04:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
Camille called me on Saturday and said, "Mom, something really horrible has happened."
Haley Gans, the 14 year old little sister of Camille's high school classmate, Rebekah, left the world Friday morning, after a tragic ski accident in Colorado. A promising skater, experienced skier, wearing a helmet, gleefully enjoying the opening of ski season at Breckenridge.
I'm trying not to ask, "WHY?????" and accept the unknown reason, far greater than I.
Please light a candle and say a prayer for this beautiful, joyful child gone too soon...and her family.
09:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
How many birthday parties has a mother of five children thrown over the last 39 years? Let's see if I can remember Brooke's anyway...
One: Huge family party in our tiny little apartment in San Mateo. Balloons, cake, gifts galore. Who was there that might be reading this? Well, Brooke, of course. Mike. Susan. Jami. Diane. Alice. Wendy. Larry. Robin. Erika. Nicole. I remember her birthday dress. I think she has it now...
Two: A party in the party room in Nanny and papa's apartment building on Burlingame Avenue. Mostly mamas and babies. I made each child a clown bib to wear. Wendy. Alice. Jami. Erika. Nicole. Robin. That night we drove to Nanny and Papa's place in tahoe with friends for a weekend of snow play.
Three: A costume pizza party at the local pizza place on Burlingame Avenue. A Round Table, I think. Brookie was a clown. Brooke and her daddy. Wendy. Alice. Jami. Erika. Nicole. Robin.
Four: A great family and friend party in our little duplex near the railroad tracks in San Bruno. The usual crowd but now add Shannon and Danielle!
Five: Yep. A regular kid's birthday party again, but now we are inviting school chums from Kindergarten. (Same house in San Bruno, believe it or not!)
Six: A small gathering of little friends around our round kitchen table on Hobart Street in San Mateo. Now add in Lake.
Seven: I remember your First Holy Communion, but not your bday!
Eight: Hot chocolate and donuts to her classroom on a cold November morning in Mountain View. And then her best friend from kindergarten, Gwen, came for a slumber party weekend with Brooke since we had moved away.
Nine: We were in Nevada City and Brooke attended the home birth of her cousin, Anya, who turned 30 yesterday. She awoke to a rich, red placenta in the freezer when she poked her head in! In hindsight, Brooke became one of the women of our tribe during her nine year change. Cousin Diane had a beautiful fresh peach and whipped cream cake for Brookie.
Ten: Living in Sonoma now. A surprise slumber party with a visiting magician. Zak you are at this party too!
Eleven: A trip to San Francisco with Deanna for hot fudge sundaes at the Ghiradelli Chocolate Factory. Brooke go sick on the way home and barfed mint chocolate green all over the lamp post on Lombard Street.
Twelve:
Thirteen: Junior High. First boy/girl party! The details are foggy. Probably unconsciously by choice. But Rog and I were very aware chaperones, but inconspicuously in the back room and someone's mom came ranting down the hall at us. Was that what's her name that works at Freidmans Lumber now and absolutely loves our family?
Fourteen: I know Alex was invited to this one.
Fifteen:
Sixteen: Sunday afternoon Sweet Sixteen party. Family. Friends. Boyfriend much too old for Brooke. Champagne toast. Luncheon.
Seventeen: Brooke wins a beauty pageant today. She is lovely, poised and sincere. I couldn't be more proud of who she is, inside and out.
Eighteen: Brooke is away at UCSB. I make the road trip down the coast to Santa Barbara to wish her a happy birthday. I don't think it was on the actual day. Six week old Camille comes along with her brothers and I, and wishes her a happy birthday too!
OK...not perfect, but not bad for a mama who has celebrated a total of 149 birthdays with her children over the last 39 years. Can anyone fill in the blanks here? Brookie? I know there had to be a roller skating party and slumber parties in here too.
And last night I spoke with her little six year old son on the telephone, and he told me so fast and excitedly all about the balloons and chocolate chip ice cream sandwiches and gifts and cards they surprised their mama with in Vancouver yesterday. I got all misty, and full-up with joy...because of the unbridled joy in his giving, his beauty and sincerity, and because the legacy of celebrating those we love lives on...
08:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)
I turned 56 yesterday. Welcome dear laugh lines and crinkling/twinkling crow's feet. I love you.
Another good thing about being 56 is daring political correctness to bite me in the ass. Never in a disrespectful way, or regarding hurtful things, but I'm just sayin. I don't worry as much about the things of personal choice that really don't hurt anyone. Like early Christmas decorations for one thing. I'm right there with the nay-sayers when Easter shows up in February, or when you go into Target for a wading pool for the kids and see pumpkins and witches.
But just yesterday we walked into Cost Plus and were surrounded with sights and smells that made my heart sing. Maybe it's because I'm so into handmade gifts and need a jump on the season. Maybe it's because much of my life is viewed through the eyes of children. And maybe it's just because. Because I LOVE CHRISTMAS. Or any of the seasonal fetivals of light for that matter.
With my children, in my home when they were growing up there was a strict rule I followed: no Christmas talk until after November 28, which is son Alex's birthday. We have three November birthdays so the month was dedicated to thoughts and celebrations with a birthday flair. But now that they're grown up I no longer try to contain myself. Plus, since we are currently all so far apart it takes some orchestration of visits and mailed Christmas boxes where visits just can't happen.
But honestly, I know this year will be different. I just know it. Everyone is planning on surprising me with a visit to spend Chrismas together. I just know it. Brooke? Matt? Alex? Zak? Heather? Camille? Sarah? Mike? C'mon. Yesterday was my birthday....
And back to my birthday: it was a wonderfully simple day. Shannon, Isaac, Ike and Fiona took me out to a late lunch, early supper of Indian food. Then we all went to Molly's Cupcakes for decadent cupcakes and lattes. They have board games there, so Ike and Isaac played a couple rounds of Connect Four. Shannon and I just gabbed, coffee ramble style. Then back to their house to open my gifts. Oh. My. Goodness. Ike made me the most beautiful things: Thoughtfully collected leaves, beautiful red and gold leaves, fastened to gnarled sticks. And a drawing of a bear (he knows it is my favorite animal), a purple bear, with little leaves lining his back and his snout that were "the fur". Such beautiful thoughts from a grandson. He could barely contain his joy and pride. He talked about these gifts all day long. But you don't know the best part....when he sat down to create my gifts he couldn't find glue. So, he used blue painter's masking tape!
And the hand drawn wrapping paper...with bee and bird, gnome and angel (all the things he knows I love)...and more blue tape....
Happy Saturday everyone! Now I go to knit: Christmas gift.
Oh wait! I want to share with you a little knitting mojo that has been going on. I finished Satchel's Grade One sweater. Pattern: Knitting Pure and Simple's "Children's Tunic Sweater". I revised the hood so it would fit very well. Nothing more frustrating than a skimpy hood that doesn't work. I knitted it out of the same "Dream in Color" washable, hand dyed wool that I made Ike's sweater last year. Colorway: Strange Harvest.
When we were at Ike's school yesterday he was wearing his sweater and his teacher noticed he blended right in with the changing leaves. I noticed that too while knitting both sweaters. It's really a beautifully varigated yarn that doesn't pool or obviously stripe. I absolutely love this yarn for children's garments. And it's local to Chicago and it can be thrown in the washer and the dryer.
And while I didn't knit for Temple, I did create a recycled angora capelet with an unconstricting, drapy hood to wear as a "blanket" over everything else on very cold days.
Now back to Christmas.
05:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)
I live a couple of blocks from the 294 now, so I pass under the bridge of the overpass everytime I walk or drive away. During the summer the homeless folks have wonderful little campsites set up. They appear happy and mingle together in their own little neighborhood. I imagine them sharing stories of the lives from which they came and their hopes and dreams. Their beds are tidily made and their "homes" are in order. Just like I love trailers, I find these handmade habitats some kind of romantic. When I was a little girl I dreamed of being a hobo, riding the rails and heating up cans of stew on campfires.
But now it's cold, the temperature is dropping daily and the rain has been heavy. Last night there was a man walking down my street with a shopping cart full of soggy...stuff. I don't know what kind of stuff, and even though he tried to cover it with large black garbage bags it looked wet and sad. I wondered and worried that there was no way for him to dry it out in this weather. Folks in the handmade Bridge Neighborhood turn in much earlier these days, I'm guessing to get warm. I'm praying not because they are so hungry they just want to sleep and not feel their bellies grumbling. And blankets are coming out. And it touches my heart and soul because you know people are caring and bringing blankets by. Several fluffy, white comforters; I see the jacquard comforter I asked Shannon and Isaac to drop by, draped over someone curled up in the fetal position of sleep. There was a woman handing out what looked like burritos wrapped in tin foil from the trunk of her car. I don't know Chicago all that well, but it seems to me that the "law" is very tolerant in the face of need. And the folks living under the bridge are doing so respectfully. It's clean under there. And I see people talking with each other and smiling. I have yet to see even one drunk and disorderly situation.
I feel embarassed when I catch myself being the Looky Loo. But I am taken by this living situation. I wonder what I can do and where the boundaries of human respect lie. If I did this would I offend? If I did that, would I be negligent? I don't know. And I don't know where to find out. I always look an obvious homeless person in the eye and offer a smile in passing, but I never strike up conversation. Should I? I always have a question in my head of proper action. The other night I walked the dog up to Chipotle for a burrito bowl to go. While walking home I thought to myself, if someone asks me for money I'm going to give them this hot meal. No one asked but would that have been appropriate if I did? What if I started eating it and didn't feel hungry so took it to go? Would offering that be appropriate? If I have an extra 10 bucks do I give it to the first person who asks or do I get 10 ones, or do I go to McDonalds and buy 10 one buck hamburgers to share? If I don't eat McDonalds do I offer it to the folks *I* think are hungry?
I tell myself I think too much and I should just follow my gut. But, my full, content, digesting gut just doesn't know the answer.
08:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
There is a part of me that wishes I would have moved to Chicago back in the 70's when I was beginning my family. Now California is home to everyone and this is a far away mysterious place that consumed their mother/lover/friend for a very long time. I really think this would have been a great place for us to be family. I love the treat to my senses this place brings.
I wouldn't have said that mid-summer, but just now walking Twyla, now with the vibrant world of fall foliage, the smell of wood burning, large brick houses with golden lights glowing in the windows, pumpkins and mums on the porches....I want all those I love here with me.
Two blocks west and I turn the corner onto Damen and there is another world coexisting. A world of valet parking attendants and couples sipping wine inside windows at white draped tables with candles and a fireplace snapping in the bar. There is the smell of steak on the grill and Italian food and ribs from the barbeque joint. I glanced into the window of an old real estate office: cluttered, stuffy looking, straight 1950's. I longed to find Andy griffith on the TV when I got home. Chicago is a great place.
Today was apple picking in Hobart, Indiana. Cold, very cold in the morning becoming more comfortable as the day played on. So many kinds of apples to sample and choose. An inviting orchard where I'm sure Ike and Fiona truly saw gnomes and fairies. I'm sure of it.
And bees. Hives that serve the pollination of the orchards and make for some delicious honey. Did you know that when bees get back to the hive, they dance in a certain pattern (do figure 8's, circle around so many times, etc) to tell the other bees where the good flowers are?
And damn, the donuts. Hot, spicy apple donuts. My old friend and co-teacher, George, who is from Michigan, told me that these donuts were a midwest thing. I didn't quite get it until I tasted one myself. What else? they sold apple wood for your fireplace. Most branches hung low and the children could do plenty of picking.
May the blessings of the season fill you up.
06:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)
I'm looking out the window and the rain is falling again. It's cold. Very cold for October. Just fine with me, but who's asking? Little Jahan is sick: runny nose, fever, chills. Lethargic. I arrived at 6:15 this morning, offerd him oatmeal which he loves, yet refused. By 7:30 he was back to sleep in my arms in the rocking chair. It's going to be a stay warm inside day of loving this little guy up.
Last weekend Ike and I drove out to Utica and picked up my new little dog, Twyla Dancer.
Yep, hippie name to the max. But the name she came with had to be changed, it was truly a porn star name: Darcie Dancer. C'mon. She responded well. I guess she felt she got some of her self respect back. She's sensitive about her unneutered state. Speaking of unneutered, I considered breeding her one time before I have her spayed and son Alex called me a Fascist so I changed my mind rather quickly. I don't know if he's right about the Fascist thing, but he is right that there are already too many uncared for dogs on the planet that need homes before breeding more. Anyway, she's pretty fun. A papered Havanese. This breed is non-shedding and hypoallergentic. Her coat is shiny silver (very silky shiny) on the top and dark underneath. Just like me. This breed is also known for its relaxed fly away appearance even when perfectly groomed. Again, just like me. Her eyelashes are Disney perfect, dark, one half inch long, feathering out in perfect symmetry from her snout. She has only barked a handful of times which is more like a low, warning growl with some sneeze-like thing at the end. And the things she barks at? The puddle of water rippling in the wind and Ike's crayon that rolled across the floor and under the couch.
While we were in Utica we took the opportunity to hike at Starved Rock State Park. A fluttering, golden world in the throws of fall.
And the rock formations along the creekbed mysteriously ancient with orange and red metalic watermarks where the running water has eroded its walls.
Ike had a hitch in his git-a-long so we took no time to read the history of the area; we spent all of our time on the path, in the park, along the river chatting with fishermen, and in the drying creekbeds.
The Illinois River runs adjacent to the park and the little town of Utica itself, before you journey up the winding road to the trail heads and lodge, is quaint and inviting. It appears to generally be the home of artists with such things as bottle trees and teepees in the yards.
I think one of the greatest lessons learned while studying to be a Waldorf teacher was that nature heals and restores your etheric body. With proof of this knowledge, practiced and lived throughout my years since, there is nowhere that I go where even if hard to come by, the tiniest bit of nature pokes its head up and calls to me. And I follow. And when evening comes, I travel home all the more whole.
This weekend probably more of the same, but closer by. Or movies and knitting and cooking a meal from my new cookbook. I joined a book club, I need to read. I wanted to go apple picking but I don't know if that is still even an option the way the weather has been. I'll have to find out. Suffice it to say it will be filled with good things.
I wish you were here stevematts.
11:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
I have to share this with you! My measly little 21 things I love about Camille pales in comparison to big sister's 21st birthday scavenger hunt for her baby sister! Here is what Brooke sent to Camille:
Happy Birthday Camille! 21 Things To Do Before you are Twenty-Two.
A Scavenger Hunt for Camille Agnes Volz on her Twenty First Birthday.
With Love, From her Oldest Sister, Brooke Who Has (Unfortunately, Already) Been There and Done That. (And one Bonus Item From Matt.)
1. Go Skinny Dipping. Just do it already. (Especially while you still have great tits. At 40 - kids or no kids - they might not be so great. Trust me.)
2. Develop your alcohol vocabulary. Make it a point to try one classic cocktail from each family of booze. Some suggested cocktails that a newly inaugurated drinker might like:
*Gin Fizz/Gin & Tonic
*Margartia/Tequila Gimlet
*Vodka Lemondrop
*Whiskey Sour/Jack & Coke
*Mojito
*Mimosa
*Sangria
*Pink Wine in a Box (just ask Shannon )
Whatever anyone else says, do NOT - I repeat - do NOT ruin yourself with Long Island Iced Teas, Sex on the Beach, Fuzzy Navels, Jungle Juice or any other alcoholic concoction that mixes more than 2 liquors at a time. Stay away from lots of sugar. It's the sugar that'll make you barf.
You may also want to go international and try more obscure tastes like:
*Absinthe
*Campari
*Lillet
*Limoncello
*Ouzo
*Mint Julep
*Kutakoo
* Bangui
But have a foreign man paying for these drinks if you do.
3. Make a list of 5 things you are really afraid to try (oysters on the half shell, skydiving, taking a calculus class, audtioning for the Spring musical, asking a guy for his phone number, rollerblading on Venice Beach ...)
4. Do at least one of them before your next birthday.
5. Create a vision board of what you want your life to look like at 30.
6. Make a list of 10 things you can do between now and then to make these dreams come true.
7. Buy one set of really sexy lingerie - preferably French made.
8. Put them on and let Heather take an artistic photo of you wearing them. You can hide the photos for now but one day, I promise, you will want to see what your scantily clad body looked like at 21.
9. Write a one sentence biography of each year of your life. Frame it.
10. Rudolf Steiner says that we truly become adults at 21. Until 21, we receive from the world around us, absorbing knowledge and gathering resources. At 21, we begin giving back to the world. What is your greatest gift to the world? Make a painting of this gift.
11. Time for more Ink! What began at 18 with your initiation as "Littlest Sister" can continue. Get a tattoo that celebrates and captures who you are at 21.
12. Plan and take an overnight trip all by yourself...a cheap motel in Santa Cruz , camping at Stewart Hot Springs, a hostel in Lake Tahoe ...Just do it. And don't forget the ipod playlist that will be your very own soundtrack.
13. Make an appointment at the MAC counter at Nordstroms in S.F. and let them re-create your look for the day. It is free and who knows what vixen might be waiting to come out!
14. Choose one: Have your palm read, get a tarot reading or let someone analyze your astrological chart.
15. Take any personality or physical typing tests you can: Meyers-Briggs, Strong-Campbell, Enneagram, Ayurvedic Doshas, the Four Humors, etc....don't take it too seriously, but see what these tests say about you.
16. Once a month, tell someone something that makes your heart race and your stomach full of butterflies (I love you, Fuck Off, You Broke My Heart…)
17. Ride a roller coaster. Go to Great America and re-live the Grizzly that scared you so much when you were 6.
18. Choose a charity you belive in and make a donation - even if it is only $5 - in celebration of your birthday and yourself.
19. Perfect a signature dish that people count on you to make - a lush salad with your own personal twist, decadent blueberry muffins with a crunchy, sugary top, the perfect, cheesy lasagne, a cheesecake that does not crack, tender and juicy pot roast....practice until you find one you like. Then make it yours.
20. Plan, organize and host a dinner party. Come up with a guest list, create your menu, plan decorations, make a seating chart, serve your signature dish and one cocktail that you have learned to like. Put on a dress and lipstick. Take photos. Enjoy!
21. Document your 21st year in photos. Take a photo each month for the next 12 months. Start today - 09/30/09 at 9:30:09 pm and take one each month on the 30th at the same time. See who shows up.
22. (From Matt) Stay up all night and watch Saw I - IV.
Happy Birthday Camille! It is 12:10. Sending you love and happy wishes on this special birthday.
I want a big sis like Brookie next time around!
05:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
21 things I love about Camille in honor of her 21st birthday:
1. Her forgiving heart.
2. Her incognito wicked wit.
3. Her beautiful blue eyes.
4. Her hairbrushing talent.
5. Her strength of character.
6. Her artistic talent.
7. Her unconditional loyalty.
8. Her dependability.
9. Her graceful hands.
10. Her ability to laugh at herself.
11. Her softness.
12. Her sense of style.
13. Her beautiful hair.
14. Her devotion to and love for family.
15. Her patience and self-control.
16. Her tuna casserole.
17. Her gardening skills (even though she hates that I know that)
18. Her freckle on her knee.
19. Her ability to laugh often and hard.
20. Her handwriting.
21. Her childlike enthusiasm for all things fun!
Enjoy your birthday dinner and your ferry ride in to San Francisco to PARTAAAY tonight 21 year old.
BOOYEAH!
xoxoxoxoMom
09:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Did this really happen, or was I so tired from a 65 hour week that it was an hallucination?
I was checking out at the grocery store last night and the checker, Michelle, asks me, as she swipes my black licorice through, "Have you ever bought the Twizzler brand of black licorice and eaten the whole box?"
My answer was no, I liked the Red Vine brand because Twizzler was too waxy.
She said, "Well, like I told my husband, you should try it. Eat the whole thing in one night and then the next morning your crap will be green."
This was my first time shopping at a new market by my new place and I had never seen this woman before. It was after-work-busy and very crowded. Then she looks at my receipt to see my name, like they do at all Dominicks (Safeways) and says, "Thank you Mrs. Frost." The young blushing bagger just looks at me and shrugs her shoulders. And off I go.
I kid you not.
07:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)