Auld lang syne and new horizons

Thankful Friday
I'm the girl in the corner sipping a drink, or maybe just swirling a cup of melting ice. See, I'm not not doing anything, I'm having a drink. Or maybe I'm checking out the host's CD collection, or perusing the titles of the books on the shelves. In any case, I'm definitely not meeting people or engaging in small talk with friends of friends. I avoid eye contact with strangers and I'm ready to go home way before midnight.

Strike one.

All the family celebrations in my clan center around a big feast, or copious snacks, or an enormous chocolate cake. New Year's cake? Never seen one.

Strike two.

New Year's Day was Dad's birthday, so there's a sadness now and probably forever.

Strike three?

Well, guess what? Over the past several years, New Year's has become the most significant of all holidays for me, even though I'm a remedial party-goer and, with Dad gone, there's NO CAKE.

What it's become, for me, is a time of deep reflection. A time to be grateful for past and present blessings, to recognize the frail and fleeting nature of life, to kiss another year goodbye, re-examine my priorities and greet the new year with a smile and a plan.

A Rite of Our Own
So a few years ago, I proposed to Hugh a new and fitting New Year's tradition:

Every New Year's Day, rain or shine, we climb a mountain to see what we can see, set our sights on new horizons and embrace the possibilities of a new year. We taste that delectable concoction of pysical exertion and fresh air and whatever elements the day brings—hot sun, whipping wind, pelting rain—and we do it together: me, Hugh, Caiman, Eli, Kai and Taavi.

Our "mountains," for now, are family-friendly hills, and we'll probably never climb Mt. Everest. But the height of the climb isn't really what matters...

2005
That first year it was cold and cloudy. We frittered the morning away and were all kind of testy when we finally set out. We drove in a funky silence, and I was afraid the enduring tradition I'd imagined would fizzle on the first go.

But Hugh had an idea. He'd noticed a certain hill, someplace we'd never been before, not too big for the kids but promising spectacular views all around. He drove into Point Richmond (this was before I worked there) and parked on a residential street. There was a trailhead on the hillock at the street's dead end. We tumbled out of the car, hoisted almost-two-year-old Taavi into the backpack, and set off.

It was cold. And windy. And threatening rain.

Which might sound bad, but guess what?

We were immediately invigorated, and happy, and eager to reach the top to see what we could see.

And sure enough, at the hill's summit, there were 360 degrees of views. Bay to the west, the Bay Bridge, the Golden Gate and the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge all visible under multi-layered clouds.


Even the view of the refineries on the eastern side of the hill was pretty:

The wind was wild on the crest, and Taavi's nose was streaming thick rivers of snot, but watching the big boys sprint ahead on down the trail... priceless.

2006
The following year will stand out in my mind forever. We were in San Diego to spend New Year's Day/Dad's birthday with my family, knowing Dad was not well but not wanting to acknowledge that it might be his last birthday. He'd lost his hair to chemo, but if you ask me he was still the handsomest man in the world, and I couldn't imagine life without him.

So my mind was whirling during our climb up Cowles Mountain that New Year's Day:

Afterwards we went to Laura's for Dad's 69th birthday party. I gave him a pair of athletic shoes, and it might have been the best money I ever spent.

Below he's exagerrating his excitement, but the gifts he got that day meant so much more to him than they would seem to warrant. But that's another story.

When he blew out the one big candle on his cake, he made a wish for seven more years with his family. Hugh thought he said something a little different, but that's exactly what I heard. Seven more years.

My heart. It just shattered when he said that. Such a simple, modest wish—seven more years—it didn't stand a chance against the loathsome, gnawing probability that this birthday was his last.

And so it was.

2007
And so New Year's last year, 2007, was a day of wildly mixed feelings. It was a new year, and we were intent on our climb, and on sharing the day with our good friends Katherine and Grant and their boys.

But Dad was at the center of all my thoughts. I was looking for him everywhere: in the ocean, the endless sky, the golden rays of sun. In my kids, running carefree, digging, dodging waves.

And he was there, but also he was not.

Taavi climbing:

At the top:



Back down on the beach, Eli wrote a birthday message for Grampy Jack, a little something we hoped he could see from the heavens:

2008
This year, we'll do our climb once again, hopefully with Grant, Katherine, Bennett and Henry. We'll kiss 2007 goodbye, remembering friends we've lost (oh, Jen!) (B.Y.) and celebrating friends we've gained.

We'll greet the new year with thoughtfulness and purpose, with renewed commitment to the things in life that are most important but sometimes taken for granted.

We'll ponder new challenges, and maybe even resolve to tackle a few.

And we'll toast Dad, of course, raising our glasses high, mourning the seven more years we didn't get but celebrating the 69 he lived and loved and enriched our lives.

Happy birthday, Dad! I'll be seeing you, I know, in blue skies and misty mornings and the mischeivous twinkle in our munchkins' eyes.

Dexter

Mistake of the Week

Without ever having seen a single scene of the show, I got the first season of Dexter for Hugh for Christmas. I'd heard critical raves and then got a resounding recommendation from brother John.

Hugh and I watched the first episode last night and, well, call me a prude but I'm having trouble finding the charming serial killer, um... acceptable to me as a form of entertainment.

Maybe if he didn't strap his victims down and torture them. Or if he didn't use such a sickening variety of sharp, shiny instruments.

Or maybe if his actions weren't framed as excusable because he (1) was abused as a kid and can't help his urge to kill; and (2) only kills scumbags...

Trust me, I get all the reasons I'm supposed to like the show, and I am somewhat drawn in. But it's pretty sickening.

John likes it, though. A lot.

Aw, hell! I'll give it another episode or two and get back to you on whether this was a bona fide mistake or not. (Weigh in if you've seen it, but no spoilers please!!)

Santa came!

Word Count Wednesday
Taavi sits on the living room floor in his pajamas, legs wrapped around the package he’s beginning to unwrap. He’s glowing with anticipation but works methodically, in the sweet gift-opening reverie that explains why showering our children with presents has become the central tradition of Christmas.

His brain whirs.

“Is it?” he wonders. “Is it really?!”

Suddenly paper is flying, and the other kids crowd around.

“It IS!” Taavi sings. “Look! Look!”

And that — that unlikely moment when reality exceeds expectations — is the reason I hope for a pile of presents under the tree every year. I’m glad Santa came!

~ 100 words ~

Hopeful

Naughty or nice?

Thankful Friday

Dear Santa,

I’m hoping you can help me out here. It’s the Friday before Christmas, and for myriad reasons I’ve done virtually no shopping.

Let’s just say I'm somewhat conflicted about Christmas: I’m repulsed by the commercialism (and sick and tired of having so much stuff in our lives) but dying for each of the kids to have one jaw-droppingly great present (and a few minor thrills) under the tree.

So, Santa, I really need your help! Bring them something amazing, please, something delightful. Something suprising wrapped in pretty paper and festooned with ribbons. Please make the packages big, because there’s nothing better than watching the kids spy a HUGE present under the tree and discover it’s for them!

And Santa, I’m sorry to be a pain in the neck, but there are a few more conditions:

• No toys or gadgets, please, that will be deemed uninteresting 48 hours after opening (they'll end up under beds, behind the couch or thrown into a closet);


• No toys or gadgets that require batteries, because we never seem to have the right charger or the right batteries after the first ones run out (and then they end up thrown in the garage);


• No toys or gadgets that break easily, have small parts (which are almost instantly scattered), are packaged in crazy amounts of plastic or are toxic.

I’m also not that happy about stuff made in China or Indonesia or wherever by underpaid, overworked nearly-slave labor so that Target can sell it on the cheap. So ideally I’d prefer things made in your shop (I’m assuming the elves are well-treated and paid a living wage), or at least by decent companies.

I’ll get books for all the kids, and maybe some clothes. But I need you, Santa, for the WOW factor.

Thank you in advance for your help,

Bethany Manning
(mother of Caiman, Eli, Kai and Taavi)

Dear Bethany,

I received your request for help with gifts for Caiman, Eli, Kai and Taavi. I regret to inform you that your children are on the naughty list at present. Recent examples of bad behavior include:

1. Caiman shooting Kai in the chest with a rubber band (just this morning).
   
   
2. Eli having a very serious tantrum when his father requested that he wear a clean shirt to school.
   
   
3. Taavi kicking Eli - hard - in the testicles.
   
   
4. Kai - and perhaps you're unaware of this - lying with increasing regularity. For example, she will take and eat a forbidden treat and then, when you ask her about it, look up at you earnestly, look you straight in the eye, and chirp “no” without the slightest hesitation.

In addition, I am quite displeased with the children’s dental hygiene, with the possible exception of the girl.

In conclusion, I am sorry to say, a visit to the Manning-Dinneen household this year is highly unlikely.

Merry Christmas,

S. Claus

Dear Mr. Claus,

I’m writing in response to your note about my children, Caiman, Eli, Kai and Taavi. I believe your evaluation of them is faulty! Not that it’s based on false information, but your report must be incomplete, because I’m 100% sure that their nice outweighs their naughty. Well, at least 98% sure.

For every one of your examples of naughty behavior, I give you three examples of nice behavior:

(1) I know it’s subtle, so I understand if you've been missing it. But when I’m sad, Caiman can always tell, and he quits his teasing and tormenting for a bit and gives me a long, comforting man-hug.

(2) And at least three times lately, I've seen him be buddies with Eli. I am pretty sure he was being genuine and was not trying to con him out of food or money.

(3) At the skate park last week, he retrieved another kid’s board when it shot out from under him. A small thing, true, but indicative, I believe, of his natural instincts outside the family.

(4) Furthermore, Caiman has been very consistent about asking, "Is anyone going to want any more of that?" before he piles seconds or thirds on to his plate, despite a growing-teenage-boy kind of appetite that turns him into a desperate creature driven, Jekyll & Hyde-like, to seek and consume

(5) Santa! Didn’t you see how well Eli, Kai and Taavi cooperated when they made sugar cookies the other night? The boys didn’t whine when I told them to let Kai crack the eggs (she’s quite an expert), and Kai didn’t protest when I said Taavi was the sugar putter-inner, and there were no cries of outrage when I broke it to the little kids that Eli was a superior stirrer of ingredients. (So what if they used two whole bottles of colored sugar on just a few dozen cookies?)

(6) When we went to get our Christmas tree, these three tore around the lot, chasing each other, hiding behind trees, jumping out and scaring the wits out of each other and starting the chase all over again. Their laughter was ringing out and lighting up the lot. Maybe you saw this and put it on your naughty list, but if you did then you must’ve missed the pure, unfettered joy they were sharing. It was beautiful.

(7) When I dropped the kids at school the other day, Kai hopped out of the car and tried to zip up her jacket, but it was stuck. “Eli, can you—” Before I could finish the question, he was down on one knee helping Kai with her zipper.

(8) As you brought up dental hygiene, I would like to mention Kai’s excellent behavior at both of her recent dentist appointments, and her good tooth brushing habits.

(9) Poor Taavi! This morning I snatched my little night owl out of bed at 7:50, too late to get him dressed before taking Eli and Kai to school. With his clothes shoved in my bag, I carried him straight to the car and strapped him in. It was cold, and he shivered, but he didn't complain. He was groggy and silent for most of the drive, and he had every right to whimper and whine. But halfway between dropping the kids at school and arriving at daycare he spoke, his voice even deeper than usual, and raspy, too:

“Mummy?” he said.

“What, sweetie?” said I.

“I love you.”

...Dear Santa, I hope you will reconsider my children’s standing on your list. They really are good kids.

Sincerely,

Bethany

Dear Bethany,

I will take your letter under consideration. I will be watching your children very closely for the remaining days before Christmas. Please remind them that I see them when they’re sleeping, I know when they’re awake and I know if they’ve been bad or good, so… they really ought to behave. Crying and pouting will work against them, and improved brushing may help.

In case I’m on the fence about their status come Christmas Eve, you may wish to consider leaving a plate of cookies out. I also like eggnog.

Yours truly,

S. Claus

Rice is nice, but...

Mistake of the Week
I almost bought Hugh a rice cooker for Christmas. From Costco. I decided against it because I really couldn't think of anything with a lower combined score for “romantic,” “exciting” and “uniquely you.” Plus Mom and I were feeling rather humbug and anti-purchasing.

Hugh does want a rice cooker though.

So was this an almost-mistake, or an actual mistake?

Good night

Word Count Wednesday
Do you ever feel so tired that you can’t stop fantasizing about crawling into bed, pulling up the covers, sinking into the mattress and letting sweet, sweet sleep engulf you? That’s me right now. My limbs are heavy, my brain is tired and everything outside of me seems muffled and blurred. I have a cold, but it shouldn’t be kicking my ass like this.

It is only 9 pm, but I am going to bed.

~ 75 words ~

Year in review

Top Ten Tuesday
I’m drawn to end-of-year lists like a moth to a flame. But like that sorry moth, I really ought to avoid the bright shiny flicker, because all the lists really do is make me feel uninformed, poorly read, un-hip and waaaaaaay behind the times.

The top lists I'd love to compile would be best books and music and movies of the year, but guess what?

Hugh and I see maybe five or six movies a year (and I love movies).

I might buy a CD once every six months (and I love music).

I only read a couple of newly published books a year (and I love reading).

Wah!

I can’t imagine having time to keep up with new movies, music or books, let alone new restaurants, websites, tv shows, technology, scientific discoveries, gadgets, gizmos and current events. Sometimes I wonder how people who do keep up with one or more of these things manage to ever do the dishes!

(Don’t mistake that for meaning I keep up with the dishes, by the way.)

I don’t suppose I can blame all my ignorance and un-hipness on having a job and four kids, can I? Well, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking too it.

So, if you're looking for more informed lists, check out this excellent list of year-end lists. My offering, for what it's worth, is this:

53 Random Things I'll Remember About 2007:

1. Joining a soccer team, at age 39, for the first time in about 15 years.


2. Hurting my hip and thinking it might be “my bad hip” for the rest of my life.


3. Playing through it, with the help of ibuprofen and Flex-Power cream (thanks, Bejan!), and gradually getting better.


4. Turning 40. On my birthday, Bern emailed to say that Jen had woken up that morning and said, “It’s Bethany’s 40th birthday.”


5. A month later, and less than four months before she was supposed to turn 40, Jen died of sarcoma. She left behind an adoring husband, four amazing kids, and a legion of friends and relations who loved her dearly. I am forever grateful to have known her.


6. Going to Jen’s memorial in Harvard, Massachusetts, a mile or so from where I grew up. It was beautiful. Thank you, Bern!


7. Biking through Cambridge with Dennis and Heather, and picnicking in Boston Commons. Thank you, Den and Heather!


8. Reading book after book about death and dying.


9. Going to Osmosis with Juliana—her birthday present to me—for a massage and a cedar enzyme bath. Thank you, Juliana!
   
   
10. Running the Tilden Tough Ten—and finishing after a woman who ran it with her small lapdog!


11. Cheering for Eli’s baseball teams, the Yankees and the Thunder. And keeping score. And lugging the water cooler. And biting my nails. And loving it all. Thanks to all the players, especially Eli. And to all the coaches, especially Dale.


12. Blogging.


13. Mom turning 70.


14. Bonds hitting 756.


15. Bonds being indicted.


16. Caiman starting high school.


17. Caiman having his first girlfriend.


18. Caiman listening to Linkin Park nonstop and going to great lengths to memorize the lyrics of their songs.


19. All the kids rap-singing “In The End,” by Linkin Park, including Taavi:
    
    
    
    You can't see his entire outfit, but over his jammies he was wearing bright yellow fleece pants (three sizes too big). Soon after this performance, he added red faux-silk pajama pants (small, short ones reaching just below his knees and busting at the seams to fit over the yellow fleece) and shin guards (velcroed over his fuzzy yellow shins). BTW, he usually gets a little closer to the actual lyrics of the song, but this was taken around 11 pm and he was deliriously tired.



20. Having “You’re Beautiful” by James Blunt stuck in my head.


21. Having that whistling song stuck in my head.


22. Growing to despise that Delilah song.


23. Eli practicing the clarinet, in a struggling but determined beginner sort of way.


24. Falling for Pt. Richmond: its hills and its views of the Bay and its compact little downtown; the railroad tracks and the neglected little beach and the sunny picnic table behind the main street stores and restaurants.


25. Delaying the start of Rad’s work day every day by drawing her into cross-cubicle banter every morning.


26. You know when someone you really care about falls in love and you don’t know the new person and you hope with all your heart that she’s good enough for him and his children and then finally you get to meet her?? This year, I got to meet Lorna, and she is wonderful! Hooray!


27. Going to Bridge School with Hugh and Luke and Lorna.


28. You know when you have a really, really close friend and somehow you fall out of touch even though that person doesn’t live that far away, and when you try to explain it to people it doesn’t even make sense because you swear you love that person but still you don’t ever see her or talk to her? This year, Hugh and I got Stephie back in our lives, and Lisa and Mackenzie along with her, and boy am I ever grateful for that!


29. Catching a major league throw from Ryland at second base. Swear to god, closest I’ll ever come to knowing what it feels like to play major league baseball. That ball would have killed me, I swear, if I’d taken it in the head (which was a distinct possibility, what with the movement on the ball and my limited talent).


30. Camping for a whole week in Lassen. Awe-some! Thank you Hugh (and all you munchkins)!
    
    


31. Our snow trip to Arnold with Grant and Katherine and Henry and Bennett; our walk at the edge of Big Trees and late-night Monopoly and Caiman turning sledding into an extreme sport and Taavi, coming down with a fever, falling asleep sitting up in the rocking chair in front of the fire.
    
    


32. Writing 100+ pages of something intended to be a novel someday, and then losing my motivation.


33. Playing pickup on Sundays.


34. Soccer practice at Gabe on Mondays.


35. Watching House on Tuesdays.


36. Wednesdays with Mom.


37. Watching Flight of the Conchords on DVD.


38. Watching The 40 Year Old Virgin, directed by Judd Apatow & starring Steve Carell, on DVD.


39. Seeing the 2007 Apatow movies, Superbad and Knocked Up, at the theater.


40. Seeing Dan In Real Life, with Steve Carell, at the theater.


41. After being avowed non-pet owners for all our married lives, being adopted by Boo.


42. For ten days, adopting my lovely niece R and having a big sister for our munchkins. Now that her mom’s back in town, she’s flown the coop, and even though she lives next door, we miss her.


43. Adopting Dani, another of my lovely nieces (there are five of them on my side, and two on Hugh's) for weekend day trips, cramming our five-instead-of-four kids into the Volvo and heading out of town for windy beaches, pumpkin patches and other Bay Area destinations. My four kids are all more or less in love with Dani. Eli, for example:
    
    


44. Getting the perfect package in the mail – a complete surprise that totally delighted me: a Moomintroll shirt. Thank you, East Coast Bethany!
    
    


45. With my devoted co-conspirator, secretly planning a too-good-to-be-true trip to Italy for Mom. Thank you, Cyril!


46. Mom agreeing to go—without every really saying, “Yes, I’ll do it.”


47. Going to Italy with Mom, a little nervous about how it would all turn out.


48. Being in Italy with Mom, and having the time of our lives! Thank you, Mom, for being such a brave, good-humored travel buddy, and a hot ticket to boot! And thank you Pam & Sam and the whole Tuscany gang for making the trip even better than we dared hope!


49. Hugh organizing the garage and the big downstairs closet while I was in Italy. And, over the course of the year, building an Adirondack chair and a tiled table and a new gate and cubbies for the kids shoes and stuff. Thanks, Hugh. For so many things.


50. Caiman and Hugh watching Scrubs reruns almost constantly. And Caiman quoting Scrubs several times a day.


51. Eli cutting his long hair off the day before starting fourth grade—and still being Eli!


52. Taavi becoming a comedian, a snappy dresser and a night owl.


53. Kai playing on her first ever, and possibly her last ever, soccer team:
    
    Me: So, Kai, do you want to play soccer again next time?
    Kai: Um… will I get a trophy again?
    Me: I don’t know. Sometimes only the team that wins the most gets a trophy.
    Kai: Oh. Well, no then, I don’t want to play anymore.
    
    

Your end-of-year list, whether it's books or movies or music or whatever, is eagerly anticipated!

Lately

Thankful Friday
Lately, in the middle of our household's routine chaos, I suddenly realize I haven't seen Taavi in 20 minutes.

"Taavi! Where are you?"

"I'm getting dressed," he calls from his room.

"But you were already dressed."

"Ha ha!" he cries triumphantly, bursting from his room with a flourish. He's dressed in leggings and two pairs of shorts, three shirts, a couple of hats and Kai's strappy red shoes. "I'm wearin' three shirts," he brags, striking a pose. Below is one of his tamer outfits, but still a double-hatted, red-gloved Taavi original:

Lately, we've been going to the skate park early on Saturday mornings, me and Caiman and Eli, or just me and E if Caiman doesn't want to get up, or Hugh and the boys. We go before it gets crowded, when a kid who's still learning and a little self-conscious can skate without reservation.

I sit on the bench outside the park, reading the paper and drinking coffee and watching them swoop up and down and around.

Lately, Taavi and Kai are both overjoyed when they're swinging high on the swings. They laugh from deep in their wobbly little bellies; they yell, they sing, they laugh some more.

And sometimes lately, we appreciate it extra much: days when it's cold outside and we have no energy and it takes so much effort to herd the kids into the car so we almost don't go out. But we do, and when we get to the playground and Taavi and Kai are swinging, flying and laughing, full of glee, we've just got to pause and make a mental note: the cold is not that cold, really, and it's pretty much always a good day to go to the park.

Lately, I've been saying okay to baking when the kids need something for a school party or it's somebody's birthday. It's so much easier to buy something from the grocery store, especially on a school night when there's homework to do and bedtime to worry about, but what's a little time and mess when the kids get so much freakin' joy out of cracking a few eggs and dumping sugar into a bowl?

It's a very satisfying return on investment. I'm opting for boxed cakes or simple recipes like the sugar cookies we made for Kai's class last night, but it's been so much fun to watch them measure and mix that maybe we'll bake something a little more involved for the holidays over winter break. After all, there was not a single eggshell to be found in their cookie dough last night!

Lately, Caiman has been taking a shower with hardly any prodding! And I so love it when he has clean hair. He also seems to be easing out of his phase of fierce camera-aversion. The combination of these happy circumstances means I occassionally end up with a nice picture of my number one son:

Lately, though, he ducks out of family time as often as not, disappearing into his room for hours at a time, where he builds amazing mechanical creations out of K'nex or pounds on a makeshift drum for hours, keeping time with Linkin Park. His electronic drum kit sits untouched; instead he beats on an overturned plastic bin with his hands and wrists, and it sounds good.

His phone is always with him; last month sent 3,000 text messages.

On weekends he sleeps late and, lately, asks us to drop him off at the movie theater or pizza place, where he meets J for half the day. So time with Caiman—time when we're not waging a homework battle or trying to stop a slap-fight with Eli—is a precious commodity. And when he's around and all four kids are getting along for a minute and I happen to have my camera handy... well, that's a little piece of motherin' heaven. This is from the day after Thanksgiving, when we went to Maurie's to help them polish off the previous day's big meal:

Lately, I've been taking the occassional detour to stop and smell the roses. Or, as the case may be, to watch the sun set. Eli and I were driving home from Mom's the other evening, and as we passed Pt. Isabel from the freeway the darkening blue sky called to me.

"Psst," it said, "over here! The sun is just about to set!"

We got off at Gilman and I turned up the hill into the Golden Gate Fields parking lot. We got out of the car and crossed over to the edge of the hill, and from there we watched the sky turn a brilliant, streaky orange over the inky bay, with the Golden Gate Bridge and a slice of San Francisco skyline as a backdrop. Here's Eli in silhouette waiting for the show to begin:

All in all, I'd say things are pretty good lately. This weekend: Christmas tree.

Happy Friday, y'all!

Something missing

Mistake of the Week
Yikes! Too many posts in a row with no pictures.

The mighty GinJak

Word Count Wednesday
I pick the ornament gingerly from its nest of tissue paper, hold the thing as if it’s a small bird that might fly off.

Mom never considered retrieving their ornaments from our garage last Christmas.

But this year, she wants this back: the GinJak ornament, a miniature RV with a miniature couple inside and a miniature Christmas tree strapped to the top.

It’s heavy with all it symbolizes; so much good, so much lost, just so much. There is sadness in it, of course, but its power is this: it promises renewal, and daring, and even some Christmas joy.

~ 99 words ~

My little elves

Aha! Finally, I've been infected with Christmas cheer. It just took these four little elves: check them out.

Things to do

Top Ten Tuesday
I am so far behind on... things. Lots of things! I could go on and on, but do you really want to hear more than ten of them?

I'm behind on:

1. Running. When I don't RUN at least two or three times during the week, I can feel my fitness leaking away like air escaping from a pin-pricked balloon.
   
   And then on at pick-up on Sundays, I... can't... quite... catch... Majid! (Okay, he's five times faster than me anyway, but sometimes, when he's got the ball and I decide to really try, I almost have a chance.)
   
   
2. My "novel."
   
   
3. The bills. I spent hours last Wednesday attacking the bill basket, and got this close to finishing.
   
   And then... guess what? NEW BILLS have been arriving every day, instead of politely waiting until I was done with the current batch. It's just like the laundry—I do sixteen loads and there are only a few to go, but before I get to those last few, well... you know what happens.
   
   
4. The slideshow of our trip to Italy. My brother called the other day just to scold me for taking so long to post pictures, but sheesh, I'm trying to do this right, using just the right shots (cropped & light-adjusted if necessary), with swoopy transitions and mood music. So I'm either going to do this really well or never finish.
   
   
5. Christmas cards. I'm trying this year, I really am!
   
   
6. Christmas shopping - and Christmas cheer. Yes, I'm committed to minimal consumerism this year. But that doesn't mean I'm totally blowing it off.
   
   Or does it? Not only have I done no shopping, I don't even have a shopping list or a holiday spring in my step. I sure hope Santa shows up or the kids are gonna get nada!
   
   
7. Dentist stuff. Okay, okay... I'm just putting this here to BRAG, actually, because we've all been to the dentist recently. But I have been putting off (well, hoping Hugh would do it, really) the visit to the boys' crazy ex-dentist (the one who recently told Hugh he was going to have to pull one of his front teeth when all he really needed was antibiotics) to pick up Eli's x-rays so our wonderful new pediatric dentist, Dr. Pineda, can fill his cavity.
   
   
8. Strength-training. When I worked at the YMCA, the director of the women's fitness center told me all sorts of horror stories about what happens to women in their 40s who don't strength train. She spoke of lost muscle mass and brittle bones and all manner of heart disease.
   
   This same woman walked into my office one day, saw me hunched over the keyboard, and told me very gravely that I was going to have a HUMP before long if I didn't do something about my posture! My little old Grammy Tilly had a hump, so I felt like the fitness gal was looking into a crystal ball and seeing my sad, hunched future.
   
   So yes, feel free to reproach me if you catch me slumping!
   
   
9. Taking Caiman to play paintball. He's been asking me for a paintball outing as a birthday present since he was 10; I hemmed and hawed for three years and then this year I finally promised to take him and a couple of friends to this place.
   
   But one of his friends couldn't go on the weekend we'd planned, so we postponed it until... until...
   
   
10. My blog. This post kind of sucks—and I didn't post at all on Friday! Maybe you don't care, but I am quite distraught. Feels kind of like I missed a penalty shot.

See! So many things. How about you? (And/or, what do you think of paintball? Would you like to play with us? I think it sounds fun and more or less harmless; Hugh thinks it's mean and militaristic and glorifies war.)

Coming soon to a blog near you!

Check back tomorrow for... Thankful Saturday.

Because if I can barely keep my eyes open at work, on deadline, how'm I gonna stay up to post by midnight?

'Twas a long and sleepless night last night...

The orange stuff

Mistake of the Week
I picked up the little blue cup next to the bathroom sink to get a drink of water, but the inside of the cup was sticky with orange goo. Oy, Taavi!

And there was the kids' ibuprofen bottle, EMPTY, when it had been a third full the night before.

Did I not screw the cap on after giving Kai a dose?

To make a long story short, Taavi lives and seems unaffected. And our pediatrician didn't seem too concerned -- but maybe that's because she was more worried about Kai's abdominal pain and lethargy, which is another, longer story involving one four-hour ER visit, two x-rays (thankfully not showing the twisted intestines our doc was nervous about) and one amazing coincidental rediscovery of a long-lost friend.

Kai, too, lives on.

Kai in a good mood

Word Count Wednesday
“I love balloons! And I love stickers! And I love you! And I love me! And I love Trader Joe’s!”

The cashier had given Kai a balloon and a whole strip of stickers. Now she’s chattering and singing with all her heart: “It’s the best ­– day – eeh-ver!”

She skips—weightless and full of joy—brightening the foggy gray with her golden-haired shine, the bounce of her sherbet-pink dress, the red balloon bobbing behind her.

Later, the sky’s blue. “Look,” I say, “It’s beautiful now!”

“Now?” Kai asks.

“It was foggy before.”

“So?” she asks, skipping past. “It was still beautiful.”



~ 100 words; 1 Spongebob song ~

All I want for Christmas

Top Ten TuesdayThe short days, the nights illumed by strings of Christmas lights, the Santas painted on shop windows, they’re all here. Which means that any day now someone is going to hit me with the question — what do you want for Christmas? — which makes me stutter and squirm because I’m supposed to have an answer.

I’m supposed to pause thoughtfully, and then utter something bright and original that makes the asker smile to herself and nod almost imperceptibly and add a Beth-thing to her mental shopping list and think, “Yes, I know how to fulfill that wish!”

Which would be very satisfying for all parties.

But no, I’m no help at all. All I can think of most years is a list of things I don’t want: no clothes please, no jewelry, nothing decorative (trust me, things don’t display well here in the zoo), no gadgets or gizmos. I’m just not much of a stuff person, and as I explained before the mere idea of acquiring more stuff I won’t actually use makes feel all squoodgy.

Scroogy, did I say? No, really, I promise, I’m not trying to be a Scrooge!

So I answer with my old standby, books, but that answer seems to offend people a little. As if I’m just saying it because I don't trust them to interpret my real suggestion properly. So I try, I swear, to think of something different, but what, I ask you, what does a girl like me need?

My Christmas ephiphany
I found the answer in my sock drawer. I was looking for a pair of socks last Friday, and Hugh the Marvelous had done a wonderful thing: the laundry—right down to the folding and the putting away. So there in my sock drawer was a day-making surprise: my favorite pair of socks, freshly laundered and rolled into a neat little ball. A jewel of a sock pair in a sea of white cotton—stripey SmartWool socks alive with color and, well... wooliness.

I pulled them on and wiggled my toes and smiled as I slipped my shoes on over them. My little secret. (Yes, some girls are concealing sexy lingerie; me, I'm grinning about my stripey socks.) I was so happy that I actually had a sock-related bounce in my step on the way in to work, and that’s when it hit me:

I know what I want for Christmas, now and forever!

SmartWool socks! They are perfect. They hug your feet snugly and keep your toes toasty, they breath and they’re cute. There are sporty “lifestyle” socks and running socks and hiking socks—every kind of sock a girl like me needs (with the notable exception of soccer socks, which I also love). On top of that, they have barely any packaging and are made primarily of Merino wool, which is, as the company's website says, “a sustainable, renewable, natural resource.”

I got my first ever pair, a cute & comfy running socks, from Cyril and Corinna (thanks, kids!!), and bought my only other pair, the stripey ones, with my always small REI dividend.

Now, I’m off to write my letter to Santa!

What are the top ten things on your Christmas wish list? I know I only had one thing, but I'm hoping you're better at this than I am!