Farewell, Patty

As many of you know, Tim's mother, Patty, lost her battle with cancer a little over a week ago. She walked through her illness with a sobering amount of grace and her poise over her condition, for me, served as a testament to the awe-inspiring strength of the spirit. I am grateful to have been witness to such dignity.

We spent last week in Wisconsin celebrating Patty in all of her favorite ways: through laughter, stories, time with family and friends, ridiculous amounts of food and drinks, and, of course, polka. (I have a special place in my heart for a gal who loves polka.) I can't help but think she would've been happy with the way things transpired there. (Even when people started bringing up the stories that they couldn't share at the church...)

As I've reminisced over the last several days, this poem has been weaving through my thoughts; verses I haven't recalled in years. As I share it, my soul waves a bittersweet farewell to Patty Larson. May your spirit be free to dance on the wind.

I am standing by the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch
until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sun and sky come down to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, ' There she goes!
Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all.

She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the places of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
'There she goes! ' ,
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout :
'Here she comes!' 

- Henry Van Dyke

Down the Rabbit Hole

'Tis the middle of April and that can only mean one thing in our household....iiiiitttt's show time!

From January to April every year, our family is eyeballs deep in preparation for April dance performances. It's a huge time commitment that only people who love this sort of thing or who want to severely punish themselves, would ever consider committing to.
We are in a constant loop of the rehearsal cycle....especially with three people in one show.  When we're not driving to rehearsal, we're rehearsing. If we're not rehearsing, we're waiting for someone else in our family who is rehearsing...so, basically we've just moved into the dance studio and are calling it home.  If we aren't rehearsing, we're busy sewing costumes or building sets. If we manage to get home before 10 o'clock, we're rolling around in bed trying to get the damn performance music out of our heads....it really is an all-encompassing experience (and why I'm so tired that I haven't been able to put together an intelligible thought for over a week).
But, the moment has finally arrived, and I am proud to share that Sydney, Alex and I will be performing in Alice in Wonderland at the beautiful Newmark Theater this weekend.

And after this weekend, sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

One of 20ish card costumes we helped sew

Alex getting fawned over by a Tweedle

Puppet Brawl

A life lesson from 'The World According to Alex':

and I quote....

"Mom, puppet fights are good for the soul."

Hmmm. I kind of like that one...

Spies Like Us

One thing became crystal clear to me today:

If I want to have anything that resembles mental health after my children leave the nest, then I need to get a grip. Pronto.

Here's the thing, philosophically, I know that my kids are getting older and with age comes increments of independence. As one wise parent once told me, "The years go by so fast, but the days go by sooooo slow." And so it's been: I've gone about life with the days creeping and the years flying, and like any other parent I've gotten caught up in the minutia of parenthood. All of the lovely, daunting, moving parts. Yesterday, I took a moment and looked up, and to my unpleasant shock, Sydney is suddenly two months away from turning 13.

Apparently, I'm not taking this news well.

Exerting her almost-thirteen-year-old independence, Sydney and her friend decided that they wanted to go to the mall and then see a movie. Alone. Which is a new thing. Very new. Painfully new. I compromised with her by telling her that I would be at the mall if she needed me, but she could do her own thing, which she was thrilled about. Soooo, off she went giggling through the mall....with my heart and my sanity dangling helplessly along in her back pocket.

In a fit of sheer lunacy, I spent an entire afternoon tailing her. Stalking her, really. Using surprisingly super ninja skills,  I stealthily ducked into nearby stores, cautiously peeked over banisters, all the while being completely and unapologetically ready to spring out from behind one of those huge potted plants to tackle and flatten the first boy who might try to swoop in and flirt with her.

When we finally made it home (her giddy and none-the-wiser and me silently wondering if locking her in the house for the rest of her life really might be an option), I spent the evening in a deep state of melancholy, thinking that it would be nice to put the song "Time in A Bottle" on repeat, lay on the floor with the lights out and drink whiskey.

God, help me. The fierce love and vulnerability of motherhood has, once again, proven that it can turn me into a maniac. (And God help the first boy to break my daughter's heart. I feel like I should apologize in advance for shoving his face in the dirt.)

Snowpocalypse 2011

Here is an image of what it looks like to get a day off of school  because of snow on the East Coast:

And an image of what it looks like to get a day off of school because of snow in Middle America :

And here, my friends, is what it looks like to get a day off of school because of snow in Portland, Oregon. (Yes, school really was called off.)

10 am Thursday, my front yard

Now, I'm from Wyoming and I lived for a nice little chunk of time in Montana, so I find the frantic and frankly, obsessive, tendencies around snow here fascinating. I understand that it's a novelty around these parts, but people really do get nuts over the possibility of flurries. Normally rational people lose it and do things like cancel school.

In this case, for several days, people talked about the upcoming snow as if the apocalypse was imminent. I had to keep reminding myself that the forecasters were predicting around 2 inches and the sky wasn't going to open up and burp out enough snow to crush my house or my children if they happened outside.  It's all so strange.

So, we stayed home yesterday (Did I mention that work was canceled too?) and the kids played with other schoolless children and we drank hot chocolate and enjoyed the wimpy snow day. Well, whatever, we'll take it.

The Case of the Missing Dog Chunk

Meet WeeGee, our resident drama king.

A few fun facts about this eccentric little soul:

1) He wears a fedora when the mood strikes him

2) He is personally offended by men who wear biking shorts (Once, he started barking like he had lost his little dog mind and then promptly peed on me when Hubby Tim walked in the bedroom wearing biking shorts of the red variety. I guess it's possible he is mostly offended by Hubby Tim wearing bike shorts.)

3) His current infatuation is our plump and moody cat with whom he is having an unorthodox and disturbing affair of the biblical sort. I'll leave it to the imagination... but trust me, it's weird.

4) He's named after a photojournalist whose images of grisly murder and mayhem appeared regularly in the New York press during the thirties and forties....

 ....Which brings us to the current state of affairs. As if to prove that his namesake is well deserved, our little WeeGee went and chopped off part of his ear.

 Let me explain....
...Well, that's the funny part. I can't. It is a complete mystery.

Here's what I know: It was the middle of the night, it was shockingly gory for such a small ear (as in, needing-a-mop-to-clean-up-gory) and the missing piece hasn't shown up yet (Ewwww, I know).

We have some theories as to what could've happened since the scene of the crime seems to be his dog bed....like, perhaps, alien abduction. The other possibility being bantered around is that he took a que from Van Gogh and sent the severed chunk to our cat in a bizarre lover's spat ( I'm leaning toward that one). Or maybe our geriatric golden retriever who spends his days walking from one napping spot to another tried to eat him. I dunno.

He spent a few days sulking around looking like a battered little babushka...

 
...and he still refuses to talk. Soooo, if you happen to see an alien walking around with a dog ear for an eye patch, you'll know what happened.

Viva la Mexico!

I won't waste your time bragging about our time in Mexico; I won't mention the warm sun, the taste of sea salt on the lips, the looong solitary walks on the glittering beach or the mojitos before noon (I'll just show you instead).

I will, however, mention that you really haven't lived until you see Mama Mia onstage as interpreted by our non-English speaking neighbors to the south. As my sister-in-law noted, it was much like watching  Godzilla, only with semi-better dance moves. You also haven't lived until you've abandoned a perfectly beautiful whale-watching boat (complete with hors d'oeuvres and cocktails) for a rickety old Mexican dingy somewhere out in the ocean due to seasickness (poor Sydney: nothing says pre-teen cool like harfing off the side of a boat in front of ((gasp)) people. I told her we were in Mexico, every vacationer has to puke in Mexico at some time or another....it's kind of a traveling rite of passage). Anywho, it was an odd adventure complete with old, tired life vests that I was sure would drag us straight to the bottom of the ocean if we had jumped ship (and believe me, I considered jumping ship) plus a strange little captain who seemed to have had a few cocktails himself before taking us back to port (think Jack Sparrow, minus the super sexiness). But, on the bright side, seeing whales from a very small, 3 butt boat was a sight to behold, particularly since it felt like it could've been the last sight I ever saw.

So, here we go....just a few of many images from the trip.

A force to be reckoned with

Our Lady of Guadalupe

Alex and his whale

Patty and Kirsten

Moby Dick

Snotty Chuckle

Sydney being frisked by the Mexican 'police'

The family bed

The Mexican version of Abby Road Crossing

Greeting the day

Tim joins the cast

Feliz Navidad

Mexico, in the words of James Taylor:

"....so sweet with the sun sinking low
Moon's so bright like to light up the night
Make everything all right"

James, I think you're onto something.