Perfectly At Home


Everyone was home yesterday. Not necessarily in the home.
Betty, get out of there.


Thank you.
Everyone was home yesterday, and for most of the day we were working and playing outside. And I think it was the combination of work and play that made the day feel pretty nearly perfect.


From the rose bed...


... where blooms are waking,


... to the orchard where the trees are taking root and giving fruit,


... I am beginning to see signs that we are settling in to our home. I see familiar touches, and I feel the comforting sense of belonging. We are claiming walls, filling drawers, spreading out, playing, making our marks. It feels so very good.


The traffic is our own, and so are the lines on the ground. Bike races, hopscotch, tic-tac-toe, plucking blossoms, running barefoot, chatting over the neighbor's fence, spotting birds, putting tools away... it's like untying knots, unraveling tension that has been building up, and letting it go. Little by little, finally letting it go.


So the day was full. Full of productive work, full of games and laughter, full of deep thoughts and other musings, and full of delightful nothingness.


Everyone did their own thing. Coming and going.










They can be elusive... the words that describe my happiness for feeling perfectly at home. The feelings are wonderful.

Bliss in the Weeds


Besides earthquakes and aftershocks, something else has been going on in So Cal... we've been blessed with amazing weather. Almost summer-like, almost late summer-like, which is when it tends to be even better than the month of gloom we have in June. We've been making mint tea, and minding the rose buds, watering our orchard, taking dinner outdoors, and soaking up the beauty in the breeze.

Even the weeds look verdant and good, although on closer inspection I can see we are going to be plagued with stickers if I don't selectively yank the offenders. Betty surveys the land, and she is glad. This is spring, she declares. This is Betty season.


Up close I notice the stickers, and closer still... I see the lady bug beetles. Loads and loads of scurrying red beetles, and black dotties on red beetles. Eating the aphids beetles. Darling and good, lady bug beetles.


And baby ladies. Baby beetles. Did you know? Some people don't recognize these reticular little bugs as ladybug larvae. Now you understand why I am delaying the weed pulling party. I love pulling weeds. Honestly. I would gladly pull weeds in my yard, than get my nails done. There are lots of things I would rather do than get my nails done. But still. I get lost in happy garden bliss when I am pulling weeds. When I get around to it, I will be very courteous of the ladies.


Betty?
Betty, are you courteous of the Lady Beetles?


Yes, Betty and the Lady Beetles are neighbors, and friends.
O, Betty, eres bellisima. Chica-chica.


So, with the children home from school, and the sun shining, I am blissfully sitting amongst the weeds. Counting hummingbirds and dreaming of figs. The lady bugs are traveling up and down the highway of stalks and leaves. Maria digs holes. Alex builds a windmill. William watches, and chats. Max reads The Hobbit, again. Geoff makes garage progress. And slowly the sun slips west.


Stickers are inevitable, as is the return of school.


Happiness can be so fragile. Fortunately it is also abundant, and easily nurtured.


I like to pause, to recognize happiness, and the pleasure it gives... before the memory flies away.

SadisticsStatistics


I wish I had never bothered. With the stats, that is. Checking the daily-weekly-monthly numbers of readers, skimmers, lurkers visiting Chickenblog was slightly amusing, kind of interesting, and ultimately intimidating. I learned that Sunday and Monday are slow days, not too many visitors. I learned that most visits to Chickenblog come on Tuesday. Like today. Today is Tuesday and there may be ten or more people here. Seriously. Wow. Wow.

I mean whoa. Like when you drop your head, turning it slowly and sort of sigh disappointedly, whoa. Actually it could be horse talk too... like when you pull on the reins and say firmly "whoa!" It could be like bringing a horse to a quick stop, because it feels like that is where the blog is headed: A complete stop.

After three times checking stats about Chickenblog, I also leaned that readership has plummeted. Dropped. Nose-dived. Tanked. Imploded. Evaporated. *poof*

Where did every body go?

Ah come on. No one really believed I was writing this blog for the heck of it, right? Regularly dragging my brain through html and proofreading my own deep thoughts and other musings, just so I can have an excuse from scrubbing toilets? I am in it for the book rights, the movie contract, the ad revenue (eighteen cents to date). I've been blogging so Ellen would catch wind, and ask me to bring my favorite robotics team on to her show, so she could bestow plane tickets to Atlanta on them, and give me dance lessons. I've been thinking how to sound interesting, modest and super cool for my Fresh Air interview. This is my job people. I am not going down without a fight. *power fist in the air... cheesy grin on face*

Just kidding.

Or am I?

Just kidding.

I don't need a job. I have Molly and McGee to fill my time with productivity and interest. And children, and laundry, and Betty.

Oooh... look, Molly is preening.


Maria did not want to miss the executives' meeting yesterday. She loves this team. Gee, do you think I've had some influence on her? I honestly do not dictate art assignments for her, or drill her on the Paradox dance. She has an internalized passion, that is self-motivated.

I didn't want to miss the executives' meeting either. I keep showing up, uninvited, and they are starting to accept it. I was even offered a private mentor's swearing in ceremony, as soon as Isaac can locate his wand. I hope he wasn't kidding. I plan to mention it, casually, to Terry. I crave ceremony.

This post is mostly random. And I am okay with that.

Spring, It Sprung!


Happy Spring!

Did it surprise you?
It surprised me.
I saw it coming, but then I kind of missed the spring-eve anticipation, and then this morning WhAm! It's Spring.

You'd think, with no less than three calendars hanging in just one corner of the Bird House, I would be up on these things. Our calendars mostly say : Robotics. Go to... robotics. Meet for... robotics. Take dinner to... robotics. Make reservations for... robotics.

So, signs of spring must be elsewhere... let's see...


Hmmm... we cannot get enough.
I took almost every post I ever wrote about robotics and put them all in one post, so that it is like a massive Robotics index for Chickenblog. It was pretty much a nightmare trying to make the code work, because I am pretty much an amateur when it comes to code. But I keep trying.

And Maria... she's learning code. Look at all the words she is writing. Her writing skills are springing! I love our message board.

But, spring is outdoors. Right? Nature. So, outside I went, in search of the new season.


Ah, the morning light, the glistening dew. Here is spring. In the flowers. In the air.


And I saw the calla lilies, and Chango reposing in the garden bed. I thought how idyllic and good nature is, how lovely the forms and lines, the rhythm of the new day. And I was totally getting poetic and reveling in the nature high, and this seemed like a good time to photograph Chango. He was there, still and content... what a perfect opportunity to capture the essence of spring.

But.
Nature.
Nature is brutal.
I mean, come on... poetry, and dew drops on lilies... it's real nice, but nature has all kinds of plans and devices.
I'm just saying...


Chango?
Chango, what are you... ?
Nooooo!
Don't eat nature Chango, not spring. Not the very emblem of cute, fluffy-tailed baby spring.

Okay.
Go back inside everyone.
Come on.
Spring is inside.
Let's go.


Blinded by grief, I point my camera in all directions, looking for something lovely to erase the graphic nature of events I have witnessed. Pictures of my ranchero boys. Happy memories of springs past, elotes, beseros, y sombreros. My thrift shop find, a sleek red handbag... perfect for no occasion I am likely to enjoy, but I like the possibility.

Then, salvation. Bill is sending me real life nature pictures. Action shots from Soquel-Cal, where the dear and the antelope play. The dear are my nephew and niece, Dominic and Marissa.


Ah, Nature. Here is Nature. At the lumberyard and garden center.

Thank goodness.


Bill says these reindeer are pretty wild, like buckin' reindeer. Seriously. You have to hang on for eight seconds. Don't get bucked off.

I'm telling you, Nature is brutal.
And spring, spring will spring on you.
You gotta be ready.
Just sayin'.

You're probably thinking I am trying to "look busy," just because Geoff says "Before we go to robotics, we should clean."

Spring Cleaning.
Brutal.

Currents

The tsunami warnings might be enough cause to stay out of the water. And mostly the beach was empty, except for some desperate tourists, determined to make the most of their vacation, and these guys...


This sport depends on big waves and wind action, so before, during, and after storms is when they are most likely to be seen in the surf.


Dude.
The tsunami warning certainly made me extra cautious, but what really kept me out of the water is urban runoff.

Nasty.

Some spots are worse than others, but as a general rule, I avoid most So Cal beaches before and immediately after storms, when the worst of the polluting offenses are at their most concentrated.


Maria and I watched from the comfort and safety of Geoff's car. There were four guys riding waves, flying around. There were also three people jumping waves, romping in the surf. In swimsuits. Think they're form out of town? Uh-huh.


I guess sixty degree water temperature is warm by comparison (hey, it's only thirty five degrees Fahrenheit at Woods Hole, MA), but with the fifty nine degree air temperature, and the chilling wind, I cannot say I was tempted.


Storm surge and rip tides make it rough. Tsunami currents make it even more unpredictable.

Fortunately, the worst of the threat to Hawaii seems to have passed uneventfully. It was interesting watching the live webcams of Hilo Bay, the reef appearing to rise above the water, the changing color.

I am just relieved that the CNN reporter couldn't squeeze any more drama or trauma out of the evacuated vacationer she had on the phone.
Good for you Wisconsin Man on vacay. No worries bra.
He was totally low-key and matter-of-fact.
Warnings worked.
People went mauka.
No madness or hysteria. But poor Miss CNN kept asking about "emotions" and "fears" and "biggest worries."
Wisconsin man said he was in to his third cocktail.


Surfing I have tried. Being pulled by a giant parachute while on a board? Not so much.


The sun broke through as I was taking these pictures. That was about two hours ago. Now it is raining again.

I was already out in the South Side to warn Betty about the high surf.
She can't swim.
No, we are not that close to the beach, but there are a lot of deep puddles and the gutters were still flowing after the first rain. She needs Wellies.

Seeing the ripple effects of Chile's earthquake brings their disaster much closer. It's a small planet. I feel their pain, and hope that we can respond to their needs, give them comfort. And I am reminded that we need to revisit our personal plans for earthquake safety, and post quake calm.

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.