Tribeca Film Festival Favorites

I saw something about the Tribeca Film Festival on Access Hollywood and couldn't help but remember what fun we had last year...this is James, Mia, and Andrew being flanked by the paparazzi. They had faux photographers and a red carpet the kids could walk. They had tents filled with fun activities for kids - like stickers and a story board to map out your own movie. What fun!

And what fun now that Abbie is home! Hooray for family.

See's Suckers

I remember biking to Stanford to get See's Candy when I was just old enough to start going places alone...it still holds a special place in my heart and my tummy. The Butterscotch is my still my favorite. And two is better than one if you ask Chase.

Alright, enough posts for one day! I'm just trying to fill the reservoir...my family starts arriving Monday!

Scars

Little eyes notice the smallest things. There is genuine concern for the smallest scrapes and cuts. I watched as Chase found a scar on his Grandpa's arm - a motorcycle scar from many years ago. He carefully touched it, almost in reverence for what could have caused such a lasting mark.

I couldn't help but think of my own scars. Of course, the biggest I wear is a gash across my right thigh. The final reminder that I did, in fact, crash through a sliding glass door when I was eight. The story begins and ends when I mistakenly thought the door was open and hurried to be first outside. And although, the smaller cuts from the glass have long since vanished, this one clearly never will. A reminder of a mistake.

The emotional scars are of course deeper, but fewer in number. And sometimes they don't reflect personal mistakes - just deep sorrows and pains - the price of being human.

I think that's why I like this idea so much. I found it in a novel several years ago and was given the gift of new sight...

"Some people see scars and it is wounding they remember. To me they are proof of the fact that there is healing." Linda Hogan

Healing...what a gift. Somehow it allows me to find beauty in the gash I see as a part of me - a wonderfully strong, healed part of me. Its not the same, but almost better, because it shows that I fought a battle and came through mended.

Looks Can Be Deceiving

Nope, its not fall - the leaves are just leaving the confused oak tree bags at a time. But I'll take an autumn day here and there. Besides, I like to put my kids to work.

Midnight Mischief

I have been busily digging through old photos for the wedding, and last night I came across this beauty. We were preparing for some serious toilet papering - in wigs. I am safely behind the camera but I see siblings, neighbors, and even a college roommate!

iTunes - miss stefani

My Chase loves The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani. He sings the...
"Whohoe, whihooWhohoe, whihooWhohoe" part over and over. There is just something about a catchy tune - it doesn't matter how old you are - when it sticks, it sticks.

Ask Angie - Potty Training

Here's how it works - anyone can ask questions: specific or general, privately in an email or in the comments below, as long as its kid related. After I give the question some serious thought - I'll give my best answer - not theoretical - but at least one solid suggestion - something unique - something you haven't read everywhere. And then, everyone can chime in - if you agree or disagree - or perhaps you have another suggetsion. My feelings won't be hurt because I'm just wanting to help and maybe one of you have a better plan. My ultimate wish is that Ask Angie posts are a safe place to ask and discuss the hard questions about being a parent.

How did you potty train when you knew the time had come?

The answer, if you are interested, is over here at Ask Miss Angie. I know - I am officially a nerd. I'll only do one a week - because its not that exciting to most.

Signatore

My Dad is just the cutest Grandpa that ever could be. It doesn't matter if he gets out a shovel, hammer, screwdriver, or garbage can...my boys are fast on his heals. This last week my boys helped him build two chairs - and Bompa let them sign under the chair seats - as if though their signature was worth a million dollars. Even when I was growing up, he would have me sign my projects. What I guess I learned is that not only my drawings (which were typically rainbowed skies and hollow trees) but my projects were worth a fancy signature. It never gets old feeling special - and my boys sure did (James even panicked a bit when he was writing his name - it was almost too exciting).

Damn Dog

Tanyon has peed in my room the last two mornings - I know that it will be argued he was marking Chase's toys...and it is my Chase who he is obviously jealous of - its a constant dominance battle....but I don't care. I don't care that he is a King Charles Cocker Spaniel - that some think he is cute. All I know is that today and yesterday I am at war. That's right - Tanyon if you could read this you'd know "we're in a fight." He humps my poor Chase every morning. We've tried a few things, but I am sure nothing is working. Damn Dog.

The Jump Janger

"Watch me sink my hands into the blanket like a lion sinking his teeth into a wildebeest." This is a direct and precise quote from James - can you believe him...this is quite the simile...

He invented the "Jump Janger" today - which is basically the same thing children have done for ages...piling pillows and blankets and jumping into them. At my Grandma's House we piled at the bottom of the stairs - it was always fun! And today it proved to fill two solid hours of good fun...so, if anyone's desperate - Jump Janger is brilliant.

Undo the Updo

When the weather gets too cold, a lot of the palm trees get an updo. But often as the weather gets warmer, they never get their undo. The weather has been quite lovely for months, but these poor palm trees, remain in an unnatural pony-tail state. I took this picture as we were out running errands.

Tangent 1 - If I leave my hair in a pony too long, my head actually aches when I take it down, I can only imagine what the palm tree is feeling.

Tangent 2 - The best hair story I have ever heard starts with my five year old brother and friend causing quiet mischief in the bedroom. Quiet mischief is always the worst kind, and when my mother found them, Tim had lost most of his hair at my brother's scissored hand. My mother, fearing the consequence of this hair massacre, picked up the offending scissors and butchered her own child's locks. She kept chopping until the remaining red mane looked as bad as Tim's. I still don't know if it was madness or genius. But, my mother was able to say, "Look what they did to each other!" instead of, "Look what my son did to yours."

Tangent 3 - Ridi recently returned from Samoa and she brought home footage of a cousin climbing a coconut tree not really using anything - it only took a minute as he flew up and down - pretty impressive. I wonder what it would be like to really eat off the land.

Backyard Quidditch

James got a snitch for Easter and when we were playing in the backyard he found the longest-straightest stick ever - a perfect broom stick. So, one plus two equals a Nimbus 2000 and hence our own version of backyard Quidditch.

The rules:
1. The Seeker must close his eyes while the golden snitch is hidden somewhere in the backyard.
2. The Seeker then "flies" around the backyard looking for the snitch...
3. The other two players throw dodge-ball weight "bludgers" at him, trying to distract him from his finding.
4. Once the snitch is found, we rotate who is the one and only Seeker.

Here's James finding the snitch and flying the Nimbus 2000...

And here's Chase waiting while the snitch is hidden and flying on his less dangerous broomstick; the noodle makes an excellent Firebolt...

Considering that it was only James, Chase, and I - I have lofty ideas for expanding the game when all my siblings descend on Northern California in the next three weeks - Ben and Pat will be perfect Beaters. Be warned - because we will be playing Quidditch on a much grander scale.

I couldn't have said it better

Unfortunately, I don't have a lot to say today. My head is swimming with my own confusion and questions. So instead of posting chaos, I'll just direct you somewhere else. These are some blogs I read more than once from the last three months (just click on the one that interests you). Oh, and if you liked one as much as me, let me know - its nice to know our common ground.

My Mom - She talks about her nose and somehow makes it tender at the same time
Jessie's - Great shirt and even better question
Laurel's - Confessions of a Dysfunctional Shopper - the title says it all
Ann's - I love to hear people's guesses on the two characters who will die in Harry Potter
Leslie's - Art - I love this painting and love that you took such a little guy for such a rich day
Lynette's - I loved Hey Bert, but have already mentioned it - but Just Breathe is also great!
Jamie's - The mini Magnolia - what a cute idea!
Annie's - the picture of an Easter egg hunt on a tennis court made me laugh out loud!
Moon's - This is the hot debate of whether a new mom should get a gift from her husband after she gives birth
Design Mom - I don't know her, but I love this idea and want to try to make them...

What is this?

Do you remember the feeling of finding a toy in your cereal box? Well, this morning I opened the new Apple Jacks and sitting on top of the unopened bag was the toy. Here's the thing - I didn't mean to find it - but it was just sitting on top - I say where's the fun if you don't have to dig? Here's the next thing - the toy was a pedometer - that's right a pedometer - not so much a toy in my book. Anyhow, James ripped open said toy and wasn't disappointed - but rather, exhilarated. He spent the rest of the day tracking his steps. And when the numbers got into the thousands - he would proudly shout, "Two thousand, one hundred and seven!" What a sneaky/great way to practice high numbers!

He reset "the toy" when we went to Ikea. And because you are dying to know - it takes 3,879 James-size steps to survive Ikea. Oh, and we ended up finding these fun shades we are going to use to hang from the too-high ceiling of the Annex - I hope it will look really fun! Can you imagine thirty of these (they are really big) floating above you to create a faux ceiling. I'm crossing my fingers.

Medjool and Gray Hair

On Saturday night, I went to the city and caught up with old friends at Medjool (in the Mission) it had a great terrace overlooking the city.

So, this what happens every time we haven't seen each other for awhile...its a little awkward as we politely ask each other about residency, children, and family. We avoid the temptation to talk about "old times" for fear it will come across that we haven't done anything new. We pause, laugh, and then someone finally breaks the ice. We then laugh and tell stories - friends dressed in drag; cravings for the smell of gasoline; and share in horror and laughter our first gray hair sightings.

Yes, I said gray hair. The first one I found earlier this year I pulled out so fast. And the second one, I simply cried. I had no idea it happened so early. But, these girls know and we will all soon follow Heather's pioneering footsteps and turn thirty this year. Yep, I'm almost old. It feels nice knowing I'm not going there alone.

And although, I am decidedly less cool than Jenny, less schooled than Dr. Iezza, less confident than Hannah, less busy than Mindy, and less organized than Heather - I can proudly and without hesitation say that -- I am still the shortest. And I treasure these girls who knew me before I plucked my eyebrows - and still loved me!

An Easter Photojournal

In our family, we find that using your hand is much easier than the pesky spoon or plastic dipper...

Here are the boys...Chase with seersucker jacket and without.

Shortly after this picture was taken they broke into an Easter boxing match.

Soccer, Mon

I was giggling to the point I was drawing attention. So, here's what happened. It was James' first day of soccer practice. He looked the part - new cleats, red Adidas socks, strong shin guards (I know they're strong because he kept asking me to kick him in the shins to make sure they worked). We drove up and joined the "where do we go - what do we do now" crowd. And at 11:30 the adults and children were called over to the orange line on the field.

Coach Cann introduced himself and was met with the stares of many confused five year-olds. You see, Coach Cann has a decidedly thick island accent of the "Hey, Mon" variety. After a few minutes, the kids seemed to warm up to the cadence of this Jamaican accent. And the mini cleats seemed to do their best when he said, "Repeat after me - Hi, Coach Cann."

Stop. Now, before you continue reading you have to practice saying some phrases outloud with a Jamaican accent. The story just isn't funny unless you hear it as you go. So here are a few..."Yuh did see dat?" or "Mi love chaklit cake with nuff icenin." or "No womon, no cry."

Okay, back to the story. When they all met Coach Junior(or Coooach Juuun"a" as the head coach pronounced it) and in unison they repeated in a distinct Jamaican accent, "Hi, Coooach "Juuun'a'!" I couldn't help but giggle. Twenty kids imitating perfectly what they heard.

Anyhow, the "repeat after me's" and the Jamaican accents that followed continued to give me the giggles. I brought home a decidedly better dribbler and my own little Rastafarian. Hey, Mon... it doesn't get any better than this.

What's in a word

A lot. The answer is a lot! There are words we avoid because we can't understand it or its simply taboo...but I'm not afraid to say the hard things like hemorrhoids, kegels, and certainly not depression. Its really such a tragedy that clinical depression has this name - because it really doesn't explain it - its not just about sadness.

The opposite of depression isn't happiness - its normalness.

"Depression is not sadness. In depression, we lose the ability to feel any emotion strongly. The true opposite of depression is vitality - the ability to feel a full range of emotions, including happiness, joy, pride, but also including sadness and grief." Richard O'Connor PhD

Having the ability to respond appropriately, to feel and move on - isn't there. I can't say that I know this by experiencing it myself - but I know so many - so many people. Shame doesn't help. The fastest way to overcome the preliminary aversion is to say the word--depression - say it over and over, a hundred times until its not so scary. I think for our friends, our children, our families we need to talk about it - tell the stories - be honest. That's a start.

I don't know much, except to say I care. I know the facts, but not the feelings. But I wanted to write about it - and at least scratch the service. Thinking about it like this really helped me.

Bed Head

There's nothing like the morning sun streaming in the window. And there is nothing like that sun hitting the beautiful bed head above!

Fifteen Minutes of Music with Nothing Playing

I stumbled upon Mary Oliver's poetry book - Blue Iris at the bookstore. I sat and drank my hot chocolate and the words. And with moist eyes I found someone who said what I felt. Here are a few of her poems (I dark blued my favorite parts)

Freshen the Flowers, She Said

So I put them in the sink, for the cool porcelain
was tender,
and took out the tattered and cut each stem on a slant,
trimmed the black and raggy leaves, and set them all-
roses, delphiniums, daisies, iris, lilies,
and more whose names I don't know, in bright new water-
gave them

a bounce upward at the end to let them take
their own choice of position, the wheels, the spurs,
the little sheds of the buds. It took, to do this,
perhaps fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes of music
with nothing playing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roses, Late Summer

What happens
to the leaves after
they turn red and golden and fall
away? What happens

to the singing birds
when they can't sing
any longer? What happens
to their quick wings?

Do you think there is any
personal heaven
for any of us?
Do you think anyone,

the other side of that darkness,
will call to us, meaning us?
Beyond the trees
the foxes keep teaching their children

to live in the valley.
So they never seem to vanish, they are always there
in the blossom of light
that stands up every morning

in the dark sky.
And over one more set of hills,
along the sea,
the last roses have opened their factories of sweetness

and are giving it back to the world.
If I had another life
I would want to spend it all on some
unstinting happiness.

I would be a fox, or a tress
full of waving branches.
I wouldn't mind being a rose
in a field full of roses.

Fear has not yet occurred to them, nor ambition.
Reason they have not yet thought of.
Neither do they ask how long they must be roses, and then what.
Or any other foolish questions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Understand from the first this certainty.
Butterflies don't write books, neither do lilies or violets. Which doesn't mean they don't know, in their own way, what they are. That they don't know they are alive-that they don't feel, that action upon which all consciousness sits, lightly or heavily. Humility is the prize of the leaf-world. Vainglory is the bane of us, the humans.

Anyhow, don't you love her (I'm not really the best with poems but I know I like this). Perhaps because I too, think that the flowers have figured it out - if only we could learn from them. You know - the lilies of the field - adorned in more beauty than we could ever create - satisfied just being. I have often said that we are worthy of being loved just for being - after all we are human beings not human doings. And if we could find the quiet confidence this knowledge brings we would be truly happy.

(Art Work ~ Denise Nielsen)