Grrrls Gathering

See these grrrls? They rock. And there's more of 'em, too. And these pictures were taken at our spring retreat. And today I get to leave for our summer retreat. And in October we'll have a fall retreat. And well, you see how it goes. We're kinda spoiled, getting to retreat all the time like this. And we know it. And we love it. And we demand it. And our husbands have finally realized resistance is futile. We're going.

Actually, that's not always the case. We number 11 and only 4-6 manage to make it to any given gathering, but we make it a priority, this grrl time. And the gatherings go on whether 2 or 10 can make it. We all know it's critical that they go on, and those not in attendance are held in spirit and feel content knowing the circle waits for them.

It didn't start out like this. When I originally envisioned a women's group, I dreamt big. I saw a place where women of all stripes and types could gather, feel safe, commune, bond, and share. And I still see that vision. But when I started talking it up with a few close and trusted friends, it became apparent there were several things that needed to be considered. The tighter the circle, the more 'insider' jokes and shared memories and common history. And mixing circles of friends works, if you want things light. Being a bit of a chameleon, I suddenly wasn't sure if a huge group could develop the sort of closeness I was seeking. My vision was purely selfish - I need the strength, wisdom, and energy of my grrrlfriends for my own growth, I need mentors and soul sisters and sounding boards and examples and support systems.

The big group idea will have to wait. I'm cutting my teeth on a small one, first. We came together when an extremely damaging and hurtful series of events occurred, affecting us all. But the universe is generous and the serendipitous result was a deep connection and friendship, sparked first from circumstance, carried on in love. All things happen for a reason, and we can be grateful for the nourishment that comes from composting some parts of our shared past.

We started with monthly evening gatherings, but we craved more. We travel far to be together - an evening is a tempting taste, and we seek fullness. Our weekends together are amazing. We have time to check-in, time to share, time to engage in projects, and time to nap. Our destination is chosen for its proximity, its quiet, and its beauty, and let's be honest, its frugality. Oh, and meals are provided. That's pretty darn important.

Today I'm like a jack rabbit, pouncing around my bookshelves and archives and reaching into the dusty corners of my imagination, selecting proejcts to bring, books to share, and food, always food. This time we have some creative stretching planned, the sort that involves poetry and yoga and planetary alignment influences. Should be a deliciously fun time.

And the men left behind get mindful practice in being alone, something Rob used to avoid with the same passion he harbored when he avoided every first day of every college class, the intro moment when you have to state your name and major in front of a roomful of strangers. As with public speaking, he is growing into this ability to spend large swaths of time alone, without me to whine about a messy countertop or rent the same video that plays on satellite thirteen times a day. He's gonna miss those things (she says with a smirk) but he's come to treasure the time with the boys (I encourage them to do all the things I don't like, most of which revolve around bodily noises and brain-rattling music, loud-loud car rides and opening boxes and calling it dinner), the near-quiet while the kids sleep late, and then of course, there's always the reunion. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, it's said, and what with the amount of grrrl gatherings I've enjoyed lately, we oughtta be reeeeal fond of each other about now. :)

I'm off. Woohoo!

~Namaste~

Birthday Boy

This boy is 11 now. I love this boy.

DO THIS: Go Forth and Leave Money

Now here's news I can rally for. In Friday's newspaper (which yes, I just read today) was a snippet about envelopes containing money being found in restrooms all across Japan. Each envelope contained about 10,000 yen - or about $82 - and a note wishing the finder well. I guess it's triggered a nationwide search, as you can well imagine. What a delightful thing - is it possible this is happening with no strings attached? Or no underlying motive? Or no, like, nasty anthrax tossed in for a twisted kick? (And isn't it sad that I can't read a happy article without pessimistic possibilities dancing in my head?)

I've often daydreamed about dropping notes of affirmations into shoppers' bags when I see, for example, that they nurse their babies or treat their children well. But somehow it always feels pretentious, as if I'm the authority on such things and am therefore bestowed with the powers to decide who's doing something 'right'. It was just a thought. I've never actually done it.

So this little news bit had me saying "awww" over my morning tea, pleased as punch to read something positive, and something randomly positive - whoever is leaving those treat packages behind doesn't have to do that. It's an amazing faith in the power of the universe to just leave it for the next unsuspecting passerby rather than deliberately gifting a particular someone (though perhaps they do that as well).

Quirky little acts of kindness and ways of spreading joy are right up my alley. I love the "Where the Hell is Matt?" youtube video, of the guy who dances all around the world. And I also adore the Free Hugs campaign. The first time I saw it, I got weepy. I'm weepy now, playing it again.

Disclaimer - sap fest forthcoming....

Sometimes I get so overwhelmingly emotional I DO wish we could all just hug and be better. I'm a big sap, a big puddle of emotional goo, a true liberal in the social sense.

It's the unexpected little compliments or affirmations or outpourings of love that really hit home, precisely because they come when we least expect it, and sometimes when we need it most but don't know it. I remember one time, years ago, a boy stopped me as we passed in a crowded room and told me I had the most beautiful eyes. A come-on perhaps, sure, but it really stopped me in my tracks. (I gushed a thank you, and moved along.) And just a few months ago as I was talking to a new homeschooler about homeschooling issues, she told me, quite out of the blue, I have beautiful eyes. Now, this isn't a brag - these moments were quite profound for me in how giving they were, how unnecessary, but offered as a gift.

So let's all take a nudge from the Japanese money fairy and go forth and leave good tidings in our wake. Start with just one. Give a compliment next time you feel moved. Leave a gift on a bus seat. Help someone with a heavy bag. I'm certain we'll all feel better for it - even you crusty skeptics.

Free Hugs Campaign. (music by Sick Puppies album out April3)

Where the Hell is Matt?

Camping and Music and Jesus, oh my!

So, a little more about this whole 3 days thing, this time about what da boyz were up to....

Rob and the boys spent 3 days at the Cornerstone Festival where they camped and listened to bands with Uncle Terry and cousins Abbey and Trevor, and as you already know I didn't want to go so I opted to stay back. (And got 3 days ALONE - ok, still excited.)

There are a couple of things that make this trek interesting and a bit out-of-character for us. Cornerstone is a Christian rock festival and no alcohol and drugs are allowed. The drug-free environment helped us decide it'd be a good place for the kids to get their first concert experience. They've gotten more and more into music in the past few years, but knowing how obnoxious concert goers are, and knowing full well what goes on before and during most gigs, we were less than eager to introduce them to the experience. (In fact, I refuse to attend Jimmy Buffet concerts anymore for the sole reason that the entire outdoor venue becomes a giant urinal about halfway into the festivities, and these days I am neither tolerant nor intoxicated enough to be ok with that!) However, the reeeeally interesting thing about attending Cornerstone for us, then, is we're not Christians. There, I've said it. It's out.

What are we? We dunno exactly. We eschew labels and refuse to be placed in small boxes.


Ok, not really.


We're Unitarian Universalists by membership, if not active participation at the moment. And UUism is the perfect place for a spiritual mutt like myself. The seven principles of UUism speak well to my love for honoring the spiritual search and unique path of each individual, and as with most things in life, I don't believe there is one-true-way.

I'm not anti-Christian - perish the thought! So before you go wondering if you should X us off the ol' holiday list, remember I was raised Catholic and still feel a definite fondness for those roots and our little country church that's just around the bend. But I am inspired by all sorts of people and all the world's religions and I just can't seem to confine myself to only one religion's definition of faith or spirituality. Even UUism, as it gives me the blessing to be on my own spiritual path, somehow doesn't capture it for me - it isn't the 'end all, be all' for me.

I told Rob that if there was a sunrise prayer session or something appealing like that at Cornerstone, they should consider attending. There are parts of Christianity that I firmly reject, but there are parts where I find beauty and peace as well. I would not forbid my children from trying it on for themselves any more than I would require them to don the same spiritual cloak I wear. They did have a prayer moment with a friend, and they enjoyed the experience and the new people.

They were surprised to see the variety of self-expression in the way of piercings and tattoos and unique clothing choices, and this bodes well for the broad spectrum of Christian interpretation, me thinks. These days the definitions of Christianity seem to get more and more narrow, more and more paralyzing, especially what with the pope fussing over driving rules and whatnot. And I wonder where the religious middle-ground folks are, the ones I knew growing up, who went to church but didn't get all up in my stuff about it.

Our experience has been that we know too many amazing people of various faiths to decide there is one-right-way for all of us. I learn as much from my atheist friends as from my Buddhist friends, my Christian friends as from my humanist friends. And I always love that what I may even learn is what I don't want as much as what I do, what doesn't speak to me as much as what does. Whenever I engage in conversation with someone with radically different beliefs, I either come away with something new to ponder or more content in my chosen path. It's a win-win.

So Rob and the boys enjoyed a lovely weekend with 25,000 Christians, all there to connect, pray, bond, listen to good music, love and be loved. The time spent with Rob's brother and his children was indeed the greatest gift of all, and the spirit of the gathering lifted them up. They came home bubbling with stories about screaming rock stars, Jesus tattoos, gluten-free multi-grain pancakes made on the campfire by 4 kids and a chatty chef, and sleeping on a slope.

Life is good, no matter your flavor, eh?

~Namaste and Amen for good measure~

3 Days Solo

Photo: Private property entices on my hike

I recently spent 3 days alone. Yep, you heard me - 3 DAYS. Hubby and kids left for a 3 day rock concert & camping extravaganza, and I had a 3 day retreat at home. It's a recent development for us to do something without the others (I can hear the feminist groans already), especially for 3 whole days (can you tell I'm jazzed about the 3 days thing?). These days, most social commitments are chosen because we all want to do it. So it's a bit of late-blooming liberation for me to say, simply, I don't want to go.

No particular reason. Other than I'm not much of a concert kinda grrrl. And that I wasn't in the mood for campsite and concert behavior. Oh, and that I'm not much for camping with a big group of strangers. Well, and that I'm not fond of being sweaty and dirty and unkempt in front of 25,000 people. (Hey, it might be a little vain or overly insecure but I'm an 80's child, it's par for the course.) So I guess there were reasons.

And besides... after I'd finally admitted I didn't want to go, a tiny beam of light shone through the crack and I suddenly got a little breathless... I'll be ALONE for 3 DAYS...

I love my boys and all, I really do. And I love the night after night of family time we get, the intimate togetherness of homeschooling, the long hours of quality time in the car en route to the dozens (and dozens) of faraway soccer games, the hiding in the bathroom so I can get a freaking moment to myself - er, oops - see, I think I'm in need of a little alone time. Just a little.

What to do, what to do, I sang, as my imagination ran amok and I pondered all the options in front of me. Nab some grrrlfriends and go to the lake house? Schedule a spa day? Plan short day trips to nearby attractions? Sleep in until noon? What to do can become a burden in itself, when you're so worried you'll squander away the short time and not have anything sweet to show for it.

Just so happens, though, that I'm reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and this proved the perfect inspiration for my 3 Days Solo.

I ate. Not much in the mood to cook, I polished off leftovers, stopped for an avocado-filled burrito at my favorite Mexican spot, and sat in the local pizza joint all alone on a busy Friday night with my laptop and book in a far back corner and ordered the expensive and obnoxiously huge "Tour of Italy," a sampler of menu items. I shared a gorgeous salad trio with friends and we all three spooned from a bowl of kiwi lime soup. I picked fresh raspberries from my very own patch and topped them with organic vanilla yogurt and grape nuts for a crunch. I stopped in on mom and helped her finish off the deeeelish leftover Arroz con Pollo, made by my Panamanian-by-marriage sister Jackie for a gathering of farmers.

I prayed. In my own way, of course. I spent several hours at a local forest preserve. I hiked through a prairie and a forest and honored the spirit of each place. I did yoga in a meadow and took deep breaths of the sweet air and blue skies. I stretched out on a blanket and closed my eyes and gave thanks for the quiet. I built a small obos with stones I'd gathered on my hike, as an offering to the beauty of this place. And I sat, just sat - on my deck, at the park, near a meditation pond, at an intersection, in the booth of the restaurant - each moment sacred.

I loved. I had dinner with my mom. I spent a lovely day with two special friends at the Japanese Gardens, where the best part was sitting on a bench overlooking a meditation pond and chatting for a long while. I missed my boys, all three, really missed their noise and energy and presence as the emptiness of my home reminded me of just how hollow life would be without them. And I nurtured myself and honored my desires for those three days. Which sometimes meant sitting for hours on the porch with tea and a journal, sometimes meant trying on dozens of shoes even though I don't need any more, and sometimes meant pausing for as long as I wanted to gaze upon a field of wildflowers, or watch a squirrel leap from high limb to high limb above me, or enjoy the view from my deck to the east which never fails to stop me in my tracks even though I've gazed that way a zillion times.

The boys beat me home, my outing with grrrlfriends having stretched later into the day than planned. And it was so good to see them. I with rested eyes, they with weary feet, the makings of a sweet reunion.

Life is good.

~Namaste~

Photo: Obos

8 Things About Me

I was tagged by Diana, so here goes.... Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

(You know, this would be much more fun if my mom and any other elders-I-can't-let-down weren't going to read it.... *wink wink*.... ;-)

So hmmmm, let's see.... safe-to-share tidbits....

1. I have thin-thin-thin Pisces skin, even though my Taurus rising sign doesn't let me show it. I can be stubborn and opinionated and I am super extroverted, so folks just assume I have no qualms about putting myself out there. Truth is, depending upon the day, my mood, and where my hormones are at that particular moment, the slightest thing can send me into a serious tailspin. We pisces have porous skin, so we take it all in - the good, the bad, the subtle nuances that you think no one picks up on.....

2. I always sneeze three times. I guess the first two are just warm-ups for the big'un. My dad used to think it was funny, so as I'd sneeze, he'd count. "One more... yep, there's two... where's three... THERE it is!" It was sorta weird that he'd count every time, but now I miss all those silly things.

3. I am terrible in times of crisis. The closer you are to me, the harder it is for me to run to your side. Now, that's not to say I won't run to your side, because come hell or high water I'll be there, but it is oh-so-hard for me to do it. I don't know exactly why. I think partly it's because you're all so damn important to me, critical to my survival in life-as-I-know-it, that I can't bear the threat to that stability. And partly, it's that whole worry that I won't know what to do or what to say, even though I know there is no one-right-thing to do or say, it's the togetherness and outreach that is healing. I'm not proud of this trait - it's something I'm working on.

4. I want to live somewhere else. I've made no secret of it, but it's been a very serious practice in 'bloom where you're planted' mindfulness to not let it consume me with longing. I can honestly say I'm happy here, and I'm appreciative of my roots and family connections, and it's really not that I want to leave anyone, it's just that I've always had this wanderlust inside me and it hasn't been sated.

5. Out of all the potential leg-shaving years, I've probably only shaved during about 5 of them. Even when I was a teenager, sunning on the beach with cousin Erin, perching coyly to impress the boys, I had hairy legs. Seriously. And as an adult, well, I figger the hair is there for a reason, y'know? And it's so much damn work to get it off. I know, this probably falls under TMI, but for what it's worth, ever since my dad died I've had the desire to shave and have had silky smooth legs ever since. I don't know what that means.

6. I want to pierce my nose. Surprise! I'm not sure why on this one, either, I just do. I'm not a tattoo kinda grrrl, and I'm pretty particular about my adornments. Love-love-love printed skirts, funky shoes (I've got so many, they block the entrance to my closet), bracelets (I wear 2-5 on any given day), dangly earrings (but not too big, and handmade and artistic/beaded are best), and the occasional ring (used to wear several, now I often don't even have my wedding ring on). But I don't care so much for necklaces (I wear them on occasion, but even small ones make me feel "too done" - when I look in the mirror, the necklace is the thing that sends it over the top, "visual clutter"), and I have only colored my hair once. So a very discreet, simple nose ring is right up my alley. I broke the news to my husband who more or less cringed in horror, so I haven't felt encouraged to pursue it much further. Let's take a vote - what do you say? I even have a kindred piercing partner who's awaiting my cue....

7. Wow, what else... I'm really clutter-phobic, but only in my own house. I'm a regular contributor to Goodwill, and I hate keeping things around for 'just in case.' I actually enjoy other people's clutter, though, because it speaks of a life that is being lived, not some neurotic need to keep a house that looks like no one lives in it. Like I do. Well, used to. Things are a bit messier 'round here these days, because I'm working hard to lighten up and because I got tired of picking up. I can't breathe when my own space has too much stuff in it. Once, at a workshop, we did a guided meditation where we traveled to visit with our future selves (it happened to be the first guided meditation I was ever able to really tune in to), and my future self lived in a very, VERY spare place, with only a bed, a rustic wooden table, and the minimal essentials. I'm not aware of any conscious need to live especially primitively, but openness definitely brings me peace.

8. Sheesh, I'm running out of ideas... I rarely, almost never forget a face. I can't always remember when I met you (cuz linear thinking ain't my thing), but I can very often remember where we were, what was going on, the mood of the day, whether or not you and I were comfortable in the moment, etc. And if I don't recall those things, it could only be because I was hyper-tuned-in to something else at the time, something else really nabbed my all-consuming attention. Because when I can't recall an instance, it really rattles me, cuz it's one of my thangs, a gift.

Alright, that's enough sharing outta me! pant pant... Let's see, do I know 8 people with blogs? Who haven't been tagged yet? Here goes:

I tag (even though I know most of them won't do it!):
Sharon
Jackie
Gemma
Wendy
Silvia
Luna
Peace Goddess
b . v o c k

Take Action against Hate Crimes

Only Love Allowed

Today I was standing in a check-out line at a store. The cash register malfunctioned and we were all waiting for a manager to show up. As we waited we could hear a loud humming noise, but we didn't know where it came from. It went on and on, until finally a little girl showed up in front of me and said, "I'm the most interestingest singer!"

"You sure are!" I said, "I could hear you the whole time!" And it was about that time that her mother, in front of me in line, started in on the little girl, told her to shut her mouth and stand still, yelled at her about her clothes, and basically controlled her every move from there on out. I gave the mother a look of surprise, because I certainly wasn't bothered by the little girl - it sure beat waiting for the darn manager to arrive. A minute later, the girl found a cooler and cups and helped herself to a glass of water, when an older man, a store employee, said, "You can't drink that! That's for the employees. The employees ONLY!" to which the mother replied, "She don't know no better, she's just a child, if you have a problem you talk to me, not to her."

Deep breaths. This was not going well. My heart ached for the little girl caught between these two negative people.

I don't get meanness. I just don't get it. It makes my heart hurt to hear about the horrid things people do to each other; it gets in my head and hurts deep down and I can't shake it. I remember one time a friend said to be careful what you take in, because once you've taken it in, it's there forever. With my porous Pisces skin, being witness to meanness or abuse can send me into quite a tailspin.

The video above made me cry. It was posted on a blog I visit on occasion, and I'm compelled to share it here so that we might all take a moment to make a difference - go to The Human Rights Campaign and send an email to your congressperson, urging their support in passing the Matthew Shepard Act.

On May 3, the United States House passed the federal hate crimes legislation with bi-partisan support (237 - 180). The legislation now heads to the United States Senate, where it has been renamed the Matthew Shepard Act. In response to this, Judy Shepard, Executive Director of the Matthew Shepard Foundation, said "I can’t think of a better way to honor Matthew’s memory. He was a 21-year-old college student just living his life."

Inner Girlie Girls, Unleashed

photo: ready to shop!



It was Tuesday. It was bloody hot. It was a day to seek A/C, embrace our inner girlie girls, and strike out on a mission - new shoes!


It all started when I noticed Ana's super-cute sandals one day... and told her she should take me shopping sometime and help me pick out some shoes.



Ana's inner girlie girl is alive and well, hungry for bling all the time. She will stop her mother in a store, point to the most glittery, shiny, gaudy, sparkly pair of shoes and gush, "Mom, those would look beauuuutiful on you!"


And to understand the whole picture, Ana's mama, my sister, isn't exactly into glam. She is an earth mama, who wears little if any make-up, runs the family farm, and shows up to meet cattle dealers in berkenstocks. Not that she can't doll up something fierce when she needs to - she can turn heads as easily as any grrrl - but she prefers bare feet and comfort-over-fashion most days. So she grimaces whenever Ana shoves a pair of hot-pink glittered stilettos at her.

photo: our "before" picture, with plain old shoes

So after my passing comment, Ana got jazzed. My sister sent me an email that said, "I hope you were serious about taking Ana shoe shopping... you can't say things like that unless you mean it!" And there began the quest, to find a day to shop 'til we dropped. Ana asked "When!?" every time I saw her until I was finally able to set a date.


Our first stop was a shoe store called - of all things - Girlie Girl Shoes! We thought that sounded like the perfect place to start, but unfortunately they only had women's shoes. I did a quick scan of the place to see if anything screamed "buy me," but there were no prices on any shoes and that is never a good sign for frugal-me. After oohing and ahhhing over some decadent handbags, we struck out for the mall.


We had a price limit in mind, and we weren't stopping until all three of us had new shoes. We got waylaid just inside the mall entrance, when a kiosk clerk nabbed us to rub lotion into our hands and buff our nails for a demo. That was fun for a while, but the man was less than thrilled when I kept saying, "Don't do it to my arm, do it on their arms!" as the girls got excited at the mini-pampering. Thankfully, just as the man started with his sales pitch, Maddie rolled her eyes and said, "WHEN can we go shoe shopping!?!" and that was the perfect exit strategy. One of the giggles of the day began... "don't let the lotion man see us! Oooh, there he is - let's go up the elevator so he doesn't see us again!" and we made a game out of dodging him for the rest of the day.


Maddie was the first to strike shoe-gold, in store #3. After trying on dozens of shoes, she put on these smart little yellow polka-dotted sandals and exclaimed, "I want these!" One girlie girl down.



photo: Maddie's new shoes!




Ana felt the pressure and hemmed and hawed over several pair at the same store, but I reminded her we had all day and many more stores to see and not to buy any unless she was really sure. So off we went. We passed a children's store that I almost didn't suggest, because I was thinking Gymboree prices and knew they'd be too costly. But we ventured in anyhow, and Ana took one look at a wall full of glittery flip-flops and said, simply, "Those." I found her size, she tried them, and the biggest grin crossed her face as she did a little jig in her new shoes.





photo: Ana's new shoes!


New sunglasses were on my list of things I need, and just then I spotted kids' sunglasses in the same store. The girls tried on several pair until they were satisfied with the ones they wanted. So, first new shoes, then new sunglasses! We were stylin' now.... little old ladies were chuckling as we posed for photos in front of the stores.









Photo: After shoes, sunglasses!










Alright, so now it was time to get serious about finding a pair of shoes for Aunt Laura. I'd spotted a cute pair as we'd passed through Macy's on our way into the mall, so I knew I had those to consider as a back-up. I didn't think it'd be as much fun for the girls to help me shop, so at each store I'd do a quick scan, and we'd move on to the next place. We decided we were hungry so we visited the food court. I'd hoped to be done shopping so we could find a place with good food, but we settled for mall food. Ana got a slice of pizza from Sbaros that was as big as her head!



Back to the task at hand.... shoes. We stopped at JC Penney's and saw an adorable skirt on our way to the shoe department. I made a mental note about it, but the girls surprised me by saying I HAD to try it on. Such a difference from shopping with my kids! If I even sniff in the direction of such a store, my boys begin their litany of begging not to go there. "No, no way, mom. Please don't make us go." And I don't. So it was such a treat to be with someone who actually encouraged me to try something on! Sadly, the skirt gave me that hmmmm, something's-not-quite-right feeling, even though the girls were enthusiastic about it. Ah well, we have a mission to accomplish, and it's not skirts!



Nothing in the shoe department there jumped out at me, so we took another skirt detour and went back to Ana's store so the girls could try on clothes. After they picked out their favorite skirts, they didn't want to take them off. The clerk had to put Ana on a stool so they could remove the plastic alarm tag! They were amused that we kept returning, buying things, and taking pictures.




photo: After shoes, after sunglasses,... skirts!



Time was running out, so it was back to Macy's where I was hopeful I'd find a pair of shoes I liked that weren't too expensive. The ones I'd spied earlier were very cute, but they were $50 sandals and they didn't meet my 'must have' criteria. And then we spied the racks and racks of hats near the racks and racks of discounted sandals. Double score!



The girls played in the hats and scarves while I tried on shoes, stopping them every so often to ask, "This one, or this one?" They'd look, very serious in their shoes, skirts, sunglasses, scarves and wide-brimmed pink hats, and give me their most astute observations. Then they'd skip back to the hats.










































After I finally found "the ones" - woohoo! - I joined the girls for some fun in the hat racks, causing more than one shopper to stop and laugh at our antics. We were having a ball, and we didn't want to stop!



But alas, 'twas time to get home in time for Ana's baseball game, allowing just enough time to pitstop for a sugary treat.














photo: Aunt Laura's new shoes!





We paused in the mall exit to take just a few more photos - of our newly clad feet! We giggled the whole time, as Maddie wasn't tall enough to lean back, stick out her feet, and not fall off the bench!



All in all, a wildly successful girlie girl afternoon, our inner shopaholics sated .... at least for now....



Photo: The "after" picture - our new shoes!

Knowing When to Shut Up

Today was a "spin my wheels" kinda day. A rainy, chilly Monday following another overly busy weekend. An ADD type of day. An oh-crud-I-forgot-about-piano-lessons sort of day, where one thing got forgotten, another added last minute, and another cancelled, which had me doing the "need to wash my hair - oh wait, no I don't - oh shoot, yes I do" dance of indecision. (For the record, I write with pony-tailed, unwashed hair. :-) This is the sort of day where I sleep just a little too long, when I get that nagging feeling I should get something done - though I know not what that 'something' is. And this is especially the kind of day where my mind wanders in several different directions, emulating my not-getting-much-done actions. And I realize again, tonight, when the usual reading before bedtime seems a bit moot since I've been in evening-mode all day, that my Pisces mind meandering is really something - something frightening.

All day long I'm writing in my head, though little of it gets through to paper. All day long I'm channeling my unschooling voice whenever I'm tempted to throw a big fat hissy fit about the mess on the floor (and on the table, and desk, and counter, and bathrooms, and....). All day long I've got one eye toward the garden and half a wit considering what's for dinner (and why the hell I didn't think to take anything out or - here's a thought - think about it yesterday) while my hands fold clothes. And I look longingly toward the book I'm reading just about the time I realize I'm going to be late to get Jonathan from theatre camp. When puffed-up and needing a good brag, we women like to call it multi-tasking. For me, it's usually multi-daydreaming.

Rob is afraid of the wide-swinging pendulum of my mind. And hell, he doesn't get to hear the half of it. (More like 5% of it - I wanna keep him around, you know.) Since he's been really laid up since his back injury, he actually started cleaning up the kitchen in desperation for something, anything, to do. Now THIS is a shocker. I mean, he's cleaned the kitchen before. By HIS standards. My standards, well, actually include putting dishes in the dishwasher, food in the fridge, and wiping the counters. (Which probably leads one to wonder what he DID do before - as it should. :) So when I started coming home to a clean kitchen, really clean, clean as in "they haven't eaten in the 5 hours I was gone?" - which, for those who don't know my boys, would be a feat worthy of the Guiness Book of World Records - I was happy. SO happy. Now-I'll-stay-married-to-you happy.

And then I made the mistake of saying that out loud. To Rob. I told him how much I appreciated coming home to a clean kitchen. (That was a good start.) I told him it made my day to not walk in and immediately have my eyes see mess and my brain fire *WORK - DAMN IT*. (That was a nice addition to my gushing.) But see, I just don't always know when to quit. I continued with, "When I come home to a clean kitchen, I'm soooo happy. When I come home to a mess, I just want a divorce."

Oops.

Rob's head jerked up at this new piece of insight into the mind-of-Laura. (Because while he likes my fawning, I'm sure, he had one eye on the baseball game during the previous two appropriately complimentary comments.)

"That's where you go in your head? Straight to divorce?!?" he asked, eyebrows raised, lower jaw dropped.

Well, yeah.

I'm not proud of it. And I'm even less proud that I admitted it. Out loud. I mean, some things are better left in one's head, especially irrational, mind-bogglingly drastic, and stoooopid thoughts like "Yes, your honour, I left him because there were crumbs under the toaster oven. Crumbs!!" He really didn't see the humor in it, and I don't blame him... especially considering it wasn't spoken with even a hint of sarcasm. Just plain, showin'-my-hand confession.

There is a monthly collection of blog posts on the topic of unschooling at An Unschooling Life, where the author offers questions as writing prompts and unschoolers submit writings. (I was a recent contributor with this post.) The latest question (which I didn't specifically address) was How has unschooling changed you? You as an adult? And in addition to all the ways I've become a more peaceful parent, I have to say - it's made me a better wife.

When I'm not talking about divorce over dishes, that is.

But unschooling is about more than education. It's a radical shift in how one lives life, seeing value in all things and being joyful and not succumbing to societal expectations of what is valuable and necessary and cool and acceptable. It's about showing respect and love. It's about honoring others and their needs. And that's just the tip of the unschooling iceberg.

And so I think - I hope - my marriage is better for it. I admit I made the transition to honoring the children in their uniqueness years before it even occurred to me to do the same with my marriage. In the early days I worked a whole lot harder to get my way, until I realized one day that I didn't like a man without an opinion. Go figure.

So I re-evaluated. I remembered that the only way to be trusted is to trust, the only way to be loved is to be loving, the only way to earn respect is to show respect.

I sound like a book jacket blurb for Chicken Smarm for the Soul. And you may notice I have a long way to go in the treat-the-husband-with-the-same-respect-I-hope-to-receive department.

Sometimes Rob likes it when I reveal the odd and secret thoughts that go through my head. Like the time when I told him that unloading the dishwasher is foreplay. (And yes, picture Rob doing a slow bend over and saying, "Hey Laura, I'm unloading the dishwasher now...." in Don LaFontaine's voice. Which happens, like, a lot now.) And when we travel together, just the two of us, and he is especially romantic and I am especially carefree, I am more able to be open and acknowledge how much he makes me laugh and how, really, he's such a damn good guy.

So while I've got a little ways to go, I'm getting better. (Really, I am.) I've been seeing a holistic doc to get my hormones in check (my mood swings were *wicked*, and I finally found a doc who figured out I had a raging hormone imbalance); I've been stopping before I spew any sort of ugliness and waiting for option #2 to come to me (thank you Diana for that nugget of wisdom); and I've been seeing my husband for who-he-is and not for who-I-think-he-should-be. And you know what, despite my misguided ideas in the early years, I like him that way. I like a person who knows who they are. I like a person who lives their truth. And Rob does that. And always did that. And I've finally caught on and caught up.

Whew.

There's More

Photo: The adults watching the kids hunt for colored eggs, from Elsa's outdoor sitting area

Photo: Mom in the doorway to Elsa's kitchen

Photo: A cruise ship leaving the Panama Canal locks

Photo: Yami and Bebo's house from the back. Bebo is Marcelo's younger brother

That's what happens when I'm writing with a child asking, "Is it my turn on the computer yet?" every few seconds - I forget things! We went to the Panama Canal! Hello, that's HUGE.

Rob and I saw it nine years ago when we were there for Jackie and Marcelo's wedding. It is a sight to see. We have pictures of a barge being raised in one of the locks, so check out our pictures at kodak (link in last Panama entry). They have a great museum there, and we watched an ancient video about the building of the canal. They are planning an expansion, and this time it will be sustainable in that the water will be recycled and reused. Right now, it uses fresh water that gets flushed out to sea and replenished by their abundant rain during the rainy season!

Before we went to Boquete, we spent a day in Panama City. Panama City is fascinating for its diversity and hustle and bustle like any big city. There are long corridors of street markets, and I wanted the kids to see that. We didn't go down some of the busier (and darker and scarier) ones, but they got a chance to experience the vendors as they hawk you when you're even remotely within earshot and they constantly pull things off shelves to show you and share their special prices. I find it very unnerving to do the market scene. I would love nothing more than to peruse the shops and corridors without anyone bothering me, so I could take my time, look closely at all the items, without feeling the pressure to nod and agree that yes, that sounds like a good price, and yes, those shirts are very nice, but no, I don't want to buy them right now. I feel badly telling them no, but they force you to be rude and distant just to get out of their shop!

We stopped for lunch at a stand, where all you do is sit down and a plate of food is placed in front of you. There is no choice, you get what they're making that day - in grand portions. That day it was a mound of rice (always, and always cooked just right), lentils, fried plantains, a piece of fried chicken, and two tomato slices.

Rob and Jonathan found a shop that sold soccer jerseys and would print any name on the back. Jonathan bought a Brazil jersey and had Ronaldinho printed on the back! The vendor there also supplied Rob with another standing joke for the week. Every time a pretty girl would walk by, the man would look up, whistle, and shout, "Mi amor!" and then promptly return to whatever he was doing. Rob said it was like clockwork - he did it the same way, each time a girl walked by. Rob thought it was so funny that every time I walked near, he whistled and said, "Mi amor!" which apparently was quite funny to the rest of the gang. I'm sure they got equal amusement from my eye-rolling reactions.

From Panama City we made a stop in Chorrera, to visit Sebastiana and Balbino. They were surrogate parents to Jackie while she was in the peace corp, and Mom and I had stayed with them several times during past visits. In fact, I knew them better than Marcelo's family - until now, of course. Their house was the same, they looked the same, and it was nice to see them. They fed us, of course, and I took our kids and Sebastiana's grandkids next door to play soccer. The neighbor kids were peering at us curiously, so I ventured over and asked if they'd like to kick the soccer ball. That poor woman next door, next thing she knows there are 20 kids in her yard (she had 10 kids of her own!) playing with the soccer ball and a white woman trying to speak very poor Spanish and make conversation. Probably about the last thing she expected on an ordinary night!

From there we left for our drive to Boquete.

I know it doesn't matter if I get it all down just right, but I like to have the story for myself since the memories fade with time. It's amazing how quickly things come back to you when you're there - the language, of course, but also the faces and the experiences - but it's upsetting how quickly the memories get foggy. Especially since our two worlds are so vastly different. When I'm there, I wonder how I could ever forget the sensory experience - the smells, the heat, the sounds, the fears, the swirl. But after a day or two home, the memories are almost dream-like. I usually wake up the first morning back in a very confused state, not knowing where I am, and I have incredible dreams for a few nights. It's fascinating, and sometimes difficult to transition. And that's after ten days! I can't imagine how it was for Jackie to live in both worlds for a while. Or for Marcelo, to leave his home to live in a place so utterly different.

I think Jonathan caught the wanderlust, too. He was very interested in learning about foreign exchange programs, and he has a list of places he'd like to visit. Now, to find the money.... !

~Namaste~

Parenting with Sarcasm

Photo: Melting snowman in Jackie's yard

Warning: Thinks-she-knows-it-all parenting advice is forthcoming. You are not required to agree. Try some on, keep what fits. Share insights of your own. Truth is, by the time we get around to having a live conversation about this topic, my thoughts on the matter (and probably yours!) will have evolved further and I'll be in yet another 'new place.' (Oh, I do so enjoy the ride!)

*********************

Recently, I was trying to put a finger on just what it is about my friends that I like so much. (Because, you see, my friends rock.) Obviously, there are the usual reasons - we have a lot in common, we feel comfortable talking about the heavy stuff, we can show our whole and true selves, we share similar hopes and dreams and ideals. But what really stands out for me, what I find most inspiring, satisfying, and beautiful is that they like their kids. I mean, really like them - as in they show the same respect and enjoyment of who they are as interesting people as they show their friends.

It's a sad thing that this seems surprising, unusual. It's how it should be. And I won't argue that the vast majority of parents don't love their children, it's how that love is expressed, how the parent-child relationship is played out where things get a little murky. I realized long ago that I'm no authoritarian, and my style is probably best defined as diplomacy. (Loving diplomacy, lest it sound high-handed in itself.) But even though I lean in this direction out of pure intuition and comfort, I have been witness to countless interactions between my friends and their children that astound me in their pureness and beauty and cause me to take stock over and over in how I treat my own children, not to mention how I treat my husband, and others in general. The age-old argument that if you give kids an inch they'll take a mile has been summarily disproven again and again, over years and years, by this handful of people whose lives are a constant testament to how things can be done differently - and I've been lucky enough to learn from them. They give their kids miles (and miles and miles) and what they get in return are kids with very strong legs.

I often wonder how to put it into words.... what is different about their relationships? For starters, there is a deep, authentic joy that is present. While we all tend to puff up a little at our kids' accomplishments - which means we are taking a bit of ownership in what they're doing - the joy my friends express seems to be unattached, in that their joy is shown with and for their kids and what they're up to, not because of what they've accomplished. They don't own who their kids are any more than they own who I am. Hmmm, I'm not being clear.

The key, I think, is authenticity. They don't work to try to be authentic - they are authentic. They don't ponder each moment wondering what is the best way to handle it - their every move is grounded in strong principle and is natural and free-flowing. I've rarely seen it in action, much less as an automatic, a given, and it's really a thing of beauty.

Sadly, most examples are far less illustrious. One particularly upsetting trend, one which seems to be growing, oddly enough, is parenting with sarcasm. I surmise the premise is to shame the child into different behavior. We know we don't like to be shamed, the argument goes - so if we shame our children, they will be humiliated into making a different and presumably better choice next time (though by whose standards, I'd ask). But I also wager this isn't done consciously so much as it is borne of the parent's own insecurity. Because they feel their child's every move reflects on them, they worry - dread, even - that someone might not think well of their children, or be bothered by their behavior, or, fear of all fears, look down upon them as parents.

I see it all the time, and it's ugly. I've been guilty of it myself, and it feels bad. I think it's one of the most insulting, degrading, and offensive methods of behavioral control. And for some reason, it has taken the place of stern discipline, where the parent directs and the child is meant to obey. (Who knew I'd come to miss authoritarian parenting! I don't, though I'll take the clear lesser of two evils in this case.)

As I said, I've been guilty of it myself. Who hasn't been mortified at her child's behavior in public on occasion? But it's how we handle it that separates the evolving from the it's-not-working-yet-I-do-it-anyway folks. It helps to consider your own reactions to others' children. When I see a mother struggling with her child in the supermarket, unless she is whacking him or being extremely awful, I feel empathy or a "been there" chuckle. Sometimes I offer help, or I smile so they know I'm not there lording it over them. So why do we flake out when it's our child and others are watching? If nothing else it's an opportunity to set an example in grace under pressure. And really, if your child is doing something so incredibly awful that you can't handle it gracefully, your problem didn't start just that minute but has been building for a while, and a larger examination of your relationship is probably called for. (I know, because I've been there. Sometimes I'm still there. I might be there tomorrow.)

A few years ago, there was a week where Brady was being especially harsh toward Jonathan. Normally he's a very patient big brother, and he has been known to treat Jonathan very respectfully. But that week something was building. I wasn't as on top of things in those days, so after a week of building anger and a particularly scathing insult toward Jonathan, I went to Brady's room to have a one-on-one. Attempts at scolding him hadn't worked thus far - I knew I needed to hear him. When he finally broke, what he told me was this - "He embarrasses me." I could clearly see it pained him to admit that - he was very ashamed of saying it out loud.

Brady is my Libra child, concerned with outward appearances, conservative in his public face (though fiercely liberal when comfortable); a diplomat, who errs on the side of caution under most circumstances. Jonathan, however, is spontaneous, loud, and doesn't have it in him to consider ahead of time what others will think of him and a particular behavior - he simply doesn't have that kind of radar. He lives in the moment. So you can see how these two personalities can make for a bit of a mess at times.

What I was able to tell Brady is that Jonathan's behavior doesn't reflect on him. If Jonathan does something that others frown upon, they don't blame Brady or look to him to fix it. (They might blame me, and that's ok.) And that's how it is with our kids in the grocery store. If we have a relationship of trust and really listening and really celebrating the joys, big or small, of our children, they'll have less reason to act out. And if they act out, something's wrong, and shaming and sarcasm probably aren't the answer.

Call it permissive parenting, roll your eyes that I give my kids too much leeway, I don't really care. I value their opinions about things, I give them say in their lives, they can tell me 'no' or disagree with me and we can have great discussions about why we feel the ways we feel - and for us, it works. Compared to some kids, my kids seem the perfect angels. Compared to others, they seem insubordinate and too opinionated. I don't measure it in those ways. I see each interaction, each day, each experience as an opportunity to make the best and most respectful choices possible. Sometimes the road to that place is a little muddy, but we understand each other better in the end.

Some of the unschooling gurus I glean advice from recommended a book called Parent-Teen Breakthrough: The Relationship Approach by Mira Kirshenbaum and Charles Foster. It is an amazing book, and Rob and I keep it at the ready (read: in the bathroom - LOL) for easy reference. I highly recommend it for any parents, not just parents of teens (when it's sometimes too late to completely reverse years of relationship damage, though that shouldn't stop anyone from dropping everything and trying with everything they've got).

And on that note, what books have changed your life? I'd love to hear all about it because I just love a life-altering paradigm shift! So please share - if not here, at piscesgrrl@aeroinc.net.

So, hug those kids of yours (or spouse, or friend, or parent, or whomever) and take a deep breath and remind yourself that it's the relationship that counts and how you get there IS important. And since you've humored my know-it-all exposition, I thank you, and I welcome your thoughts on this or any other matter!

Be well. Be happy.

~Namaste~

Culture Club

Photo: Marcelo cutting open a coconut with a machete

Photo: Elsa and Ana cracking open freshly roasted cashew nuts

Photo: Brady in front of the house we stayed in

We've returned from our trip to Panama! It was an intensely rich experience - full of excitement and new exploration, and fraught with its share of challenges, none of the expected kind!

We left on a Sunday from Chicago O'Hare, where nerves were a'jumble. Rob had injured his back while training for a marathon and lifting heavy boxes in a move, and Jonathan was suddenly nervous and decided to clamp his jaws shut and stop eating for the remainder of the trip. Overall, a less than desirable beginning to our adventure. Brady, however, was the surprise of the day. He-who-had-asked-several-times, "WHY do I have to go to Panama?" was browsing for Spanish dictionaries in the Houston airport during our layover; He-who-had-balked-at-learning-Spanish was asking how many things he could learn to say in the remaining 3 hour flight time, and whether he should just focus on soccer playing-related vocabulary. I was buoyed by his new enthusiasm, as it was Brady and his - shall we say - 'sensitivity' that had us worried about the trip.

My sister Jackie - who had been in Panama during her Peace Corp days - and her husband Marcelo - a Panamanian native (they call themselves Panameños) - met us at the airport and off we went to Marcelo's finca (farm). This being my fourth visit to Panama, I wished we weren't arriving at night. I found it unnerving on my first visit to bed down in an unfamiliar place without getting a good look at it first. But my children didn't seem fazed. We were greeted by Jackie's children and Marcel's mother and some of his family members when we arrived, and after a snack, shown to our house where we'd sleep. That's "our house" in the photo above. I couldn't get a good picture of the inside because the houses are fairly dark, being made of cinder blocks and cement and with little natural lighting. Our house had been Roberto's house (Marcelo's brother), but now stood empty and was used for storage. It had electricity and a fan - a treat for us wimpy northerners - and a spicket for water out back. It was nice to have our own sleeping quarters away from the main house.

The first two days were spent at the farm, which was perfect. The kids got to know their newly adopted primos (cousins), we got to visit with Marcelo's mother Elsa and get reacquainted with his family, and Rob and I - mostly Rob - got to dust off our Spanish and try to communicate. The kids played for hours in a large dirt pile near the house while we adults toured the homestead and ate large plates of food. The Panamanians are very gracious in their hospitality. Visitors are always served food and drinks straight off. On the last night we cooked and served an American meal, and as we plated food to serve the family and the guests who came to say goodbye, Jackie would watch and say, "More... more... that's for an adult, right? More....." until our serving portions were respectfully acceptable. We didn't go hungry for a moment during the entire trip!

Jonathan was still on a hunger strike, but Brady gobbled up seconds at most meals and asked if we were going to finish our leftovers. This is quite unlike him as he doesn't eat a lot at home, and he inherited my weak stomach and often complains of upset, but the only time that happened in Panama was when he ate Americanized food... Hmmm....! Elsa was pleased that he liked their food so much. The food wasn't anything too intimidating for us. Rice at every meal, fried platanos (plantains), pollo (chicken), and bollos (ground corn boiled like tamales) are the norm, along with lentils, eggs, and homemade corn tortillas (which we sadly didn't get a chance to eat). There are cashew, coconut, mango, orange, and grapefruit trees on Elsa's finca, as well as a few other fruit trees for which I can't recall the names. My kids thought it was great to have fresh fruit at the ready, and it was fun to watch Marcelo hack open a coconut with a machete, watch Darinel scale a tree to throw down fruits, and Elsa roast cashew nuts over a fire and crack them open with rocks. (Jonathan, never before a big citrus eater, has suddenly been eating oranges by the dozen, and always cuts and eats them "Panamanian-style" now. Who knew it wasn't the orange itself, but the serving style that makes the difference!)

While at the farm, we went to a nearby river for a swim, played soccer in the yard, played billar (pool) and drank sodas in glass bottles at the tienda (store) owned by Marcel's mother, sat in hammocks and chatted with relatives, and watched the children run and play. The language barrier didn't inhibit the boys. With Ana and Madelina as translators, they managed well enough to spend days laughing together. Brady and the rest of us got a good laugh when he said he thought Joseph could understand him because when he'd ask Joseph, "Do you understand what I'm saying?" Joseph would shake his head 'no' - and Brady laughed and said, "Then how did you know the right answer to my question!?!" It became one of several running jokes that we enjoyed throughout the week.

Day three had us piling into rental cars and heading for Boquete, a lovely small touristy town near the rainforest. It was a long drive, so we broke it up with an overnight at a motel in Santiago, but it was exciting to be on the historic Pan-American Highway, 29,800 miles of road linking the Americas - the world's "longest motorable road", stretching from Fairbanks, Alaska to the far reaches of South America.

The B&B at Boquete was called Boquete Garden Inn and was just lovely. Behind our apartments - which were like permanent yurts in shape - was a river brimming with rocks, perfect for jumping. The kids spent most of the first afternoon there while we adults got settled, rested in the sun, and joined in with the younger ones. A drive through town showed Boquete to have an international population, with Peruvian, Mexican, and Italian restaurants in addition to the Panamanian fare. That first night we made a bad restaurant choice and waited over sixty minutes for our food, only to be told that two of our entrees were not available. We were in good spirits anyhow, and retired to our comfortable rooms.

The next day we were reminded of our proximity to the rainforest, for it rained in sheets for the main part of the day. So much for a hike through the rainforest. After a trip to town, we settled in with games and food and watched the rain come down. That night we ate at a pizzeria and got a little loopy - and a lot loud. We have silly pictures to show for it. We apologized to the waitstaff for our silliness - luckily we were the only ones dining at the time.

Rob's back was really acting up at this point so we found a chiropractor at a country club. When that didn't help we found a doctor who would come in to see him (it was Good Friday). The doc gave him a cortisone shot and 3 medications for pain and muscle relaxation. I had to take a picture of that, too! The entire bill was $65.

We did take a short hike into the rainforest and left Rob behind to wait. We didn't hike long and it rained on us on our way out. We kept looking for sloths - we didn't see any, but we did have some little Indian kids who live in the rainforest come and ask if we wanted their photo and then ask us for money. Jackie had come prepared with pockets of quarters.

We then took off for our next stop, Chitre - to be near the ocean. Another three hour drive with Rob's back in spasms, and we made it to our next hotel. That hotel had an entirely different flavor, what I'd call almost "Disney-esque" in a Panamanian sort of way. We spent an entire day at the ocean where the kids fell in love with the coast. During our third hour of wave-jumping, Jonathan said, "The ocean is WAY cooler than a lake!" That it is. Unfortunately, we all got burned to a crisp despite sunscreen, and Jonathan got it the worst, poor guy. He spent the next two days in a bit of a funk.

Tuckered out, with Rob in increasing discomfort, we headed back for our 3-hour drive back to the farm. Jackie and I took Rob straight into the town of Chorrera to find another doc and more pain meds, and we all felt a bit relieved to be back at the farm again. More visitors, more food, more hordes of kids in play, more attempted Spanish, and a visit from a Panamanian witch doctor to do "the secret" - chanting and tapping in a particular pattern - to fix Rob's back took up the remaining time, and other than a growing worry for Rob's condition, we were all becoming a little sad about leaving. My mom had the amazing idea to bring egg-coloring kits and the kids spent a long time doing that. They loved it, and when we made them leave so we could hide the eggs for a hunt, I am certain the adults had more fun than the kids! We paired the kids off and sent them on the prowl, and the adults laughed and laughed at their enthusiasm. I put my eggs in somewhat obvious places thinking the kids would get too frustrated if they couldn't find them. Not the others - they hid them 8 feet up in notches in trees, deep in plants, and other obscure places. The kids were diligent and they found them all!

On the last day, Brady saw a scorpion climbing the wall of 'our' house, so some adults went on the prowl to try to find it (no luck - eek). But that spurred the kids into an eager curiousity about the tarantulas and scorpions and other scary critters that lurk nearby, and next thing we know, Brady has his video camera and Joseph is pouring water down tarantula holes to try to flush one out. It didn't work (and I was wishing I didn't suddenly know just how many holes there were in a ten-square-foot area near my house!!!), so Marcelo and his brother Bebo got in on the action and succeeded in rousting one from her hole! As we all screamed (the video is hilarious) and Jackie's two girls climbed me like a tree as I lumbered off, a kid to each hip, Marcelo said, "Oh, she's just a young one." Breathe... breathe... she was big enough for me, thank you very much, no need to meet her mama. She scurried to a nearby tree and Brady caught it all on tape. Unfortunately, they had to kill her, and we felt badly about that. But when something is a danger, they don't take any chances.

Emboldened, on to the scorpion hunt again. This time, Marcelo and Bebo again helped and they found one hiding under a rock. (Again, twenty feet from 'our' house - 'out of sight, out of mind' was quickly fading as my defensive philosophy.) Marcelo even showed his party trick of removing a central nerve from the scorpion's stomach - they held it down with sticks - which disabled its defenses so it wouldn't sting. Jonathan, ever the brave soul, immediately said, "My turn to hold it!" Um, no, child. And he said, "YES, Mom, I'm going to!" Thankfully, Marcelo explained to the kids that it wasn't entirely safe, it could still sting, and since he knows how badly it hurts he wouldn't let them take any chances. (phew!) The scorpion, too, was sacrificed for our curiosity and it became chicken food.

I was happy to learn that Marcelo hates snakes and so we would not continue our "flirting with disaster" journey to include them. There are several poisonous snakes there and everyone knows someone who was bitten and died. Snakes, they do not mess around with.

That last night we served pasta and meatballs, fruit salad, steamed mixed vegetables, and rolls for dinner. (With rice, in case someone didn't like the food.) The kids got really wound up and silly and spent the evening running and playing. We got packed up and made our travel plans for home.

Jackie's family left very early as they had a different flight, and we were a bit worried about finding the airport ourselves. So several of Marcel's family members escorted us to the airport, and we were very grateful. They were a huge help as we stopped yet again for a doc visit and another injection for Rob, and when we visited a pharmacy to get something for Jonathan's oozy sunburn. They took the kids for sodas and a walk while we returned the rental car, and we had a sweet goodbye at the airport. It's such an odd thing to have an emotionally intense experience with someone and then know you may never see them again - it's a difficult thing to navigate. But the kids fell in love with the country and the people and the kids and Jonathan is already asking when he can go back. So perhaps we will all meet again.

We are super grateful to Marcelo and Jackie for inviting us to join them in Panama. If not for them, we wouldn't have these experiences - we are so happy they've included us. They were gracious travel hosts, translators, and interpretors of cultural social graces. So, THANK YOU to them.

We are super grateful to my mom, our travel companion from start to finish. She's a great travel buddy, so much help with the kids, and helped us make decisions regarding Rob's care. So, THANK YOU to mom.

And we are super grateful to Marcelo's family for taking us in and sharing their home with us!

It was a lovely experience and tempered my wistful wanderlust, at least for a while. Pictures can be viewed at Kodak.com - six albums worth!

~Namaste~