Willow Weekend

This year's Willow was wonderful as usual, but a bit subdued. I didn't take nearly as many pictures, and I'm sure there are a few folks who were relieved at that. I didn't even get photos of our friends performing, as I was busy taking video for a friend. Taylor, I'm sorry I sang along into the video recording - I was taken by the moment. Am I off-key? How's my vibrato? Can you hear the group over my singing? I'd be happy to handle all the recording for next year, too. Taylor? Taylor? Taylor?

Gemma was back this year, and with her came these two cute little punks.

Doug learning how to carve a bird from the chef.

The spread of food was amazing as always. I swore Sunday evening I wouldn't have to eat for a week. It was Monday evening before I even felt hunger again.

This year we didn't tent camp - we got a bed. Woot! Thanks Duffords! Your B&B service is the best.

Dan gave us the garden tour.

Dan playing the shofar, which David Stocker brought back from his trip to Palestine.

A new game inspired by the young 20-somethings set.

The labyrinth mowed into the yard, a new addition. I never even walked it! Hard to meditate when surrounded by revelry.

Our teens were happy to be together again.

View from the amazing porch.

Ashley, Gemma and I filled tamales....
made by the Willow kitchen goddess, Joanieji.

And as usual, the requisite "we can't believe you didn't come home for Willow, see what you're missing?" photo to send to our faraway friends.

Ah, Willow....

Birthday Gift Part OhMyGoshWooHOO

OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH.... Look what I got for my birthday!


I have this knack for guessing my birthday presents. It's not because I ask for anything in particular - I don't. In fact, when people ask what I want for my birthday, my brain flies out the back of my head and I can't think of a single thing. It's actually something I inherited - my grandfather always guesses his gifts. You could wrap a tie in a shoebox and he'd say, "Oh, you got me a tie!" before even touching the bow.

My darling husband has gotten verrrry good at paying attention to what I like these past few years and has gotten me some sa-weet gifts. I couldn't be happier. Let's just say we've come a long way from the Christmas I got him a cappucino machine and he got me an Adam Sandler movie.

It started two years ago when on Christmas morning he made me close my eyes and then wheeled in my new road bike. THAT was awesome. I adore that bike.

Last year he got me my kick-*ss digital camera. My camera rocks.

Today, when the box containing my birthday gift arrived, I just had a hunch... I hadn't had any hunches before that, but even though the box was somewhat large and unmarked, I scrunched my forehead in that knowing way and said, "I know what you got me."

That prompted Rob to begin lying; at which, thankfully, he's quite poor. He said, "I'm not really sure you're going to like it" in an attempt to throw me off, which then led to a series of guesses on my part. If he wasn't sure I'd like it, I mused, it must be something HE wants.

"A Pink Floyd CD?" I ventured... Pink Floyd makes me want to carve out the insides of my eyelids with a butter knife.

"The first five seasons of Spongebob Squarepants?" I tried again... I'd like to squeeze Spongebob Squarepants until his beady little eyes explode.

"How about 'The Best of Screamo'?" I laughed... I don't mind Screamo when my son's band is playing it, but that's all on account of a mother's love for her son, not a true appreciation for the style of music. (Sorry Brady.)

Long story short - I guessed right. But that doesn't mean I wasn't totally, completely surprised. I even danced a little jig in the kitchen, to which Brady said, surprised, "Wow - she's never done THAT before."

This sweet new lens allows me to zoom in further than ever. It means instead of zooming this close...

I can zoom THIS close.

Those pictures were taken from the same spot, using different lenses.

Instead of only zooming in this close....

I can zoom in THIS close....

I can also stand in the safety of the garage and shoot pictures of my lovely niece who was way out in the yard.

Or stand far out of the way of the kids shooting hoops and still capture this shot of my adorable nephew Armando who was giving me his pie-faced grin from afar.
Jonathan nabbed the following cool shot of a branch outside our front window. He was standing in the middle of our living room.

So far I am madly in love with this new telephoto lens. So far there's only one minor problem with being able to capture photos from far away... especially when unbeknownst to the subject....

EGADS!

I should've added under-eye cream to my birthday list.

Birthday Gift Part I

It's funny how our idea of what makes a great birthday present evolves over the years. As soon as we were old enough to begin wanting things, we sat with the JC Penney catalog or the double-phone-book-sized Sears catalog, pen in hand, and circled things - even things we hadn't wanted before gazing upon them in the colored pages of those books. Somehow everything looked more desirable with the prospect of actually getting them looming ahead.

As we grew older, birthdays meant fun times. Themed parties. Group trips to places like Chuck E Cheese or Great America or Shakey's. Slumber Parties. Slumber parties where somehow - and who knows how - it got leaked that there were a pile of pajama'd grrls gathered in a tent in a cornfield and boys showed up.

Later birthday celebrations meant pizza joints, dances in the round barn, movie nights where no movies were actually watched. (Sorry Mom.)

And later yet, bars and pubs. And house parties.

And if you're lucky enough to have a birthday on St. Patrick's Day, like me, there is no shortage of partiers and revelers to join you in your celebration. I have dozens and dozens of pictures taken over the years of me with who-knows-who, people who were more than willing to down a green beer, tip their cap, and jump into the fray of my birthday celebration. It all seemed like a good idea at the time.

These days, life is simpler. Quieter. And quite a bit more sober. And I'm happy as a pig in mud.

My first birthday gift of the day - well, besides Rob's sweet 'Happy Birthday' nuzzle first thing - was Brady picking up the house. And my second was Jonathan's invitation to do yoga.

As kids we don't necessarily get the whole "I don't need a present" thing. We roll our eyes when our parents say things like, "All I want is to spend time with you."

But then we grow up. And it's true. Just like all those other things our parents warned us about such as "you don't just marry the boy, you marry the family" (from Dad) and "sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do" (from Mom).

I couldn't think of a better way to spend my birthday morning than doing yoga with my two favorite kids in the whole wide world.

When I suggested taking a photo, Jonathan eagerly obliged and showed off his backbend.

Incidentally, when we did three backbends in a row using Rodney Yee's video, we could barely do them. We were laughing too hard as Brady moaned, "Oh my Gah! I'm dying! I can't do this! Oh my Gah!" over and over.
Here we were still laughing as I tried to get into a half-moon pose without tipping over in time for the camera to flash...

Success!

And now we're off for Birthday Gift Part II.

A few moments ago I had a sudden craving and yelled, "Let's go get french fries!"

My Oscar Speech

Don't you ever wish the Oscar winners would get up there do something different than simply listing all the people they want to thank? I get why they have to do that, especially since it takes more than one actor to pull off a big movie. In fact it's quite likely the actor does the *least* amount of work. And then gets all the glory. So I 'spose it's only fitting - and appropriate - that all those behind-the-scenes folks get a shout-out. It's the least the actors can do.

There, I just completely turned around my own thinking. Welcome to the circular ramblings of my mind.

For MY Oscar speech, then, it's only fitting that I thank those who've made this special occasion possible. To Rob, my rock (no, seriously, he is) (see "circular ramblings" above, add "can't make a decision" and, um, ya) - without you I'd be nothing but a schmoopy-whoopy mess. To Brady and Jonathan, my beloved children, who inspire me on a daily basis and give me fodder for the musings on this blog. To my dog, Duchess, for pooping on my rug. Er - wait.

And fo sho I'd like to thank Madeline - a new-ish unschooling friend - whose fiery spirit inspired me the moment I met her. Thank you for your kind words about my blog, Madeline!
Madeline gave me this:

As per her instructions, here are 6 Things that Make Me Happy:

1. Chocolate

2. Springtime

3. Fires in the woodstove

4. Avocados

5. Unschooling

6. Travel

And now to share the wealth... I'm passing this award on to Ginger. Ginger is another new-ish unschooling friend. We only met briefly at the Live and Learn Conference - doing mendhi. :) But here's the thing about Ginger - we connected on Facebook and she sends me the nicest messages. Something about her... she has this beautiful spirit about her, and it infuses everyone she meets with a feel-good vibe. Go have a read - see for yourself.

We Did

Why Barack is 'Ours'

by Gayle Danley

Ours

My Aunt Ruth isn't doing very well
94 and the light that used to flicker behind her eyes is slipping

I hope she lives long enough to see this:
Thousands upon millions on top of multitudes of us of America Women and daddies and
babies wrapped well against the District's cold

And the children- who had the vision first
carried it home, believed in what was possible more than what was probable

When I was 4
Aunt Ruth and I stood staring at ourselves in her dresser mirror

The last hope of daylight spread over her yellow cheekbones

I had turned her into a big Barbie

Put barrettes and yarn
in her black satin hair

"Aunt Ruth, are you White?"
slipped irresistibly from my innocent lips

Her mouth did not answer
Her eyes did
written on them the harsh decades she had served army men lunch at Fort McPherson
pinching nickels to send me North to school

She revelled in her race and never once seemed
to wish to be anything else

Aunt Ruth won't be there on Tuesday
The journey's way too long
the air too frigid
She won't see a beautiful Brown man become what she always knew was possible

the reason
she sacrificed a big life to feed hungry men and hope for a small retirement check

But we'll be there
You'll be there, right?
He'll be there
carrying all our dreams in his hands
pride in his eyes

I hope he waves at the children and the old ones like my Aunt Ruth whose faith and dreams
made this moment ours.

Look Who's 16! I Think I Need to Lie Down.

I'm feeling a bit creaky in the joints today, my friends... Brady turns 16 today! However did this happen? I've been feeding him only bread and water for years now, trying to curb that pesky aging process, but it didn't do any good. He's a vibrant, happy, TALL teenager, and today, he crosses another threshold toward adulthood. I fear there's no going back now.

He'll be driving soon, so keep your eyes peeled for him! Should he pass your way, follow just behind him, see that he has safe passage for me. K?

Birthday wishes and "holy sh*t I can't believe you're 16" sentiments can be sent along to bradyendres(at)yahoo(dot)com, if'n you're so inclined.

Or, sing a raucous, off-key, extra-loud rendition of "Happy Birthday" on his VM if you're of the privileged few who know his #. We've been known to leave a few of those messages over the years...

As for me, I'm going to go crawl into the fetal position and ponder having 16 more babies so I'm never alone. Um, ya.

Happy Birthday Brady! We love you! And we're pretty darn smitten to have you as our son.

Birthday Boy

Chances are, if you are a member of our family, and it's your birthday, you'll get a banner made for you. A 'Happy Birthday You!' banner. A colorful, happy, large, blaring banner.Trouble is, after helping me decorate about 12 dozen of these suckers over the years, my boyz have gone on strike. "I will never, ever make another birthday banner ever again!" exclaimed one, sometime last winter. "MOM - WHY do you make us DO these?" the other chimed in. It's a conspiracy, I tell you. They always know I'll cave if they gang up on me. I have issues with being liked.Kinda takes the whole "thoughtful" and "made with love" and "homemade touch" types of sentiments and thwacks them upside a brick wall, doesn't it. So, now I make the banners my own self. And they swoop in when it's all finished and say things like, "I don't even get to do one letter? I mean, I'd have done one letter," and then they add a little flourish here and a little flourish there, just so they can steal my spotlight take a bit of credit for the masterpiece be involved of their own volition. The boogers.But that doesn't mean the boyz won't go the extra mile in other ways. It was Rob's birthday on Monday - (What, you expected my post about his birthday to be timely? Pay attention people) - and I took off for the grocery store to get some last minute fixin's for the like, gazillion three kinds of pizza he wanted for dinner, when I received the first cell phone call.

"Mom?" Jonathan said, "I need four 'C' batteries."

"Ok, what for?" I asked, curious.

"For Dad's birthday card."

Um, ok... I received the next cellphone call while I was shopping for the like, gazillion ingredients for the *ss-widening decadent ice cream fudge dessert Rob wanted. "Mom?" Jonathan asked, "Do we have a tape?"

"Tape? To wrap something?" I asked, curious.

"No, a tape. To make a recording."

Um, ok... good thing our family is, in some ways, stuck back in the 80's, what with Rob's knowledge of all things 80's pop culture, our stack of casette tapes (White Snake, anyone?), and my collection of elf boots and pink hair bows. We did, indeed, have a recordable tape.

The final call came as I was driving home.

"Mom?" Jonathan asked, "Do we have a shoe box?"

"There's an old one in the bottom of the hutch in the bedroom in the basement, but it's got stuff in it, so you'll have to empty it out, but be sure to put everything back into the hutch. Got that?"

"Yep. Bye."

When I arrived home, I found this in the middle of the living room. A homemade bomb? An electronic mouse trap? What is it? More on that later.

You may recall that, around here, we can be overly zealous in our birthday preparations. Jonathan requires no fewer than 4 parties because he takes after his mama and gets a little twitchy at the thought of mixing his groups. Rob is a bit less fickle, overall, but Monday night turned out to be his "Kid Party."

He invited my sister's kids, Ana, Madelina, and Armando. First, they all ate pizza.

Then, it was time for dessert.
And after like, a gazillion three pizzas, one ear-splitting rendition of "Happy Birthday to You-ou-ou-ou!", and a dessert that keeps cardiac surgeons in business that's beyond-tasty, they all gathered 'round for gifts. The thing about kids and kid parties is, you get lots of help with opening presents. You also get lots of this:
And this:
And it's contagious, this sort of silliness... I mean, forget the fake, posed, smarmy family shots, I wanna see the real deal. And in our family? The real deal? Pure goofiness.It was a good party, even though my sister got into such a raucous game of keep-away that she was leaping over couches and knocking over small children. I'm telling you, you never know what might happen around here. Don't pull a muscle, sis, you ain't no spring chicken anymore, y'know! (Dear gawd - I've turned into Farmer Bill!)

And remember the homemade bomb mysterious shoebox? What was it, you ask?

Why, only the coolest homemade birthday card ever.

Listen For Yourself - then come back and answer this: Have we cornered the market on silliness or what?

Happy Birthday Honey! Nah Nah, you're still older than me!