Better Late (Thankful) than Never

I rolled back into work on Monday, straight into an meeting, followed by an hour conference call and then six and a half hours of a meeting with out of town collaborators. All that talk talk talk makes me thankful for the weekend just past.

I am also thankful for:

• family (mine and Chris's both) - I got so lucky to have all these people to whom I am related by birth or marriage that I liketo be around. Also, my children are more wonderful than insane, though they are certainly a healthy dose of the latter as well. I never get over how good it feels to have three little people come running in at the sound of the opened door, yelling "Mommy's home! YAY! Mommy's home!"
• work - I continue to have a fulfilling job with people I like doing something I care about. Oh, and I have some flexibility in my scheduling too. 
• home - my house is warm and cozy, with a fire often in the fireplace and good smells coming from the kitchen. I live on a fantastic block with thoughtful, generous, fun neighbors, most of whom are good cooks too. My city is easy to love; interesting and filled with cool little discoveries. Plus, it has lots of bridges. The state is beautiful and often progressive despite itself.
• friends - from my closest friends to people we are getting to know, I feel love and acceptance. Often people laugh at my jokes and praise my children. 
• health - My body has continued to let me run without complaining too much, which gives me the emotional and physical balance I have been needing. It even stops raining for long enough now and then to make runs reasonably pleasant. 

What more could I want? Oh right, holidays that remind me how lucky I am to have so much.

Place cards from Thanksgiving dinner, by Ada with help from her aunt and uncle 

The kids' table at Second Thanksgiving dinner this past weekend.

Snow and Tell

I just finished a weekend in which I worked over 12 hours. I finished the deliverable on which I was churning, and decided to take the evening "off". I read about 45 posts about snow. To make myself feel better about my lost weekend, I thought I would mention that tomorrow is forecast to be 45 F and sunny.

In other news, I just found the app Instagram last week. Why did I not know about this before? I am totally obsessed. If you have an iphone you should be too. In fact, go download it now (it's free) and then tell me so I can follow your pictures.

Scenes from the Beach

In case anyone had any doubts, the beach was great. When I arrived I joined Ellen and the kids on the sand for a while and then we went on to dinner. After their bath, the kids got sparklers and chocolate chip cookies and several chapters of a book. Ellen and I got scotch and porch-sitting and the rare time to sit and talk. We all slept in. (Ada slept until the mind-blowing hour of 10am!) While the kids played, I worked and sat in a tub and worked then chatted with Ellen before we all ate dinner and Ada and I headed out for home.

 

I took a bunch of pictures (some with my diana lens, hence the atmospheric/fuzzy shots):

Although the time was very peaceful and the kids all played well together, there were some great moments of kid "negotiation" like this one:

N: Let's play Ivy and Bean and you are my sister, Ada. 

Monkey Boy: No, I am not playing that, I am playing Narnia.

N: I want to play Ada's my sister and we find this little alligator.

Ada: (Spinning on her toes watching her skirt twirl around her)

Ave: There is no alligator in Narnia! (to Ellen:) I want to play something that I want because they want to play what they want.

N: how about we are in Narnia and we went to the pet store and bought a baby alligator?

MB: No! You are not being very nice! Because Narnia does not involve alligators! It involves people!

Ellen: well, there ARE talking animals in Narnia. Maybe we just have not met a talking alligator yet.

sparklers are way more impressive in photographs than in person

Hopefully N's mom won't be horrified that she was outside in shorts at night!

Sun, Sun, Sun, Here it Comes?

In an ongoing attempt to make sure Chris and I get to do fun things together (sometimes even without children!) I signed us up for a 30 mile bike ride. We considered taking Ada with us, but I decided I didn't want to pull her for 30 miles, and I guess Chris felt the same. So on Saturday we'll be cruising along scenic byways, enjoying the great outdoors with thousands of our closest friends other biking enthusiasts. The kids will be hanging out with their grandparents, who have let us know that they think they are getting the good end of the bargain. 

If the weather holds, this should be a great ride. The ride's web site promises the 30 mile course is "a very flat, scenic course that is a gorgeous way to get out and experience riding" in the country. (This is in contrast to the 60 and 100 mile courses, which are a bit hillier.) Did I mention if the weather holds this will be a lovely day? Because all month it has been raining and raining and raining here. The forecast shows a 60% chance of rain for Saturday. 


Guess we'll be packing some extra dry clothes for after the ride. At least there is beer at the end of the ride.

Yes!

Oh thank goodness. We won.

Horses and Family

Chris's grandmother was in Oregon for a couple of weeks, so we drove the family out to his aunt's house so that grandma Lois could meet the twins and see Ada. Ada was very interested in the horses, and "helped" Aunt Camille (from the non-horse side of the fence). I would be happy for Ada to ride a horse, but I am not comfortable with her milling about at the feet of three horses, particularly when one of them is a bit testy and unpredictable.

Grandma Lois (who is 91) enjoyed the visit with the little ones, though she did blame herself (and her cold hands) when Mira cried in her arms. I think Mira was just tired, but there was no convincing Lois of that.

Getting two of the three to smile was good enough.

Chris's dad was a bit worried about Ada being near the horses. He has a bad memory of one of Camille's horses almost kicking Chris's brother Dylan. Camille had no memory of this, but when she heard that the horse's hoof was a foot away from Dylan, discounted the danger involved. In any case, Ada did not get that close to any of the horses on this trip.  Maybe next time we'll bring carrots and see how that goes.

Camille's dog kept a close eye on us, lest we make any sudden moves that warranted her attention.

Must have been the pollen in my eyes

I walk out of the house, leaving Ada elbow deep in puzzle pieces and half learned nursery rhymes. I get into the car after admiring our newly tilled garden. There is a blast of Neko Case from the cd player, and I leave the disk in even though I am kind of a news junkie.

I back the car out of the driveway and head down the street, listening to Neko and feeling weirdly elated. I drive along 12th, where all the cherry trees are in bloom, and suddenly the size of my heart triples. The image is worn, but apt.

I turn onto Powell, and over the Ross Island Bridge the sun comes out. Again, I am feeling the particular joy of early spring. I've found one of those moments of where the world is so perfect, and here I am in it. And, well, I'm driving, so the moment doesn't stop me in my tracks, but it feels like that.

Heading up the hill, listening to Neko and singing, I start crying, sure that the drivers of the jeep from Minnesota and the biodiesel Volvo wonder about the tears streaming down my cheeks while I belt out a tune they can't hear.

And on to Salem.

First things first

Motivated by a post by the Queen of Spain (who was herself motivated by Women's Voices. Women's Vote, I wanted to encourage you* to vote this November. Toward that end, I offer you a little memory about my first time voting. (*and by "you" I mean those of you who live in the United States. Other yous I encourage to vote whenever it is that you vote wherever you live.)

My story starts in Florida. Not the Florida of hanging chads and Jeb. My Florida was more swimming in the apartment pool, ballet lessons and palmetto bugs. This was the early 70s, and as a mere 4 year old, I started kindergarten. Apparently in Miami you could enter kindergarten as long as you would be 5 by the end of the calendar year you started. My birthday cuts it close (my parents call me an Old Year baby) but my parents apparently thought it was a good idea, so into school I went. My first day was memorable, in part because I was stung by a bee on the top of my head. What I remember most about kindergarten is that we had to sleep head to foot at nap time (a kid or two had a persistent lice problem), one of my classmates was named Barbie (which bothered me because she was a brunette) and I learned to say the Pledge of Allegiance with a southern accent. ("Pledge" is one of those words that did not come up a lot at home, so my accented teacher taught me to say it "Plaaydige.")

But where was I? Oh right, my first time voting. The point of that little trip in time is that because I started school young, I left for college at the tender age of 17. So living in a new city, being "on my own" (sort of) offered new experiences of all types. When I got my first chance to vote I was excited. Probably more excited than is reasonable. Even at 18 I knew that whole "what's one vote?" line, but I was still pumped. There is a sense of possibility on election day. Even when things go really wrong later in the day, when you march into that polling place I feel that My Vote Will Count! I Will Be Heard! This Is Democracy In Action! Now all Oregonians vote by mail, but when I first voted Oregon still had voting booths and you actually had to leave your home to vote. (I was going to write "put on pants" but I am not sure if there was any such rule outlawing naked voting. If not there probably should be. How distracting.)


Oregon used to have these thick blue pens for filling in the ballot. Maybe not as traditional as New York's mechanical levers, but still fun. Big Blue Marks for my choices, plus a little on my fingers. It probably took all of 5 minutes, but I voted! I'm an adult! Woo hoo! All day I was buzzy about my "accomplishment." (Dork dork dork.)

About the "Oregonians vote by mail" issue: I wonder about people newly able to vote, about what they are missing here in Oregon. It feels so anti-climactic to vote by mail. I miss the opportunity to walk to my polling place, chat with the retirees and other poll workers. I miss slapping an "I voted!" sticker on my shirt and feeling absurdly patriotic for having done my citizen duty. But I have to admit that it is easy. Fill out the ballot at your leisure, stick it in the envelope and either toss it in the mail or drop it by the county office down the road. A University of Oregon study found that Oregon's vote by mail increased voting by people with disabilities, homemakers and voters 18 to 38. Hard to argue with success. So I can suck up the loss of the sticker. I still love to vote.

Not a Farmer's Market Stalker

(or, A Post In Which I Use Way Too Many Parenthetical Comments)

Hey Portland Blogger Mamas:

Were you at the farmer's market on Saturday? Were you minding your own business when you were approached by someone who looks like this:


Ok, maybe not. Maybe that's a guy paid to stumble around in a bear suit to promote some new kids' movie. (But in my total dorkiness I felt like that.) But were you approached by someone who looks like this:


Slipping gratefully out of the third person... I had Ada on my back and told the woman she looked familiar and asked if I looked familiar to her. Apparently I did not look familiar. (Was that my imagination, or did she give me a bit of a "back away, crazy woman" look?) As I walked away it occurred to me that I might recognize her face from a blog. But which one? I didn't know (and still don't) and was too shy to walk back and ask if maybe that is how I knew her face. Because what if it isn't? (I'd be even more embarrassed, that's what).

So if it was you I accosted, let me know. I'd feel better having solved the "mystery." I have a great memory for faces, though a crappy one for names. So it is likely that once you reveal yourself I'll laugh and say "of course!" and then promptly forget your name the next time I see you at the Market.

By the way - do you know how hard it is to find a half-decent photo of yourself? (Wait, most of you are bloggers, so you probably do.) First, I'm the one toting the camera, so when am I going to be in a picture? Second, when I find a picture that has me in it, it is usually off-kilter or shot at an angle that gives me a double chin, or (like this one) suggesting I have the world's highest hairline. (THAT is typical me, by the way. Take the thing that you most worry people will say and shout it out first so that HA! beat you to it! Now no one else can declare that I have ugly toes or uneven eyes or whatever else.)

After much talking to myself, I settled on the above photo. We won't get into why I think it is a mis-representation, because I am not trolling for complements or support on this. Just complaining about how hard it is to get a decent picture for a simple blog post. (And don't get me started on how wonky blogger is being about allowing me to upload those photos once I've settled on them.)

Updated to add: I think I figured it out. I think she's not a blogger. I think she was in a focus group with me. A few months ago I participated in a focus groups for women who had given birth at Oregon Health and Sciences University within the previous 12 months. It was actually pretty fun, and it paid pretty well. Turns out that all the women in the room who'd used the midwives had very good experiences, even the woman transferred to OHSU from home when her labor got more complicated than her home-birth midwife could manage alone. In any case, that's who I think she is. See, I am really good with remembering faces.

Reasons to love Portland Oregon

I don't always work at my office, but when I do I like to take walks around the capitol. Working in Salem earlier this week, I saw the following at lunch:



It is supposed to get really hot today, but on Wednesday it was perfect. Low 80s, not at all humid. I walked to the farmer's market for lunch and flowers, strolled back with a coffee, and saw these kids playing in the fountain on the capitol mall just yards from my office. It is a bit hard to tell from this cell-phone photo, but there were about 25 kids of a wide range of ages frolicking in the water. I know that the department in charge of the capitol grounds hates that people play in the fountain (I can just see them screaming "liability, oh the liability!"), but it was such a nice scene. I tend to be very "I heart Portland" focused, but I do enjoy my forays outside of the bubble.

Back in Portland, I had a meeting downtown yesterday. I hopped on the bus, which I love here in a way I never did in any of the other places I've lived. The bus picks me up and drops me off 2.5 blocks from my house and takes 10 minutes to get downtown. The drivers tend to be cheerful (this was rarely the case in L.A.).

On my way home, the driver pulled to a bus stop and called out "we've got a wheelchair!" Immediately the three people sitting in the seats that fold back to make way for a chair jumped up and moved down the aisle. There was not a moment's hesitation. A guy seated nearby quickly moved in to lift the seat bottom. Even on a warm afternoon on which many riders had been waiting more than the usual wait for a bus, everyone involved was cheerful and willing to help the disabled rider. I am almost always glad I live in Portland, but especially so when I see this kind of behavior. Yay for the small city, yay for the state!

Enjoying that February Break in the Weather

I love Forest Park. It is the nation's largest park in a metro area, and has over 40 miles of trails for walking and biking. I have had some great walks there with Chris, Karen and Ellen. Chris and I took a long walk there and talked about how to deal with our fertility issues. My parents and Karen strolled slowly with me when I was 8 months pregnant. I've seen cool birds, a fox and lots of spiders and other insects. On one walk with Ellen, she kept stopping to move slugs off the trail. Yes, slugs.



When the sun finally came out last sunday, Chris and I agreed it was time to take Ada there. The record rainfall we've received really shows in the park. Balch Creek is rushing and the flora is busting out all over. Ada seemed to enjoy it too. Or maybe it she was just excited by the snack I brought along for her.