Cascade Springs

There are not many things I love more than the changing fall colors up the canyon. We took the kids to Cascade Springs to see what Mother Nature had in store for us this year.

We were not disappointed.

And so, because a picture is said to speak a thousand words, I'll let them do the talking.

Vision Correction

Sometimes we see things wrong.

We, as humans beings, have an inherent need for visual proof that things exist.

Did you know that there was already technology in place which could reach into space and discover countless heavenly objects without the use of a telescope? The only reason telescopes were necessary was to fulfill the need that humans have to actually see what we were already told was there.

How would it be if we used our internal radar more than our tendency to visually perceive others? I'm sure it would be difficult since we are so dependent upon our vision to initially discern things.

But don't you think it would make a difference if we looked at each other with more insight instead of depending so much on eyesight?

I'm going to say yes.

September Serendipi-Tea

One warm September afternoon I was invited to saunter over to my wonderful friend Jan's home to enjoy one of her quaint tea parties. Every party has a theme, and this month's was September Serendipity, which, as Jan pointed out, sounds quite a bit like September! Share-a-dip-of-tea. So we did.


To start things off we enjoyed shrimp scampi on sun-dried tomato crackers along with some sparkling strawberry pomegranate juice as we read aloud the morals from the Serendipity line of books. My favorite moral, ever since I was very little?

"Normal is whatever I am."

Next we feasted on spaghetti with meatballs and red sauce along with sourdough bread spread with pesto while admiring Jan's dishes and table decor.


For dessert we were served a splendid lemon sorbet in antique teacups along with snickerdoodle cookies. And then it was time for dress-ups. (What? It's not normal for grown ladies to play dress ups? Well, Normal Is Whatever I Am. So there.)


Jan gave us each a hat and pair of gloves to wear as we continued to eat and enjoy each other's company.


Don't they look charming? And so proper with their pinkies raised! After I took about a million pictures of the group, they insisted on taking one of me as well.


Pinkies up!


Jan then brought out this delicately beautiful hat which had been her aunt's and had us all try it on.


I thought it particularly suited Nadine and complimented her seashell necklace very nicely.


I think it is fair to conclude that we all had quite a serendipitous day.

Bring On The Rain

The late Friday afternoon skies held the promise of rain with five shades of dark clouds hovering over the tops of the mountains. It was a good day for a race.

I was giddy with the anticipation of finally attending one of Coolister and ElemenoB's cross-country meets because nothing thrills me more than to see my kids thriving at the things I loved when I was their age.


Coolister's goal was to beat his most recent time on this same course - which he did by almost a full minute. I like to believe this had something to do with the maniacal screaming of his mother racing from place to place to cheer him on at the sidelines. (Humor me.)

ElemenoB's goal was to beat her personal best time by one second. She started strong, running in a tight pack with her teammates in the first stretch. By the time she came back around to where I was waiting, she had pulled ahead some. I screamed encouraging words and she smiled.


The next time I saw her, however, things were different. She was running at a slower pace than usual. I noticed that she was talking with a girl from another team and as they ran past me, she smiled again. I continued to watch her and cheer her on.

Each time ElemenoB looped past me on the course I caught snatches of her conversations with this same stranger from another school: Keep it up, you can do it. Just keep running. Don't stop now. The two of them stuck together throughout the race and as they came in for the finish the girl passed ElemenoB up and placed just ahead of her.


We checked ElemenoB's time... almost a full minute more than her personal best. "That's a lot better than I thought I did," she told me. I asked who the girl was and why ElemenoB had run with her instead of at her usual speed. She responded that the girl had begun to walk and seemed to need some encouragement. So encouragement was offered throughout the remainder of the race - even at the end when the girl passed her up.

Why? Because ElemenoB tells me that she gets more satisfaction at the end of a race from knowing she helped someone else finish than from improving her own time.

There are so many lessons to be learned from that.

A few tears escaped from the overflowing reservoir beneath my eyes, thankfully sheltered behind my sunglasses.

And so the rain did come, but not in the way I had expected. And it was beautiful.

Perspective Of One

Every time I see this marquee in front of my kids' elementary school I can't help but snicker.

I mean, really, what does it mean?!

Are they planning on the school toilets overflowing that day?

Or is it an acronym...

Parents Opposing Orneriness?

Pursue Other Opportunities?

Point Of Order?

I would absolutely love to get your opinions on this. Please, the side of me that has giggle-fits over 12-year-old humor is dying to hear your take.

Alarming

photo from dxportal.com

Here in our neck of the woods it is Homecoming season. This means that young men all over the state have devised creative ways to invite a young lady to attend the Homecoming dance with them. This dance is a first for my oldest boy, who deliberated much over how to go about asking his date to accompany him. He decided to have a cheese pizza delivered to her with a note under the lid which read,

"I hope you don't think this is cheesy, but will you go to Homecoming with me?"

The next day he received her response; a bottle of Sunny Delight with this note attached:

"Look here, SUNNY, I'd be DELIGHTed to go to Homecoming with you!"

I thought that both the inquiry and the reply were very clever. Maybe even something they'll remember years from now. I, for one, will never forget one such occasion in my teenage life... the time I asked Mark to Homecoming.

I know what you're thinking; don't the guys ask the girls to Homecoming? Traditionally, yes. But I was never a very traditional young woman. It did not bother me in the least to be the one doing the asking, especially if a particular boy whom I may or may not have been precariously close to stalking for the previous 3 years had not asked me yet. Tradition? HA! I just wanted a date.

Like my oldest son, I carefully thought over the different ways of asking. I finally decided to place a wind-up alarm clock beneath his bed, set for 3:00 am. When the alarm would sound, he would scramble beneath his bed to find the source of the racket and find a note which read,

"Don't be alarmed! It's just me, Gerb, wondering if you'll go to Homecoming with me."

My carefully devised plan was to stealthily sneak into his home through a sliding glass door which was left unlocked, position the clock, and then leave undetected. This may or may not have required my missing a couple of classes during school hours. The clock was planted and I made my escape. The rest of the day I was consumed with giggles as I would think of the look on Mark's face when the abrasive noise woke him early the next morning.

I was still giggling as I crawled into bed that night.

And then, at precisely 3:00 a.m... BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRING!!!!

From beneath my bed! Disoriented, I bolted upright and then raced haphazardly about the room for a moment before realizing what was going on. I crawled underneath my bed and retrieved the source of the commotion. It was a wind-up alarm clock! At this point I was coherent enough to realize that this was supposed to be surprising Mark, not me. How did it get here?! But none of that mattered when I read the note attached to the clock:

"Don't be alarmed! It's just Mark saying YES!"

I was elated. The next day I called to ask him what had happened. Had I inadvertently set the alarm for the wrong time? How was the little clock discovered early? Here is Mark's story:

He arrived home from school and went to his room. The first thing he noticed was an unfamiliar ticking noise coming from beneath his bed and the first thing he thought of was a bomb. He asked his dad, who was a police officer, to investigate. His dad called in the bomb squad, who discovered the source of the mysterious ticking noise (couldn't resist adding that link) and turned it over to its rightful owner. Mark then devised his plan to surprise me with my own surprise.

To this day I do not know if this story is the truth or a fabrication on Mark's part. However, I do know that it makes for an awesome legend in my personal history.

Even if it is a bit alarming.

Guest Post: Aunt Spiker

I could not believe my EYES! When I awoke on that particular morning, James was nowhere to be found, the little ingrate. He was SUPPOSED to be outside, picking up the mess left in our yard from those who had come to view our MARVELOUS peach, but he seemed to have disappeared.

Well, I wouldn't have any of THAT ingratitude after all that I and his Auntie Sponge DO for the little worm! I determined that I would FIND him and BEAT him for running off. He had mentioned that he wanted to play with some CHILDREN so I went in search of him at a building which was SWARMING with the filthy little beasts!

As I entered one room, every pair of their BEADY little eyes turned towards me. And really, can you blame them? I mean, I AM quite becoming. I checked my best side and determined that I was looking my usual GLAMOROUS self. It was no wonder I had their RAPT attention.


However, I quickly discerned that they MUST be hiding something. I could see it in the smug looks on their HIDEOUS little faces and I knew right away that the something they were hiding was JAMES.


I demanded they tell me where he was LAZING about. Those disgusting little WORMS had the audacity to... LAUGH! Oh, how I was SEETHING! There is no sound more grating and disturbing than the sound of children's laughter!


One of the nasty little creatures then attempted to LIE to me, telling me James had run to the water closet. Well, I put that hideous little beast in his place IMMEDIATELY.


I gave the FILTHY little worms one last chance to report where James was hiding. They simply LAUGHED again. Well, I would have none of THAT sort of disrespect!

But just as I was making my way to BEAT the truth from them, I realized that I had not checked the vicinity of my PRECIOUS peach that morning. James could be there at this PRECISE moment, GORGING his ungrateful self! And these fiendish little DEMONS were likely only STALLING me for time!


I STORMED out of that classroom as quickly as my shapely, slender legs could carry me. I will not be returning to that TERRIBLE place EVER if I can help it! And as for James, I WILL find him.


MARK. My. WORDS.

Cake Decorating 101

(My trusty cake-decorating assistant, Am-bie, and I.)

What do you get when someone who doesn't know how to decorate cakes teaches a cake decorating class?

Well, you certainly don't get pretty cakes, that's for sure! (Pretty cakes are SO overrated!)

You DO get the undivided attention of 25 young ladies, aged 8-11:


These attentive ladies get instructions regarding the preferred height of the frosting on their cupcakes when the decorating is completed:


You also get told to eat LOTS of frosting. (I hear that's what the all the best cake decorators do.) The girls were all really good at this step.


Best of all, in the end you get masterpieces like these:


I know what you're thinking.

Gerb, is there anything you can't do?

Well, now you know.

Perfect Pan-Popped Popcorn

As a follow-up to a couple of comments from my last post, here is my step-by-step method to creating the best bowl of Pan-Popped Popcorn Happiness.

First, get a pan. Not a huge pan, not a tiny one, just an average-sized saucepan with a handle. And a lid. (The lid is important.) Have a large bowl sitting next to the stove for later, too.

Now go get some butter-flavored shortening. (I believe this is the key to having that rich, buttery flavor without any of the popcorn becoming mushy or oily.)

Set your stove burner to that little line right past MEDIUM (2 little lines before HIGH). Scoop a nice chunk of shortening into the pan and let it melt. If it comes up about 1/4" from the bottom of the pan, your chunk was the right size. If not, add a little more. If it looks like too much, you're okay. It just means you're going to get more popcorn.

Once it's all melted, toss in one little popcorn kernel and put the lid on the pan. Once the lone kernel pops, your shortening is the right temperature for popping. Remove the lid and dump some more kernels in - just enough that the melted shortening can cover all of the kernels. Put the lid back on and let the pan sit until you start to hear popping. Now it's time to shake the pan.

*shake, shake, shake*

Keep shaking until the popcorn starts to escape from the pan. Once your lid is being pushed up by popped kernels, take the pan off of the burner and dump the top layer of popcorn out of the pan and into the bowl. This step is a little tricky because you have to keep the unpopped kernels from escaping by leaving a good layer of popped kernels in the pan. You never really remove the lid completely at this point, just lift it enough to allow the popped kernels to find their way into your bowl. At this point, you need to be sure to salt the popped corn in the bowl.

Put the pan back on the stove, and continue to *shake, shake, shake*.

Dump again. Salt again.

Keep doing this until the popping slows to a few seconds between pops and then dump the entire contents of the pan into the bowl. (Again with the salt.)

If you are like me, you may need more popcorn at this point. If so, add another chunk of butter-flavored shortening to the pan and start all over again.

There you go... Popcorn Perfection!

Now go make some memories to go with it.

Brain Food

Photo from flickr.com

I realized recently that many of the times in my life which I recall with much fondness I also associate with food. Without a doubt, the food I first fell in love with was my mom's pan-popped popcorn.

That heavenly, buttery smell of pan-popped corn brings a wealth of wonderful memories washing over me. Popcorn brings back fond recollections of rainy days. Back in Iowa a good rainstorm could outlast our ability to sit still in the house long enough for it to subside. Mom remedied this with popcorn. She would send us out to our front porch with the largest bowl she could find, filled to the brim with warm, salty popcorn. We would sit there on the porch for hours playing games of make-believe and loving every aspect of the rain, letting it fill our senses as we rationed the popcorn for as long as possible. Often we would take the bowl into our old, rundown garage, filled with forgotten boxes and a musty old couch. There we'd sit and munch and formulate plans of how to get Miss Mary Ann to see us through her Magic Mirror on Romper Room as well as choreographing our own song and dance numbers so that eventually we could become real Mouseketeers.

Popcorn was the only thing I enjoyed about the annual showing of Deafula at the local Deaf Club each October, a horror movie done completely in American Sign Language. My parents brought all of us kids along each year, regardless of the fact that Deafula spooked me to the core. I would sit completely beneath a blanket to escape the scenes on the large screen set up for this event, eating my fill of popcorn while occasionally peeking out as the drama unfolded.

After we moved to California, popcorn was a staple in every apartment we called home. It reminds me of evenings spent in front of the television, the whole family enjoying episodes of everything from The A-Team & MacGyver to The Wonder Years & Highway to Heaven while enjoying bowls full of popcorn. If we were lucky, they were accompanied by plastic Tupperware cups filled with red Kool-aid. As we kids grew older, popcorn was a treat we shared with our friends as we would all gather around the television, watching music videos on MTV with my parents' Closed Captioning box turned on so we could learn the words to all of our favorite songs.

When I left home to be on my own I was not well educated in culinary matters - but I knew how to make popcorn. While my roommates taught me about lipstick and Levis and lunch from La Dolce Vita, I taught them to appreciate the flavorful pan-popped corn rather than the air-popped variety they were accustomed to. And whenever I had a twinge of homesickness I would remedy it by calling my brother, Chip. We would laugh and cry together through the phone as I munched on a bowl of popcorn, speaking of the directions our lives were taking us and the time we would see each other again.

Now that I have a family of my own the popcorn tradition continues. The air-poppers we received as wedding gifts (and I seem to recall a few) slowly made their way to other, more useful places as I refined my family's taste buds with the buttery, pan-popped goodness I have grown up with and perfected. Popcorn still finds itself in the heart of family time as we gather around the table to play games and talk about things we have learned.

So, although I often declare other foods as favorites, I think that popcorn will always be my own personal Pensieve.

Kindness Begins With Me

I taught my class on Sunday about God's desire for us to be kind to others. We talked about how happy it makes us feel when we do and say nice things as well as how it feels to be the recipient of kind words and deeds.

To illustrate I had each child take turns sitting in a chair at the front of the room with a felt crown on their head. I then asked the other kids to say something nice about the person wearing the crown, "Prince/Princess (insert name here)".

Here were some of their responses:

Prince Hubba

"He pways wif me so nice!"
"You are a very loving boy."
"I like his clothes a lot."

Princess S~

"She is very creative."
"She's my best fwend."
"Her is so beautiful!"

Princess E~

"I love your smile!"
"She is so pretty."
"Her have great hay-o (hair)!"

Prince Super C

"You are nice to others."
"He is so smawt all the time!"
"I like to play with you."

Once class had ended, I had a feeling of regret. I wished I had given myself a turn with the felt crown and heard what nice things the kids would have said about me. It seems selfish, I know, but like I taught my class, we all enjoy hearing nice things that others say about us. Is there really anything wrong with that? (No, there's not.)

I have decided that for this week, everyone I run into or think about will be deemed "Prince/Princess (insert your name here)". I'm going to compliment others on things I notice, even if it may embarrass them a little. I'm going to perform small acts of unexpected friendliness. I'm going to offer words of encouragement and kindness and try to proliferate those warm, happy feelings that come when we feel loved. If my class of 4 and 5-year-olds could benefit from it, couldn't we all?

You know that saying about how the teacher is often the one who gets the most out of giving a lesson?

Yeah.

Longing For Home

(That's me at my dad's knee. They called me the milkman's daughter.)

I watched parts of the movie Tarzan with my littlest kids today. I didn't intend to but I found myself strangely entranced. (I need to get out more, I know.) I wasn't sure what it was about the movie that caught my attention and had me transfixed until it came to the segment where the background music is the song "Strangers Like Me" by Phil Collins. That was when I realized what was so fascinating about it all: I am Tarzan, someone who is stuck between two worlds.

Most of you who read here know that I come from a family where both parents were Deaf. I was raised in what is known as 'Deaf culture', a whole separate world from the world of those who can hear. And I LOVED it. For me, this largely unknown Deaf world has always been the place where I feel most at home and this movie somehow got me feeling homesick again.

Words truly escape me when attempting to describe the love I have for the world of the Deaf. The people, the culture, the language... these are all ingrained in me. I embrace them and sometimes fear I will lose them completely. I never want that to happen - it would be like losing a part of my soul.

In my moments of greatest emotion the most frustrating thing remains to be the fact that I can not express myself in spoken words as well as I can in sign language. The difficult part is that the English language often does not translate the passion and depth of meaning behind the words in sign. This is why I love words. The more words I know, the more I have in my arsenal when trying to accurately express myself.

And the more I am able to integrate myself into this world of the hearing which still often feels like a new pair of shoes that are not quite broken in yet.

After The Fire

On a recent hike I encountered something which struck me as so captivatingly beautiful that I have not been able to get it out of my mind. As I looked across the landscape before me there were trees as far as the eye could see; like twisted, blackened hands reaching towards the heavens. These trees were burned in recent years as a fire came through the area. Alone, they would be an amazing sight. However, with the green undergrowth encompassing the base of each stand of trees, the contrast of blackened branches jutting up among lush, emerald brush - it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Like these trees, we all must endure some kind of fire. It could be physical, emotional, spiritual or any number of other challenges, but through the fire we go. And in the end, what matters is how we handle things once we've been burned. Some will give up immediately and crumble into a pile of ashes, hopelessly waiting for the winds of change to blow their charred remains where they may. Others will stand firm despite the damage, constantly reaching for what they've been working towards with an eye fixed firmly upon their goal.

But ultimately, if we allow ourselves to be surrounded and sustained by splendor as well as true friends who embrace the good times with us and offer support when we've been through the fire, life always appears to be much more beautiful.

Superhero 101

Picture from photobucket.com

I recently became reacquainted with an old friend. Because the last time we spoke was at my high school graduation, she could not get over the fact that I now have a large family and am still reasonably sane (which, actually, is debatable).

"You are SuperMom!" she exclaimed. "Do you give lessons?"

And I figured... heck, why not? So, my friends, I welcome you to Superhero Class.

If you want to be a superhero like me, you can do so in a few easy steps.

First of all, every good superhero wears a disguise. If you want one like mine, go find yourself some comfy pajama pants and an old T-shirt with a mustard stain. I like to call it The SUPERSUIT! (cue superhero music)

The next thing that every superhero needs is a SECRET WEAPON. I have two... safety pins and bandaids. With these weapons at my disposal, I can fix anything! (cue superhero music)

Unfortunately, every superhero also has an ARCHNEMESIS. These tend to present themselves in the most inopportune times! Mine are... (shudder) ...unfamiliar animals. And bullies. (cue evil archnemesis music)

However, each superhero is also blessed with amazing SUPERPOWERS - just waiting to be realized! For example, here are the two which I have discovered in my Super Self.

My lesser power is: Invisibility!

• I can disappear when someone comes knocking at my door while I'm in my SuperSuit!
• When the school is looking for someone to volunteer as PTA president, no one can find me!
  
• When I want to eat a package of cookies or a king-sized candy bar without any assistance... POOF! I am invisible! (Unless those darned crinkly wrappers give me away!)

And my super-est power is: Transformation!

• I have the power to transform a mountain of dirty laundry into neat stacks of nicely folded clothes or a sinkful of dirty dishes into a sparkling kitchen!
• I can turn a table into a fort, transform felt and ribbon into a costume and make wilted carrots and leftover potatoes into a gourmet meal!
  
• But my best, most amazing superpower is the ability to transform one of these:

into one of these: (cue superhero music!)

Any questions?