Kiwi!

My new meditation mat came in. So excited, in only the way a few people who are trying out new things can be excited. 

Next on my list? A singing bowl. I have a thousand and one uses for it already! One of my sons’ teachers uses it for transitions, and to get everyone’s attention. I’m going to do the same. But, my meditation mat, adored and appreciated by myself and Sir Cogsley, Husbear’s ridiculous cat. I’ll add a picture later, sans cat. I use Bear’s meditation bean bag chair, which he uses to play video games, so I have some work to do with him.

I read that if one person in a family is mindful, then the rest of the family benefits, because that person serves as a reminder to be mindful. See, I’m doing this for my family. Last night I told Turbo, who was very angry and slamming toys down,  that when he was angry, he was anger, and did he want to be anger? 

He left confused. But not angry!

Back patio views

For Mother's Day, my husband bought me (meaning I looked it up, picked it out, purchased it and then thanked him for my Mother's Day present after it arrived) a zoom lens for my camera. Not an uber zoom lens, this one is 55 - 200, just enough for me to capture those images that are just beyond reach of my standard lens. 

Things like, my squirrel friend here.

I see you, Squirrel, in your tree, playing high up in the branches.

I also caught this bird catching the early worm:

Mmmm. Yummy gummy worm.

These are two things I regularly see during my morning coffee on my back porch. I hope to capture the squirrel play time, the Hawk fly-overs and the occasional stray fox visit, as well.

I also hope to escape every weekend into the hills and trails with my camera.

If last summer was the summer of running and learning to explore, this summer is a continuation of that, with more writing, more photos and more trails.

Summer, the time when dreams seem to flourish, and winter is last night's rest, faded into memory by mid-day.

How a Butterfly can change a day... and Mud Lake

We did Mud Lake today. One of the places Bear's wanted to go for a while now. It's up just past Nederland at an altitude of about 8,300, for people who care about the altitude.

Before we go with the story about Mud Lake, lets explain how a butterfly can change an entire day.

It's out of order, I know, but after Mud Lake, we stopped by Boulder Creek.

This creek.

Hello, Creek.

We sat on a rock by the creek, watching the water roll on and on.

We stopped on the way down from Nederland to look at the creek.
Because, why wouldn't we? Creeks are awesome.

Then, the most amazing thing happened!

A butterfly!

A butterfly landed on the toe of Bear's shoe!

Bear and I admired the beautiful, white and blue butterfly. For a moment, anyhow. A beautiful, butterfly moment. I took a picture.

On the rock, by the creek, with Butterfly on his shoe.

Then, Bear decided it was time for Butterfly to fly along...

So he sorta flung his toe up, to help explain to the Butterfly that it was time to move along.

He flung his toe a little high, though, you see. The Butterfly did fly off.

Along with the shoe.

Sometimes, you lose a shoe, or two. (Just the one this time)

....so this is where I explain that Bear's shoe wasn't secured on his foot....and just prior to this, he had said something to the effect of what if my shoe fell into the water...ha ha ha, he laughed.. well let me tell you, it's all funny until... a butterfly lands on the toe of your shoe...

So of course Bash was upset, and I had to promise I'd buy him the exact same shoes in the exact same color. Then we talked about all the amazing adventures his shoe must be having, what with getting to flow with the water... will a Beaver grab his shoe? Will it swim with fish? Will it hang out at the bottom with rocks? Who knows! But it's having an adventure, one it wouldn't have had if it weren't for one Butterfly.

If you look under the roiling, (is that a word?) rolling water, I ...think...
that may be his shoe, getting swallowed up and carried away...

But that was after Mud Lake. 

See, today, before we stopped at Boulder Creek, and with a mutual goal of getting past my wonky fear of winding mountain roads, I drove the whole dang family (Husbear and Drama Girl too!) up to Nederland, to Mud Lake, taking a long detour on the road circling the lake (we could see it!), because wouldn't you know it, it's hard to find Mud Lake because you have to take the road to Caribou Ranch open space which is closed until the end of June, so the sign says 'closed' so who would think, oh, take the road that says 'closed?' It's a bit unclear, that's all I'm saying here. 

Also, who actually lives year-round in Nederland? I'm now curious, because it's essentially a town in the middle of winding mountain roads without a grocery store, filled with winding long and steep driveways. Who lives in winding long road land? Where do they work? What do they do? It's a cute, teeny tiny town without any real access to a Brewing Market or Starbucks, or a grocery store. Plus, all the winding roads.

Oh, but right. Mud Lake.

Bear was hoping the lake was made of mud. It wasn't, but it was gorgeous, and he exclaimed, as he often does, that it was the Best Trail Yet. 

It was a lot cooler up there than down in the foothills. The lake was freezing, but clear and gorgeous. In one of the photos you can see the lake reflecting the shore! 

Here's the photos - the scenic views come out lighter than they actually were. Mostly, we were in shade.



It was one of the more interesting hikes, I'll agree with Bear, and I plan to take the boys back up. We will of course, stop by a creek on the way down, and of course, we will have our shoes solidly on our feet. Have  I mentioned yet, how much I love living in Colorado?

Button Rock, Lyons

We explored again! it's been a long time since our visit to the frozen Ann U. White!

We headed up to the Button Rock Dam and Reservoir, taking Sleepy Lion Trail. Perfect day for it, and though the parking lot was filled, we hardly saw a soul on the trail.

\

Smoothies and greens

Greens are good! No one ever eats enough greens.

That's why we should all drink them!

Husbear breakfast:

Spinach, chard, peaches and coconut milk

Turbo and Bear's breakfast:

Spinach, chard, peaches, blueberries and coconut milk.

My breakfast:

Coffee. 
2 sugars and coconut milk.

Drama Girl:

Java chip frappucinno. What can I say? She's 16 and makes bad, but flavorful,  choices.

The boys and I went on a cool hike. Pictures soon. Highlights: water, rushing water, a gosling and ice cream.

Of cameras and journals and trails...

This is my summer.

It's blurry, I know. The lens has a smudge. It makes me sad.
I call him 'old faithful.'

Yes, it's a camera.

And a journal. See the bike? 

It's going to be a repeat of last summer, only with a few different trails further out - yes, this summer, I'm going to conquer my fear of  driving my big red Dodge down skinny, long, winding mountain roads. 

Feel free to pass me.

I've been googling some writing workshops over the summer, but decided instead to find a digital camera class, so I can expand my knowledge of good amateur photo-taking. I couldn't really find any writer workshops that appealed to me, and really, what I want to do is write after I go on the trails, to see if hanging out in nature has an impact on what I write. I'd like to capture some of what nature leaves. It's like that dream I had, where the frozen river left such a powerful impact on me,  I couldn't just leave it there.

My dream is to own a house close to the mountains, by a creek surrounded by trees, and a house surrounded by flowers and vegetables. I may not be able to get the house just yet, but I can have the mountains, the creeks, the trees and the trails!

My goal, this summer?

To get up and out of the house by 6 a.m. some mornings so I can actually be around when the wildlife is up!

Just breathe

It started with a crazy lady saying crazy things last year, and my reacting to it in a less-than-calm manner. Well, i was calm. But I sent one of those text/e-mail messages people always say you shouldn't send (not to the crazy lady! I still maintained composure there). The response was, 'breathe.'

I took it rather literally.

I mean, I'm always breathing. We're always breathing. It's the fundamental indication that we're actually alive and not confused victims of the apocalypse who only think we're alive when really we're zombies who can't figure out why we like our burgers rare and why arms sometimes look tasty.

Do a check, now, make sure you're actually breathing, just to be sure.

So I took a breath, and read some blogs and books on mindfulness and such, and started trying to pay attention to the things I was actually doing at any given time. Try it. It's quite hard. Are you looking out a window? No. Of course not. You're reading my blog. But are you REALLY reading my blog? Are you drinking coffee? Has your head turned five times to track the cat, the kid, the dog, the boss, the memory that you just missed your deadline, the bill you haven't paid, the money you wished you still had but don't because of the bill you paid? Dinner? Snack? Don't you wish you had some chips? You can't eat the chips, you're trying to be healthier, also you gave up diet coke and chips make you want diet coke, or Dr. Pepper. Pick your poison.

See? You totally weren't reading my blog at all.

I play this game now. I'm not good at it, but I find it relaxing.

I have a busy mind. My mind is busy. It's an important mind, with lots of places to go, people to worry about, things to plan. It's a strategic thinker, constantly playing through  'what if this than that' scenarios up to, including and sometimes surpassing, apocalypse scenarios. I know, I know, I"m not alone in that. Who hasn't figured out their survival game plan once cats assert their rightful place as the world's masters and force us all to build pyramids again? We all know it's coming. I see it in my Bounder's big green plotting eyes.

I don't really want to hang out with my mind. It's too busy, too much of an A-type personality. It's probably got an ulcer and a slight alcohol problem. I imagine it's one of those overbearing women (I hope it's not a man, ewww creepy) with a heavy bossom, crazy gold jewelry and long manicured nails tapping impatiently as she barks orders at everyone around her, who, of course, she sees as personal minions, or assistants. It is one of those self-important minds that think it's all that and isn't afraid to tell me.  Blah blah blah, it drones on and on.

So I am learning how to let go of it, the same way one lets go of crazy, annoying friends. (Note to friends, I'm not the crazy, annoying friend you want to get rid of, trust me... I'm  totally going to be less crazy and annoying. cough.)

I just don't play with it anymore. Oh, we still hang, my mind and me. It's hard to get away from it fully, lets face it. There's a lot about my mind I kinda still love, oh the daydreams we've spun, the tales we've told, the grandiose fantasies of a life in a tropical paradise with turquoise waters and palm trees. It's a lovely mind, but dang it, it's not the boss of me!

And that is why, every morning and every night, for 10 to 15 minutes, I've got this little 'mindful' app on my iPhone with cool little bells that play at different intervals. And I just... breathe. I pay attention to the actual art of breathing, letting my busy mind natter on endlessly in the background blah blah blah inhale exhale... ignore the blah blah see it, let it pass.

I've been doing this for about two weeks. In two weeks, I've been a bit calmer, a lot less distracted and my mind is juuust now, finally, after two weeks, beginning to calm down slightly. It's because it knows I'm paying attention to it, so it tends to do what I would  rather have it be doing.

Natter natter natter on and on, but... not so much anymore. It's quieter, calmer, peacefuler...

All I do is...

Breathe.

Onward Paradiddle!

Music soothes savage beasts.

That's the logic I'm using in insisting that my sons take an instrument, ANY instrument...

Drama Girl had taken Cello unhappily for three years, so we've got experience!

Turbo has wanted to play 'acoustic guitar, not the electric' since he was 4. He had an acoustic guitar when he was 4, and he loved it. 

But then, one day, Bear came along, and smashed it, like a rock-n-roll star. 

Because that's what Bear is going to be when he grows up. It's why he's growing his hair long. 

Turbo hasn't forgotten this, apparently, because when we were discussing the choices of instruments, Turbo explained to us, anyone who spoke to him in the guitar shop, and his new guitar instructor that he DID have a guitar that he loved, until his brother destroyed it, but this blue one is sooo much awesomer.

He's  now practicing on his blue acoustic guitar every day, while hanging out with his dad, without much fuss, because he genuinely wanted to play the guitar from the beginning, and is interested in getting better.

I'm sure he's going to stick with it and be good. I know he is. It's because he sits like I imagine folksy acoustic guitar players sit, all lanky legs crossed with quizzical expressions of curiosity and gentleness aimed at their audience as they prepare to sing out the truth of love, dogs, mothers and life in general. That's what I see when I see him attempting to fret without looking or strum without mixing up the strings.

Bear.

Bear, Bear Bear.

Oh Dear. Bear.

He chose drums.

This is not a surprise, the idea of just taking two sticks and beating the crap out of some surface and making a lot of noise is very appealing. He is hoping for one of those drums with skin, like a djembe.



However, (can you believe I just started a sentence with however? I think that's horrid, I'm personally an anti-however-sentence-starting person) however, drums are one of the hardest instruments to start on. I got that from my band director brother who explained it's all repetition at first and not very exciting. It takes longer to get to a point where you can play an actual song or tune than most other instruments. 

There are also the exercises in holding the drumsticks right. 

And paradiddles, oh paradiddles.

Yes, yes I know the drumsticks aren't being held right. Just focus
on the tiny circle of despair and the lines that lead you there.
Also, note, this is not a djembe drum.

His homework consisted of 12 minutes of slow repetitions of holding the drumsticks right and making the 'drumming motion' from point 0 to point 1 or point 1 to point 0, I don't know, it's written in his book... and all he had to do was make sure the tips of the drumstick met in the middle of a circle. A circle... of doom, despair, and the collected tears of every child forced to do a repetitive exercise that held no instantaneous reward...

R, L, R, L or was it R, L, R, R, L, R, L, L or was it R, L, L, R, L, R, R, oh well, regardless, it was repetitive. Oh the tears, the woe of being forced to pay attention to posture (try to get any child under 14 to sit up straight for more than 30 seconds... it's not possible, they slump into themselves, like they have no muscular structure or spine at all) so I did what any reasonable mom would do.

I Tiger Mom'd.

"Son," I said. "You can cry through your paradiddle, but paradiddle you will."

"NOooo it's toooo haaaarrddd"

"I know, Bear, sit up straight."

"There are flames in the oven! I can't work when our oven is on fire!"

"No, Bear, that was last night. Paradiddle. Or I'll reset the timer and you'll have to start again." 

(To clarify:  It wasn't even a real fire, though technically, I suppose flames = fire, but this was inside a shut oven, and ovens are meant for fire, or high heat, close enough. Baking soda, okay, baking soda took care of it, and I didn't make him finish his work that night, because I can see how flames would be distracting.)

"It's too hard."

Timer Set: GO: Paradiddle. Tears. Paradiddle. Tears and Paradiddle. Paraddidle. Good Form! Posture! Ahhrgh now we have to start over! Paradiddle. Point 0! Point 0 wait Point 1! Pause Timer, Tiger Mom needs a drink. Timer, Go... You can doooo this.... look at your awesome paradiddling....

Thirty minutes later, we had a solid 12 minutes of practice (maybe 8, but it was solid man!) and Bear, though he collapsed in my bed from the sheer exhaustion, and suffered from a tired left wrist, did not spend time in despair, but merely explained to his brother how much HARDER drums were than guitar. I concurred.

Paradiddle on, peeps, paradiddle on.

Truth sometimes ends conversations

Big long discussion... and somewhere in it:

Me:

"It was weird, I was watching this weird, quirky British movie and in the ending..."

Boss:

"There is nothing weird about you watching a weird, quirky British movie. You were probably in it."

Conversation:

Over.

Laundry intelligence, aka Not much of a post

I had an entire post written about my typical night. Re-reading it utterly exhausted me, so I deleted it. Then I wrote a post about how one could successfully balance a life with a family of five, and then realized I had nothing.

Turns out I lack the organizational and executive functioning skills required. We're just living in utter chaos here.

The sentient intelligence known loosely as 'The Laundry' agrees. 

The Laundry is speaking to me now, mainly because it knows its won, and sees no point in pretending I have a chance. The Laundry tells me the cats also agree. Apparently, they've made great friends, The Laundry intelligence and the cats. All agree, though, that the growing horde of 'project materials' by one of the nine-year-old boys needs to go: it's an odd assortment of cardboard boxes and plastic empty bottles. He's going to 'be green' and 're-use.' I told him that's how hoarding starts.

Voice of The Laundry

The Friday Post

I came up with this great idea, that I'd update the blog daily. DAILY. But we know that is not true. By we, I mean, me, my alter-ego who lives in my head complaining to me that I don't live up to my potential as a writer, my faithful reader (Hi Auntie!) and my sister, who won't actually read this, but, would totally agree.

Today I'm home because Bear is having an issue with this Colorado weather and for the first time in a year and a half needed his emergency inhaler - not due to an all-out attack, he gets sneaky ones that build up slowly - but because breathing just wasn't really going all that well yesterday afternoon. Essentially, this:

Today is May 3, and the snow from the May 1st snow has just about melted. I mean, April is the second snowiest month in Colorado, and this isn't uncommon, but April in Colorado just feels confusing. Confusing weather is a trigger for Bear's asthma. So we're home today just chilling while Colorado toys with ending this spring winter.

Husbear suggested I need to stay home with him, because if we sent him to school, he'd last half a day before I had to take him home, and then there'd be judging on why I brought him in the first place, since I work at said school. Also, we want him to get better.

Here's a useful photo of my desk, because blogs should have photos:

I got a really useful memo that noted I only had 8 hours of vacation time left (thank you, children, aka vacation thieves) and also, could I post some things on the web. Of course, I'm being charged vacation time for being home, so why I am also expected to update things on the web while being charged vacation time is a bit foggy to me. It's one of those illogical expectations that only make people grumpy when you point it out, so you don't, because grumpy people make grumpy co-workers. Just take those extra-long lunches every now and again and call it even. Or you could do this:

"Why yes, I'd love to put these postings up, will Monday do, as I am currently being charged time for not working, and would hate to waste my charged vacation on working."

Then delete it and re-read the point about grumpy co-workers.

It's the problem with human resources today. They haven't adapted their policies to handle the modern world. We're so connected that a day off isn't really fully a day off - people can find you and expect things from you. You're not safe from expectations unless you protect yourself with an out-of-office message. "Dear Peoples, I am out today, and will not be responding to e-mails, or fulfilling any expectations given today. I will respond to e-mails, and fulfill all last-minute expectations on Monday. Thank you."

I'm totally going to do that the next time I take a day off. Except, next year, seeing as I only have one day left and I need to save it.

Also, I texted my sister three weeks (days) ago and she hasn't responded. You'd think a scientist would be more tech-savvy and plugged in. I think she's ignoring me. Someone should call her and tell her to call me. 


Also, also, I tried explaining to Husbear that my e-mails didn't automagically go to his junk folder. Automagically isn't a real thing. It's not even a real word. Clearly, he's evil.

Also, also, also, he didn't sympathize at all with my only having one day of vacation left because he is evil.

Happy Thursday

Today has been a Happy day, brought about by the annoyingly productive week I've had at home, while on Spring Break, not at all doing Spring Break things.

I had a to-do list and went through it methodically, knowing that if I stayed to my schedule, by Thursday, today, I'd have Nothing Required of Me To Do. And I did stay to it. And today, having Nothing Required of Me To Do, meant a free, relaxing, day which I filled with nonsensical things like buying new flip flops, hanging out on the circle's lawn with other 'hood peeps talking about being happy, the state of happiness, Buddhism, and funny documentaries not related to Buddhism or happiness at all.

Today was quite relaxing.

As I type this, for instance, I'm so relaxed, that I find my husband's cat Sir Cogsley's, fascination with the clicking of the keyboard and the cursor moving on the screen  amusing, so amusing that I'm not even bothered by the fact his curiosity means he sat his big fluffy butt right in front of the computer screen and I can't really see what I'm typing, unless I cock my head to the right and peer around his extraordinarily long whiskers. 

I managed to write a paltry 852 or so words today, which is better than Monday's paltry 502 or so words. This is fine, it's always like this for me at the beginning of a story or book. The first week or two into it drags ridiculously, and suddenly, about three weeks in, the story really just takes off, and I can write for much longer, mindful, of course, that I only have limited time to write. Gone, for now, are the days when I could write for three or four hours at a stint and not need to be up til midnight to accomplish it. I do dream though! The best writing advice I ever got, and will ever give, is the only thing required of a writer to write, to truly be successful, is to show up at the page. That's it. Show up at the page. Write. Go from there. Once you show up to the page, and put words on it, the story begins to unfold, and, if you know what it is the story means to accomplish,  it will write itself.

I did accomplish something on my Nothing Required of Me To Do day, though. I accomplished getting instruments for Turbo and Bear, and lessons. All in under 40 minutes. See how ridiculously efficient I can be?

I'd already scoped out the instruments, and knew that Turbo was getting an acoustic guitar. I knew, also, that Bear would most likely gravitate to drums, which he did, despite his going on randomly about the violin. I just don't think a violin is a good instrument for a kid who wants to be in a rock-n-roll band. He really wanted the African-style drums, but I told him to start with the normal snare drum, and then if he's still interested in three to six months, we'll pick up the other style drum. We rented his drums, but bought the guitar. Drums are... priccceeeyyyy. He then spent most of the time playing the xylophone bit of the drum kit. Hilarious.

We had our first gorgeous spring day today, well, okay, second. April is a month of wacky weather here. We'll have gorgeous days that tease you into thinking the days of warmth are here to stay, followed by cold rainy days, and occasionally, a snow storm. April. Such a tease.

Ah writing. I find the more I write, then the more I write. How... something! 

What I'd write in a letter to my sister (and aunt) if we all still wrote letters

This eye belongs to a teenager. I rarely see this eye. It's usually rolled into the back of her head when I'm speaking to her. It's blue, I think I'd forgotten that.







Dear (Sister), (Aunt)

How is life on the other side of the Oregon Trail? Raining still? Has your Hans eaten any more socks, headbands or swim shorts? Is your son learning to ignore the rain? Has he seen the sun yet? (Okay, to be fair that was low, of course the sun comes out in Oregon, I believe, in September?)

For my aunt, I'd write: 

How is life Back East? Is it snowing still? Did everyone wear cute spring dresses under big burly winter coats and lacey, brimmed spring hats under umbrellas Easter Sunday? Then I'd ask about Daughter, and see if she had begun to exhibit any pre-teen like qualities such as, shopping preferences, eye-rolling to mom and sleeping in late.

No proper letter is without a weather report:

Colorado is below-normal levels of precipitation. We have sunshine, plenty of it, but none of the snows or rains we so needed. We'll probably be on fire this summer again. I don't believe you've ever tasted fire and ash. Last year, there were a few days when that was what our air tasted like. We could see the smoke and haze in the air, even if we couldn't see the flames. The taste burned our throats. It was a constant reminder, as you walked around accomplishing your daily day to day life, that not far off, forests were burning.  It was surreal sometimes, and sad, but an act of nature, cleaning up and preparing for new growth. But of course, we need snow and rain for that. The children (must point out how they fared and suffered)  had to stay indoors for a couple of days at summer camp last year, and I couldn't run or swim (Poor me!) because of the air quality. I hope we don't have so many fires this year, but with the dryness of this year's winter, I'm not optimistic.

Moving on to the lovely children. All letters discuss children:

The kids are doing mostly well. Teenagers are just difficult, and even though she knows everything and I don't know anything, somehow, somehow she can't figure out how to do the laundry properly. She's currently without any sort of electronics whatsoever - we're hoping it's a positive motivator to actually clean her room and do  her schoolwork. She is quite beautiful, however, and has mastered styling ridiculously long, thick hair, and eye make up, something none of us have ever fully achieved successfully: the cat eye look.

Note in this next paragraph how I am clearly a fan of music. Clearly, I'm a believer in music education, and by default, the arts. In your mind, I'm wearing a breezy skirt and eyelet cap-sleeved shirt sitting under a tree by a creek listening to nature. I'm not, but after I post this, I'm going to shop for breezy skirts and eyelet cap-sleeved shirts.

I'm taking each of the boys to the music store on Main. There's two music stores on Main right next to each other. I'm taking Turbo to the guitar store so he can pick up a classical guitar and play around, to see if that's the instrument he wishes to learn. The next day, I'm taking Bear to the music store with a greater variety of instruments. He has expressed interest in a Flute, Drums, a French Horn and a Tuba. I'm hoping he chooses Drums or Flute. Why I'm hoping for drums, I'm unsure.

I'm having a nice break from work this week, though mostly I'm doing a lot of little odds and ends that need to get done around the house. Steam clean carpets anyone? Anyone? Well, it's got to be done.

My writing's going well, though no one will see or hear of any of it for at least three months. I'm a big fan now of keeping my stories between my head and the page. It's too easy to 'write' the book in conversation.

That's all that's going on here in Colorado.

Hope your having a great spring in (Oregon) (New Hampshire),

All the best,

La La

Spring Break, Day 2

I have this little list of things I want to accomplish over spring break.

Thing 1: Door for daughter's room.
Accomplished - picking it up tomorrow, and some new hinges.
Installation - Husbear.

Thing 2: Steam clean carpets and mop floors.
HOW EXCITING! This is the biggest plan for Spring Break.
Yeah, I know how to live it up.

Thing 3: Empty out boys room and reorganize it. Buy blinds for their room. They knocked their curtains down, again, and for good. /sigh /boys.

Thing 4: Fill up Bear's bike tires.

See, this is my spring break.

It's not as much of a break as I would like, and not nearly as springy out as I would hope, but I leave my afternoons and evenings open, so it's been very relaxing. It's Day 2, but the weather just is rainy. Yesterday, it was chilly. Certainly not, get on a bike and go on a ride weather. Or, go strolling about aimlessly with your friends weather.  Tomorrow's supposed to get nice, so I'll get everything done early. Then I'll go on a run! Then, I"ll hang outside with the kids!

Thursday and Friday are my  play days. I'm determined to have Thing 2 and 3 done by Thursday/Friday. I'll fill up Bear's tires when ti's gorgeous out.

I'm publishing this post, but I'm not tweeting it. It's more a dreary to do list than a blog.

Ah well.

Time to write!

When Irish eyes are smiling

Then it usually means they're crying, that's what my mom used to say. The Irish are really happy, but really, they're really really sad, and their happiness is born from accepting that they're all very sad. I have a childhood school friend who, if she's reading this, will laugh at me.

But of course she would. She's Irish.

My mom loved being Irish, and everything about Ireland and the Irish. I think she resonated more with that side of her than any other. Her maiden name was Fair, I suppose that helped.

She used to sing tons of Irish songs to us all, I only remember the main lines... my favorite, aside from Danny Boy, was the one about... something about someone dropping something down stairs... yah, I know, I should have paid more attention. But the old classics were all there. You take the high road... etc

Today, normally, we'd have boiled cabbage and corn beef. I say boiled cabbage, but I think it was boiled corned beef, too, I have distinctive memories of everything being boiled in a big pot together, however, I may not be remembering correctly. Boiled corned beef doesn't sound appetizing. I may be misremembering.

I tossed around the notion multiple times yesterday and today of having Corned Beef and Cabbage. It was always important to my mother to celebrate the small holidays, as well as the big, to remember cultures, to break up the seasons, to just have fun... but I don't recall really enjoying corned beef and cabbage. Not really. I even tried some at a local Irish pub (our one and only local Irish pub, mind you) and... mmm... not so much.

My sister has dodged this by deciding to make 'Irish Stew' which remarkably resembles many other non-Irish stews, but hey, she's making an effort. I bet she's even wearing green.

The one thing I do miss though, are the St. Patrick Day festivities. We don't have a small-town parade with streets lined with people drinking green shakes from McDonalds, or a fun day of you know, Irish fun stuff...

Nope, the only thing we got going on round these parts is that the local Irish Pub will probably be packed, and my son is wearing a green shirt. He went out of his way to find one, because it's St. Patrick's Day -- there be Irish in that boy, I do swear.

Not his brother, though, he's not even wearing a shirt yet and will, at some point today, ask me what day it is... as in.. day of the week... like is it Saturday or Sunday?....

So wherever you be in the land, Happy St. Patrick's Day!

p.s. if you haven't heard Cmdr. Hadfield sing Danny Boy from space, you're missing out.

The day I don't write

Really, I should know by now.

I have this lovely routine of writing in my journal every morning. It helps get the junk out of my head, sets me up for the day, and helps me stay in the present.

I missed today.

Now it's 11 p.m., I need to be wide awake and up and at em and early tomorrow, but instead I'm writing on my blog, because the junk in my head from this morning saturated with junk in my head from this afternoon.

Oh the thinking about work, the thinking about this, that, the other thing, all the things that don't matter. The things that will be forgotten, the things that won't be, the things I did, the things I didn't do, the things I may have not done quite right, things things things... in my mind.

So I'm trying to regain a sense of presence, of moment.

All I can come up with so far is I'm annoyed that I'm letting things get to me, knowing full well those things are small, petty and shall pass, as most things do. I'm annoyed I didn't write in my journal. I have a goal with that journal, a destination, a journey!

So how to get rid of the things roaming in my head, to stay in the present?

Lets see.

My Mermaid teal colored nails are just long enough now that most of my typing is by nail rather than fingertip. They look cool,  because they are polished this sea-green color apparently found in Mermaid's tears, however, it's exceptionally impractical, and annoying, so clearly, I am not a person who enjoys long nails. I don't even enjoy the sound. I prefer the sound of actual finger pads on keys rather than nails. There is a subtle difference! It's in the strike. The strike of a nail is harder. This matters people, this matters. I shall be visiting my local nail salon to rectify the matter this weekend, I hope.

That is my moment, my present. My daughter is upstairs not in bed, but cleaning her room, in hopes of being able to spend some of her time off with this boy that lingers outside our house with her in the afternoon, after school. Hmmm......

I hear the sounds of a house settling at night. A snoring husband. The ever-present noise of the heater pumping out air or heat or, when it's feeling impish, what seems like cold air, but I'm assured by the thermometer is heat. Water running through pipes from teenager who's not in bed. Cats. I don't hear cats. This is because my cats are ninjas.

All of this is my now, my present. The recessed lights in the dining area are on, but the lights here in the living room are off. It's really just one room, but whatever. Townhome living, it'll do.

I'm on my green couch, which we've had since right before the boys were born, and it's well worn! I'm wearing a shirt that may, possibly, be just as old. It's comfortable.

I'm contemplating going to bed now because this has relaxed me, and reminded me that things pass and after they pass, they are often forgotten, and that this present, this moment, matters.

So, g'night, all, sleep tight.

Teal colored nails clacking on a keyboard - who would have thought that would put me to sleep?

Last night's gift

I fell asleep to the images of the frozen creek bed from yesterday. The creek  played in my mind. I was either back at the creek, or it came to me. Seeing the creek in the shadows of the boulders and winding through the ponderosa pines (I think that's what they are) through the filter of my mind's memory was amazing. It was meditative and calming, restorative and mindful. It made the day worth the sprained knee!

Winter trails

I swore I wouldn't let winter stop me from enjoying the area I live in, and I swore I wouldn't lock myself in. I then, of course, hibernated most of December and all of January, but really, who likes January? It's my hibernation month. I can't bear most January's, and am perfectly happy hibernating. My goal for next January is to get over my dislike of January. But, today...

We went on our first trail-hike of the 2013 year! The Ann U. White Trail that was all dry and bare in September is now a frozen winter wonderland!

Smile, no matter what, smile. If we smile, eventually
she'll put the  )#*)*  camera away and leave us alone.

Yes, that is snow, and yes, the high today was 39 degrees. But really, altitude seems to make things feel 'warmer' ... except in the shade, and whatever, these are Colorado boys - if it's 20 degrees or higher, than coats are optional.

The important thing is, we have conquered Creek.

One of the shade-dappled areas.

We were the only ones on the trail, and it was kinda eerie. Very little sunlight broke through the shaded areas, which landed it a sort of meditative quality, a particularly cold one combined with the snow and ice on the ground. It was beautiful. 

Bear declared "Isn't Nature amazing?" Why yes, son, yes it is.

Face in the rock, wishing
the wind would talk less.

We heard the wind talking, not a gentle whisper but a constant, urgent conversation through the trees and creek. I always wonder what it is the wind tells the boulders and the creeks and the trees, what is it the wind says? The wind must be important, because with its urging, trees bend, creeks flow faster and rocks take notice.

The boys got to cross this creek many times, traversing the ice, jumping across rocks and leaping through the running water. Its winter coverings made it more interesting than our September visit.

Battles. Every. Single. Trail. There has
to be battles... and lava.

It was a great day out, and it's why I appreciate these days off from work and school so much - they allow for adventure and some freedom. Well, and to be honest, who doesn't appreciate days off from work and school?

I also feel I'm doing a good thing - teaching the boys to just go out and 'be' in nature. They're walking, playing, imagining, running, sliding, battling (always the battling), climbing and exploring. 

They're spontaneously curious about the dark spaces under boulders (no... no don't go in...aack), the water flowing under the ice, the sapling growing in the middle of the creek (poor planning) and the sounds - the wind, the birds.  

They're exploring, and connecting with nature, and how fortunate are they to live in a place surrounded by nature, and such nature it is! 

Here's the full photo album. 

February! Hide the Groundhog!

So it's February!

Yesterday,  I believe, is Groundhog Day.

He didn't see his shadow. I've set up mirror.

It's really silly, though.

But February! Yay! The last month before spring peeks in and tempts us in March.

The season to look out at the dead, messy, not-properly-cleared-out-for-the-winter garden and start thinking that this next spring, THIS NEXT SPRING, the garden will be magnificent - it will look like it does in your mind in February when you're planning it.

Am I planning it?

Of course I am! I'm going to attempt a cutting garden in the weed patch! I'm going to plant Turnips, because I know they'll grow!

I am going to pick one of those 'pre-planned, can't accidentally mix/match bad things' Better Homes and Gardens gardens. Maybe this year, we'll go with 'oriental spice mix' or 'strawberries and pumpkins forever' I don't know.

I'm going to be sooo much better this year!
I'm going to take that week of spring break, and prepare the gardens!

See? See why February is so amazing! It's the month of dreaming.

Oh, you thought it was the month of love.

Well, if you must. But I have to say, I'm kinda over Feb. 14. I did, however, in a nod to love, Red Roses and the traditional colors of red, pink and white that seem to permeate the first half of February,  purchase flowers of red, pink, and white for the house.

I still believe in flowers. I love flowers.

I want to live in an English Cottage with an English Cottage Garden, but I digress.

I associate February, for some bizarre reason, with brilliant blue and frost white, with a sharp red. All cold and frosty and bright.

This is the point where I should put a picture in my post. People like pictures.

I call it: Sunday Morning Mug O' Coffee on Journal 

I'm hoping to be better with my writing this month. I was beating myself up until I realized I had created a plan in my head, and had been inadvertently following it. I dedicated the entire month of January (Okay, Okay, OKAAAAYYY one of my bestest best friends and I dedicated the entire month of January to clearing out my house and cleaning it...) and I've mostly done that. I've got electronics in the basement, my daughter's room to hit today with a tornado (a slow tornado, I've got a cold and am sneezy) and only have the boys room and garage (Ha, ONLY!).

I'm really motivated for the boys' room, because we'll be getting new beds, a canvas for Ashton (to test my -  he acts like an artist, therefore he is an artist - theory) to paint whatever color he wants on it, and some cheapie desks whose destruction won't offend me.

I can't wait til the summer, we're going to paint the bedrooms! FUN! (wait...)

See, I digressed again.. the point is, I've done that. Diligently. In my head, February was the month where I'd have time to write and work on my February quilt, which I call 'inspirations of Lavender' (I just made that up) and lo and behold, I do! I DO have time! Because I'm not cleaning all the time! Weeee... so February, you can judge my writing by my blogging. When I write I blog. If I'm not blogging, and you know me, remind me.

Now, I just need to find a way to slip out to coffee shops EVERY DAY... ha ha ahh..

And yes, I've started the Artists Way, because I always write when I do it. And, also, for my friend who's like, hey, um COUGH COUGH AHEM RUNNING... yes, yes it's time to pretend it's warm enough to run.... aaaaaannnnndddd can you tell I have spring fever? The boys and I planned a February hike. And the biking, oh, the bike rides!

The thing is, February is a short month. Spring, for all intents and purposes, is tomorrow.

Buh-bye winter. Buh-bye cold. I heartily dismiss you.

**Note: When I dismiss winter, I tend to dress in spring clothes, so if it's just snowed six-10 inches, but I'm wearing canvas sneakers, some khakis and a light spring-y sweater, it's my way of pretending winter's not here. And while I'll pretend I"m not cold, I assure you, I'll be freezing.

Flowers in January

I love fresh flowers.
I used to buy myself fresh flowers as a treat, just because.

They're pretty, they brighten every room, and they are, well, cheery.

Flowers are Cheery!

After the break, a friend who was watching my cats offered to help me completely gut my house of all excess clutter -- so that my life, that of a mom with three kids, before we get all judgey and wonder why a friend would feel such a strong desire to help clean out a house... how messy could it be! -- and for the price of some still-owed dinners, spent a few weekends (and a few more to come, yay!) helping me gut and purge.

Purged: I have made four or five trips to Good Will since returning from Oregon after Christmas. Four or five trips where my truck has been filled with donations. Filled, to overflowing. Filled to the point of 'okay, remember, no backing up because you can't see out the back window.'

Gutted: Lets just say no one has a need for Tumeric, expiration date 2007, a dusty Pampered Chef gingerbread train mold from pre-2000 and a bag of flax, circa 2006.

The entire first level of my house is clutter free. Everything has a place. There's room. My cabinets, oh the room!

So, being thrilled (who wouldn't be) at how not cluttered/messy/crazy my living areas appeared to be, I've introduced flowers.


At first, the flowers were just on the table, but then I realized, they are even cheerier, and make the room and spaces even brighter, when they are spread out a bit.

Just a bit of color

The downstairs sewing/working desk.The counter.

My biggest motivation to finish the upstairs is the smallest of reasons.

I want to add flowers upstairs, too.

It's the smallest things that bring the greatest moments. And just looking at the flowers makes me feel a bit better, a bit cheerier.

Yes, even the bathroom