'twas the Sunday Before Christmas

While the east coast was paralyzed by the Blizzard of '09, we in Western Maine watched it pass on by without a flurry. To take my mind off worrying about Molly and how she would get home from DC in time for Christmas, I went over to my parents house where every day and every event is a party. Today, the house was full of people who work with my mother at the Buckfield-Sumner Swap Shop. That's a picture of my Dad, isn't he cute?

But, the weekend wasn't just spent partying with the In Crowd, I also took advantage

of some quiet time and followed a link from Jayne's

blog to make the perfect gift for this H1N1

Holiday Season. The directions are here.

It's a different sort of Christmas for me this year. Sara will only be here in spirit and through skype, Ethan is going to Kentucky to visit his wife's family, Archie is going to stay in Pennsylvania and work over the holiday and Molly is stranded in 16 inches of snow in our nation's capital. I am flying out Christmas afternoon for a weekend in Dallas for my sweet niece's wedding.

Here's a special story by a favorite author that made me smile this morning.

Life on the hypotenuse

When my children were young and we lived in a fancy suburb of Washington, DC, I volunteered at their elementary school teaching art appreciation. I loved spending time preparing the lesson and going into the classroom once a month to share great works. As the end of the year approached, the school organized a field trip for the mothers who had volunteered and we were able to spend a day at Hillwood Estate, the former home of Marjorie Merriweather Post.

After enjoying the beautiful home and gardens and admiring the way that Mrs. Post lived with her art, we were treated to a lunch at the tea room. I tend to be a little bit shy and didn't know any of the women who were there, so hung back until everyone was seated and then took a deep breath and went to sit at a table with a vacant seat.

The women at the table were already deep in conversation and it took me about one nanosecond to realize that I was way out of my league. The discussion was about all of the deficiencies present in their nannies and au pairs. I must say that the conversation pretty much ruined my experience.

One of the women was talking about how foolish her nanny was. Apparently, the speaker had four children and each morning the nanny would make four sandwiches one at a time for the children's lunches. It galled the woman to no end that the nanny would lay out a piece of bread make the sandwich, slice it, put it in a baggie and then start on the next one. "Why doesn't she lay out four pieces of bread, spread them one after another and make the sandwiches all at once?"

Well, I had four children and I made their sandwiches one at a time and wouldn't dream of mass producing them. Each one was a gift. I thought of each child as I laid out the bread and spread it with peanut butter. I smiled as I put on the top layer, sliced it into two triangles and put them in a baggie. Then into the lunch box with some fruit and a juice box and a cookie. Only then would I start on the next sandwich thinking of that child as I did it--I always made their sandwiches in birth order for some reason and always imagined each sandwich as a gift carefully slipped into a baggie. Two little triangles that that child would see at lunch and maybe remember that he or she was loved enormously.

I kept quiet during the tea room conversation but was happy when it was time to leave and even happier a month later when we moved from the land of nannies and au pairs and mother's who had the audacity to complain about people who helped them.

But today, on NPR there was a story that reminded me of that sandwich conversation--not because there were snobby pretentious women in it, but because it gave scientific and aesthetic reasons for slicing sandwiches on the diagonal. The whole story is worth reading , but I will share my favorite lines:

"......by exposing the interior, it engages more of your senses before you take the first bite. It's more revealing, almost like a burlesque dancer. Covered enough to be clothed, but uncovered enough to be very, very appealing."

There you have it. Sounds like a gift to me.

Update on Dogs 101

Sorry, folks, I guess we were confused. Atticus will be on Dogs 101 on Saturday night, November 21.

Random thoughts of the day

This morning I went by the courthouse to file a motion and found the hallway full of people waiting for their criminal arraignments. Here's the weird thing. Most of them were kind of old. Lots of long gray ponytails on old men--isn't crime a young man's game? True fact: If you are old enough to have gray hair down to your buttocks, you are old enough to behave yourself.

Later, a stop for tea with my parents. I smiled at the beehives all wrapped up in tar paper to insulate them against the winter cold and imagined the bees cuddled up around the queen telling stories as they nibble on honey comb.

Next stop, the county jail to see a young mother heartbroken and addicted and missing her children. My favorite guard, knowing I would be safe, let us meet in the library rather than the sterile rather icky meeting room with its one-way glass and intercom. I looked at the book collection while waiting for the young woman to be brought in--the books looked worn out and the selection leaned heavily toward thrillers and romances. John Grisham and Danielle Steele and lots of authors that I've never heard of. There was a Bible and a textbook on biology. I think my book donations from now on will be to the jail.

As I was leaving and walking down the stairway to the outside, I wondered why is the stairway railing painted orange like the suits that the prisoners wear? I understand the reasoning for the outfits to be orange--they are easy to spot in case of an escape--but the railings on the stairs aren't going to escape--they are just plain ugly--surely orange paint isn't cheaper than a nice rose color. Who makes these decisions?

Then a trip to another town to watch a 2 year old visit with his mom for the first time in 8 months. He reached for a toy lion and put it on top of a doll house and I wanted to tell him a fun fact that I learned last night while reading Cry of the Kalahari by Mark and Delia Owens. Under the right atmospheric conditions--when the desert is at its highest relative humidity between 4:30 a.m. and just after dawn--a lion's roar can be heard for 8 miles. The book says that "To roar, a lion draws air deep into its chest, tightens its abdomen with great force to compress the air, and then releases it through its vocal cords, the sound erupting from the throat with such energy that it carries great distances." I didn't tell the 2 year old all that, I just let him play with his mom. But, maybe, there was a roar, there was definitely a tightening in my chest.

A special episode

In February, I wrote about Tom and Atticus being filmed by a crew from Animal Planet for an episode on Dogs 101. The episode originally aired in October and was super duper good. Their segment was the last in the show and the producers gave lots of teasers throughout to increase the anticipation.

The episode will be repeated this Friday, November 20 at 8 and 11 p.m. and my advice--bring some kleenex and a cuddly pet with you to the couch.

Rejuvenation and reminder

A month or so ago one of daughter Sara's good friends e-mailed her in Macedonia and said that she was weary of her city life and needed a nature break--did Sara think that her mother (that would be me) would let her come to Maine for a visit? Sara sent me the reply email which said "Are you kidding, of course she would!" So, it was set--Louise and a friend of hers (coincidentally named Sarah) would fly up to Maine from their busy lives in Washington, DC for Halloween weekend. The excitement of the weekend began when I met their plane in Portland late Thursday night and we noticed that Senator Olympia Snowe had been on their plane. I guess she needed a nature break, too.

One of our first stops on our nature tour was my favorite tree. Since my last posting on the tree, it has been determined to be the second largest white pine in the state of Maine. If I was more competitive that #1 tree should be in serious trouble. After hiking all over the woods checking the beaver dam and the beehives, we went back to my parents' house and had a lovely dinner where my parents fell hook, line and sinker in love with these two girls.

On Saturday, we drove up into the mountains and hiked out to Angel Falls. Angels Falls is a startlingly beautiful waterfall that is really hard to get to. The path to the falls starts 3.5 miles down the Bemis Track which is sometimes navigable by vehicle, sometimes not. We hit it lucky--there had recently been some logging along the track so it had been stabilized for the first 3 miles. After that, we were on our own and the last 1/2 mile was scary. But we made it to the trailhead and then hiked into the falls crossing the river once and then a stream once, twice, three times then navigated our way around a big boulder and there it was. Surprise!

Halloween night in between passing out candy to every little kid in the River Valley, the girls discovered Molly and Archie's craft box and the sounds of their soft voices in front of the fire as they created cute little crafts made my heart absolutely grow three sizes.

On Sunday morning, we headed off to the coast. There were no big storms out to sea and it was low tide so the waves were not impressive, but the setting was beautiful. Sarah looked out to sea, I watched birds on a nearby island with my binoculars and Louise sketched.

After a final stop at L. L. Bean on the way to the airport, we said our good-byes and went back to our lives--all touched by the weekend. Louise and Sarah said that their souls were rejuvenated by being immersed in nature, by being with a family, by having their senses touched with laughing trick or treaters and soft kitties and a warm fire but my soul was rejuvenated because once again I realized that this generation of young people, just coming into their own, is really spectacular. The future is in very good hands.

Hip Hopping at the Grocery

On Sunday afternoons, I usually head to the grocery store to stock up on yogurt, skim milk and whole grain bread for the week. That is the giant yawn that has become my life here at 50 with children flown from the nest. Shopping these days is not nearly as colorful or tasty as it was back in the day when the cart was piled full with double-stuff oreos, fruit roll ups and Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Until today, though, the most excitement that I had experienced at our local Hannaford was when a daughter who should remain nameless (but linked) was home for a few weeks in between college and the Peace Corps and was bemoaning the lack of social life in her home town. As we pushed our cart into the local grocery store where everybody knows your name, we noticed an older man and a younger man pushing a cart just ahead of us. We did not know these people and more importantly to daughter--the young man was quite handsome. I will admit that we did an admirable job of stalking them that day in the grocery store discerning all sorts of things about their lives from the items that they selected. Daughter and I still talk about that--she'll say, "remember the time that we saw a good looking guy at Hannaford?"

But today, as I mindlessly walked up and down the aisles looking for low unit prices and no transfat, I noticed that my step was a little bouncier, my shoulders were a little straighter, and a smile was on my face. About that time, I realized that music was loudly playing over the PA system. The next thing I knew a youngish looking good old boy on the pickle aisle caught my eye and boogied a bit as he karaokied to Play that Funky Music White Boy. So, a note to all of my male readers in the 20 to 35 age range (I know you are out there) any time that you get an opportunity to dance to Wild Cherry with a 50 year old woman in the aisles of the local grocery store--you really should do it.

Grab bag

Is there a statute of limitations on stuff your kids friends have left at your house?

Would you say that if a friend of a daughter left a bag almost six years ago then the bag is up for grabs? Me too. So after six years of lusting for this bag as it hung on a peg in my hallway, I threw caution, patience and good manners to the wind and claimed it as my nature bag. It has pockets for guide books and binoculars and a big pouch for the camera and room for a water bottle on the side--I am OUTFITTED.

So with my new bag, I went off into the woods to see what I could see.

I found some British Soldier Lichen along the path and something that I believe is a lichen but that I have not been able to identify. Ideas welcome.

My mom felt up to walking with me and we made it down to the river. We found a few trees that looked like the beavers had recently been at work but nothing like the activity that we saw last fall and they have not repaired the dam. Their two lodges are still in the river, but do not have any noticeable fresh improvements. So, I don't know what to think about the beavers--the ice will be in soon but I'll keep checking over the next few weeks.

Where Have All the People Gone?

This morning walking to the Post Office I noticed an entire street full of empty houses. Walking along and counting I noticed that of the first ten houses that I passed, eight were empty. What is going on? Where are people going?

My business has slacked off over the last year but in the last few months it has practically gone into hibernation. The only piece of my law practice that is thriving is for clients with new bankruptcy filings.

Scary times.

Addendum: So, about 5 minutes after I hit publish on this, there was a knock on the door. A nice lady and her husband who are buying the empty house next door. Would I do the closing? Of course! Work and a neighbor all in one day! Brighter days ahead?

Shuffle Songs

It's a Sunday of nesting activities--cleaning the house and working on a baby blanket to send to a new mother in Estonia who translated for us and made us feel welcome when we visited in August.

I love days like this with no demands.

To set the mood, I set my ipod to shuffle songs and turned it up loud enough to function as my personal soundtrack. The random shuffle had gone through Pachabel's Cannon in D, Muleskinner Blues, Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy and Alan Jackson's version of The Old Rugged Cross--in the time it took me to do a load of laundry. As Welcome to the 60's from Hairspray began, it occurred to me that I really like every song on my ipod but there is probably not another list exactly like it. Our ipod lists are like snowflakes or fingerprints--unique--just like us!

Many years ago, I stayed up late talking to the man who owned a bed & breakfast that I was staying in in Wales. As we traded thoughts into the wee hours, he said something so profound that I think of it every day. It's all part of the tapestry of life.

Yes, indeed.