Never Give Up, Never Surrender


When I put those words on Chickenblog, in my profile, it wasn't because I am chronically optimistic, or whole heartedly ambitious, or even particularly perky. For me, Never give up, never surrender, is more than a great movie line... it's a great reminder of what I am striving for. I want to be resilient and daring, I want to overcome obstacles and navigate rough water. And when I lose my way, or get knocked down, I want to believe that those words will rise in my mind, and spirit, and get me on my feet again. I need support. I need encouragement. I need affirmations. Left to my own devices, I am a bit too attracted to feh and meh.


This has been a bad week. Not fatal. Not devastating. Just bad, which is not good. Know what I mean? Hmmm... just admitting this, actually makes it seems a bit better... less bad. Cool.

I was in the yard yesterday and from our bedroom upstairs, I heard Maria's rescue me now cry. I bolted in to the house and flew up the stairs. And even though I was flying, somehow I managed to tear the thingy that makes the calf muscle stick to the thing, which is in my leg... not sure if it was the gastrocnemius or the soleus. I am quite certain it was the one that lets you freely put your own weight down on your leg, which I can longer do. My leg screams at me, then goes floppy. Maria fell though a chair that broke, and scraped her back. Between my wincing and her crying, we were quite a pair.


Geoff is not working one hundred hours/week, and we are all getting reacquainted, which is good, but not as easy as it might sound. Post-crunch mode is always a bit of an adjustment, a combination of recovery and realigning. And now we have a secondary and almost equally consuming project... a little something we call Robotics!!!! Man, I love robotics. Man, do I need a robotics break. Mostly though, I love robotics. Geoff is logging some serious hours as programming mentor, and you may have noticed I have added my unique, sincere, amateur touches here and there. Anyway, our family-domestic Bird House Rhythm is kind of on hold, which is not easy. It might help if there ever was a Family-Domestic Bird House Rhythm, but whatever, it will happen. Right? It's not too late. I am really hoping it's not too late.

Okay. What was my point?


I am taking the high road. My complaints and laundry list of bad week evidence are done. I will leave the rest unsaid. I am going to accentuate the positive. I am going to make that leap of faith, and believe that if I do not give up, if I do not surrender, that we will be alright. We will find the way to heal, and to grow, to learn, to make do, to feel good, be good, and do good. Affirmations, jokes, hugs, band-aids, faith, sweat, Lexulous, and signs of spring... those blossoms of hope, love and courage... those are what I am going to focus on. Maybe especially Joe's nose. Look at it. It makes me feel better already.


Flowers are blooming, even a rose. Betty is happy. The cats are alive, and they are happy too. The children keep working, and learning, and making me proud. Geoff found the Tylenol. Delia and Ron will be in Vegas. William was offered a paying job, from his good work at his volunteer job. Alex recognized Japanese words and phrases when we watched a movie in Japanese. Max makes awesome wishes. Maria is writing and reading words (her own name, Max, Izzy, love, and more). The rainy season is mostly over and the leak in our roof didn't get too bad. Good stuff. Yup.

Like Being Drunk, But Less Social
I really need sleep. The uninterrupted kind I have heard talk of. Not eight collective hours. I need eight consecutive hours of restful, cough-free REM.

Otherwise I am inclined to write unedited posts like this.


Sleep, I have read, is necessary for our mental health. Without good mental health, things begin to slip. When things slip it is possible that someone will completely forget:

1. Back to School Night (an evening for good mothers to demonstrate their love and dedication to higher learning for their progeny.)

2. To return books, papers, forms, sign-this materials.

3. To make motel or camping reservations for our robotic weekend in Lost Wages, Nevada

4. Floss teeth and pluck eyebrows... it seems my sinuses are not the only things congested around here.

5. Choose a school. Hope the school chooses us. Then enroll someone in a kindergarten.

When things slip it is possible that someone will be attracted to reckless ventures and irresponsible impulses:

1. Buy an egg incubator and hatch chicks.
2. Buy chicks.
3. Adopt a kitten and a hedgehog.
4. Drive to Oregon.
5. Get something dyed or lifted, tucked, sucked, or removed.
6. Give up.
7. Say what I really think.

Me, Like A Chickadee

How, like a chickadee?
I cannot seem to stop chattering. Maybe not out loud, but certainly on this blog. And sometimes, like a small bird, I flit from branch to branch, or from subject to subject.

I never have been sure how to categorize Chickenblog. "Random" comes to mind.


A Whatbird.
Ever seen one before?
This bird, and several shyer ones, was sitting on the top of our apricot tree. And it sounded... don't worry, I am not about to give you my audio bird call interpretation... it sounded like a chickadee. When the sky was blue, it did not look as yellow.


And when the clouds filled in, the yellow was more pronounced. Does anyone recognize our little Whatbird?

Last night it rained. It rained more than I had expected it to, which is not necessarily significant information meteorologically speaking... it's just me, chattering away. Yvette you were right about the mud at South Side Mountain, which is why I am glad I left most of the weeds alone. The weeds do a lot of good, I say.


Have you ever had a season when you were sick so frequently that you felt embarrassed? I believe I wash my hands frequently, and I have been taking vitamins. I own and use a neti pot (this might sound like a bad testimonial) and I think happy thoughts. I kind of squirm uncomfortably when I have to admit that, yes, I am sick, again. Recently I missed a very important celebration. Maria was croupy, and I was "under the weather." I thought I made a full recovery and certainly had no clue that I was headed for worse. But. Here I am. I blame Dr. Drillhappy Martin. In 2002 he found his way through my tooth, through my jaw, and into my sinus cavity. I am not sure he was going to stop, but lucky for me Alex walked in to the room and demanded to know, "Why is my mom's mouth filling with blood? Nothing sinusly has been the same since. *shakes angry fist of indignation*

Did I have point?
Maybe the picture is an extreme macro-shot of my sinus cavity?


No. Self-sinus-photography is not one of my skills.
This is Geoff's. He is the Robotics programming mentor.
I was going to make this control panel and write programs to operate the robot, but then I got this sinus thing, so I let him take over.
I would explain it all. Describe the function of that metal box with the thingy sticking out, and why when it is on it sounds like a breadmaker, but... Top Secret.


Yeah, it's pretty much classified. Technical and classified, so sorry. Please step away.


This is slightly less technical, but equally as elaborate as Geoff's programming driver station. It is one of my baking drawers, and it is decadently loaded with measuring cups and teaspoons. The wealth of this drawer makes me lightheaded and bakingly gratified. There is abundance. Disorder, only to the untrained eye. I see clean supplies, ready to go to work. I even have a tool for making raspados and two maple leaf cookie cutters... two? I do love Canada, and autumn.


Want the dish on my kitchen?
I love thrift shopping.


I love aprons.
I love table cloths, dish towels, and bowls.
I really love bowls.


I love these teeny tiny glasses... Holly, Rich, and Ruth came with a bottle of limoncello for Geoff's birthday. We enjoyed the powerful sips from larger cups, but a few weeks ago I saw these pretty five for two dollar glasses and I instantly knew what they would work for... limoncello anyone?

The cow and kitty creamers look like they are straining to get a sip. It is such a blessing to be easily amused.


Not amused.
Time's up. Kitty says so.
Enough random chattering from this Chickadee.
I am going to drink hot tea and go to bed, or the sofa, or maybe to the South Side, and nap with Betty.

Big Bowl of Comfort


This is the spicy, hot, flavorful, rich, nourishing and delicious soup that was brought to my door on Friday. Friday was turning in to one of those days marked by pain, embarrassment, and disappointment, but Karen caught me from free falling in to the Perilous Pit of Pity. It did not reverse the farces of evil that kept me from celebrating Christmas Moms' Night Out, but it came unexpectedly and with a hug and Karen's encouraging smile and that made the biggest difference in the world. I felt the love, I felt the support and I felt the yum...
mmmm that was good soup.

Later, a second visitor ensured that I stayed well clear of the Perilous Pit of Pity. Seriously, we have got to keep clear of the PPP... it moves around, can sneak up on you and it's mean. But like I said, I had another visitor. Anne came with huge stash of MNO gifts... eat-ables and wear-ables and a beautiful little handmade handbag, a movie pass and a coffee pass. I made her describe Josie's menu, which sounded fabulous... no surprises here. Anne shared the news and fresh fruit and she assured me that the red bench came out fine. Maria found us in the garden and joined us for hugs and chatting.

Hmmmm.

There may be something to this... to these simple pleasures and kind gestures. I do wish I were all recovered and perky and able to conquer everything on the Holiday Extravaganza Wish List, but visits from friends, a bowl of hot soup, a chance to listen and talk... these have been very nice moments in this season of light. A good reminder to myself to lighten up, to ease off on trying to be everywhere, doing everything.

Yesterday I did a small photography job for a friend, something that may take some stress out of her holidays. Today I am visiting Max's school to help with an art project. Our tree has only lights, so far. That's okay. I may be ordering fruit baskets and having them shipped instead of flying around the malls and post office... that's okay too, right? My goal is to get healthy, stay healthy, enjoy Christmas moments, make heartfelt gestures, keep light, calm and merry, and find out where Karen got that soup.

We Need A Little Christmas


All the way to the tree lot my mind and heart were in a heated debate.

Heart: What we need is to decorate for Christmas.

Mind:We are sick. Stay in bed. Shut out the light.

Heart: Fresh air and the joyful spirit of Christmas will cure whatever ails us.

Mind: Are you for real?

Heart: Think of the children, and the heartwarming sight of a lit up tree.

Mind: Think of the lines and the hassle of climbing in to the attic to search for the tree stand.

Heart: A cheerful heart has no fear.

Mind: Bah and humbug. A cheerful heart doesn't vacuum pine needles.

Heart: This is going to be wonderful. You'll see.

They went back and forth like that. I side with the heart, obviously.


Only Max and I are sick and I think the fresh air was good for us. William and Alex are strong and capable, so I put them in charge. They found a good tree, and Max, Maria and I chimed in with our happy approval.


William and Alex hoisted our evergreen on to the roof of the sleigh van, secured it and even got it standing straight and secure in our living room.

Now it is lit and pretty and cheerful and dropping pine needles...

Crackin' Up


Is it a coincidence that if someone is "cracking up" they can be either laughing heartily or losing their mind? Personally, I am going for a little of each.

The broken window actually makes me feel more giddy than grumpy. It is our very own broken window. We can fix it when we want to and we do not have to answer to anyone for it. And better still, it came from play. Spontaneous evening ball tossing between two family members led to this event... this rite of passage. What can be more classic than a shattered window pane from an errant ball?

So, what else has me cracking up?

Geoff's ankle injury. When the swelling goes down we can get a better prognosis.
Maria's mystery fever, which has finally left, but not before we had to postpone her birthday celebration.
Max's new cold.
My new cold.
Feeling old, grouchy, grinchy, overwhelmed, smelly, tired, far behind and after I post this, embarrassed.
Yes. It is that kind of morning. And I haven't been anywhere near a Martha Stewart publication, so the feeling that I will never achieve my goals and fulfill my holiday fantasies has been mustered all by my own daydreaming and self-deprecating self. Can you say "self" twice in the same sentence?


I am still holding on to my gratitude, still gleefully dizzy with new home joy, but I also kind of want a break.
No. Wait. Choose my words carefully...
I still kind of want a break.
I would appreciate it if all illnesses and ER visits would cease and desist. I would like to have consecutive days of good health, for all family members. It would help tremendously if we could be unpacked, organized and even familiar with our surroundings now.

I am going to leave decorating, shopping, house cleaning, parties, outings and hoopla for another wish list.


If nothing else, I would love to take a nap.

Surprise-Flower-Cookie Party


Happy Birthday Maria

It is a beautiful day for celebrating and she gives us reason to celebrate every day.
So, what's it to be ?
Nothing as elaborate as last year, when she never ran out of ideas for themes and activities to enjoy with her family. Our initial plans are on a bit of a weather-health delay, which is clearing up on both fronts, so we should be good to go for next week, and in the meantime we can have extra hugs, more singing, lots of coloring and gluing and decorating, we can eat triangle pasta and mandarins, and we can finalize details on her vision for a "Surprise party with cookies and planting flowers."

::I wonder if she wants a new camera, like uncle James' camera which, with his sweet skills, takes amazing photographs, like these. I could get one in her name and hold it in trust for her::


Marie and Maria, Parker's personal pit crew.


Max and some camera-envious, crazy chicken woman.


Maria, let's play!


::Thank you for sharing these pictures, James.
What kind of camera did you say you have?::

The Healing Power of Dirt and Other Pleasures

It's true: Dirt has properties that make us feel good. Didn't you gardeners know it all along? I always feel marvelous after days of digging and pulling weeds, planting seeds. Any science that confirms what I believe already is the most awesome kind of science there is.

So. I did address the kitty litter and I did move some boxes and fold laundry. And I am still pulled in too many directions, but thanks to the healing power of dirt, I am feeling pretty good.

Here is what is going on at the Bird House. In the back, where the garage wall is perpendicular with the kitchen wall, we have a shady area that was in need of drainage, rat control and a new direction in landscaping. Okay. Time for some before shots...


Nothing too offensive about the plantings, but none of them were particularly happy in this northern exposure corner. Cute stockings, Maria!


Here is a wider view... not of the chicken. Look just past the cute baby, and you'll notice the monstrous water sucking jungle plant. (My apologies to fans of monstrous water sucking jungle plants.)


Marissa, Betty and Alison are welcome any time, but the water sucker and high soil levels had to go. Water was pooling around the foundation and messing up the siding. There was no drainage. We were violating building codes. Chaos and hysteria were... just kidding. But it was not good.

Everything has a natural order. Plants should not be leggy and useless, water should not sit on the house, and chickens should not stalk children for pumpkin bread handouts.


This is the adjacent bed that needed work. See the clumping mass of green? It was pretty, in a picture, but up close it was plain to see that the woody branches of the mock orange were getting old and tired. The branches were weak and the worst offense... it was a giant rats' nest. Go ahead... say it... Eewww. That's right. So Cal is no stranger to Rattus-rattus, so good-bye mock orange.

Ready for some after shots? I still cannot find my camera battery and then the Maria camera disappeared too. I finally found the little camera and about one hundred self-portraits taken by our resident artist...


Love digital. Imagine if these kinds of shots were taken on film. I would have had double prints of thirty six nostril and ceiling photographs.


Yes, the digital age is quite a blessing. And now we have peek in to the mind of a four year old artist.


It seems Maria is not the only one that wants to make an impression.
Drainage in.
Weed barrier down.
Sand.


And in goes flagstone, so we can access the meter boxes, faucet and side gate.
And we rescued the pineapple guavas from the lower water, xeriscaped garden, where they were never going to thrive. Now instead of water sucking rat harborers, we have water sucking fruit bearing shrubs, which will nurture and feed us and make guava loving children very, very happy.


Maria planted the barrel on the right, and we are going to get some cool season veggies in the other barrel. Calla lilies were competing with the mock orange... they will be much happier now that they have some room and light. It's coming together. It's messy and labor intensive. It's so much more fun than spot-cleaning rental carpet.


Let me slip in a little pumpkin carving. We did this Saturday night. Not October 31st Saturday... why be typical? We were carving pumpkins November 7th and it was great fun. Alex was finally free of his fever. Garrison was on the radio, praising ketchup. We even knew where there were candles and matches. And then we had roasted pumpkin seeds, which is simply wonderful.

Is this post getting too long? I don't know why I ask, since I fully intend to ramble on.


And here is the kitchen side garden. "We" put the camellias down by the pool, where we hope they will be happier. If you want to see what a happy camelia looks like I suggest you visit Nikkipolani's garden today... she and her Roomie are cooking-photo-kitty-gardening inspirations.

Maria, Max, Alex and I have been putting in gardenias, Irish moss, mint, pansies.
Betty inspects each addition.


And we have planted lots and lots of rocks in here.


It's still too soon to say "Ta-Da."

Oh what the heck...

Ta-da!


I am pretty sure this is not the direction Martha would have gone, but our ladybug sandbox just begged to be included in the design. Maria plants herself in the sand and plays for hours.

And now I am going to tackle another box before I get back to the dirt.
Thank you.
Have a healthy-dirty day.

One more thing: Karen, I think of you too as I play in the garden. You are a master gardener.

It's no use screaming at a time like this.


"It's no use screaming at a time like this.
Nobody will hear you.
Help! Help!"-The Scarecrow

Our own Dorothy has grown up since the last time she appeared, but she's as cute as ever and probably even more delighted to be wearing ruby slippers than when she was one year old. I may have even improved on my last attempt at making a pattern and sewing a Dorothy dress.

Fortunately, Maria is easily pleased and did not seem too disappointed about our low key celebration. Alex slept feverishly all day. Geoff is almost as sick as Alex. Max is relapsing a bit. William and I are on the mend. But none of us were up for parties or even pumpkin carving. We missed the annual party at Holly and Rich's place. We missed trick or treating almost... Maria and I walked to 3 houses and came home with one dear piece of chocolate. We watched Disney's "Legend of Sleepy Hollow" and kind of raided the candy we had for passing out. Only three children came to our door and they came at once... this might not be one of those big draw kind of neighborhoods. At least no once actually screamed, but we are definitely feeling the need of a Glinda intervention... a little deus ex machina if you will.


On second thought... we aren't ready to surrender. We have brains and courage and plenty of heart.

It's November. I cannot believe it's November. If I look back and lament all the time it took to get to this place, I can feel overcome with sadness and frustration, but looking ahead, I feel eager and hopeful... so forward!

Tricks and Treats
First of all, I woke up kind of giddy because it was an hour earlier than the clock read, and that was a treat. But it took me an hour and twelve minutes to figure out that we don't Fall Back until tomorrow, and so that was a trick.

Today is Halloween and that should be a treat, because we love carving pumpkins and roasting seeds and dressing up and we even have an actual invitation to a party. The trick is that we are sick, some of us are very sick. Geoff finally admitted that "groaning (a lot) helps," so I mentally down-graded his condition from critical to pitiful. He still has my sympathy. William and Maria are just improving, but then Alex and Max succumbed. We deserve a break, but it's not coming yet...

All during this time that I neglected Chickenblog I was thinking of really wonderful, insightful and hilarious things to post about. Sometimes, while shoving junk gently wrapping precious treasures in to boxes I would compose beautiful narratives to share, things I would want to reflect upon and recall joyfully in the future... what a treat my deep thoughts and Atumnal musings were. But the trick is I cannot remember any of it.

And now my deepest thoughts go something like this:

I wish the cats could talk, then they could tell me how awesome this place is. I hope they think it is awesome. I think it is awesome. It totally is. Awesome. Maybe I will see it in their eyes, a sign that they love it so much here that they will never run away or scratch the walls or barf on the stairs. That would be awesome.

Is chocolate good for the flu? Is this the flu? Someone is going to admonish me for thinking of chocolate and sugar when I am sick. But if this is the flu, don't I want to to go out happy?

We seriously do have a lot of stuff. I don't want to think about it, but I keep stubbing my brain on the subject every time I look around.

Maria is going to be Dorothy for Halloween. She was Dorothy when she was one and we had just moved from the TreeHouse to Garage Mahal. It fits, because she is adorable and because to look around here you would think we arrived by tornado. Still, there's no place like home.

Happy Halloween. Enjoy life's treats!

Hey.
If there is anyone out there still wondering... we made it. Barely. And there has been some collateral damage. A hole in a wall. A lost mind (mine.) My gift to the world is that I am going to skip the details. Instead I will make this post a quick catch-up, so that if I ever want to recall what happened to the months of September and October in 2009, I can refer to this page and then shudder, and then praise God, again, that we came out as well as we did. Mostly I will grin and sigh and feel incredible, because I think the future is bright, and it's beginning right now.

1. We moved in to a beautiful home.
2. We have too much stuff. (There. I said it. I wrote it. I have to live with it. No one needs to mention it to me ever again. The end.)
3. Even the cats are here. I wonder what they will shred first...
4. Colds, flu and malaise has been our constant companion throughout the pack-move.
5. My father is a handy man. (And what I am rather poorly expressing here is the happy comfort of having the help and the extra sweet skills of someone capable and loving. He is making our lives easier, and what nicer thing can there be than that?)
6. I cannot remember the last time I picked up my camera, which is a shocking admission. Shocking.
7. I have been sewing, which is both shocking and stunning.
8. Yesterday, after loading the Odyssey to the roof and even on the roof, four times, I came home to finish two Halloween costumes.
9. The two children whose costumes were finished wound up staying home from their school parties, due to illness.
10. My mommy has been out of town, and I have been out of touch, and I cannot wait to hear from her.
11. Actually, I cannot wait for all things normal... I look forward to being rid of boxes and packing tape. I look forward to not driving between two houses, and trying to make both of them clean and safe.
12. "Normal" and "routine" are probably still a long way off, but however long it takes us to settle in, I am happy to be here.
13. Is there a happier word than "happy?"
14. I am happier than happy.

Uh... Where was I?


My favorite church in Barcelona, Santa Maria Del Mar

So, it was....
London to Paris.
Paris to Bruxelles.
Netherlands.
Drive to Germany or through Germany.
Then the Alps.
Then France.
Spain.
London.
Toronto.
Security in Toronto... that was something.
LAX.
Drive home.
Back to normal.

Really? "Back to normal?" I don't think that's possible. For one thing we are still on Barcelona time, so that means we don't know what time it is. For another thing we've seen stuff and been places and we are not the same. We are affected. We miss Speculoos in a jar. We've grown accustomed to baked beans for breakfast and saying "Aloha, parlez vous Espaņol, danke?" Last night I woke up and stared at our room. Stared. I said declaratively, "We are not in France." I could not say for sure where we were, but I was certain it was not France.


I do not miss second hand smoke. By the time we were in Barcelona I was fighting what I thought was second hand emphysema, lots of late night coughing. The coughing kept me up all four nights we were there and in the day I was cranky and bitter. I do not know how I managed to maintain my cool, because my compulsion was to walk up to every smoker and cough in their face, stomp out their fiery little smog sticks and instill them with the obvious wisdom that their cigarettes smelled awful and made life on this planet less sweet. How did I find the strength? Or was it strength that I lacked?


Maybe it was the smoke and city exhaust or maybe it was the pig wrestling in Ballenburg, but I am definitely not well. The cough is subsiding somewhat, but now I have a mild fever, sore throat, and also throat gunk, which is, you know... not pleasant to read about, so I apologize.


Anyway, we are home and there is a lot to reflect on and share about our time in Europe, and then there is the present... the here and now. We have children in summer schools, and Max wants to plan his birthday party. Our family doctor is no longer practicing, so I need to find a new one and obviously none of this is in any particular order, but we need to change light bulbs and figure out why the hose is leaking. Naturally there is laundry to do. Today is Maria's first day of school and I cannot believe I didn't bring my camera, or get her there on time for that matter. My headache is huge.

It could be a while before all of my photographs are transferred to my regular computer. These last images were still on the camera. I cannot believe how fast it all happened. Of course sometimes, like driving in the south of France through Tour Du France traffic, it lasted FOREVER. I look forward to sorting through the pictures and taking it all in again, reliving the things we saw and did. In the meantime it's all a whirr and waking up and wondering "where am I?"


We came home and found a beautiful lasagna in our refrigerator. My sweet mother in law. Wasn't that dear? She knew we'd need sustenance when we got home, so besides watching our psycho cats and runaway chicken for three weeks, she baked us a luscious veggie lasagna.


We did so much in the last three weeks and I have this anxious, passionate desire to keep up the pace, to walk as much and eat as well, and do things and see things and be super productive. I ask Geoff, the kids, "What do you want to keep or adapt from our trip? What new thing have you discovered that you want to retain now that we are home?"


I want to walk everywhere.
I want to hang my clean wash out in the sun to dry.
I want more flowers growing around the house.
I want Belgian beer and Swiss style.
I want to learn French and Catalan.
I want less stuff and more time.
I want to feel at home, to be connected. Here. Anywhere.
I want to wear a dirndl, a sari, and wooden shoes. Not all at once.
I want to cook shawarma.
I want to go back... to visit all those amazing, beautiful, vexing, ridiculous, busy, quiet, breathtaking, peaceful, frenetic, artful, inspiring, dizzying places again and I want to bring my friends and family so we can share the adventure together.


I also think we should have siestas.


It is good to be home.