I can't get it out of my head. This has to be the ultimate earworm, because it comes with flashing lights and pictures. I can't stop dancing to it.

Which is no bad thing!!

 

Zelda at the Euc! Such memories.

Zelda at the Euc! Such memories.
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

Grafitti on the wall in the historic Euclid Tavern. Gorgeous, plus it makes me remember a classmate at CIA named Zelda, and IT'S THE EUC, for crying out loud!!!! It's open again!

The only thing wrong was that the floors weren't sticky. But that's not terrible.

Just different.

OMG! HA HA HA HA INFINITY!!

Amy Amy Amy Amy Amy! Mr. Becker Mr. Becker Mr. Becker Mr. Becker!

(This is what's known as a 'drunk post'. I have only vague recollections about what the conversation was, I just know it was all pricelessly funny at the time and needed to be preserved for posterity. Whatever that's worth.)

 

Hi, I'm from CIA... No, not THAT one...

Hi, I'm from CIA... No, not THAT one...
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

Last night was my inaugural foray into alumni activities. Fun! I'd do it again.

 

I woke up with this dream today.

In this life, you find your happiness where you can, snatching it from the teeth of the dog in the darkness. Then run like mad, the two of you, giggling, hands clasped.

Good Architecture. Not-So-Good Memories.

This is the Peter B Lewis Building at Case Western Reserve University, by Frank Gehry, a hometown point of pride- one of many. Funny that it only occurs to me to show pictures of my homeTOWN at the end of NaBloPoMo's June 'Home' theme.

Anyway. I didn't go to CWRU, I went to the Cleveland Instute of Art, whose campus is in the middle of Case's. So I shouldn't have any connection to the Lewis Bldg. other than aesthethic admiration, right? Not so!

A few days before graduation in May, 2003 I was cleaning out my studio at school. I'd just gotten done and was leaving the parking lot when many loud sirens started heading toward the area. Some of the emergency vehicles passed me. Not all of them were ambulances.

There are 2 HUGE hospitals in the area, and if you spend any time in University Circle, you learn to block sirens out. Unless you're driving and have to merge right for emergency vehicles to pass.

This was the police & SWAT, fire, and EMS response to the dreadful shooting that held the local community paralyzed for hours.

I got out of the area just in time. Not everyone was so fortunate.

I was never in danger. All that would have happened to me was inconvenience: I would have been immobilized for several hours in the parking lot by the multi-street roadblock that kept many cars, bikes, and pedestrians in place while the showdown ran its course. The people in the Lewis Building were held at automatic weapon-point. It was a very sad day.

 

Why Do They Lock Gas Station Bathrooms?

To keep George Carlin from haunting them.

Yeah, that's not as funny as the answer he used to give. (Which was "Do they think someone's going to come in and clean them?") But today's not a very funny day. Today's the day they announced George Carlin died of heart failure, and I think I just may join him.

Intelligent, thought-provoking humor. Thank God and Carlin for that. Didn't matter how many times I heard his routines, I laughed myself silly over them. The Difference Between Football and Baseball. The Difference Between Dogs and Cats. Stuff. I never yet have heard the Seven Words bit without it being censored, but I imagine it being every bit as funny as all the rest.

God bless the great city of Milwaukie, WI. That's where, in 1972, Carlin ended up as a footnote in all the lawbooks for all time, and as a result, one of the most memorable WCPN interview moments in my listening history, just a few years ago.

Good O'l George did his Seven Words schtick on stage. And if you're reading this and don't know the piece, it's about how these particular words are never going to be heard on broadcast TV. I mean, there's a lot that gets past the network censors today, but these words are strictly, absolutely enforced. So at the end of the performance, Carlin was arrested, brought up on charges of disturbing the peace (!!!!! laughter is disturbing the peace!!) (because I just can't imagine anyone in that room rioted other than a gut-busting belly laugh!), and was released on a $150 fine.

A Milwaukie judge dismissed the charges. He said that while Carlin was being indecent, he still had his freedom of speech. Carlin bounded happily out of the court room and jauntily into the historic annals of law.

He was pretty proud of that, he later said. I don't blame him one bit.

So the last (or maybe second last) time George Carlin came to Cleveland, he was on WCPN for a live interview with Dee Perry on the Around Noon Show. And Dee has this very hesitating style of interviewing that makes her sound like she's making up her questions on the spot, though I'm sure she actually DID prepare days in advance. (It drives me nuts.) The interview was bland, but going well, until she asked Carlin about his "controversial" Seven Words bit, at which point he completely tore her to pieces.

The point of Seven Words is that words only have such power as we give them. This is the meaning of the phrase "the pen is mightier than the sword". You can bring down the mightiest warrior with words to weaken him or her before you ever enter into battle. Likewise, if it is decided that the word "rose" suddenly has awful connotations, we will no longer be permitted to use that word in print or broadcast media. Our children will be taught a new word for the flower that grows on the shrub that bears pointy thorns.

George Carlin used humor to get that point across with Seven Words. Dee Perry, by asking a poorly prepared and superficial question, offended him, and from that point forward, shares her interviews with other staff members whenever certain performers come to town. (We all benefit!!) It sure was interesting to hear Carlin's temper unleash. It was fascinating to hear his perspective out from behind the filter of humor. And then the finality of the click of the phone line.

I suppose that's a little like the news that came today.

I hate June. All the good people die in June.

 

Cozy

Aw. No one snuggles in like Cleopatra. I wish I could join her.

"Someone Margaret Chose to Love"

I just watched an episode of Bones, a rerun; one I had never seen before. Called "A Boy in a Bush", it involved a foster mother and her three foster boys, one of which was the victim of foul play.

The premise of this series is that there is an elite group of research scientists (labeled "squints" by the FBI -- great nickname, wish I had one that cool) often called upon by the FBI for use as forensic specialists in peculiar cases. Thing is, the FBI is getting accustomed to calling on the "squints". The main characters are a very emotive Special Agent Seeley Booth (David Boreanaz) and the clinical Dr. Temperance Brennan, aka "Bones" (Emily Deschanel). They are perfect foils for each other, and in the three seasons it's been on I have delighted in how their relationship has become more intense and complicated, yet remained steadfastly platonic. The other characters are amazingly complex and compellingly intwining, too! I love this show. Damn this writer's strike. (I wish those fat cat execs would cave and and give the creative class their just due. And anticipate it, the next freaking time, will you please? Save us all the agony of so-called "reality tv". There's nothing real about (>snort< heavy derision) 'The Donald's' hair.)

As it turned out, The Bad Guy had some old dirt on the foster mom and was using the two remaining foster brothers (who were blood brothers) to hurt her by hurting the one foster brother.

The title of this post is the quote that Bones' character said to one of the foster boys as she was trying to find the bad guy. It totally worked.

Not just on the character. Not just according to script.

I'm adopted.

This is the first time in all of my TV watching days I've seen anything like this in any kind of drama or sit-com type of show. (I'm not in the habit of watching reality TV. Perhaps it happens there; I'd rather not know. I'd feel completely betrayed if it happened there.) Not since Sesame Street has something moved me like this.

OK, 'Brennan's' parents were killed when she was young (we find out in later episodes only her mother is dead and her father is on the lam) and she spent her young life in foster care. So she was, in (engineered, make no mistake) rare fashion, able to connect with this child (and therefore this viewer, who spent part of her first 9 days in foster care -- apparently a blissful experience, if my babybook-preserved letter from my fostermother is true testament) and get the name of the unsub from him. Case solved!!

The gut-punch, though, was the quote, "someone Margaret chose to love". Margaret is the foster-mother.

Because that describes my parents. Mom & Daddy couldn't have kids because of their own biology. They had to rely on someone else's "cast offs". I was the first cast off they took in. That was June 14, 1968, the very luckiest day of my life. Whereas June 5, my birthday, has historically been my most UNluckiest, regardless of the year. Later years confirmed for me my birthday's curse. (Robert F. Kennedy Sr.'s family may agree with my judgement.)

It all boils down to my being very happy with being an adoptee. (I am.)

I know that it must have been torture for my bio-egglady to give me up. 9 months incubation time? It must have been very difficult to give up whatever baby came out, let alone: I know what kind of cookies and cheesecakes I can bake. (Please don't think I'm trivializing things. I kick all kinds of arse in the kitchen.) And my creative mind? Also, I've been preggers 9 times. Sadly, I can't make it past the first trimester. Maybe Rick and I will give it another go; maybe it'll be this year. It needs to be soonish. I'm a little skittish about going into double digits. But that's my cross to bear. Not hers. (though perhaps her biology? Still: NOT her fault.)(Hmm. As far as genetics knows...)(NO!! Not her fault, no matter what!!)(Sorry, whoever you are!! You don't deserve that! It's the petrie dish, not you.)

ANYWAY....

I LOVE MY PARENTS. My parents are the people who raised me. They are English-German (specifically Prussian) (Mom) and German (Daddy), whereas I am Swedish, Scottish, Irish, English, and Apache. I was born in Montana. I was adopted from the city of Helena while my parents were teaching in a small mining town near British Columbia called Libby. I learned that my egg-woman was a nurse in Helena, that she was blonde, blue-eyed, and tall, and that the sperm guy went to seminary for 5 years, and there is no information aside from that about him in my file at Lutheran Social Services. To call the egg-woman and sperm-guy my parents is an insult to the folk who have been with me through every skinned knee and miscarriage and college, not to mention my divorce.

I miss my mother more than I can express. I lost her to lung cancer 3 years ago. There is no replacing her. Nor am I seeking to. I am grateful that I have my Daddy still. He's a rock. And a very devoted grampa to my niece in Atlanta. He and my husband are amazingly good friends -- it's neat to see them together. I deeply appreciate that. More than either of them will ever know.

Hearing that line, "someone Margaret chose to love" was the most healing, nurturing, and wonderful thing I've ever heard on broadcast TV. It truly expressed what my parents and all adoptive parents do: they CHOOSE TO LOVE the children they are given, long before they are ever given that chance. Sleepless, tearful nights are spent in prayer before any hopes are given (and, often, as easily ripped away -- multiple times before a child is ever granted to the couple!) of ever becoming loving parents.

Now change it to "Someone Kenn and Joyce chose to love" and you'll have me. You'll have my brother Matt, too! That's us. We got chosen. We were sent, then we were rejected, then we were embraced by a family that gave us both an amazing upbringing. We really hit the jackpot. Not the financial upbringing, but that's a good thing: the rich-born are rarely the well-born. Witness the Hilton Horribles and countless Kennedys (the ones typically NOT sprung-off from Bobby).

I needed to share it with someone.

I realize I got extra emotive. I just needed to get it out while it was fresh.

:-)

 

Springerle Recipe

I got a comment from LadybugLove on my January 4 post, where I took pictures of my just-barely-post-Christmas Christmas cookies. I made holly cookies (no picture), the kind with cornflakes and melted marshmallows and little cinnamon candies, and I made Springerles.

Springerles are an old family tradition for my side of the family. They are made with a fairly simple batter. Where it gets fancy is the rolling out: you roll them twice, with 2 different pins. The first is a regular rolling pin, for the regular old reason, to flatten the dough. The second, at least MINE, is a wooden rolling pin, with elaborate designs cut into it at regular intervals. It presses these shapes and patterns into the dough, and then the dough is cut into the rectangular cookies and dried overnight on cookie sheets strewn with anise seeds.

An alternative, if a baker doesn't have a springerle roll, is to use old-fashioned cookie or butter presses. Not a spritz-press! This dough is far too stiff for that type of tool, and these cookies are completely wrong for such a thick cookie shape.

Did you catch that this cookie gets dried before baking? Think of this as the German dunking cookie. It's like their version of the Italian biscotti. It's meant to have a bit of a snap to it. Think also of the types of drinks available 350 years ago. What would they have dunked a cookie in? Probably not hot chocolate. Perhaps a dark beer, very likely hard cider, definitely spiced wine, probably tea. Children would have been given the same options, as drinking the milk of "a different animal" is a fairly modern concept. I wouldn't recommend that now, but it gives you an idea of how things have changed since the advent of food storage! Actually, I think that's a part of the reason for the anise seed, in addition to the very special-ness and exoticness of the flavoring. Anyway, don't be surprised by the very tough nature of this cookie. Please experiment with the beverages you dunk it in. (Milk is not good. Cider, hot chocolate, various teas, coffee, and orange juice are all very good.)

On to the recipe!

Make sure all ingredients are at room temperature, between 65 and 78 deg. F.

Prepare the cookie sheets by first greasing them, then spread 1-2 T whole anise seeds across the surface of each cookie sheet.

Combine thoroughly, then set aside:
3 1/4 C all-purpose flour
1/4 t baking powder

Beat until color lightens:
4 large eggs

Add these next ingredients GRADUALLY to the beaten eggs until further lightened in color, and thick, creamy, with a ribbon-like texture:
1 2/3 C granulated sugar
1 t finely grated lemon zest
1 t anise extract

Use a wooden spoon to fold in the flour mixture until completely and smoothly blended. Sprinkle a clean, smooth work surface generously with flour and knead the dough until it is firm and manageable. Do not be surprized if this takes 1/2 C or more!

Once it is of a consistency that feels stiff enough to work with a rolling pin, divide into portions of a size to work with your work space. Store the reserve portions of dough wrapped in plastic or in resealable bags so they don't dry out by the time you are ready to roll them out.

Now you are ready to roll. Keep the flour handy! You will need it regularly, and do use it liberally! Roll the dough to 1/4" thickness. Dust the Springerle carved rolling pin with flour (but make sure there are no large deposits in the recesses of the designs, as it will affect the design of the cookie), and BE FIRM when pressing down this rolling pin! It is important to get a strong impression, and to have even pressure on both sides of the rolling pin.

Cut the designs apart with a very sharp knife, and arrange on your cookie sheets. I like to press very gently as I place them on the cookie sheets, so that there's no doubt the anise seeds will be pressed into the back of the cookie.

If you've ever made cookies that must be rolled out and cut, you will know that it's at this point you have to re-roll the scraps, perhaps add it to some of the as-yet unrolled-out dough. Just keep going until all the dough is rolled, pressed, cut, and placed on the cookie sheets.

Filled all the cookie sheets? Finished all the dough? DON'T BAKE THEM YET! Dry the cookies somewhere cool and dry for at least 8-12 hours. I usually let them go overnight. Do not skip this step.

When it's time to bake them, bring the cookies and cookie sheets up to room temp. Then preheat the oven to 300 degrees F.

Bake ONE SHEET AT A TIME. Seriously. It's worth it. Even though each sheet takes 18-24 minutes (I usually go for about 20-21 minutes). Peek through the oven window at the cookies as you get close to that near-done stage: what you're watching for is a firm texture, but almost no coloration, perhaps just a very gentle inkling of gold along the very edges. Nothing more than that. Remove from cookie sheets and cool on racks.

I've seen these cookies painted with diluted food coloring (this requires another few hours drying time). There's a suggestion in Joy of Cooking that edible gold leaf would be a great plan, too. Regular frosting would hide the lovely embossed designs and alter the flavor of the cookie. I just leave them as they are. They are a very pretty cookie.

I hope you'll try this! I hope it brings you much enjoyment and becomes a tradition for your family that's as cherished as it is in mine.

 

One Final View of the Jake Sign

Precarious, getting this shot with my camera phone in mid-intersection! Nevermind, rush hour is juuuuuuuuuuust about over...

The Signs They Are a'Changin'

Wow. Truly another end of an era. Sad, too, because the new Progressive Field sign is nowhere NEAR as classy as the Jacobs Field sign. More 'lite rock' design school reject rubish.

Letter Writing Party!

It's Universal Letter Writing Week.

It's a time to take some time off from the electronica, and use a real pen or pencil on real paper or greeting card, slip same into an envelope, address the whole shebang, put a postage stamp on it, and pop it in the mail.

Sounds like a lot of work, doesn't it?

Now, imagine opening your mail box and finding an actual personal piece of mail, tucked as a surprize amongst the bills and ads and "Have You Seen Me?" cards. Wouldn't that be amazing? What a treat! It would be like finding your favorite of all favorites in a sampler box of chocolates that are mostly the wrong type. (For me, that would be milk chocolate maple creams -- *shudder* -- which, for some, I know, is sacrelige. But that's way too sweet. Give me solid dark chocolate infused with lavender.)

So you see it's a delight and a treasure. The person on the receiving end feels special and singled out: "This much trouble for ME? Wow. How nice!" At least, that's how I feel. Email is immediate and takes less effort. Ok, my emails are usually long and involved. So I won't discount them! But when I write a letter, there's usually extra stuff that goes into them: comics carefully cut from the newspaper, confetti sprinkles, just little flat thoughtful things that can easily be slipped into the letter without adding to the bulk. And I doodle. Plus I have really cool script. Yes, I just did say that about my own handwriting, but I do calligraphy, and I cultivated my personal script years ago very carefully. People comment favorably and regularly on my script. I know my talent. It really ought to be used for letter writing more often!

So here's my pledge. At least once a month (not counting the thank you notes we are still sending from our wedding in July) I will send at least one hand written note. It's already on my calendar. I have done my duty for the month of January, per the guidelines of Universal Letter Writing Week.

This was not my idea. Heather, from the Art for Cures group I donate to, sent out a notice to the group last Tuesday about this event. She linked to Laura, whose blog is called katydiddys, and I would be completely remiss if I didn't link to them! Go, check them out. They both do extraordinary art. Beautiful. They also have great Etsy sites, and if you are interested in doing some letter writing but don't have a card, buy some from them!!! You will be inspired, and your recipient will be thrilled.

Heather's blog is called WineMaker'sSister and in her post about the letter writing party, she tells a very moving story about her friend Mary's generosity with her handmade cards, encouraging officemates to take them as long as they used them to write letters to people. Just go to her site, read the story for yourself, and see if it doesn't move you! :-)

Then, when you're done with her blog, please do click on the link for Heather's Etsy site. She has some lovely work for sale. I encourage everyone for 2008 to Buy Handmade. This was a big campaign during the holidays, but I think we should remember it for birthdays and anniversaries and other occassions, too. Certainly cards for all occassions -- take a look!

Feeling inspired? Shut down the computer, turn on some good music, clear a generous space for writing. Equipped with your favorite warm mug of wonderfulness and a juicy pen (you know what I mean, something with good flow) and crisp paper, write something from your heart to someone who hasn't seen your writing in a while.

One Great Kiwi; One Awesome Legacy

How does one say goodbye to a man like this?

Sir Edmund Hillary. 1919-2008. His life started in New Zealand. He died today, a man admired the world over. But what a life!

He's known for the great achievements of adventure that make great headlines: conquering Mt. Everest, exploring Antarctica, trekking to the North Pole with Neil Armstrong. With Neil Armstrong!! Who goes on a hike -- a hike to the top of the planet -- with an astronaut??!!?

Indeed.

Well, quite simply, a man who befriended Sherpas. These are an extraordinary group of people who, while certainly not antisocial, don't let just anyone or everyone into their society. He not only became their friend, he made great effort to promote their well-being and to fight their oppression by those who would try.

That's a start at trying to give back to those who helped him up to the summit of Everest. Never forget he wasn't alone up there! He was accompanied by his dear friend Tenzing Norgay, another great adventurer and explorer.

And his wealth of generosity did not end there. He had a greater heart than his adventurous spirit. Google his name and several charitable trusts pop up. Some are environmental, some educational, some medical, so many to assist the Nepalese Sherpas living on the slopes of Everest. It's very amazing.

Clearly, I admire the man. I admire his legacy. I pray we see many more men and women cut from his cloth to help form and shape our world's future.

Rest in peace, Sir Edmund. May your renown (and charitable foundations) grow with time.

Christmas Mirth and Grandma's Sock Monkey

Christmas Mirth and Grandma's Sock Monkey
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

Strange stuff is out in the house. Our cats are getting bold. Having a very tall tree base (it's a real tree trunk, for all that it's a fake tree) is turning out not to be all that much of a safeguard.

Sigh. It's coming down. I can feel it in my bones.

Anyway, this picture is full of meaningful stuff. I put notes all over the picture on my Flickr site. Just click on it, and you will be automatically transported. I mean, redirected. Whether you are 'transported' depends on how deeply you connect with *my* nostalgic stimuli. Try it! I hope it brings you joy.

There might be another picture or two here at the bottom. Mirth was just so darn cute this morning. (I can't stand turning this blog into a cat report!)

This Year We Have a Christmas Tree

Matching Engraved Angel Ornaments We BOTH Received
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

It's our first year with the tree again since the year Mom died.

I'd pull out ornaments and the boxes of Christmas books, but the pain was unbearable. So back under the eaves they would go.

I don't remember when it was but we both looked at each other and said, "Do you think we could put the tree up this year? Is that manageable?"

We agreed that it was.

I'm glad. It leads to cool things like the Ricky and Becky ornaments.

If you know what's good for you, you will never ever ever in a million billion years EVER call either of us by those names.

But the cool thing about the ornaments is that we both received them as children (hence the diminutive nicknames) so there was no possible knowlege that they would be hanging together on a tree in 2007.

They hung together back in 2003, too; that was the last time we had the tree up. It's nice to have it again. Here are some other views.






The manger scene (I grew up calling it "manger scene", not creche) at my grandparents' farm had animals added to it every year, and thus had hundreds by the time I reached adulthood. I believe mine should be no different. I added a few angels and my basenji angel and devil ornaments this year. Unconventional is good.

If we can make it the whole Christmas season without the cats pulling the whole thing down, it will be a miracle.

In an email I read from My Beloved today...

... titled "What the HELL?", I was informed that the broadcast network NBC will be showing their new movie, "The Year Without A Santa Claus".


That's right. Their new movie. (From last year.)

Wonder if they've got any other hot ideas for the season?

Turns out, they do have a new angle, after all: it's live action, not stop motion. So far as we're told, anyway; that's really up to the actors and directors. Here's the official NBC link. Good looking cast. What worries me? Executive Producer Ron Wolper's other links are only Salem's Lot and Helter Skelter. Arguably good movies, but hardly holiday fare; totally different textures, family visit horror notwithstanding. Ron Underwood, the director of this 2 hour (TWO HOURS??? Rankin and Bass only needed 30 minutes with commercials to get their story told!!) movie has City Slickers and Mighty Joe Young (not the good one) under his belt. We didn't see this last year, when it premiered. I looked into it. I pre-supposed we could expect either absolutely ZERO overdone schmaltzy touchy-feely, or an over-abundance, simply because these two don't ever to deal in that coin, so they were likely to deal lightly or go way overboard with it.

They went way overboard with it.

I'm a bit worried! I saw no mention of the songs in any of the reviews for this movie! Those songs are classic! My husband was Heat Miser once for Halloween because of those songs. I mean, the characters played a part in that choice, too, but those songs are so great, he has a CD cover of the Heat Miser song that gets played all year long. (His now ex-wife was Freeze Miser, which was a bit of type-casting for her, but that's a whole lot of story for a whole nother time!) (Still: entirely true, and Tracy's mother made the costumes, the red one still hangs not 10 feet from me as I type.) Will the lesson be the same? None of the reviews made that clear, either. It worries me when Corporations take over classics. Details suffer and Big Pictures fade.

Plus, the word 'Corporations' always makes me think of geology. 'Corporations' sounds like 'Conglomerations' which IS geology, and hurts when you get hit with it. I'm rarely comfortable when a 'Corporation' is involved. Particularly when they are involved with something I care about, or if it's something that originally had a geniuneness about it. Something like the entire Rankin and Bass library.

Watch, perhaps, but watch with caution. And hold onto your DVDs of the original Rankin and Bass classics. We'll see what happens, what doesn't, and whether those writers have any business coming back from that rotten inconvenient strike. (Give me back my Life, and my Bones, and my Heroes, and my Daisies. These are simple and basic needs, really.)

By the way, ABC will show the original Rankin and Bass stop-motion animation movie this Saturday afternoon at 2:30 pm Eastern, and college football is over til the bowl games start, just so you're remembering--don't panic (Go Buckeyes!). The new, live-action, all human (shh! don't tell the kids! *wink*) version on NBC will air at 8pm Eastern on 23 December. Just in time for Santa and Vixen to get over that nasty flu or cold or whatever.

Julehjerte - Yule Hearts made of fabric

Julehjerte - Yule Hearts made of fabric
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

It's the last day of November.

That means two things to me right now: NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month; you blog every day during the month of November. The incentive? People who have succeeded are chosen at random for kick-ankle prizes.) is over at midnight. And I did it. Woo Hoo!!!! I joined mid-week the first week, and I managed to do it! Despite surgery and a holiday and dozens of miniscule distractions. OK: I guess I can do anything. Cool!

The other thing: Tomorrow's December, and I really need to kick things into high gear to get this house into Christmas decoration condition. This house hasn't been decorated for Christmas since the first year Rick lived here.

That was 3? 4? years ago.

My mom died of lung cancer in 2004. I haven't been able to pull out our decorations since.

When I was a kid there was a Christmas movie based on a book (they were quite faithful, too) called The House Without A Christmas Tree. The household consisted of a widower and his school-aged daughter, and she really wanted to decorate for Christmas. He refused. She won a Christmas tree in a raffle. There was a heart-melting moment, a reconciling of spirits, a realization that in addition to mourning one must celebrate life. I was probably a little young to see it but I definitely 'got it', though it has troubled me all this time.

That is, until I found myself in the shoes of both of those characters.

This year it seems I am the one with the melting of the heart and the reconciling and so forth. So I am making ornaments and trying to muster inspiration to clean (ugh... any thoughts?) and getting up the gumption (LOVE that word! It's not just for grumpy old men!) to climb around the boxes in the attic for our Christmas stash.

The best part about Christmas stuff being out? THE BOOKS!! And the music, too!

So here is the beginning of what I am making to give. There will be more! More colors, more designs. But for now, I need to get to work on the living room. It's going to be Christmas, and this year, I want to decorate for it!