tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11835234773042203402024-02-06T23:47:46.428-08:00chicklegirlchicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.comBlogger565125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-54042965699606522362015-03-30T22:41:00.000-07:002015-03-30T22:41:05.846-07:00Pitchapalooza ends tomorrow......just a few hours left to <a href="http://www.thebookdoctors.com/2015-nanowrimo-pitchapalooza">vote for Katherine Parker Richmond</a> and <i>The Door to Yesterday.</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11611039689884901897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-78547483598656072382015-03-17T08:19:00.001-07:002015-03-17T08:23:22.948-07:002015 may just be the Best. Year. Ever. (so far)I admit it: I've been so busy writing fiction, I've ignored my poetry--to the extent that I didn't realize one of my poems got published <i>over a year ago</i>.<br />
<br />
Back in 2012, I submitted "Lacuna" to the LDS women's magazine <i>Segullah</i>, and <a href="http://chicklegirl.blogspot.com/2012/08/good-news-and-more-good-news_27.html">they accepted it</a> for their last print issue. What I didn't realize is that they added it to their e-zine in February 2014. Check my sidebar for the link.<br />
<br />
In other, even more fabulous news, my pitch for <i>The Door to Yesterday </i>was selected for NaNoWriMo's 2015 Pitchapalooza. If I win, I get a free 1-hour consultation with <a href="http://www.thebookdoctors.com/">the Book Doctors</a>, to help me hone my pitch to perfection as I begin my epic quest for a literary agent, which is slated for this spring. Please stop by <a href="http://www.thebookdoctors.com/2015-nanowrimo-pitchapalooza">Pitchapalooza 2015</a> and vote for my pitch. Then, you can say you knew me <i>before </i>I was famous.<br />
<br />
Thanks in advance!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11611039689884901897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-54510261708758381542015-02-25T14:17:00.000-08:002015-02-25T14:18:01.947-08:00A late valentineMostly, I've been working like crazy on the latest round of revisions to <i>The Door to Yesterday</i>. My second group of readers got their comments to me at the end of January, and I've been incorporating their suggestions: a herculean task which has absorbed most of my creative attention for the last month...but here and there, other muses creep in and leave an offering.<br />
<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>Kiss</b><br />
<br />
My lips against you<br />
the crush of skin to skin<br />
mine yielding to yours<br />
as yours yields to mine.<br />
<br />
A single act<br />
becomes a metaphor:<br />
we press together<br />
in paradox<br />
stronger as we<br />
both give way.<br />
<br />
A kiss is <br />
love in a nutshell.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11611039689884901897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-66700058683650984612014-08-06T16:06:00.000-07:002015-03-17T08:47:57.764-07:00Winds of change<div abp="166">
I've been quiet for too long, but I promise: I've been busy. Back in April I finished my first draft of <i abp="167">The Door to Yesterday</i>. Early in July, I had a second draft sufficiently ready to give to my initial bevy of beta-readers. While waiting for their feedback, I've been keeping myself busy by polishing my query letter and yes, migrating all book-related posts to <a abp="169" href="http://kparkerrichmond.wordpress.com/">my new blog</a>.<br />
<br />
Over the years I've grown too attached to this blog to give up on it just yet; if I post any poetry, it will be here, so don't give up on chicklegirl--not just yet.</div>
chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-27520215134387058042013-06-06T17:37:00.001-07:002013-06-06T18:02:47.194-07:00School's out!This school year has been one of the most challenging I can remember. Two years ago, when Jimmy was in second grade, it was particularly tough because I had two miscarriages between November and June, which laid me flat both physically and emotionally for a lot of months. But with Audrey starting Kindergarten, this was the first year with two kids at the school table, and <i>wow</i>, it was a big adjustment for all of us.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, I've reached a place where I feel completely confident in both my teaching and organizational abilities, and so it gave me the chance to focus on stepping up my game and really engaging with my children on a new level.<br />
<br />
When I gave Jimmy his last journal assignment for the school year, I asked him to write about his four favorite things he learned this year. I'm giving myself the same assignment, so in no particular order, here's what I learned during 2012-2013:<br />
<br />
1) <i>Old dogs can (and should) learn new tricks</i>. All year long, I've been coming up against the realization that for so many reasons, I need to stop yelling at my kids. So, with a little help from an amazing gal known as <a href="http://theorangerhino.com/about-the-orange-rhino/">Orange Rhino</a>, I'm doing just that. I still struggle, I still yell, but I'm only a couple months into this new trick and already I'm yelling less. It's making a huge difference for me and my kids. Even better, I dialogue with them about why I'm doing what I'm doing and they're helping me while they see me modeling this willingness to change.<br />
<br />
2) <i>I'm the expert on my kids</i>. I'm sure you're thinking, well, <i>duh</i>. But starting out with a virtual academy--while it's been lovely having someone to give us guidance and hold us accountable--has allowed me to defer to others as knowing better what my kids might need or what curriculum might be best or what learning plan we should follow. Over the past couple of years, I've been putting the pieces together and finally feeling like if we had to fly solo (which we may have to do because of legislation in Olympia that will reform alternative learning experiences like CVA), I <i>could </i>do it. I could do it because I know what areas my kids are strong in, what they struggle with, how they learn, and how to teach them.<br />
<br />
3) <i>Kids are spiritual creatures</i>. This year I've shifted some of my focus to providing a spiritual touchstone as an integral part of our learning day. For us this means we have a devotional each morning before we start school work. Doing this helps me and the kids to be more calm and centered before we dive into doing stuff that challenges us and trying to get along with each other while everyone is working at the table together. We also created an art area and did a fine arts course as part of our curriculum this year. It was amazing: seeing art, learning about it, creating it. Art feeds the soul.<br />
<br />
4) <i>I love my children</i>. I already knew this, but I found I need to keep learning it all over again, every day. Sometimes I get so focused in on what needs to be done--the lessons we need to get through--that I lose sight of the <i>why</i>. And then things get adversarial: when I'm focused on checking off the subjects on our list, instead of tuning in my children's needs and how I can meet them, it's me against them instead of us learning together. If I go on autopilot and forget to be mindful of that overarching feeling of love, it all falls apart. <i>I</i> fall apart.<br />
<br />
And now, I'm off to make another list... of things to do over the summer!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11611039689884901897noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-30051411578894290072013-04-30T07:22:00.000-07:002013-04-30T07:22:03.720-07:00NaPoWriMo #11: april<strong>Spring Stream</strong><br />
<br />
Susurrating voice<br />water singing through stones will<br />coax the tender leaves.chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-65894315788568625542013-04-13T08:42:00.000-07:002013-04-13T08:53:20.943-07:00NaPoWriMo #9: un-love poemI needed a little inspiration this morning, so I headed over to Napowrimo.net again and found a <a href="http://www.napowrimo.net/2013/04/day-ten/">prompt to write an un-love poem</a>. A few days ago, I had started rolling ideas around in my head for a love poem (see the previous post), and I had to get that out of my system before I could write its opposite. <br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>Untitled Un-love Poem</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
You are the barn cat<br />
who steals into the house<br />
just to leave her mark<br />
who allows her kittens to suckle<br />
only as she lies sleeping<br />
who catches no mice<br />
but expects to be fed<br />
who bears litter after litter<br />
after litter<br />
who is no more or less to blame<br />
than those who let you keep on<br />
doing what you do.chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-15187118170900914972013-04-13T06:48:00.000-07:002013-04-13T08:17:14.053-07:00NaPoWriMo #8: love poem<strong>Your Hands</strong><br />
<br />
I love <br />
how your hands<br />
are you<br />
nails trimmed close<br />
but not bitten to the quick<br />
skin firm over tendons, muscles <br />
palms and fingers calloused but gentle<br />
a splash of freckles that would be<br />
invisible on skin less pale<br />
boyish on hands less capable<br />
<br />
how they make<br />
a meal, a poem, a home<br />
how they fix<br />
a book, a bike, a skinned knee<br />
how they smell like soap<br />
or sawdust<br />
or sometimes<br />
vanilla <br />
<br />
how they tear apart, strip away<br />
and create something better than before<br />
how they throw a child into the air<br />
and cradle him back to earth<br />
how they fix what is broken<br />
and wait for what cannot be fixed<br />
<br />
how they are always moving<br />
holding, healing<br />
touching, teaching<br />
<br />
how they warm me when I am cold<br />
lift me when I have fallen<br />
and open a jar of pickles<br />
when my own hands fail me.chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-13283806615308042322013-04-09T15:38:00.002-07:002013-04-13T08:47:33.181-07:00NaPoWriMo #6-7: valedictionI've been sick for over a week now, and while I soldiered bravely on for the first few days, I finally ran out of poetic steam. I just needed a few less things to worry about, so I could rest up and recoup. Today I'm feeling about 75-80%, which is progress enough to put me back in the saddle. <br />
<br />
That, and after reading the prompt from the good folks at <a href="http://napowrimo.net/">Napowrimo.net</a>, I had to get the images out of my head that kept me up last night a little longer than I would have liked. See, the prompt was "<a href="http://www.napowrimo.net/2013/04/day-six/">valediction</a>", and when I had a chance to sit with it and allow images and ideas to unfold, the place it took me was a memory from last year, when Jim and I took the kids to Spokane for the day. <br />
<br />
As we were driving home, we saw a mother duck trying to lead her ducklings across the freeway. I have no idea how she had gotten them to the other side, but by the time we saw them, most of her babies had already been hit by passing cars. In the moment we witnessed it, Jim and I made a mute agreement not to call the kids' attention to the scene. This was something they would not be ready to see. One of our favorite bedtime books has been <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Make-Way-Ducklings-Puffin-Storytime/dp/0142413860/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365546352&sr=8-1&keywords=make+way+for+ducklings"><em>Make Way for Ducklings</em></a>, by Robert McCloskey, a charming tale of a duck family who takes up residence in Boston. In one scene, the mother duck leads her little ones to safety under the watchful protection of police officers, who keep the cars at bay while the ducks cross the road to their home. <br />
<br />
No, this was something my children would not be ready to see.<br />
<br />
So, I went at this poem from two different directions: first, a tanka; then, free verse. For now, both are untitled.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Mother duck: a brown <br />
buoy bobs in a sea of cars with<br />
no way to guide her<br />
small fleet to safety in the<br />
tempest of rush-hour traffic.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
She waits on the left shoulder<br />
her fuzzy brood still strung across the median<br />
then, when they have caught up<br />
she darts out into the roadway<br />
and one<br />
by one<br />
the ducklings <br />
follow her<br />
within seconds, the first two are crushed <br />
by rush-hour traffic<br />
suddenly, the mother duck<br />
seems aware of the danger <br />
when it is already too late<br />
when five more downy, flightless babies<br />
have already followed her<br />
another down<br />
then another.<br />
<br />
The cars in front of us slow, briefly<br />
and as if in slow motion<br />
I see it unfolding:<br />
dappled brown wings flapping in panic<br />
and a scattered row of small bodies <br />
flattened into the asphalt<br />
feathers ruffled by the breezy wake<br />
of passing cars<br />
I grab my husband’s arm<br />
and he swerves <br />
to miss the last three ducklings.<br />
<br />
For the rest of the ride, I’m stricken<br />
tears falling uncontrollably<br />
for the mother <br />
now standing back beside the road<br />
unable to leave her fallen babies<br />
unable to lead the ones who still live<br />
back to her nest.chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-63173266377410600412013-04-05T04:09:00.004-07:002013-04-05T04:09:44.389-07:00NaPoWriMo #5: insomnia<strong>Sleepless</strong><br />
<br />
Memories tinctured with moonlight<br />their silver-gilt edges curled, spindled<br />dog-eared pages of life’s volume<br />long forgotten on a shelf<br />until a pale beam falls across its spine<br />and sleepless, I recollect scenes<br />that seem no more than dreams<br />grown too faded to compete<br />with the shiny present’s noise and brilliance, <br />but in this place between waking and sleep<br />the past is now <br />and I remember.chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-34946566165086940602013-04-05T03:17:00.000-07:002013-04-05T03:48:10.173-07:00NaPoWriMo #4: nostalgia<strong>Drinks at the Christmas Café</strong><br />
<br />
The last half of my first grade year<br />
we lived with my mother’s parents<br />
their home overlooking Puget Sound<br />
my mom, dad and four kids under seven<br />
packed sardine-like <br />
in a basement bonus room <br />
with pine paneling and a dry bar<br />
<br />
the liquor cabinet had been relocated<br />
to safer climes upstairs<br />
but the shelves behind the bar<br />
remained populated with teacups<br />
shot glasses, saltshakers, vases<br />
crystal-hung candlesticks, figurines<br />
and a porcelain Christmas tree<br />
with electric lights<br />
<br />
my family moved into a rental<br />
before I started second grade<br />
but by then I had already found my place<br />
as proprietor and hostess extraordinaire <br />
of the Christmas Café<br />
open Sunday afternoons <br />
with special sleep-over hours<br />
<br />
in my little world within itself<br />
patrons sipped their drinks<br />
perched on woven-rope barstools <br />
Stevie Wonder sang Sir Duke<br />
on the transistor radio <br />
hand-lettered menus announced our specials<br />
(Cheetos and dry-roasted peanuts)<br />
and the drink of the house<br />
(homemade lemonade <br />
garnished with fresh mint <br />
and strawberries in season)<br />
ginger ale and cranberry juice <br />
available upon request<br />
<br />
Nana gave me the run of her ornaments<br />
tinsel, garlands and lights<br />
kept me stocked in lemonade, peanuts, Cheetos <br />
colored toothpicks and swizzle sticks<br />
and in the off hours I cozied up to Grandpa<br />
in the brown vinyl Barcalounger<br />
watching NHL, Wild Kingdom<br />
Barney Miller and ballet<br />
<br />
when I was nine I learned<br />
the meaning of passed away<br />
saw a stranger in a casket<br />
wearing Grandpa’s tie <br />
with the watercolor seagulls<br />
we still had sleepovers<br />
but Nana got up early<br />
cooked the eggs and bacon, while Max<br />
their long-suffering German shepherd<br />
wagged his tail, hoping for a handout<br />
<br />
within a year, someone broke in<br />
stole Grandpa’s distinguished flying cross<br />
along with some cash and jewelry<br />
Nana moved to a condo<br />
a few miles away<br />
and so ended the Christmas Café<br />
<br />
a few years ago I was in town, drove by<br />
the house is unrecognizable from the street<br />
and I can only wonder<br />
if it still has a bonus room in the basement<br />
with dry bar and pine paneling.chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-20218916601569414292013-04-04T15:31:00.002-07:002013-04-04T19:40:19.630-07:00NaPoWriMo #3: social mediaI have a love-hate relationship with the internet in general and social media in particular. I love how easy it is to keep in touch with my family, who have spread out in an ever-expanding manner. I love how easy it is to find facts, recipes, and educational resources. I'm finding lately, though, that I have much to regret: hours that I waste online, rather than being engaged with my family; how I allow my expectations for myself and those around me to be skewed by standards so completely disconnected with reality. It would be easy to make a break if it weren't for the benefits, so I'm struggling to find a balance.<br />
<br />
Today I read a post on Segullah, a blog for Mormon women, about <a href="http://segullah.org/slice-of-life/its-a-braggy-brag-world/">how we present ourselves on the internet</a>. It articulated nicely some of my main complaints about social media, and (somewhat surprisingly) inspired today's poem. It was interesting to me that many readers claimed to have no problem with viewing others' posts, pins or status reports and feeling jealous or perceiving them as trying to appear superior. So maybe it's just a few of us with weak character that struggle with it--on the other hand, I know I'm not the only one amongst my acquaintance because recently a good friend shared a link on Facebook to <a href="http://www.rageagainsttheminivan.com/2013/03/lets-bring-holidays-down-notch.html">this blog post </a>about how social media informs the way some of us feel like we are expected to go overboard in the way we celebrate holidays. Not that I agree with the entire post, but it raises interesting issues. Do I feel the need to compete with others to show I'm "doing it right"?<br />
<br />
Lest you think I'm casting stones, I freely admit to thinking almost all of the things I say below--so this is an indictment of myself, if you will.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Reality Check</b><br />
<b></b><br />
It’s a big, bad, braggety brag-brag world <br />
out there <br />
in the rarified air <br />
of the social media stratosphere<br />
full of tweets, reviews, pins, pix and posts<br />
look-at-me-look-at-me-look-at-me-me-me-me<br />
<br />
my kids are smarter than<br />
my boyfriend is hotter than<br />
my house is neater than<br />
my lunch is tastier than<br />
my garden is greener than<br />
my outfit is cuter than<br />
my carbon footprint is smaller than<br />
my recipe is better than<br />
my cat is fluffier than<br />
my crafts are more clever than <br />
yours<br />
<br />
please pay attention to<br />
who my friends are <br />
what politician I support<br />
where I went to high school<br />
what products I use<br />
where I went for dinner last night<br />
what I ate<br />
who I’m engaged to<br />
what game I’m playing<br />
where I shop<br />
who’s on my blog roll<br />
what I’m wearing<br />
where I went for spring break<br />
why this movie star is hot<br />
and that celebrity is an idiot<br />
and oh, yes<br />
how cute my baby is<br />
<br />
I’m so much more <br />
frugal fertile <br />
funny fashionable<br />
clever creative <br />
connected compassionate <br />
sweet skinny sincere <br />
socially aware<br />
political progressive<br />
healthy intelligent<br />
(and did I mention well-read?)<br />
than you<br />
<br />
some days it’s exhausting <br />
just hitting the on button<br />
but the part that gets me<br />
where it hurts<br />
is I allowing myself to get sucked in<br />
to buy into it, all of it<br />
every time the voice in my head<br />
responds with<br />
oh yeah?<br />
instead of good<br />
good for you<br />
every time I don’t just walk away<br />
every time I post or repin or share<br />
something that I think will make me<br />
look even better<br />
every time I try to edit<br />
or tweak <br />
or crop<br />
or spin<br />
or photoshop<br />
just to outdo someone else’s standard<br />
of how things should be<br />
because <br />
I’m making it my own <br />
impossibly high bar for being<br />
<br />
who do I think I’m fooling?<br />
that big, bad world <br />
or myself?chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-82857983789223844282013-04-03T17:24:00.000-07:002013-04-03T17:27:49.939-07:00NaPoWriMo #2: acrosticI went a bit nuts here, but it was hard to limit myself to just one word per letter on the subject in question.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><strong>Children<o:p></o:p></strong></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><strong>C</strong>haos, cheesy, curious,
cherish, clever, change, cheeky, crayons, cry, cuddles, crawl, choosy,
concrete, careful, crafty, calm, courteous, chickenpox, compassion, creativity,
cunning, conflict, chatty, complex, camping, cheerful, comics, conscious, cats,
cooperate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><strong>H</strong>appy, honest, helpful, hugs,
humbling, heart, hilarious, handprints, home, haircuts, high-spirited, harmony,
hunger, handkerchiefs, hardy, hurry, haven, headache, hotdogs, heaven, honey, hijinks,
holidays, hygiene, hiccups, hand-me-downs, heritage, hope<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><strong>I</strong>nnocence, intuitive,
inquisitive, important, imaginative, infuriating, intelligence, ice cubes, itchy,
intensity, inadequate, informant, impressionable, innovate, intrepid, impish, independent,
impulsive, indebted, ingenious, imperfect, inspiration, insects, intangible<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><strong>L</strong>abor, laughter, loud, learn,
legs, lullaby, laundry, lively, lesson, likable, lucky, lava, limber, lavish,
linear, loyal, lilting, loquacious, listen, library, life, limits, literal,
longing, loving, lucid, lyrical, lunacy, lemonade, loopy, loss, leap (before
you) look, longsuffering<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><strong>D</strong>etermined, deep, diapers,
dirt, dedication, delicate, daredevil, discipline, dear, delicious, dreams,
drawing, dandelions, dinner, devotion, driven, discovery, dinosaurs, development,
diligence, drama, delight, discern, demanding, defend, deprived (of sleep)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><strong>R</strong>owdy, running, reading, restless,
real, reasons, receptive, relax, routine, rollicking, respectful, responsive, rude,
rapid, ready, road-trip, rewarding, renewal, rocks, reliant, ride, resourceful,
rigorous, ridiculous, rip, roller-skating, ripe, rebellious, romp, replete<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><strong>E</strong>xpecting, eager, effervescent,
enervation, excitement, endurance, enthusiasm, engaged, elbows, extreme, entertaining,
emergency, education, expressive, eloquent, embarrassment, exhausting, empathy,
exacting, energy, excel, exploration, evolve, eternal<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><strong>N</strong>ew, nurture, needs, nose-kisses,
now, nursing, nonsense, nest, no, nape, nuggets, noble, nap, naïve, naughty, nightmares,
nutty, normal, natter, notebooks, nimble, naked, noisy, neurotic, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>nightlight, nose-picking, nebulous, necessity
(is the mother of invention) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-26360157051367441612013-04-01T11:13:00.000-07:002013-04-01T11:13:19.659-07:00NaPoWriMo #1: sick kidsHow ironic that as I look back to the last time I did NaPoWriMo (2011), <a href="http://chicklegirl.blogspot.com/2011/04/napowrimo-1-stomach-flu.html">the first poem I posted</a> was inspired by Audrey having stomach flu. 'Tis the season, I guess: she's had a cold for most of the past week, and now Joe and I are sick, too. Sadly, Sunday didn't feel much like Easter to me, since the kids and I stayed home from church to rest and recoup. <br />
<br />
It's always hard when babies are sick because they don't understand why they feel miserable, only that they do. I've been spending a lot of the time laying on the couch with Joe, rocking him to sleep so he can have some relief. I might enjoy getting to cuddle him more, if I didn't feel so lousy myself. The silver lining was a bit of poetic inspiration.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Easter</b><br />
<br />
A golden afternoon<br />
promises of summer in the wings<br />
I am aware, just barely<br />
of two older children<br />
laughing somewhere outside<br />
while I am stretched out on the couch <br />
with my youngest<br />
resting his sweaty head on my shoulder<br />
his hair plastered to my cheek <br />
<br />
after almost an hour <br />
of me rocking, wiping his runny nose<br />
of him squirming, coughing fretfully<br />
he has finally fallen asleep<br />
one clammy hand wrapped round <br />
a fistful of my hair<br />
I breathe in, but only half-way<br />
because if I let my lungs fill<br />
it will tickle my scratchy throat <br />
then my coughing <br />
will set him off coughing again, too<br />
so I breathe shallow, shift my legs slow<br />
so as not to wake him<br />
<br />
my step-mother<br />
who has no children of her own, says<br />
I don’t know how you do it<br />
how you care for them<br />
when you are sick <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;">at first I think<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #333333;"><i>I</i> don’t know how I do it<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;">but as my mind drifts between
dreams <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;">and waking I see<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;">the question is all wrong<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;">and when I know<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #333333;">the right question<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;">I can feel the answer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
i<span style="color: #333333;">n the intricate web <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;">of wrinkles, scars and callouses
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;">that cover my hands<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;">I can read the answer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #333333;">in the braille of my baby’s
spine<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;">as I run my finger lightly over the
vertebrae<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;">beneath the thin knit of his
shirt<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333;">I can hear the answer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #333333;">as I finally float off <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;">to the rollicking harmony of laughter
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
a<span style="color: #333333;">nd roller skates grinding down
the sidewalk:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
this is what I do.chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-73691697841849414642013-03-31T10:33:00.002-07:002013-03-31T10:49:24.284-07:00And now back to our regularly scheduled programming...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Poetry_Writing_Month">NaPoWriMo</a>? I know, I know. It's been a long time since I've actually posted, let alone posting poetry. In spite of--and perhaps <i>because</i> of--being incommunicado for so long, I'm quite excited for NaPoWriMo this year. For the past three weeks, I've been working on a fiction project (but that's another post) and after a very long time away from writing, I'm starting to get back into a routine again. My project is going well enough I think a month-long detour won't derail it, so I'm ready for the challenge. </div>
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Wait--did I just say that? Why yes, yes I <i>did</i>.</div>
<br />chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-71398139801131220332013-01-10T16:22:00.001-08:002013-01-10T16:38:06.926-08:002013: a sourdough odyssey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigT14KkiOLBHgiPHYJqiaZFy5By66tBLNt7nm2dnG_haQet7534YsfgziuvoFxSnbSYaN6qFfZjO1-OV8IW4Zjcc267H6nHiV6X2vZzc7sgid9ngzhLayfv9U2RzragOxuGjRP_imGMYtA/s1600/sourdough5point0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigT14KkiOLBHgiPHYJqiaZFy5By66tBLNt7nm2dnG_haQet7534YsfgziuvoFxSnbSYaN6qFfZjO1-OV8IW4Zjcc267H6nHiV6X2vZzc7sgid9ngzhLayfv9U2RzragOxuGjRP_imGMYtA/s320/sourdough5point0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Okay, so that may be a bit sweeping and dramatic--but the last few weeks have certainly been a <i>delicious </i>odyssey. Since <a href="http://chicklegirl.blogspot.com/2012/12/tightwad-tuesday-sourdough-attempt-1.html">my first foray into sourdough baking</a> in December, I've baked four more batches, making incremental progress each time. The wonderful thing is, even when things go wrong, the bread has still tasted great.<br />
<br />
My second attempt, a few days after the first, yielded a slightly more browned crust, thanks to a slower, longer rise. The loaves were soft and tasty, but still lacking a tangy sourdough flavor, so I went back to the sourdough blogs. <a href="http://www.sourdoughhome.com/index.php">Sourdough Home's</a> "<a href="http://www.sourdoughhome.com/index.php?content=starterprimer">starter primer</a>" in particular was quite helpful, as was <a href="http://www.wildyeastblog.com/">Wild Yeast's</a> post about <a href="http://www.wildyeastblog.com/2007/07/13/raising-a-starter/">raising a starter</a>.<br />
<br />
I learned I had been mistaken in thinking my starter wasn't the problem; a "starter" technically begins as a "culture", and then as it becomes healthy and established, it begins to develop the distinctive sour taste. Mine, only a few days old when I first used it, was far from being a starter--it was still a culture and as such, needed to be fed and tended until it could double itself in a twelve-hour period. Knowing that, I put off more baking to work on getting my starter going. <br />
<br />
Rather than going back to the beginning and making an entirely new starter from scratch, I just took what I had out of the refrigerator (which is where the instructions in <i>The Tightwad Gazette</i> said to store it) and started feeding it per the instructions in Sourdough Home's starter primer. In order to keep it in the warm temperature range recommended by the primer, I stored it in the warmest place in my kitchen: on top of the fridge. Finally, at the beginning of this week, my starter was doubling itself every twelve hours, so I felt ready for another try.<br />
<br />
I baked attempt #3 on Tuesday morning. At long last, sourdough flavor <i>and</i> a browned crust! I made a batard (oval loaf) and a boule (round loaf), but my dough ball, and later the loaves, developed a hardened "skin" during the rises. So for my fourth attempt, the next day, I baked a single loaf in a loaf pan and experimented with spritzing the towel that covered the dough with water while it rose. Still pretty dry, but getting closer.<br />
<br />
Today was my fifth attempt. I spritzed the dough with vegetable oil during the first rise, covered it loosely with plastic wrap, and spritzed it with oil again after shaping it into a loaf and letting it rise a second time. This worked well to prevent the dried skin on the dough, although I think halving the recipe (which I did just for the sake of not having too much bread on hand) didn't make quite enough dough for the size of bread pan I used. <br />
<br />
My latest loaf still tastes wonderful, though, and makes lovely sandwiches that my kids gobble up!chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-86968504189935341912013-01-06T23:41:00.001-08:002013-01-10T10:59:27.067-08:00A house in orderI've been meaning to post for a while, but having been sick off and (mostly) on since Thanksgiving, something had to give. Blogging was only one of several casualties.<br />
<br />
Around the last time I posted I realized I just didn't have the energy to do all the things I wanted to do for the holidays, so it was time to cut my losses and stick to the priorities: 1) teaching the kids their lessons until we (mercifully) hit winter break; 2) making balanced meals; 3) making sure there were clean dishes to eat the meals on; and 4) making sure there were clean clothes to have the meals spilled on. Only slightly lower on the priority list was making Christmas pajamas for each of the kids. Other than that, if it didn't happen, <i>oh well</i>.<br />
<br />
The great thing about lowered expectations is I'm seldom disappointed, no matter the outcome. We had a modest but lovely Christmas, scaled back from previous years in terms of quantity, but overflowing with all that mattered.<br />
<br />
My favorite thing about this Christmas was that as soon as we finished school on December 14th, the kids disappeared for the following week, holed up in our basement <i>atelier</i> making gifts for everyone in our family (including the cats) out of pipecleaners, beads, string and scotch tape. This resulted in Jimmy's first working invention: a cat toy made out of a single pipecleaner twisted into a ring. Something about the shape and fuzziness is irresistible to both of our cats, who've been chasing them all over the house for the last three weeks.<br />
<br />
Simple really is better.<br />
<br />
The week after Christmas, as I was putting away patterns and flannel scraps leftover from the Christmas jammies, and casting furtive, longing glances at the corner where the new dressform Santa brought me sat in its box, I had an "aha" moment. <br />
<br />
One of the things I love about this drafty, ramshackle old house we rent is it is big enough for me to have a room of my own, à la <a href="http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/w/woolf/virginia/w91r/">Virginia Woolfe</a>. It's a combination sewing room/office in a finished-off portion of what was once the root cellar, and lately the preferred hidey-hole for Santa to stash the kids' presents. As I was doing post-pajama clean-up, though, I realized that even with all the gifts cleared out it was still an unqualified disaster. I really, <i>really</i> wanted to set up my new dressform and get sewing so I could finish winter break doing a fun project just for me, but before I could even put it together, I knew I had to make a place to put it. <br />
<br />
Then it hit me: I am my sewing room. It is me. We are both a hot mess.<br />
<br />
Upstairs my house is moderately presentable. The living room, bathroom and dining room can be made company-ready in 20 minutes to a half-hour, tops. The kitchen, well, maybe an hour. The point is, I keep things functional and presentable up there so life can go on, even when I'm teaching phonics, refereeing squabbles, and dealing with teething babies. <br />
<br />
And that's pretty much how I work emotionally, physically, spiritually and intellectually--I do enough on the surface to be serviceable. I have down days and forget to pray or meditate, I get stressed out, I eat too much, I don't get enough exercise--but I'm basically a good person who helps other people, cares for my family, gives back the wrong change the cashier made and tries not to yell at my kids. Too much. In public.<br />
<br />
Below the surface, though--down in the basement, if you will--it's chaos. Things are out of place, neglected, haphazard. Boxes and bags and baskets--stacked every which way, filled with mementos, fabric, books, papers needing to be filed. A huge backlog of keep-or-toss. Because of that, I feel like I'm putting off doing the things I want to do because I haven't yet done the things I need to do, and <i>I don't want to live my life in a holding pattern</i>.<br />
<br />
After I had this realization, a phrase started echoing in my head: "Put your house in order, put your house in order." We were in Yakima all day running errands on New Year's Eve, and I couldn't get it out of my head. I knew there was <a href="http://www.lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/93.43?lang=eng#39">a scriptural reference</a>, and finally looked it up (thank you, smart phone). As I read the passage, rather than feeling behind the 8-ball, I was filled with an immediate sense of calm that I could go about this a little bit at a time, systematically, when I had small chunks of time between my other commitments.<br />
<br />
As <a href="http://chicklegirl.blogspot.com/2009/01/burning-down-house.html">I've said before</a>, I don't believe in resolutions--making the start of a new year an arbitrary time to implement changes--but now is the time for me to put my house in order so I can start living in ways I've been putting off because I had other things I "ought to do"' first.<br />
<br />
For the first time in months, I can see the top of my desk. It feels good.chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-51122589601362050492012-12-18T13:33:00.002-08:002012-12-18T13:43:02.242-08:00Tightwad tuesday: sourdough attempt #1I finally acquired the third volume of the <i><a href="http://chicklegirl.blogspot.com/2011/08/tightwad-tuesday-read-up.html">Tightwad Gazette</a>, </i>and have been enjoying it in sporadic bursts. About halfway through I found a recipe for sourdough bread (my favorite kind of bread, by the way) that the author assured her readers was not only inexpensive (less than 50 cents per loaf), but goof-proof.<br />
<br />
Maybe not.<br />
<br />
I carefully followed the instructions for creating starter, which my friend Carol, the bread guru, later explained to me was a "cheat" because yeast is actually one of the ingredients in the <i>Tightwad Gazette</i> recipe. Apparently "real" starter is made by cultivating the yeast that naturally occurs in flour or fruit, and has a mystique unto itself. Cheating aside, my starter wasn't the problem--but more on that later.<br />
<br />
The initial rising happened overnight, per instructions, and this morning when I got up I punched the dough down and formed it into two baguettes. <br />
<br />
My kitchen is cold and drafty, and especially so in winter, which makes it a hostile environment for yeast to proof. When I bake my regular wheat bread, I usually pre-heat the oven early, leave it open an inch or so, and let the bread rise on the stovetop. I figured the same would hold true for making sourdough, so for the second rising, I put the formed loaves on top of the stove while the oven pre-heated. <br />
<br />
The recipe instructed that the loaves should rise about four hours before baking, but within two hours, mine were rising so quickly that they were joining at the side. So I popped them in the oven, and my house quickly filled with the most delicious aroma--even better than my whole wheat bread.<br />
<br />
When the bread came out a half hour later I was slightly disappointed to see that the crust, while nice and chewy, was a rather anemic shade of beige. I whipped up a quick egg-white wash, brushed it on, and baked the loaves for another ten minutes, with only marginally improved results. The flavor, too, had a nice tang to it, but not the almost pungent flavor my tastebuds were anticipating.<br />
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One of the things I've discovered over the last few years of baking my own bread is that having a good recipe is only part of the equation for success. Methodology is often much more important than just the right ingredients in the right amounts. This is true in baking much moreso than cooking, since baking is more scientifically exacting, in that its success depends on the chemical reactions of the ingredients with their environment.<br />
<br />
So I've done some research on a few <a href="http://www.wildyeastblog.com/2007/07/13/raising-a-starter/">bread blogs</a> (<a href="http://www.sourdoughhome.com/index.php?content=trouble">blogs devoted to sourdough</a>--who knew?) and I think the immediate fix is to not let the bread rise on the stove. Apparently if the dough rises too quickly, the distinctive sourdough flavor doesn't have time to develop AND the yeast consumes the natural sugars in the dough, which would otherwise carmelize into a nice, brown crust.<br />
<br />
Besides sewing stockings and Christmas jammies, I think I've found my project for Christmas vacation: honing my sourdough skills. I see lots of French onion soup in my future...chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-44285992884594906712012-12-02T19:54:00.003-08:002012-12-02T19:55:28.674-08:00Advent, day 2We always read "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tale-Three-Trees-Traditional-Folktale/dp/0745917437/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1354506822&sr=1-1&keywords=tale+of+three+trees">The Tale of Three Trees</a>" and put up our Christmas tree on December 1st, as the first activity inside our advent calendar. Today's pocket on the calendar held a tiny candy cane and a slip of paper that said, <i>The candy cane is shaped like a shepherd’s crook, used to bring lambs back into the fold. It is a reminder that we are all our brother’s keeper. Put the candy canes on the tree.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
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chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-88258696302265532642012-11-27T17:02:00.000-08:002012-11-28T11:43:42.854-08:00LV-AZ trip, part 2The second destination on our trip was the Grand Canyon. From Hoover Dam, we drove southeast on U.S. 93 to Kingman, then east on I-40 to Williams, where we headed north on U.S. 64 toward <a href="http://www.nps.gov/grca/index.htm">Grand Canyon National Park</a>.<br />
<br />
We stayed for two nights at the <a href="http://www.hiexpress.com/hotels/us/en/grand-canyon/gcnaz/hoteldetail">Holiday Inn Express</a> in Tusayan, just a few miles from the park's south entrance (on the canyon's south rim). When we checked in, the front desk clerk immediately offered us a free upgrade from our economy room with two queen beds to one with a king bed and "kid suite" with bunk beds. The kids were thrilled by the adventure of bunk beds and Jim and I, well, we were thrilled to have a room to ourselves, too. I cannot say enough good things about the hotel staff--but more on that later.<br />
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I was the only one who had been to the Grand Canyon before, but it took my breath away again. And again. <br />
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Several months before the trip, I had looked at the park's website and determined that the best way for the kids to appreciate the canyon (and be learning while we were there) would be to walk along the <a href="http://tot.unm.edu/">Trail of Time</a>. <br />
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When they're a bit older, perhaps a hike down into the canyon, or even a mule trip would be fun--but with Joe mostly in a stroller and Audrey being at best a reticent hiker, the Trail of Time was just our speed. We spent the morning of our only full day at the canyon on the trail, which took us about an hour and a half round-trip, not counting the time we spent at the Yavapai Geology Museum before we turned around and headed back.<br />
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The trail's a well-constructed geological timeline of the canyon (one long step = 1 million years) with samples of rock from each of the main layers from the Elves Chasm Gneiss on the canyon floor (1,840 million years old) all the way to the top layer, called the Kaibab Formation (a mere 270 million years old).<br />
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Jimmy and Audrey each had their own favorite rocks. <br />
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The kids also enjoyed getting occasional glimpses of local fauna.<br />
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Best of all, the entire length (1.6 miles) of the trail is paved, which made it easy on the feet of even our littlest hiker.<br />
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After lunch and some souvenir shopping, we drove east along the south rim via Desert View Drive, trying to find a good view of the Colorado River for Jimmy.<br />
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We stopped at several turnouts along the road, but Desert View and the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/grca/photosmultimedia/colter_wt_photos.htm">watchtower</a> proved to be the perfect vantage for Jimmy to get his elusive view of the Colorado meandering along the floor of the canyon.<br />
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We had no idea this idyllic drive in the lovely light of late afternoon would be the last time everyone would feel good enough to enjoy the scenery. Within a half hour, Audrey lost her lunch in the back seat of our minivan. <br />
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Thanks to some good Samaritans in the parking lot of the Grand Canyon General Store, we got bleach wipes and a chamois to clean up the first few waves of puke. One of the store employees suggested Audrey might have altitude sickness, which he said many visitors experienced because the altitude at the south rim was over 7,000 feet above sea level. He gave us a roll of paper towels, which we layered on Audrey's seat for the drive back to the hotel. I improvised a barf bucket from one of the kid's plastic trick-or-treat pumpkins.<br />
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By the time we got back to the hotel, Audrey had used the pumpkin several times, so Jim herded the boys upstairs to our room and I kept her with me so she could get some fresh air while I cleaned out the minivan. Fortunately, our parking spot was right in front of the open door to the hotel laundry services room, and one of the laundry ladies noticed our plight and came out to see if I needed help. With her limited English and my limited Spanish, I managed to explain what happened and ask for some cleaning supplies. She gave me everything she had access to, including a big handful of washcloths, some shampoo, disinfectant, a box of Kleenex and a roll of trash bags. She also let me come and go to the utility sink to rinse out the washcloths and then put them in a big rolling laundry bin. <br />
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Thanks to that lovely laundry lady, I got the seat and carpet well scrubbed. Then I carried Audrey back up to our room, gave her a bath and put her to bed. Later, the front desk staff connected me with the housekeeping manager, who loaned me a nice big bottle of Febreeze so I could attack the minivan and beat back the sick smell for our six-hour drive to Tucson the next day.<br />
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So, if you're ever at the Grand Canyon and need a place to stay that will take good care of you (when you're barfing or otherwise), Holiday Inn Express has got you covered. chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-56689402292744029062012-11-26T18:34:00.000-08:002012-11-26T19:36:12.212-08:00Christmas is coming......in less than a month! I started my Christmas sewing on Saturday, turning some gold-colored brocade from my fabric stash into a tree skirt. In former lifetimes it has been both pillow shams and a valance above our shower. A little Velco, a little gold braid (and a whole lot of calculating and then recalculating the diameter of the circle based on the amount of gold braid I had to go around the circumferance) and <i>voilà</i>! Things old are new again.<br />
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Next up: stockings for me and Jim. I made our original stockings back in 1996 and they're just so... 90s. You know, earth-tone red and green plaids with pine trees and hearts. I wanted something a little more expressive of our personalities, so over the last few months I bought some <a href="http://i.ebayimg.com/t/Simpsons-Christmas-Stripe-Bart-Homer-Marge-Lisa-Cotton-Fabric-BTY-N3-/00/s/MTIwMFgxNjAw/$(KGrHqR,!roE-Yzw6fBRBPy84JsJzg~~60_57.JPG">Simpsons Christmas fabric</a> for Jim and <a href="http://img1.etsystatic.com/005/0/5368406/il_fullxfull.367471113_31sf.jpg">sock monkey Christmas fabric</a> for me.<br />
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Today I started planning<a href="http://chicklegirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/mom-is-it-christmas-yet.html"> our yearly advent calendar</a> line-up, inspired by <a href="http://playfullearning.net/handmade-advent-calendar-24-holiday-activities/">this post</a> at <a href="http://playfullearning.net/">Playful Learning</a>. Our annual favorites will be back, including:<br />
<ul>
<li>putting up the tree on December 1st</li>
<li>reading about the history and significance of Christmas symbols such as the wreath, the candle and the star</li>
<li>making Christmas cookies</li>
<li>hanging our stockings</li>
<li>visiting the local animal shelter with donations for needy critters </li>
</ul>
This year I'll be adding some new activities:<br />
<ul>
<li>making Christmas cards for teachers</li>
<li>reading about the history of the winter solstice</li>
<li>decorating ice cream cone Christmas trees (instead of the usual gingerbread houses)</li>
<li>creating ornaments for grandparents</li>
</ul>
and the one I'm really excited about (because Audrey suddenly has a wild hair that she wants to eat tamales after we learned about them for Día de los Muertos) ...<br />
<ul>
<li> learning about how Las Posadas is celebrated in Mexico and <i>making tamales</i></li>
</ul>
So many things to look forward to!chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-53410766372419531032012-11-25T12:03:00.001-08:002012-11-25T12:07:12.511-08:00Thanksgiving mulligan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I would have thought being sick once already this month had earned me a by, but no. A week ago Jimmy came down with a cold, and I followed suit within a few days. I was so sick I stayed home from Thanksgiving dinner at Jim's folks', since I didn't want to share the love with a sister-in-law who is due with twins the first week in December.<br />
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Thank goodness for Jim wanting to get a turkey of our own to cook so we could have leftovers (since his mom was making the bird this year). Now that I'm on the mend, we're having a little do-over feast of our own. I just took the pie out of the oven, and Jim's getting ready to drain the brine off the turkey and put it in.<br />
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My nose is still a bit stuffy, but I can smell the nutmeg, ginger and cinnamon... aaaahhh.chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-46529669580186689382012-11-18T17:11:00.003-08:002012-11-26T22:31:57.429-08:00LV-AZ trip, part 1At
the beginning of the year we found ourselves with an unexpected surplus
of funds, which I talked Jim into earmarking for a trip to visit my
dad and
step-mom, who moved to Tucson around the same time we moved to
Ellensburg. We see them several times a year, but the visits are
usually short--often when they are passing through on the way to
or from Seattle. Three years ago Dad was diagnosed with kidney cancer
and is now in remission, and I didn't want to wait any longer for a
nice, relaxed visit at their place so the kids could build some fun
memories.<br />
<br />
In the ensuing months, we looked at
different options and finally decided to fly into Las Vegas, where Jim's
brother John lives with his family, and rent a car there for the drive to Arizona, with some
sight-seeing along the way. We tried to strike a balance between fun time with family and educational experiences for Jimmy and Audrey, so they'd still be learning even while we took two weeks off from our regular school schedule.<br />
<br />
After trying (and failing) to find good
airfares for the beginning of September, we moved the trip to
the end of October, which proved to be a perfect time to travel--great
weather, moderate temperatures, and no crowds at any of the more
touristy places we went.<br />
<br />
We flew from Pasco to Las Vegas on the Monday before Halloween. Jimmy was immediately mesmerized by all the lights, and especially by the Stratosphere. "Las Vegas is <i>beautiful</i>," he enthused. I'm glad he's young enough for it to be magical; it isn't for me anymore.<br />
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Tuesday afternoon we wandered around the more G-rated portion of the Strip, visiting the
M&M and Coca-Cola factory stores and the fountain show at Bellagio, which was the highlight of the day.<br />
<br />
On
the afternoon of Halloween, we went to the <a href="http://www.springspreserve.org/index.html">Springs Preserve</a> (which I highly recommend) with the
kids' Aunt Chantalle and cousins Mariska and Jack. Unfortunately,
because the preserve was hosting a Halloween party that evening,
they closed at 3 p.m. We only got to spend about an hour and a
half there, just long enough to look around the Origen Museum. <br />
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The kids
particularly enjoyed a simulated flash-flood exhibit, but we're definitely going
to have to go back on our next trip so they can see the outside
collections of wildlife and local habitats.<br />
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That evening, the kids dressed up and went trick-or-treating with their cousins. <br />
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Bright and early Thursday morning, we hit the road. Mid-morning we stopped at <a href="http://www.usbr.gov/lc/hooverdam/">Hoover Dam</a> to look around and let the kids stretch their legs. The last time I drove over the dam was in the late 90s, when it was still on the main route of U.S. 93 to Arizona.<br />
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While the visitor center offers tours, we decided that the kids' limited attention spans and our need to get back on the road would make it more prudent to look around on our own--which we did, and it was a good call. <br />
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Jimmy was fascinated by the history of the dam and completely engrossed by all the informative plaques posted at various points. <br />
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However, by the time we got halfway across (where we could have one foot in Nevada and one in Arizona), Audrey was done and ready to head back to the car for a snack.<br />
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The new bridge was really spectacular from below, but sadly, we couldn't see beyond the high barriers on each side as we drove over it and into Arizona toward the Grand Canyon.</div>
chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-30123939619129559482012-11-18T16:15:00.001-08:002012-11-18T16:16:30.328-08:00One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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More birthday goodness from the draft vault (now that he just turned 14 months two days ago). Better late than never, right?chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1183523477304220340.post-68013689976525409712012-11-18T16:11:00.001-08:002012-11-18T16:13:07.878-08:00Five<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Look what I found when I went back through a folder of drafts I had never posted! It's two and a half months late, but feast your eyes on the fabulous cake Jim decorated for Audrey. How-to <a href="http://lifehacker.com/5926056/decorate-a-cake-using-a-coloring-book-page">here</a>.chicklegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03000215636803243874noreply@blogger.com0