Not Your Typical Ninety-Six Year Old

Wow! Mom hit paydirt this birthday. I am so happy for her! It started at the end of Mass on Sunday, when the organist, Dolores, asked her to tell everyone how old she was going to be. After Mom announced that she would be 96, there were audible gasps of surprise and then everyone broke into applause before singing Happy Birthday to her. She was pleased at the attention and I was thankful that they all responded so warmly.

Today she was inundated throughout the day with more nice surprises. Cards, phone calls, flowers, and emails came from many family members, including grands and great grands. Two ladies from church, Helen and Della, also sent handmade cards, and Dorothy stopped in with a card and a loaf of bread still hot from her oven. It is so nice that the people here have embraced Mom. I know sometimes she feels left out because she can't do things to help and has trouble hearing in a crowd, but this effort by everyone reassures her that she is still cherished.

For our part, we catered her dinner wishes of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, Dorothy's bread, corn, and cheesecake for dessert with a later dish of homemade ice cream on the side. I broke my new red glazed stoneware dish in the process and served a slightly dry meatloaf, but she forgave me as she always does. Thanks to everyone for sending her your love and thanks be to God for her kind heart, good health, sharp mind, and young spirit.

Here's Mom with a new bathrobe and an Amarylis Don picked out for her. They are fun to watch grow and so beautiful when they flower. Happy Birthday, Mom. We all love you!

What Happened to Thanksgiving?

I can't believe I'm hearing Christmas music on the radio already! I thought it was rude to see Christmas decorations in the stores this early, but, really:  Frank Sinatra crooning "White Christmas" on November 1st?! Pu-lees. Besides, that's not my idea of Christmas music. If we're going to get into the spirit of Christmas this early, let's do it with a little more style. Transiberian Orchestra style...

Dear Betty,

Deb's grandkids:  3 Little Pigs

Last night was another Halloween; the sixth one since you left us. In the afternoon Don put out a few of our decorations while I worked on a window painting. Actually, rather than put a design directly on the window, I painted with acrylics onto a piece of plastic that we later taped to the window. Pretty ingenious, don’t you think? I know Vern would appreciate the idea. After the holiday I can roll it up and save it for another year; no mess, no fuss! We didn’t carve pumpkins this year, though. I know you would be disappointed if you were here, but it’s hard to find motivation for that now that our kids are grown. I always loved the results and the creativity, but hated the mess and effort.

Halloween was always more your holiday than mine. Remember in Fossil how you used to play a record of haunting sounds and dress as a witch to meet the kids at the door? As we sat at dinner last night, waiting for the first of over 60 trick-or-treaters we were to have this year, my mind went back to the first Hallowed Eve that you lived with us. The encroaching Alzheimers may have confused your thinking by then, but you were still you. The disease had not yet robbed you of the instincts that were based on long-term memories, making you who you were.

I’m not sure you could have told us that it was Halloween, but your hands had not forgotten; they still knew how to scoop out the inside of a pumpkin with very little prompting. I had fixed a simple, early dinner, but the sight of the first little goblin at the door destroyed all hopes of getting you to eat. As soon as you saw that little face, you were at the door, smiling and cooing at how cute he or she was. Don rushed over with the bowl of candy and helped you give one to the child, then steered you back to the table. During the next 15 minutes, you popped up more than a jack-in-the-box, so we finally gave up and Don placed a chair next to the front door for you to sit in between trick-or-treaters. It was a toss up who would get to the children first, you or Meggie, who was dressed up in her SuperMeg cape. Ironically, neither of you was interested in giving out the candy, just in greeting and fawning over the expectant visitors.

Yes, Halloween was definitely your holiday and our memories of your thorough enjoyment of it will always be with us. Thank you for reminding us how to find the joy in life; in the mundane repetitions that we often take very much for granted. As always, we miss you and your effervescent sense of fun and wonder, but we continue to keep you with us in spirit because you touched us deeply.

Love,

Your Family

Fall Back

It is no longer a question of whether or not to wear a coat, but rather, which coat or jacket will suffice. Colored leaves obliterate the ground and clog drains, brown mum blossoms are frozen in time like Vesuvius victims, the furnace is kicking on with regular frequency, and my ice scraper has been put into active duty. The final assurance that autumn is in control and swiftly moving toward winter is the approach of Halloween and the end of Daylight Savings Time. Oddly enough, this year they both occur today.

Judging from last night and today’s balmy 50 degree temperature, we may experience a break in the usual inclement weather tradition of Halloween in my neck of the woods. In Eastern Oregon it is customary for children and their parents to have to trudge around the neighborhood in foul weather on Halloween night. The deceptive sunshine of a fall afternoon does not fool the natives. Our trick-or-treating children are well padded beneath their oversized costumes in layers of sweats and coats. Even fairy princesses wear snow boots and mittens. It isn’t Halloween if a little skeleton’s rain-sodden cardboard bones aren’t falling off or Superman, the scarecrow, and the princess don’t have to navigate around snow banks and icy steps to get to each door.

I have never cared much for this holiday. Carving pumpkins is messy, building costumes took more imagination than I’ve ever possessed, and going from car to house to car, loading and unloading excited children with barely-held-together attire without losing a costume part, a child, or my sanity was nothing to look forward to. More than once I asked myself why we did this, but I know for certain it was only because of those little faces who couldn’t believe they were getting a bagful of treats for no reason at all. Visualizing them standing at a trusted neighbor’s door in their bedraggled outfit, saying the magic words (or, in Sarah’s case, stubbornly NOT saying them but flashing a dimpled smile as the candy is dropped into her pumpkin anyway), was all it took. And now that my kids are grown and gone, that is the part I miss. The only part. The happy faces at the end of the evening.

So, I wish good luck and good weather to all those parents and goblins heading out tonight with their costumes, goody bags, and flashlights. I will enjoy you all from the warmth of my living room as you come to my door and I will wish you a safe, dry, happy hallowed eve as I drop the best candy treats into your sacks (no healthy disappointment here). Take care, stay warm, and remember to push your clocks back an hour when you get home. You’ll need the extra sleep.

Sadly In Need of Repair

Monday
Morning:
Caledonian scrapbooking with Sue
    Feeling of accomplishment

Afternoon:
Body massage
    Sondra. New. French.
    Wo-o-o-onderful!

Evening:
Relaxing in my bubble.

Tuesday
Lunch and DVD with Mom.
    The Proposal: funny, sweet, a keeper.
My bangs are driving me crazy: call Ashley.
Start a new Laurie King mystery.

Evening:
Shoulder and arm muscles a little sore, but am still relaxed.
Take aspirin for agitated nerve in tooth dentist worked on awhile back.

Wednesday
Scrape frost off windshield.
Sub at high school: English, World History, Algebra I.
    Good kids.
    Organized teacher.
Order a new L.K. mystery so it will arrive by the time I’m done with this one.
More aspirin.

Thursday
7 a.m. Aspirin not enough.
8 a.m. Tylenol not enough.
9:05 a.m. Dentist gone: Wait until Wednesday.
Get 12-hour painkiller!
No more relaxed bubble.

Friday
Hair cut.
    No more sheepdog look.
Time for another Aleve.

So, how was your week?

Careful What You Wish For

I have been substituting at the high school quite a bit lately; holding down the fort in everything from band to English. It has been interesting to experience this age group again after spending so much time with K-8 the last couple of years.

Sometimes, I wish I would have found a way to get my degree in English, Math, or Science so that I could teach at this higher level. It would be nice to focus on an area of expertise and interest, teach in 50 minute increments, and interact with older students who are capable of abstract, in-depth thought, not to mention being able to tie their own shoes and form a line. However, as I was reminded today, it also means trying to inspire some who are simply not interested, no matter what the incentive, disciplining people who are taller and louder than you, and teaching over the constant drone of raging hormones and the need for self-absorbed attention.

I guess every age has its positive and negative aspects when it comes to teaching. At any rate, I’m still glad to be in the profession and I learn more about myself every time I get into the classroom, regardless of the grade level.

Pre- Pre-Christmas Shopping

This is what my friend, Betty, called me last week to suggest we do. Last year we went on a local pre-Christmas shopping trip before our annual weekend marathon in Portland. That way we could take some of the pressure off of filling our lists and maybe work in some fun or relaxing activities when we got to the big city with other friends and family. It actually was a huge help, and lots of fun, so this year she suggested that we had enough time for two preparation trips if we wanted; and, of course we “wanted.”

We didn’t bring home much, but we did officially get a start on Christmas and I am feeling much more organized. More importantly, we had fun, which is ultimately what shopping is all about! Getting lost on turnabouts, laughter and lunch, solving the world’s problems and thinking about what we can do for others, complaining and consoling, and then more laughter and dessert: how else would I want to prepare for the season of giving?

So, here are some images of our pre- pre-Christmas shopping trip. Our pre-Christmas trip will be in November and the official Christmas shopping spree, where we meet five others in Portland, will be in early December.

Aren’t the fall colors beautiful? We had a crisp, lovely day in which to get lost, as one tends to do in the Tri-Cities area.

This is what was left from our shrimp lunches at Red Lobster. It became a strengthening snack before we tackled Craft Warehouse. (Waste not, want not.) Later, Betty gave me a ride on a hand truck in Best Buy and then we met a woman our age at the mall who was a recent widow forcing herself to get out of the house for awhile because weekends were still hard. She had just come from a coffee date with a group of women who were usually depressing, but that day were fun, and was happy to tell us that her husband had had relatives in our neck of the woods. (I don’t know exactly how it happens, but Betty has an uncanny ability to draw information like that out of complete strangers just by asking for directions. It’s a gift. She can also squeeze the best deals out of the driest turnips with just one sad, little whimper. Truly awe inspiring, but not the only reason she is my friend.)

It took three stores for me to finally break through the ice of indecision and make my first purchase, albeit for myself. I came home with more than a calendar, though. Don’t you wish you knew what I got YOU? Time to send me your wish lists! (Betty said so.) You know who you are.

Spend time with a friend. It feels good.

The Fun Theory

Jen sent these fun Youtube links. My favorite is the last one, but I love the concept of all of them. It's the little things that make life enjoyable.

Que Sera Sera

Today I went to school wearing only one shoulder pad. I’m not sure what happened to the other one, but even though I discovered the imbalance before I left the house, I left anyway with just a shrug of my uneven shoulders. Why stress over what is merely a sublime reflection of my present state of mind? Everything equals out in time:

- Today, one shoulder pad is missing, but I didn’t spill anything on the front of my shirt.

- I am so overdue for a haircut that I resemble a sheepdog, but I did get my flu shot before faulty refrigerators spoiled the serum.

- My house is filled with half-finished knitting and art projects, but I did finally convert a build up of potential energy into enough kinetic energy to plant the mums that I’ve had since Easter.

- I graduated summa cum laude to get a degree that will probably never earn me a job at my age in this economic environment, but I am going shopping with a favorite friend on Saturday and getting a body massage on Monday.

Who needs that other shoulder pad, anyway? Life is good.

Eastern Oregon Skyscrapers

The skyline is changing in our area. What is this new “creature” springing up in our landscape? Actually, they aren’t really new, but the modern generation of them is certainly beefier. Dwarfing its predecessor’s romantic wooden structure and wide, flat blades, these critters stand on stacked steel cylinders the diameter of my dining room, each section almost a block long. The long, narrow blades, which seem tiny when viewed from a distance, are every bit as long as one of the tower sections. I thought it awe-inspiring to pass a long truck hauling one of these parts on the freeway, but seeing them come down the main street of our little town this summer was even more incredible. Nothing prepares you for the size as it stretches across an intersection and halfway down the block, towering above your head even though it is on its side.

Hi, Grandma!

Do you see her? The little water sprite peeking out from her shimmering curtain of water? Jean spotted her first in this picture that I posted on the last blog and pointed her out to Don. She hid longer from me, but once revealed she became as plain as a photograph; her hair, eyes, eyebrows, nose, mouth, and fingers are quite plain even when the photo is enlarged.

It was a miracle that the shutter clicked at the right moment to capture this phenomena, especially since my digital camera has such a delayed reaction. Fleeting expressions that I strive to capture are often long gone by the time the action is finally completed. On this day, I remember loving how the water cascaded in sheets and only concentrated on freezing its dynamic beauty against the stolid cement post and curved chain of the railing. Little did I know that she was there, laughing at us from her hiding spot.

It happened once before, you know. I hesitate to mention it because I'm sure my sanity is already questionable, but it will not be still in my head. As the title of this blog firmly indicates, I must acknowledge the wonder of the mundane, the possibilities that reflect hope. Five years ago (ooh, there is another coincidence) this month, (on Vern's birthday), we landed in Germany, narrowly missing our connecting flight to Venice. In the midst of our desperate effort to get on the next plane we learned from a tired, but humorous German lady that two Elizabeth Kirby's were registered for the plane we had missed. Looking at me she querried, "Which one are you?" Exhausted from no sleep and fully open to the idea that we had lost our minds we decided unquestionably that Betty was in our midst, making sure she wasn't left out of a trip to her favorite country. Perhaps, and it is just a suggestion, she couldn't resist participating in another outing; playing once again with one of her grandchildren. Think what you like; but you can guess what I believe. As much as she tried to fool us, this little sprite is named Betty.

Hitting the Highway

Monday I made a not-so-quick one day trip to the city to pick up some adventurous New York travelers bound for EO. I worried that, in the throes of our decidedly cold weather, with some rain and wind on the side, our beloved territory would not present itself well. Deciduous trees were turning yellow, but autumn’s paintbrush was still unfinished. The overcast sky presented indigo-laden views that were beautiful to a lover’s tolerant eye, but, admittedly, more rugged and moody than usual. On the way down I stopped to take some pictures and coming home, we pulled into Multnomah Falls to show off what we usually take for granted. I am beginning to make more time for doing this, for stopping to smell the roses, per se, and it is well worth the effort. I am also learning to take my camera with me even on seemingly inconsequential runs to the store. Although I hate having one more thing to carry, and grumble at the idea of slowing my progress to pull off the road or walk around the block to get a picture, the rewards are great. Besides taking a few moments for myself amidst a busy day, I am also accumulating a visual feast of reflections of the blessings in my life. It lessens my taking things for granted, softens my American “time-is-money” attitude, sensitizes me to the beauty of even the mundane, gives me a mental break, and makes me more thankful in spirit; even on a rainy, blustery October day.

Besides all that...one of my kids is home!

Happy Birthday, Jeremy!

Some of these photos defy explanation. He may be very serious behind the camera, but something happens when he is in front of the lens...

Confession of a Venial Sin

I told a lie today. At school this morning I was greeted enthusiastically by a couple second graders with, "How big did it get?" I was glad to see them, but my smile must have flagged a bit as I struggled to think what on earth they were referring to. Apparently recognizing the question mark above my head (after all they are second graders now) one added, “The bean plant.”

"Uh, it got big," I offered lamely, vaguely; still searching through my mental files for a reference. Then the bell rang and I opened the classroom door to let more students enter the room. It was like some kind of mental epidemic had taken hold of the group. Rather than crowd their way in as usual, they remained rooted in their line and more kids began to ask me about the plant. Finally, I remembered what they were talking about. This was the class that I had spent a month with last spring when their teacher was on medical leave. The plant in question was actually several plants that sprouted from a variety of beans that we planted together and took care of until I left.

"Oh, I planted it in the ground and it got this big!" I said with more exuberance, gesturing near my knee. It grew some beans on it, too." Eyes were big and "ohs" and "ahs" were breathed with admiration as they finally began filing past.

It was a lie, of course, but I don't feel bad about it because I really did mean to plant the sprouts and that is truly what would have happened if I had. This is why being a full time teacher would be cool. We could have watched the beans grow to maturity. Even though I told them what would happen, I don't think they have really grasped the fact yet that bean plants, which grow from beans, will produce more beans. It would be nice to discover that together.

Growing Children

I have recently been able to substitute teach two of the classes that I worked with for extended periods last year when their teachers were on medical leaves. Now second and first graders, it was interesting to see how they have all matured and it was really great to enter the room knowing most of their names.

Those who hadn't been able to contain their wiggles long enough to form and stay in a line can now now do so quite efficiently. Likewise, they are all more adept at quieting down when signalled, following directions, and transitioning through daily procedures and activities. While these skills seem extremely peripheral to learning, I assure you that very little learning takes place without them in place because chaos invariably interferes.

Most gratifying to me was the fact that, aside from the new students who had moved into the district, I was greeted in both classrooms as more than a substitute. The kids remembered me and still seemed to value our previous relationship, which allowed us to move through the day as a team. I loved seeing how each had blossomed.

The few who had behavioral challenges showed much more awareness and self-control. I could almost see the wheels turning as they negotiated with themselves over how to handle situations that arose. I also gloried in a couple little ones who were now reading fluently and able to keep up with their peers in whole group work. It was obvious that they were proud of themselves, as well.

The teachers in this district have done a great job with the kids. I'm glad I was able to be part of their lives for a little while and it is certainly good to check in with them again.

Genie - Day 7: Job Well Done

Er... Job: Well? Done.

It is satisfying to accomplish something, although not all jobs are measurable and not everyone will measure even the same job the same way. Our house painting project is a good example.

Did we paint on every side of the house and all the trim? Yes, we did. Did we paint every square inch? Um. No. However, we still consider the job “done” because we met our goal of scraping, priming, and painting all weathered areas, particularly on the second story. Considering how badly those areas were before our endeavor, and how much better protected and glowing they look now, we even consider the job “well done” (or done well). Now, if we had been painting the house a different color or if we had left an area of flaking paint, we could not claim such success.

Of course, there is another thought to consider if we are to be honest. In the back of our minds I think we had also dreamt of putting a coat of paint even on those protected areas that looked okay to freshen them up and feel like we had completely finished the job. However, after the store discontinued the paint we were using and all the hours we pushed ourselves to work each day to make use of the time we had the Genies, we just plain ran out of steam. Our body aches and diminishing energy drive simply overwhelmed our desire for perfection. So, the job is, well, done. It may just be a twist in semantics, but either way, we consider our house painting escapade an accomplishment.

Genie - Day 5: A Dose of Reality

Note to Self:
- Big toys do make the job go faster!
- I’m not 20 any more. Heck, I’m not even 30 or 40 any more. Why am I doing this?
- If I’m driving, don’t say left if you mean right; it could cost us the chimney.
- Bruises aren’t always visible.
- My eyebrows feel sticky, better check on that.
- If I only do half the physical work Don does, how can I feel just as exhausted?
- I still feel like I am swaying even after I turn off Four-by-Four for the night.
- What do you mean, someone wants dinner?
- Don’t aim the paint sprayer at yourself when you bend over to move a hose.
- Don’t aim the paint sprayer at yourself at any time.
- Lose fifty pounds.
- Lose it NOW.
- Does this joystick work backwards?
- When you ride with me, hold on and...DUCK!
- What divot in the lawn?
- Don’t close your eyes in the shower because it will start the rocking.
- Who took my stamina?
- Five glasses of water and I still can’t pee.
- Why are the neighbors smirking?
- How much is vinyl siding again?

Genie - Day 3: I Can See Your House From Here

By the time we drug ourselves into the house at 6:00 this evening, we had accomplished our first painting goal. Yesterday, the electric company unhooked the wires that supply the apartment because they block access to the north end of the house and the back dormer. Since that leaves Mom without her electric wall heaters, our goal was to get the three sides of the house that demand access via the backyard finished by tonight so that the electricity can be restored by tomorrow afternoon.

As of last night, Don had done the hardest work of power washing and scraping all of this area. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately for me, I was called to sub so I only helped him finish taping paper over the windows later on. Genie Boom also called in her brother, Four-by-Four, because he is taller and has a longer reach that can extend across the pond on the north side of the house. Painting the second floor dormer.
Working together, Don and I took turns today with the painting and driving; one would paint while the other kept repositioning the cage. Between the spray painter and 4X4, the job went quickly and we made our way around the back of the house twice, once with primer and again with a top coat. So tomorrow we will only have to remove the paper from the windows and Mom can get her electricity restored. I got into a little bit of trouble for stopping to take pictures, but how often am I up this high (in the US anyway)?
Scraping and painting is a tiresome job that we have done many times. Although it was wearisome today for me because of the hot sun, there was definitely a fun side. Whereas, Don hated the height and the swaying of the cage, I have to admit that the tomboy in me really enjoyed learning how to negotiate both Genies. There are infinite possibilities for disaster, but they were still fun to carefully drive and power around into different heights and positions.

Okay, so maybe Jeremy got so many Tonka trucks because I secretly had a fascination for them, too. Who knows.

I Dream of Genie: Day 1

This is our new friend, Genie Boom. Genie is going to help us reach the north and south peaks of our house and the dormers. In the past, we have either painted up or out as far as we could reach with an extension ladder, or as far as Don could extend himself on the roof with the help of a rope tied to the chimney. The last time the peak was painted he lay down on the roof and hung his head and shoulders over the edge to paint upside down. I’m pretty sure I didn’t know about that plan until after it was executed.

So, now that there has been a new rule firmly in place for the last few years – absolutely no climbing on the upper roof, let alone hanging over the edge – we have begun to rely on outside help. This exchange of lower cost efficiency for higher retention of life and limb suits me fine, but irritates my better half. However, grudgingly acquiescing to the possibility that he no longer bounces, he has finally contracted the services of Genie. Of course, he did worry himself to a wheezing state over getting the best deal versus the taller machine, but it is working out in the end.

The nice gentleman who came by today to show Don how to operate the lift commented, “Man, I don’t see how you painted this house with ladders. There are some pretty tricky parts to this roof.” Exactly my point. Thank you, Genie.