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 |  Every person is a new door to a different world...
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Skyewriting ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be? - it is the same the angels breathe." ~Mark Twain ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "When we are alone on a starlit night, when by chance we see the migrating birds in autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children in a moment when they are really children, when we know love in our own hearts; or when, like the Japanese poet, Basho, we hear an old frog land in a quiet pond with a solitary splash - at such times the awakening, the turning inside out of all values, the "newness," the emptiness and the purity of vision that make themselves evident, all these provide a glimpse of the cosmic dance." ~Thomas Merton ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Why I'm Here~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive." ~from Six Degrees of Separation "Writing can be a creative and invigorating way to make our lives available to ourselves...We may discover that the better we tell our stories, the better we will want to live them." ~Henri Nouwen You can also read my poetry at "Invalid Item"  I'm so glad you dropped in! Peace and Blessings  ~Mandy~ |
"And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same." ~Nelson Mandela ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** For as long as I can remember, I've always loved the theater. However, I was not blessed with musical talent and standing on a stage would most certainly leave me sweating profusely, mouth agape and incontinent. Back in high school, I was well aware of my limitations and yet I wanted to be a part of the semi-annual productions that took place in our humble auditorium. I've always had a knack for organization and some artistic ability, so I made a decision to get involved with the set crew. I made great friends during those years and I was always content to stand back stage and watch them sparkle. During my Junior year, I finally got my moment on-stage (sort of) when I was asked to create the backdrop for our production of Guys and Dolls. It turned out to be a tedious task. For reasons still unbeknownst to me, we didn't have access to paint...The entire backdrop was to be done in chalk. I enlisted the help of a couple of friends and though we went home each night exhausted and covered in chalk dust, we had a great time. When opening night arrived, I felt a sense of pride as I stood backstage and watched it all come together. Consider this...  An actor may possess the talent to captivate an audience but where would he be without the multitude of other talents that go into putting on a production?What if the other stars in the sky refused to shine because they couldn't measure up to Jupiter's brilliance?Can you imagine wildflowers reluctant to bloom because they're intimidated by the splendor of the rose? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** As aspiring writers and human beings, each of us has within us unique talents that are meant to be fostered and shared. If we don't develop those talents, we stunt our own personal growth and deprive the world of a wonderful gift. When we inspire and encourage one another, there is more than enough room for all of us to shine. Peace and Blessings to all! Do-Re-Mi: I've been running hither and tither all week long so if I've missed any entries on those blogs that I frequent, please accept my apologies. Yesterday, Emily had a volleyball tournament that lasted the entire day. The hosting school had a wonderful courtyard and the temperatures reached 60°. Between games, I was able to relax with a good book and bask in the sunlight. You fill up my senses: I spotted a small herd of white-tailed deer grazing in the corn stubble nearby. Some snow remained on the ground. Beautiful creatures...  On this day: In 1910, the Boy Scouts of America was founded in Washington D.C. Iowegian Skies: 37° and overcast at 17:32 CST. There are thunderstorms in tomorrow's forecast!  |
| "Spontaneity is the quality of being able to do something just because you feel like it at the moment, of trusting your instincts, of taking yourself by surprise and snatching from the clutches of your well-organized routine, a bit of unscheduled plea." ~unknown Last week, an uncharacteristically spontaneous decision, my friends' unavailability and a moment of public humiliation led to a very memorable weekend... When news stories started circulating about the upcoming Winter Dance Party commemorating the 50th anniversary of the final concert and subsequent plane crash that claimed the lives of Rock and Roll legends, Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and J.P. Richardson a.k.a., "The Big Bopper," I made a decision to make the two-hour trek to Clear Lake, Iowa, to participate in the festivities. Knowing that it was half-way to Rochester, I contacted susanL  and Thomas to see if they'd like to join me. Both had prior commitments but the weather forecast was promising and I knew I wouldn't have another Saturday to call my own in quite some time so I decided to go anyway.A search of the weekend's events revealed that all concerts had been sold out months ago, but there were film festivals, site tours, memorabilia sales and symposiums so I planned my itinerary accordingly. I decided to take a bus tour to the crash site, spend some time browsing at the memorabilia and attend a late afternoon symposium after which I would enjoy a peaceful drive home. The drive was quiet and relaxing...solitude I'd been yearning for all week long. I arrived slightly ahead of schedule and was pleasantly surprised to find a parking spot just one block from the Surf Ballroom. I purchased my bus ticket and had time to walk around and take a few snapshots. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The Surf Ballroom where the legends performed their final concert After boarding the bus, a gentleman named Clare seated himself next to me and we chatted during the 8-mile drive to the crash site. When we arrived and I realized that we'd have to walk an additional 1/2 mile to reach the site, I was grateful for the unseasonably warm weather. However, there are several disadvantages to a winter thaw when trudging through a cornfield. We were almost to the site when I stepped in a snow bank that had softened and my right leg sank knee-deep...I was immobilized! My new friend, Clare, and a couple of other gentlemen quickly came to my rescue and dug me out. Upon standing and looking up, I was terribly embarrassed to see approximately two-dozen pairs of eyes fixed directly on me. A woman asked in her lovely British accent if anything was damaged and I quipped, "Just my pride."  Once we were all safely on firm ground, we gathered around the crude memorial and observed a moment of silence. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** A small memorial, marking the site of the fateful crash... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The view to the south from the site of the crash...Looking back towards Clear Lake. After pausing to reflect, we boarded the bus and the passengers sat quietly as "American Pie" played over the speakers. We returned to the Surf in short time. I thanked Clare and we parted ways. Before leaving the Surf Ballroom, I took a few more snapshots and visited the gift shop where I made a few small purchases. I then departed for the local middle school to check out one of the memorabilia sales and attend a symposium. The symposium panel consisted of three members...Bob Hale, a Mason City radio personality who was the emcee the night of the concert, Tommy Allsup, the guitarist who toured with the group and Carl Bunch, the bands' drummer. All shared their memories of the tour, the weather that night, how they reacted when they heard the news and what it was like to continue the tour after losing their friends. There were moments of laughter, tears and some amazing stories. Some of the highlights... Tommy Allsup was supposed to be on the flight. He "lost" a coin toss to Ritchie Valens.The bus they had been traveling on was unheated and Carl had suffered frostbite on his feet. He wasn't able to attend the final concert because he was recuperating at a hospital in Green Bay. That night, Ritchie Valens and Buddy Holly took turns playing the drums.Waylon Jennings was the bass player during the tour...though he'd never played the bass before. Footage and photos will show Jennings holding the bass like a six-string. Jennings was also supposed to be on the flight...He gave up his seat to J.P. Richardson, who was feeling under the weather.Contrary to popular belief, the weather was clear that night. Theories as to the cause of the crash vary, though it may have been a windsheer or pilot error. (Rumors abound about the 21-year-old pilot suffering from vertigo and the possibility of an instrument being installed upside down.)Ritchie Valens was wearing a pair of boots belonging to Carl Bunch and Buddy Holly was carrying Tommy Allsup's wallet in his coat pocket. Investigators thought that perhaps Allsup had perished too. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Bob Hale...Emcee ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Me with Tommy Allsup, guitarist Once the symposium was over, I was preparing for my two-hour drive home when I spotted my friend, Clare. I approached him to thank him once again for rescuing me from my snowy trap and to say goodbye. That's when my weekend plans changed drastically. Clare introduced me to a man named Randy Steel. I learned that Randy owns an extensive collection of "The Big Bopper" photographs and also happens to be close friends with J.P. Richardson Jr. When Randy learned that I didn't have a ticket to that night's concert, he instructed me to go to his hotel and tell the desk clerk that he'd sent me. He stated that there was one ticket in an envelope behind the desk and that he'd like me to have it. When I hesitated, he insisted, stating that our meeting was not a coincidence, but a God-cidence and that it was important to him that I attend. I dutifully and cheerfully accepted his offer and after picking up my ticket, met Clare for dinner at Perkins. During our dinner, I learned that Clare earns his living by traveling from state to state, selling products at state fairs and trade shows. He's sold in 49 states and mostly sleeps in his van but will occasionally splurge on a motel room. His lifestyle is a choice...He has degrees in marketing and engineering. He enjoys travel and meeting people...and boy does he know people! I learned that Clare knows Randy Steel from frequenting the same events, such as the Clovis Days in New Mexico and the annual Winter Dance Party in Clear Lake. After our dinner, we met up at the Surf Ballroom for the concert and Clare introduced me to some other people he knew...Jimmy Gilmer, Stan Lark and George Tomsco of "The Fireballs"...Remember "Sugar Shack?" Jerry Dwyer of Dwyer Flying Service, who owned the fated airplane and helped to place their belongings on board, and a familiar-looking gentleman named Johnny Rodgers... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Johnny Rodgers...or could it be???? Here's video of Johnny Rodgers performing "Maybe Baby" with Tommy Allsup on guitar... http://youtube.com/watch?v=9UWKrZZa4NY After introductions were made, we enjoyed performances by Bobby Vee, Johnny Preston, Chris Montez and Peter & Gordon. Concert goers donned poodle skirts, saddle shoes, prom dresses, houndstooth sport coats and letterman jackets. I was surprised by the number of people from the UK, Canada and various states in attendance. Rumors circulated that Sir Paul McCartney would be in attendance during Monday's concert and electricity was in the air. Fifty years later, the memories are vivid and the music lives. I'm glad I got the opportunity to experience it...Perhaps you'd like to join me next year! |
"If you want an honest opinion, ask a child." ~unknown Kåre Enga in Montana  unwittingly sparked a memory when he responded to a comment that I left on his entry "Radishes. Parsnips. Virtues." . That memory of a little boy named Michael inevitably conjured up memories of my own children and some of their honest observations. I'll share a few but first some photos...Then ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** And Now ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** They grow up so quickly. *sigh* Weren't they cute? They were also brutally honest little stinkers!  Several years ago, I was well into the third trimester of my pregnancy with Em and working in a daycare center. One day, I was eating lunch with a group of three-year-olds when the little boy next to me (the aforementioned, Michael) asked why my tummy was fat. When I patiently explained that there was a baby in there, he gave me an inquisitive look and asked, "Did ya eat it?!" These days, if a child asks why I'm fat, I respond by stating that I eat children who ask rude questions!  One afternoon, while running a few errands, Brandon and I had a conversation about people and their differences. The discussion turned to eye color and I noted that Brandon had pretty brown eyes. When I asked him what color "Mommy's" eyes were, he replied, "Ummm...white and red."During a visit to my parents house, my father cracked open a can of Coors Light. Young Emily placed her hands on her hips, furrowed her brow and stated, "Grandpa...You should only drink ROOTBEER!"Like most people, if a song I like comes over the airwaves, I like to sing along. Whenever I sang in his presence, Brandon would place his little hand over my mouth and say, "Mommy, shhhhhhh..." Much kinder and gentler than Simon, I suppose.When Emily was still small enough to require assistance with washing her hair, I would sometimes conserve water and time by allowing her to shower with me. I won't repeat what she said, but that practice ended abruptly when she made an observation about the effects of the Earth's gravitational pull! Fortunately, as we grow older, we (hopefully) learn to be more tactful...but wouldn't it be nice if we could remain as honest as children? Note to parents of young children...Keep a journal! Okay...Your turn. This is an interactive blog, so please share your memories!  Do-Re-Mi: Once I overcame the shock of the -14° temperature and looked around, I discovered that the Master Artist had been busy with his palette during the wee hours of the morning. The trees and shrubbery were coated in hoar frost and the sky was a beautiful backdrop of pastels. I also spotted two red-tailed hawks circling the skies. A mystical morning commute! It happened on this day: In 1934, America's first ski lift opened in Woodstock, VT. Iowegian Skies: 27° and calm at 21:56 CST |
| "Anyone can count the seeds in an apple, but only God can count the apples in a seed." ~Dr. Robert Schuller ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** John Chapman, or Johnny Appleseed was a legend, even in his own time. As a youth, John was apprenticed to an orchardist, where he learned his life-long trade. As a young man, he gathered seeds from the cider mills of Pennsylvania and headed west often preceding settlers. There, he cleared areas of land, planted and tended his nurseries. As his nurseries flourished, he left them in the care of neighbors and moved on to parts of Ohio, Indiana and Illinois where he continued planting and tending new nurseries. John returned to his orchards every year or two to survey their progress, collect his earnings and visit with friends. Despite his prosperity, John Chapman never settled in one place. He wandered his entire life, giving most of his possessions to those in need and living a subsistent lifestyle. He was particularly noted for his odd garb and often went barefoot, even in the winter months.(Envision a post-revolutionary John the Baptist.) Wherever he traveled, he spun tales for the children and shared his faith with adults. John Chapman's kindness also extended to animals. When he learned that a horse was to be put down, John would purchase the animal and a grassy pasture where he would tend to the horse himself. If the animal was restored to good health, he gave it to a family in need with a promise to treat it humanely as payment in full. One legend even has him extinguishing a fire when he saw that mosquitoes were burning up in its flames. He was quoted as stating that none of God's creatures should suffer for the sake of his comfort. While some tales are truth, some contrived and some exaggerated, one thing is certain...Johnny Appleseed planted seeds...of apples, of hope and of kindness. When we plant our own seeds of kindness, we often don't fully realize the bounty of our crop. It may be as simple as putting a smile on someone's face or as profound as saving a life. On November 24, 2008, a woman went through the drive through at a Starbucks in Sacramento California. She purchased a double-tall, ginger snap latte and paid for her purchase as well as the order behind hers. This set off a domino effect and 109 consecutive patrons purchased orders for the next person in line.I've mentioned Heifer International before, but the beauty of this organization is that one donation is a perpetual gift. When a family receives a heifer, a sow, a hen, etc., that family is required to pass a female offspring to another family in need and so on. The possibilities are endless.While walking home from his junior high school one afternoon, young Mark spotted another student struggling with his text books and belongings. He stopped and helped Bill gather up his things and the two of them spent the rest of the afternoon together. Mark's gesture culminated in a friendship but it wasn't until three weeks before their high school graduation that Mark learned why Bill had been carrying so many things home on that fateful afternoon. His intention was to commit suicide and so he had cleaned out his locker. Mark's act of kindness on that day had prevented Bill from carrying out his plans. From the pages of Chicken Soup for the Soul.A simple gesture doesn't have to cost us much time or money and we all have the capacity to brighten someone else's day. As a final thought, I'll leave a link. Even if you're not a fan of country music, I hope that you'll enjoy this story of an act of kindness that comes full circle... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9R9ACBtcRCs Peace and Blessings Do-re-mi: Just counting the days until spring break... In sports: It's been a busy week! Em had three basketball games and I'm happy to report that the girls remain undefeated with a record of 7-0. On this day: In 1961, President John F. Kennedy held the first live televised presidential news conference. Iowegian Skies: 9° with light snow falling at 11:16 CST |
| "When we long for a life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure." ~ Peter Marshall ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Before becoming a beautiful piece of art, blown glass must undergo a rigorous process. The glass smith gathers raw materials on a blow pipe and inserts them into a 2,400° furnace, called a crucible. This achieves a white hot temperature, allowing any bubbles to rise out of the mass. The glass smith then inserts the glass into a 2,000° furnace, the glory hole, cooling the glass slightly and allowing the artist to mold and shape his vessel. During this process, the glass goes through several transformations, being rotated, stretched, elongated, flattened and repeatedly reinserted into the fire until it finally achieves its final form. After its transformation, the piece must cool for several hours to several days at 800-900° in a lehr in order to prevent the glass from cracking due to thermal stress. During this delicate process, some pieces are lost in the fire, others are broken and some emerge more fragile than others. Those that survive are unique and beautiful. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** So it is with human beings... At the age of 14, Carissa's world as she knew it shattered. The family had enjoyed exotic vacations, country club memberships and beautiful homes. She had always been a "daddy's girl" and when her father left, she spiraled out of control. She began hanging out with the "wrong" crowd, using drugs and running away from home. She ended up in Phoenix, where methamphetamine became her drug of choice. She'd do anything to get it...sell her body, steal and sell to other addicts. Eventually, she hit rock bottom and found herself in a women's prison...It saved her life. Going through withdrawal was traumatic. Carissa thought she'd go mad and she desperately wanted to die. Eventually, things got easier. She began exercising and earned her GED. She became a model prisoner, wrote letters of apology to those she had hurt, and counseled other young women. When she was released 18 months later, a beautiful, confident young woman emerged. Of course, being released brought with it its own difficulties. Employers are reluctant to hire anyone with a criminal record and Carissa needed to relocate and create a new network of friends. She is now working part-time and is enrolled in college. She is full of vitality and an inspiration to others. When she graduates, she's going to be a wonderful Chemical Dependency Counselor. I'm very proud of my cousin. Carissa's story reminds me of others who have walked through the fire and not only survived, but exemplify the indomitable human spirit... John Walsh, whose son, Adam, was abducted and murdered in 1981. John hosts America's Most Wanted which celebrated its 1,000th capture in May, 2008. He serves on the board of directors for The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, has three books to his credit, frequently testifies before Congress and continually lobbies for victims' rights.In 1967, Joni Eareckson Tada had a diving accident which left her paralyzed. The young quadriplegic learned to create beautiful paintings using her teeth. She has since married, authored over 30 books and founded Joni and Friends, an organization committed to accelerating Christianity in the disability community.Dave Pelzer was subjected to inexorable abuse at the hands of his alcoholic mother. After he was finally removed from the home, he struggled to find his place in the world while being shuffled in between a series of foster homes. As an adult, he has chronicled his story in a series of books and dedicates his life to educating others in respect to recognizing signs of abuse and helping teens who are facing real life challenges.We see it whenever a disaster or tragedy occurs...The worst often brings out the best in human beings. People line up to donate blood, deliver supplies, sift through the rubble or simply lend a shoulder to cry on, adding credibility to the adage...Whatever doesn't kill us, makes us stronger... Do-Re-Mi: Yesterday, for our in-service, we participated in a poverty simulation. I approached it with a certain amount of cynicism. It was what I expected. How can you truly empathize with someone who doesn't know where their next meal is coming from when you've just overindulged in the lunch buffet at Old Chicago? Participants were able to at least appreciate what it's like to wait in long lines and get nothing accomplished and to a certain degree, having inadequate transportation. Simple Indulgences: a voice recorder and a packet of viola seeds...I am soooo ready for Spring! It Happened on this Day: In 1706, Benjamin Franklin was born in Boston. Iowegian Skies: 32° and blustery at 14:48 CST |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** icy halos encircle a pale January sun hazy prisms emulating the wintry playground of apple-cheeked snowmen and snow angels below This week marked the return to school for staff and students alike. For me, it brought with it a plethora of mixed emotions and experiences, the inability to focus and the ability to identify with my son's ADHD issues. Some of the things swirling through my head throughout the week...  While I was supervising fourth-grade recess, a sun dog1 made an appearance prompting the verse above. The children were delighted to be outdoors and seemed oblivious to the phenomenon occurring above them.  I don't typically concern myself with celebrities and their lives. However, the untimely death of John Travolta's sixteen-year-old son, Jett, resonated with me. Six of the children in our classroom have seizure disorders. Two of them experience grand mal seizures and one of our students suffered two seizures this week. Her condition is degenerative and I've watched her slowly decline over the past six-and-a-half years. The reality is that most of our students won't live beyond their twenties. It is what it is, but when you provide that level of care, you can't help becoming attached...and worrying.  Our Special Ed department is in the red. To make a long story short, our administration compensated by eliminating a position from our classroom this school year. The result has been an inability to adequately meet the individual needs of each student and chronic back pain and fatigue for those of us who have to lift, ambulate and reposition them throughout the day. Our concerns have been communicated with no relief in sight. The sad truth is that the other associate, Debbie, and myself, are near the top of the pay scale. If we resign, the district can hire inexperienced candidates for $4-5 per hour less. I have always felt pride in the fact that our district was progressive when it came to its students with special needs. I'm deeply saddened that the bar has been lowered. Apparently, the district's building fund has a surplus. Newer buildings are embellished with stained glass windows and works of art. The 7/8 building received a rock-climbing wall and high definition golf simulator while the 8/9 building had its cafeteria remodeled. It now resembles a 50's style diner, complete with sparkly vinyl booths, bar height stools and tables and salad, sandwich and grill bars. Our program gets the shaft, but our district can boast bright shiny buildings!   One key advantage to working with children is that you sometimes get to play. During PE this week, our fifth-graders were introduced to cup stacking. I've never been particularly coordinated, but I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I'm actually pretty good at it. Cup stacking is actually considered a sport and it's a great activity for improving manual dexterity...especially for anyone who types or plays the piano. It's also beneficial for those with limited motor skills such as stroke victims or toddlers. For those who have children about, it's an inexpensive way to keep children entertained. Here's a brief sampling: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8602472107022912201 Emily's basketball team won their third game of the season with a final score of 30-17...The girls are currently undefeated. She's also participating in an AAU Volleyball league and Jazz Band. While she's busy keeping both of us on the go, she has also maintained a 3.67 grade point average. I wish I had her determination! Kåre Enga in Montana offered a challenge to do a character sketch in one of his blog entries...."Getting to know Bunny." When we attended our weekly Art Therapy class, there was no doubt in my mind as to who I should write about. I left my description in Kåre's comment section. His and others are well worth a read, but if anyone happens to read my sketch, please excuse any typos. I'm continually impressed by the kindness and regard that the regular ed students in our building show for the students in our classroom. There is never a shortage of volunteers to push a wheelchair, hold a door or assist one of our students with a task. Disabilities are overlooked and our children are accepted and included. When I get discouraged, it reminds me of why I do what I do.  I'm grateful that Saturday is finally here. This morning I woke up to a world of white...I'm anxious to view it under the full moon tonight. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend! Footnotes |
| After a little hiatus, I'm feeling rested and was able to do some catching up in Blogville over the past couple of days. I hope everyone here enjoyed a wonderful holiday... On December 23, my daughter Emily and I departed for the train depot in Osceola, Iowa to board the California Zephyr bound for Denver, Colorado. Shortly after arriving at the station, we learned that our train was delayed. After a trip to the Ladies' Room, Emily flopped down on the bench opposite me and moaned, "The only thing up to date in this place is the trash can in the bathroom!" She was right of course, but while she was clearly disappointed, I was charmed. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Emily's body language clearly expresses her disappointment... The station dated back into the 1930's and was frozen in time, though it had long ago lost its lustre. The pink paint was peeling from the walls and coved ceilings and the stain on the oak benches was marred and faded. The black and gray (or were they once white?) tiles on the floor were dingy and traces of sand and melted slush were everywhere. The radiators adorning the walls were rusted but still functional and the ticket office still bore window bars and an antique telegraph. It was also a great place to people watch... Next to me, sat a wispy-haired toddler with blue saucers that met my gaze. She seemed enamored and when I gave her a smile, she reached over with her tiny hand to touch my scarf. Nearby, her tow-headed brother struggled to stay awake before finally succumbing against an ornate armrest. An elderly man in a captain's hat bore deep weathered creases that wove tales of hardship and toil while a couple who appeared to be in their sixties held hands and tuned out the rest of the world as if they were young newlyweds. After an hour of boredom for Emily and an opportunity to make several mental notes for me, we finally boarded our train. As soon as we were settled, Em finally became the lively, animated girl that I adore and we chattered excitedly until the swaying motion of the car lulled us to sleep. When we awoke, we had just enough time to enjoy breakfast in the dining car and gather our belongings before arriving at Union Station in Denver. There, we were greeted by my sister and so began our Christmas holiday... My parents joined us from Texas and there was an abundance of love, hugs...and food. After sustaining herself on a steady diet of Spaghettios and mac and cheese for years, my little sis has become quite the culinary artist. I was impressed...and stuffed! My neice, Zöe, was an absolute joy. She was fascinated by the colorful ribbons and bows and when someone in the room laughed, she giggled setting off a domino effect that had everyone in the room laughing and little Zöe sharing a deep belly laugh with the rest of us. I don't think there's anything so pure and innocent as a baby's laughter. It seemed appropriate on a day in which we were celebrating the special birth of another infant... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Emily was enthralled with her cousin... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** So sweet... The day after Christmas, the grandparents stayed behind with Zöe while the rest of us drove up to Breckenridge. While my sister and her husband took Emily skiing up on the mountain, I enjoyed the day in town. The area had received thirty inches of snow in a 24 hour period and a light Christmas snow was still falling. For me, this was the highlight of the trip... The landscape was a breathtaking display of peaks, aspens and spruce trees blanketed in white. Main Street was equally pristine with evergreen wreaths and garlands adorning lamposts and doorways. Unlike an over-crowded mall, the shops were warm and inviting. Soft music played in the background while scented candles wafted spicy cinnamons and rums or soothing vanillas and berries. Many of the shop owners had furry mascots eager to greet customers and have their soft heads stroked by a friendly hand. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The Riverwalk ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Main Street Each shop was unique. Favorites were artisan shops that displayed one of a kind pottery and jewelry. A hat shop had a wide array of fun helmet covers and there was no shortage of shops selling not so one-of-a-kind t-shirts and souveniers. There were also several coffee shops for the cold and weary shopper as well as an outdoor stand selling warm crepes and offering a fire pit by which to warm your hands...or your buns. As the day progressed and the sidewalks became more crowded, I was treated to a colorful display of winter gear, accessories and dialects. After six hours, I met up with the rest of our entourage and we left our 9900 foot retreat to return to the mile-high city. Em had suffered a few "yard sales" during her first ski trip in the mountains and my feet were weary, but we both enjoyed the experience. The remainder of our stay was relaxed and uneventful as will be our New Year's Eve. I'm looking forward to a quiet night at home, spending some time on the phone with a friend who will be doing the same and perhaps popping some popcorn and enjoying a movie. With that thought in mind, I'd like to leave everyone with this recipe for a Happy New Year... Take twelve fine, full-grown months; see that these are thoroughly free from old memories of bitterness, rancor and hate, cleanse them completely from every clinging spite; pick off all specks of pettiness and littleness; in short, see that these months are freed from all the past—have them fresh and clean as when they first came from the great storehouse of Time. Cut these months into thirty or thirty-one equal parts. Do not attempt to make up the whole batch at one time (so many persons spoil the entire lot this way) but prepare one day at a time. Into each day put equal parts of faith, patience, courage, work (some people omit this ingredient and so spoil the flavor of the rest), hope, fidelity, liberality, kindness, rest (leaving this out is like leaving the oil out of the salad dressing— don’t do it), prayer, meditation, and one well-selected resolution. Put in about one teaspoonful of good spirits, a dash of fun, a pinch of folly, a sprinkling of play, and a heaping cupful of good humor. -author unknown Peace, Love and Blessings to All! |
Little Miss Sunshine is nowhere to be found... Prior to sunrise, I was startled by a BEEP, BEEP, BEEP! What the heck?! It's Saturday. Who turned the damned alarm on! Oops...It had to be me. After fumbling around and silencing my tormentor, I nestled back into my hideaway. Within seconds, my eyes flew open as I realized that nature was calling, LOUDLY! Imagine a water balloon just before it either violently detaches itself from a garden hose or bursts from the pressure...Reluctantly, I emerged from my down cocoon and shuffled into the only windowless room in the house. Miraculously, I didn't stub any toes, though a carelessly discarded hanger did leave quite an impression on my sole. Belatedly, I realized that the previous guest had gifted me with an empty cardboard tube. Since I'm already teetering on TMI, I'll omit additional details...You're welcome. After making my way back to my den, I hibernated for another two hours. When I awoke, I rejoiced at the sunlight streaming in through my windows. That joy was short-lived, however, when I sat upright and realized that one of Santa's elves was chipping away at my left temple and orbit with a miniature pickax.  Four-hundred milligrams of Ibuprofen and a phone call from a dear friend later, I was feeling somewhat human. A review of the weather report foretold of plummeting temperatures and blizzard conditions later in the day, so I decided to take care of my errands early. As I bundled up and headed out to heat my little Kia, I realized that I had left my ice scraper in the vehicle. There, perched directly above the driver's side was a small avalanche ready to descend at the very moment I opened the door. Hmmm...What to do? If nothing else, being a mother teaches you to be very creative and resourceful, so I trudged back indoors and brought out my O-Cedar®, complete with Memory Bristles and BumperGuards™! As soon as the ominous threat was removed, saving my backside from certain frostbite OK...an embarrassing wet spot! I reached in and started the ignition. While my sedan was achieving an acceptable internal temperature, I choked on billows of exhaust fumes and chipped away at the thick layers of accumulation coating my windows. Where is that elf when you need him? Once the Optima was roadworthy, I made an unsuccessful attempt to dislodge the ugly brown mass adhered to the wheel well. Though the vehicle remained disfigured, the hallux which had gone previously unscathed was now throbbing. Climbing into the driver's seat, I ignored my aching toe and adjusted the volume on Lite 104.1...Your official holiday station. My commute to Sam's Club® was uneventful. After parking, a glimpse in the rearview mirror reflected a ruddy complexion, pale chapped lips and hair protruding in every possible direction. Gotta LOVE Iowa winters! I slathered on a layer of Blistex®, ignored the hair, entered the warehouse and selected my items. The lines were tedious, but that was to be expected...especially when one ventures out on a Saturday morning with an impending snowstorm on its way. While I stood waiting, a young man was circulating through the crowd scanning items so that customers could display their membership cards at the register without having to remove their purchases from their shopping carts. He was about to scan my items when a haughty gentleman in the next line waved a curt index finger at him. The young man sheepishly abandoned my cart in order to accommodate Mr. Entitlement. I in turn, exercised civility and self-control by not flaunting one of my digits in his general direction. After waiting patiently, I placed my unscanned purchases on the conveyor. I then arranged my Sam's Club® shopping bags so that my groceries could be placed directly in them. I was dumbfounded when the cashier compressed the bags by placing the items on top of them! In a huff, I rearranged my goods, exited the building and trudged through the brown sludge coating the asphalt. After loading the back seat and properly depositing my cart, I prepared for my next destination. Upon turning the key, my poor ears were immediately affronted by Madonna's rendition of Santa Baby. Is she trying to be cute? sexy? Some people really should be equipped with remotes! After muting the material girl, I departed for Super Target®. Remarkably, I found a vacant parking spot near the entrance. I had nearly completed my shopping when the apples of my eye rang my cell phone three times within a span of five minutes. Each interruption was more trivial than the one preceding it. I suddenly recollected a woman who had once schlepped past me donning a t-shirt that read "I want to be a missing person." There are moments when I know exactly how she feels! Finally, I reached the checkout lane. Though this cashier no habla inglés, she did wear a warm expression and she placed my purchases in the bags. This time, I left the cart in the store for the next patron and scampered out to the parking lot. The only remaining diversion was a side trip to retrieve my daughter from a friend's house. As Emily darted toward the car, I knew immediately that something was amiss. I reached over to remove my handbag from the passenger's seat only to become dreadfully aware that it wasn't there! A thorough search of every nook and cranny confirmed my fear. However, a call to directory assistance and a subsequent call to the store relieved me of my panicked state. I gratefully drove the nineteen miles back to the store and reclaimed my purse. An inventory confirmed that all of its contents were accounted for. It's reassuring to know that there are still many honest people among us. Once my adrenaline was back on an even keel, Em and I made our way back home and enjoyed a lively mother/daughter exchange as large flakes began to waft from the heavens.Now, white sheets are swirling about, obstructing my view beyond the back yard. Today marks the first official day of winter, but it descended on the prairie weeks ago. This time of year is a hodgepodge of chaos, beauty, brutal elements and magic. I know that my attitude had a major impact on the day's events, so it's time to begin the exercise. As harp music provides a backdrop, I stir my cocoa with a peppermint stick, open my journal and begin composing my list. Things I love about this time of year... |
| Carolina Blue wrote a thought provoking entry commorating the 64th anniversary of The Battle of the Bulge. His essay, "Invalid Entry" was a sobering reminder of the brutality of war and that there is no respite. Even during the Christmas season, duty calls. In 2008, duty still calls. These volunteers and their families make tremendous sacrifices in order to ensure our safety and freedom. Many of them will spend Christmas thousands of miles from their loved ones. Many have been injured and are recovering without family or friends nearby to offer them comfort. These men and women need and deserve our gratitude and support. Therefore, I'd like to share the following address for anyone who would like to send cards, letters or small gifts: A Recovering American Soldier c/o Walter Reed Army Medical Center 6900 Georgia Avenue, NW Washington , D.C. 20307-5001 Also, bear in mind that there will be a barrage of mail during the Christmas season. Once the season is over, people will get back into their routines and mailings will decline. The same is true of volunteering time and making donations. Shelters have no shortage of food or volunteers on Christmas and Thanksgiving, but there are three-hundred, sixty-three additional days on the calendar. Struggling families need to feed and clothe their children year round and charitable organizations are always in need of funds. Please keep these people in your minds and your hearts throughout the year. Apologies if I'm sounding a bit preachy...I'm writing this to remind myself as much as anyone else. OK...Off my soapbox. I'm still terribly behind on reading and commenting, but it's well past my bedtime. Have a good night...or a good morning, depending on which continent you're residing. Peace and blessings to all. |
| Last week was incredibly busy. Emily had a band concert, so we ventured out into what turned out to be the beginning of a nasty ice storm. Despite the Iowa Highway Patrol's warnings that travel is not recommended our school district held classes on time the next morning...I should have known better than to wish for an unexpected day off. The rest of the week brought with it the usual busyness of working and parenting. Emily also had a basketball game and the Hawks beat their opponents, 50-23. They have a very aggressive team this year and the game was exciting. I also left the house at 7:30 AM and didn't return until 7:30 PM. That girl keeps me on the go!Saturday brought with it errands to attend to, but I was also looking forward to a little R&R. My errands ended up consuming more of my day than I had anticipated. Though I didn't get as much down time as I was hoping for, I did treat myself to a trip to the salon for some highlights and managed to get a lot accomplished. Once I was able to sit down and relax for the evening, an online search revealed that Westminster Presbyterian Church was performing selections from Handel's Messiah the following morning. After a hectic week, this was exactly the respite I was seeking. Sunday morning, I walked into the most beautiful sanctuary I've ever seen. The focal point was a magnificent pipe organ with a circular stained glass window centered directly above it. The stained glass windows adorning each side of the sanctuary were bathed in deep, rich hues of violets and crimson. Mahogany pews and moulding throughout created a feeling of warmth while the high cathedral ceilings alluded to a sense of reverence and majesty. The lighted wreaths and colorful banners added to the ambiance and gave it a festive feeling. Words, in this case, cannot do it justice so I took photos after the service... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The service featured a string orchestra and an oratorio choir with the congregation reciting responses in between selections. The acoustics were every bit as impressive as the aesthetics and the performance was amazing. Two soloists stood out...a tenor whose voice reverberated throughout the sanctuary as he sang Comfort Ye / Every Valley and a soprano whose joyful rendition of Rejoice Greatly, O Daughter of Zion was captivating. The choir's delivery of For Unto Us a Child is Born was bold and exhilarating. The finale, ironically, was not the Hallelujah Chorus that most are familiar with, nor was it an arrangement by George Frideric Handel. At the conclusion of the service, the orchestra and oratorio choir were joined by the handbell choir, the youth choir and the children's choir and together they performed How Quietly as the children's choir harmonized with Away in a Manger. It was an unforgettable culmination that left me with tears quietly streaming down my cheeks. In a society where we all have hectic schedules and the season is saturated with consumerism, it was comforting to pause on a chilly Sunday morning, and celebrate the true spirit of Christmas. |
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