Top 10 Indicators You Need a Break From BREAKAWAY

I do not want a break from BREAKAWAY and robotics, but there may be a few indications that we need a break.

The closing ceremony of FIRST Championship games in Atlanta included a Top Ten list of "Indicators You Need a Break From BREAKAWAY," and there were some funny ones. OKay, I admit some were funny, and some were true, so I had to reflect for a moment to realize that they are kind of humorous... like: "Build workshop is primary residence." Well, part of the build workshop has been in our primary residence since January, and I have often referred to the school's metal shop as a second home. This isn't normal?

And when I saw indicator #2, I thought, "Cool. I could totally go for that. I painted the RV in team colors. And I have seriously been thinking of pimping my ride with some sweet details. Why not bumpers?" This isn't normal?


And "Yes. Yes, I have been thinking about St Louis. Can we get there? What will they build? How many more T-shirts should they silkscreen? Which FRC events should we they elect to go to? Is there an aquarium?"

I think it may be time for me to reflect on my own Top Ten Indicators I Need A Break from BREAKAWAY.

10. We are exhausted. Yes, I still feel the energy and love robotics and FIRST, but we have been worn a bit thin, by the intensity of these work-school-laundry-robotics schedules. I need a nap. Several naps.

9. We are still trying to move in to our home. We have made great progress, but there are still unpacked boxes and empty walls. We need to reapply ourselves to being moved-in.

8. Every time someone does something well, or needs encouragement, my arms spontaneously shoot up and I pump phantom pom-poms.

7. That thingy, in my leg, that makes the muscle hang on... it's still not hanging on. Don't tell my mommy. She worries.

6. Maria has been tagging every clear surface with 2102 and Paradox illustrations.

5. I think I can dance. This one is embarrassing. I know I cannot dance, but for some reason I do not let this fact keep me from doing the Cha-Cha slide. In public. Before cameras, and people whose respect I hope to earn.

4. Every post about robotics has been a detrimental blow to Chickenblog readership. Actually, this reason sucks. I will never take a break from posting about robotics! Hence the new header.

3. The house is a mess. Oh boy. This one is serious. I used to at least pretend that I was trying to be a domestic diva, but I gave that act up. I love robotics and 2102 and FIRST, and given any excuse I will write, photograph, sew, and beg for this team... especially if I can get out of mopping and dusting.

2. The house is a mess.
What?
Oh.
I said that.
That's okay.
I think it bears repeating.

1. From Blogger: "FTP publishing will no longer be available after May 1, 2010
You currently have blogs that are published using FTP. You must migrate your blogs to a new custom domain URL or a blogspot URL."

Uh.

Uh-oh. This one is a doozy.

Chcikenblog Chickenblog is going away. All the deep thoughts, and flowers, and hencakes, Betty, Chango, Joe, Benjamin Franklin Thunder Cat, and the Ratty-Rats, the quilts, Geeks... all of it.

But not for long.

I hope.

Geoff? Will this take long?

Geoff is taking a break from BREAKAWAY, so he can do... he can make... he can... you know... make Chickenblog come back slicker, and shinier, and bloggier than ever.

This may take a few days. This may get glitchy. This may make me really nervous. It will confuse me too, but I am familiar with that sensation. Mostly I just hope we don't make you nervous and confused. And I hope we don't *poof* leave the Interwebs, forever lost in cyberspace.

While Geoff is banging his head and sitting on hold with someone named "Josh" in Bangalore migrating the blog to a new custom domain URL or a blogspot URL,
I will be reassuming my role as a domestic diva, *ahem.*
Pray for me. For us.

For your viewing pleasure, I would like to leave you with an original work of art, torn from Alex's english notebook. (The very same notebook where he is supposed to be writing English notes.)


"Dostoevsky Esky Esky Esky" by Alex V2"

He's reading Crime and Punishment.
It's done in pen. The teacher took a picture of it with Flat Stanley.

I love this blog.
Please look for us on the other side.
We will be back.

You, on Vacation


Before I start making our summer plans and dusting off our passports, I wanted to open up a new theme and create a new label for Chickenblog: Postcards. What it will be is... a snapshot of you, or something you saw, from your vacation or travels, even if it's from a staycation.

Why? You maybe asking. Or, you may be going back to your Google search, because you didn't find a "chicken yodel Easter card" here, and you never will, so do please move along.

Why, is because someone sent me a digital postcard from her vacation and I absolutely love it. On her blog she posted about heading to Hawaii. I love Hawaii. I miss Hawaii. And I practically highjacked her comments page with my rambling Hawaii nostalgia, including a li hing mui shave ice craving. Some blogs I can comment on and be practically anonymous, because I am one rambling-nonsensical voice among hundreds of brilliant and relevant voices. As I am easily amused, I comment anyway, but evidently sometimes I get through.

Where was I?

Check.

Okay, so, I was thinking it would be great fun to get more digital postcards like the one Bitter Betty sent me, when I was fantasizing on her vacation.


She got the li hing mui shave ice! And she sent a picture. Isn't this awesome? Yes, she is. And I just about fainted from amusement, and then from envy. Ah, Bethany. This was about the coolest thing ever. And inspiring too.

So. Going some place? Want to make me faint from amusement, and/or envy? Want to answer a few questions and then have your postcard and interview posted here on Chcikennblog Chickenblog?

Hmmm. Maybe I am only a rambling-nonsensical voice, but honestly, I hope someone thinks this could be fun, and wants to give it a try. I would love to see where you are heading this weekend, this summer. Will there be chickens? Are you going some place new? Do you take pictures of yourself? Is this the same ol trip you always make? Would you like me to think up an assignment for you? Give us your best shot!

Spinning


It was either Maria, or it was Alex... one of them had the idea. But they both loved the idea, which is why the Bird House will soon have a windmill. They're in the kitchen right now... I could get some clarification, but I kind of like the mystery.


Anyway. Alex and Maria were inspired to build a windmill, and they spent an entire evening discussing it and designing it, and thinking up ways it will serve us. I love Maria's calculations and diagrams. I love Alex's calculations and diagrams too, but for slightly different reasons. I also love the budget :: So far he's made everything from found parts and bits. Next up are skateboard bearings. Do you have any skateboard bearings sitting around? Would you like to get rid of them?


The breeze already wants to turn it. He attached a drill to it and did a spin demonstration. He plans to hook it up to a generator. Max asked how a generator works, and Alex explained it. And I paid very close attention, but I pretty much think it works by magic. I kind of like mystery.


Mom: Alex, come here. Let me ask you something (points to picture): What can it do?

Alex: It's like a propeller in reverse... where instead of pushing the air, the air pushes against the blade and turns it. The spinning will turn a dynamo.

Mom: Dynamo? Isn't that laundry detergent?

Alex: A dynamo is a solid state magnet surrounded by coiled copper wires, that rotates and creates a positive and negative charge at its two poles.

Mom: Sounds illegal.

Alex: The charge it generates will go in the house's grid, and provide power to our home.

Mom: You are a good boy.

Alex: grins


Here are Maria and Alex painting the windmill. I believe Alex is holding the ladder, and Maria has the brush.

Mom: Maria, tell me about this picture.

Maria: Dat's about we paint the winmill.

Mom: What color will you paint the windmill(ignoring the obvious)?

Maria: I guess blue. Blue is Paradoxy.

Mom: You're a good girl.

Spring break at the Bird House, it's how we roll spin.

Kiss and Make-Up

Yesterday, when I needed five do-overs to produce one Valentine, I was a bit stressy. I am in awe of the scrap booking sect of our universe. What they do with paper and glue, glitter and graphics... I am not worthy. I thought playing with hearts and participating in Bitter Betty's Valentine Swap would be good, clean fun. But somehow, I managed to make a complicated mess of it.


Corporal cuddling and humor got me back on track. And in spite of my gluey fingerprints all over everything, I did have fun making Valentine cards after all.


And who mentioned glitter glue? I was trying go all Martha, like the big kids do, but no more. I broke out these glitter glue tubes for Maria and discovered there is an economical, user friendly, sparkly world out there. I still have a long way to go in the greeting card department, but glitter-glue saved my crafty caboose.


I also got super amused and inspired by Erin and her two daughters, who were inspired by this creative woman. I find no end of good ideas on the www, but when I have the supplies on hand (and a willingness to pop over to Trader Joe's for dye-free lollipops)... it's golden. Easy, funny, fun. Fun. Even with my lethargic-temperamental printer, I was able to crank out just enough prints for both Max and Maria to make these:


It's Max. And he's handing out giant lollipops.


Camera. A smile. Printer. Utility knife. Trader Joe's. All the tools you need. Max and Maria added their signatures. I did the exacto-cuts.


Some glitter hearts would look really cute on these.

We Can't Even Be Friends

Glitter does not love me any more. Glue and paper laugh in my face.


The sparkle is still there, but I can't make anything work.
We are getting a divorce.

I Wore It :: Earring Edition

This is a gratitude post, more than a fashion-faux pas episode. My mother read my post about how I look most mornings, what I am not doing to make myself presentable, and naturally she was shocked in to action by one particular tragedy. I know she loves me, but when she sees that I am going without earrings, I think it must stun and devastate her.

She ponders the forces in the universe and asks, "Why? How can my own flesh and blood, my daughter, greet the world without earrings? Why does she disrespect the lessons I have taught her? Where is her dignity?" Then she probably suspects that I am not taking vitamins, that I leave the house with wet hair, that I keep shabby panties.

And she's right. How does she know these things?

And so, not for the first time, a package arrives and it is full of her wisdom and love, her concern, and her stern warning to get my act together. She sent earrings. Lots of them.


And in honor of her beautiful art, I bought two tubes of lipstick. I brushed my hair too. She didn't run to the bedazzle kiosk at the mall. She makes these earrings. She makes many delectable jewelry pieces. With the exception of my engagement ring and wedding band, I think all of my jewelry comes from her studio, which reflects how much I like what she makes and especially how generous she is. Lucky me.


Self portraits always look like self portraits.
I like this lipstick shade :: Blushing Berry-L'Oréal.
I hope they are a decent company and don't use enslaved chickens to make this stuff.
If a person is thinking of coloring their hair, should they consider a color that complements their lipstick?
This is what I wore to pull weeds for 5 hours. Maria and I found about 42 big earthworms. We need about 900 more for our worm farm.


Thank you Mommy. I am wearing the purple ones today, and I took some vitamins this week. I also got help pruning all those roses. Yesterday I planted a third apple tree, so now we have three apples varieties, a plumcot, peach, Santa Rosa Plum, pomegranate and lots of grape vines planted. I still need to dig holes for the blackberries. Thank you for care packages and jewels, for loving me and calling me, for knowing me. I love you.

Playing With Hearts


My creative mojo skipped town, and left no forwarding address. And even though I have the urge, the compulsion, not much has come out of my crafty corner. No quilting. No dresses. No felted thingies, or new scarves. No seashell clocks or macrame mug holders.

Remember Valentine's Day? Some of you never forgot it, I am sure, but I have not dabbled in the Romantic Era in a long time.

Disclaimer: This is not a pity party.

I remember the antsy anticipation, gathering paper, scissors and glue, and a long list of classmates to make Valentine greetings for... hearts, stickers, glitter. I loved seeing the teacher's bulletin board, favoring red and pink, the calendar day marked with a heart. And there were class parties. Punch. Cookies. Candy hearts. And the mail boxes or bags, filling up with treats and greetings and innocent visions of sweet romance.

I don't know how or why, but it seems like there was a lot riding on those tiny cards, the candy hearts with messages. It was fun. Thrilling even.

Makes me smile.


Maybe that is why I answered Bitter Betty's call for an old fashion Valentine exchange. And ever since I asked to play along, I have had hearts on the brain. I look for hearts and scope out the seasonal holiday aisles in the stores. I have been trying to find that feeling, that grade school age giddiness that came with the countdown to Valentine's Day. And I have been trying to zero in on what kind of Valentine I can make and send.

Folding laundry, I found hearts. Then I wondered what other hearts happen to be in and around our home. So, I went looking.


Some hearts are actual "hearts" and some hearts are a feeling, an act that speaks of love, a picture of romance. The times Geoff has filled my car with fuel... I put a big heart around that. When the children are together in the tent, reading aloud, laughing... I put a big heart around that too.


This is the very first time I put a heart on a door. Maria saw the wreath at the craft store, and recalling my own thrill for the holiday, I let her add it to our cart. The bow from our Christmas wreath is getting a second life. Wouldn't the wreath look amazing completely covered in red roses?


Here is another heart that could hold roses, or sweet peas. Sweet peas are my idea of a romantic bloom.

What I need is an idea for a Valentine card... homemade, well made. Not "show-off" well made... just thoughtfully, sweetly well made. I've got "thoughtful" covered. I am thinking about this all the time. But the time for action is upon me.


I even bought heart doilies. I remember when I first saw paper doilies, I felt as though a Queen might enter the room, as though the hostess had magical powers... how else could she conjure such an elegant piece of fancy decor? Nowadays I could probably find a "How It's Made" episode to explain how millions of red paper heart doilies are cut and shipped, but I will never do that, because I like the magic, the mystery.


Inspired by love and by talented women, like Grandma Nancy, I want to make a special Valentine. Several special Valentines. Maybe with fabric, maybe with paper, maybe with photographs... I do not know.

I was kind of amused, sort of surprised, to find as many hearts as I did. Even blossoms in the garden suggested hearts, and Maria running around the house playing... she's like a heart in motion, pink and bursting with a love of life that is quite inspiring.


Nine ringing, tingling hearts. Chiming in the garden.

Betty, I suppose this is my first WIP, my progress report for the Valentines Trade. I am on the verge of making something. Nearly, nearly. I am putting my heart in to this.

What Not to Wear I Wore It


This is a whole new theme. I am going to either shame myself in to a real makeover, or resign myself to embracing my "inner" beauty. I am not so shallow as to propose that nice clothes and a hair brush are above kindness and good deeds, but something tells me I could do better.

My intentions are to:

1. Learn how to use my Christmas tripod.
2. Amuse myself.
3. Confess. We are talking full disclosure.
4. Challenge myself to graduate to a mature-sophisticated-aware state of being.

Issues:

1. I have not located/unpacked my earrings.
I know this is a minor factor in the overall problem subject, but wearing earrings is a small yet effective means of caring about one's appearance, I think.

2. I am not a morning person. I should quantify that... I am not a person that cooperatively and enthusiastically rises and agrees to submit to the timetables and rigors of school schedules.

3. Morning is my time and my time is never-ever-ever dedicated to:
a. ironing, unless for sewing
b. brushing my hair
c. being uncomfortable
d. applying make-up

4. All of the above would go a very long way to making me look less... Sasquatch.


I know.
I could do better.
I should do better.
It's an issue.


The hat. Well, the hat is cute. I made it. But it is, of course, hiding the hair that went unwashed... I could blame the septic system this week, but honestly, most mornings my shower comes late.

I do wear sunscreen, but obviously I have not located/unpacked my make-up. No mascara or foundation or concealer or lipstick or airbrushed shellac.

The brows. Well, yes, I shouldn't leave home without tweezers and a fine toothed comb. Enough said.


Sure, I can let iMac run the airbrush over my picture, but family and neighbors don't get this glossed over version, so it doesn't really count.

Step this way, if you will...

These shoes looked good. They looked good last June. Without socks. I think wearing my heavy wool socks with these summer shoes may have stretched them too much, because my feet are coming way forward and frankly, I don't think they look any better without socks. (Last pedicure: May 1998.)


The pants work for one wearing. One. I must not treat them like my farm-girl jeans that I won't wash until they can stand freely. These pants get wonky and wrinkled after a day and slipping them on for speed and ease is fashionably criminal. Even I can see that. Also, the big red stain on the hip... it's fading, sure, but it is there. Note to self: Lose these pants.


First of all, I want to congratulate myself for putting on a bra. Small measure, huge difference. The T-shirt is another matter. For one thing it is not my T-shirt, and that means one or two things: I am raiding Geoff's side of the closet because my diet is fail, and I have not kept up with laundry. So, as much as I loved SIGGRAPH, I am not wearing this ginormous T-shirt as a geek statement.

I like the coat. The coat is thrift shop vintage... White Stag, Portland, Oregon... in case that means something to real fashionistas.

I like my tripod. Thank you Geoff.


So. This is what I wore today when I dropped Alex, then Max off at school. I came home and, technically, I had time to make certain improvements before taking the next shift, but I did not. This is what I wore when I dropped off William, and I actually walked Maria in to her classroom wearing exactly this outfit. If I hustle, I can shower and change before I pick Maria up. We'll see.

Did I mention... ? I find this amusing. I see what can be done, but there are so many other ways to pass the time, that my personal style will only improve with significant effort. "Significant effort" may not be too big a deterrent, because studying these images I can see that I am closer to Crazy Chicken Lady than Uniquely Herself. I think my goal should be a Uniquely Me look.

Must Glue-Cut-Glitter-Stitch Something

It's almost overwhelming how crafty I feel. Not sinisterly coiling a handlebar mustache-kind of craftiness. I need to make something.

Maybe I should sinisterly coil my own mustache. Bitter Betty is crafty that way.

Unless I clean my office/studio/nerve center first, I will be putting the cart before the horse, but it's almost overwhelming how crafty I feel and I cannot wait. Something whimsical is bursting to get out of my head. And inspiration is calling.

And if my crafting is justified and purposeful, something hyper organized for say... next Christmas, then I can have fun and relish that elusive sense of accomplishment.

I'm going to do something. Seriously. Must. craft. create. make. I'll download Lady Harvatine's "O, Holy Night" and start basting and snipping to her lovely voice and the ukuleles strumming...

A Merry Bird House Christmas

All together under our very own roof, we are preparing for Christmas.


Max made a snowman in school. A clever way to use a sock, and we love the fez.


This school project I got to help with, when I joined Max's class in reverse painting on glass. Looks like a starry and peaceful night. I recall the magic of a snowy Christmas. All the children were so intent and creative painting their holiday plates.


Maria mastered paper chain making, and hung this one with our stockings. Have not figured out how to hang them from the mantle. Maybe because I am too cheap to buy six hangers? We have a tradition of hanging them from a banister.


I finally tried adding ornaments to the tree, only to discover that it is so parched and crisp the branches fracture and collapse when I touch them. Ah, I remember our 2004 Christmas and the tree we hurled out the door, over the railing and in to the pitch black of Christmas Eve. It was so dry we feared it would spontaneously combust. Fortunately, Maria has been making and adding pretty touches. The tree is loved. Fragrant, dry, lit and loved.

William and Alex are together in the kitchen, deciphering an Alton Brown cookie recipe. They are baking. Brilliant. They are cleaning... brilliant and radiant beams of motherly gratitude.

Geoff wrapped gifts with me. Absolute awe. Proof that even after twenty years, love will surprise you.

Max and Nick are playing together. Christmas is for family.

Maria helps in any way she can. Sitting outside the *workshop* door, she asked 42 questions about our progress. We played her favorite opposite game.

Mommy: Santa wears a bathing suit.

Maria: No. He wears a fluffy-fluffy suit. And it's red. He has a hat.

Mommy: What about the magical rats that pull his sleigh?

Maria: Mommy! Reindeer pull his sleigh. Not rats.

Mommy: Oh. Well, I know Santa smells like french fries.

Maria: Santa smells like joy

Indeed.

I hope your home smells of joy, and that your Christmas is merry.

A Few of My Favorite Things... Christmas Style

Like Nikkipolani, I have some favorite things and these last days before the big day I am feeling the magic and rush of joy as we go all the way to Christmas day. Some of my favorite things came all together yesterday...


Favorite number 1: The majesty and pageantry, the utter charm and mild chaos of a Christmas service with the children. There was nothing exclusive about this telling of the Nativity. All of God's creatures were welcome to the manger. Maria joined the children from learning circle, as a kitty, and sang (or as Max points out, she mostly lip-synched) "Do You Hear What I hear?"

I loved seeing friends, hearing music, reflecting on peace and love and hope and joy, and having my family around me.


Favorite number 2: Having family around me. It's official :: We have a Christmas tradition. We got to enjoy a second annual Downtown Cultural Holiday Extravaganza. We took Ruth to Holiday Pops. We walked to the Gaslamp and saw favorite sights, like The Bondi, and the home of our favorite annual convention.


Walking downtown we saw lots of fun holiday sights. I count fun and good humor as a favorite.


No school. That's a favorite for sure. Not just for these dear boys, but for me too. I am so thrilled to have them home. I need the free labor. We are going to have some good times.


Last year our downtown walk was a scramble to find Symphony Hall and it was really cold. This year our walk was leisurely and the weather... So Calwonderful.


The Pops were in great form and they were joined by Mariachi Champaña Nevín. Feliz Navidad. Before the concert begins children are invited to the "petting zoo," where they can acquaint themselves with the instruments. Maria returned to the violin she remembered from last year. So many favorites... live music, sing-alongs, new experiences, dressing up, a camera battery that holds up just long enough for a few snaps.

After the concert we had a downtown dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory, then we enjoyed the Christmas lights all the way to Holly and Rich's front door. More favorites... lights and decorations lovingly displayed for the holidays, and dropping in on family for a casual visit.

The calendar for today includes haircuts for the boys, which means a nice visit with a dear friend. Maybe some shopping... hmmm... maybe just window shopping. I definitely need to do some housework. After visiting Ruth's beautiful home and Holly and Rich's beautiful home I am super motivated to put actual ornaments on our tree... beyond that, I am a realist. One more favorite, because I think of it on a daily basis :: A Christmas Story from Clover and Alicia. I think Clover may be my favorite dog in the world.

Fine Art
Guess who got a portrait paint set for her birthday?

Admission: I let the children make messes, but what may appear as utter chaos, near anarchy, is my own version of controlled chaos. No one get hurts and the mess can be easily rolled away in one fashion or another. This is evidence of my creative-liberal mothering and my semi-control-freak mothering. I will hide paints, playdough, glitter, glue, and 42,000 piece puzzle sets until I am ready to play.


Maria must know she has to make her move fast if she's gonna get her chance. She did not give me two seconds to shelve the new toy. She did not ask for help to pull off the cellophane, to break open the box. She found her own apron, and while I was gabbing on the phone distracted, she asked me to tie it on for her. She was a stealthy and dedicated anarchist.


She was deep in to her project before anyone noticed what she was in to.

Please Note: She was not alone. Geoff and William were equally immersed in their own project, at the very same dining table... only inches away from the artist. This proves that being in the room and being aware are two different kinds of supervision.


So this is about the point when I was called in. When frantic voices were rising up. When paint had hit the table and floor. Big glops of wet acrylic. Wasn't she clever to remember an apron? Didn't she do a good job setting up the easel and opening those little jars?

Disclaimer: No, that is not a faux pumpkin, leftover from two months ago, sitting next to Christmas presents. No. Who would do that? Please.


Ta da!
I slipped in some butcher-type paper under the easel. I wiped paint from the table, the floor, her extremities. I slipped in a few tips about painting with acrylics and letting the paint dry between layers... just a few basic suggestions. Obviously she didn't need too much advice.

Speculation: See the olive-green paint? The one at the edge of the table? Want to guess what happened? Technically no one knows the specific details of what happened, but we can make educated guesses, right? I am thinking that the little jar didn't merely tip and fall... I think it flew in a terrific arc, because the paint was not only on the carpet three feet behind her chair, but it also hit the ceiling, the wall. We never will know how it went down, because being in the room and being aware are two different kinds of supervision.


The self portrait is coming along. She's going to finish it tomorrow. Today her class is singing Holy Baby in the school pageant. Max's school break starts now, which is wonderful. I am very, very looking forward to having all of Team WAMMO in the house.

Priscilla, I am afraid that if I thank you for the birthday gift, you will think I am being disingenuous or trying to implicate you in a crime. It's not like that at all. We loved the secret mission style delivery. We loved the still warm from the oven brownie cake. And we love the paint set... every drop. Honest. So, thank you. Thank you. Let's get together soon and make some new kind of messes... whether it is fine art, or fun art, or fun-fine art. Or we could just eat more brownie cake.