A Day In the Hay (By the Bay)

James took Claire and Jack today to the second annual Blackie’s Hay Day, a fund raiser for the children’s library at our local (wonderful) public library. This kind of event is one of the reasons I’ve come to really appreciate the small town where we live, because it’s all about the kids. Pony rides, relay races, food and entertainment -- loads of fun in the field just below our house known as Blackie’s Pasture.

Blackie was a cavalry and rodeo horse who retired when he was 12 years old and then lived for 28 years in the pasture that bears his name. He was (and still is) a neighborhood icon and anyone who grew up here will tell you stories about feeding the old swaybacked horse carrots and sugar cubes. Nowadays, you can see the life-sized bronze statue of Blackie standing in his favorite spot, not far from where the real horse lies buried.

Some locals who remember when Blackie was still alive wrote a wonderful rhyming book called Blackie, the Horse Who Stood Still. (see http://www.blackiethehorse.com/book.htm) This is one of Claire’s favorite stories, and it’s such a pleasure to tie in the history of the place we call home. Even if you’re not from around here, it’s a delightful read for any age. And any time you want to be personally introduced, just come on down!

Plodding Along at Lightning Speed

Just like an unexpected thunderstorm, you never know when some nasty virus is going to strike. But BLAM! This one got me good, and I actually have to lie down. Everyone knows that moms aren’t supposed to get sick, so I’m facing the displeasure of my whole household.

I’m flat on my stomach with my head hanging over the side of the bed, but that doesn’t slow the flow of traffic through the bedroom. I feel like I’m in a special-effects movie scene, where the central character barely moves in suspended animation while everything around her spins at 78rpm. In the movie, this suspension of time allows the character to make lightning-quick decisions of remarkable intelligence and thereby save the world. In my life, this just means someone will probably run into something and start screaming in pain before I can lift my head to say, “Don‘t run around. Somebody’s going to get hurt…”

“What about my back-to-school-night, Mom? Don’t you care?” “Mom, it’s the art committee lady, can you talk?” “Who’s going to make the lunches?” “What’s the password for the computer, Mom?” “Cereal for breakfast? I can’t eat that.” “Honey, have you seen my watch? My glasses? My mobile phone?” “What if it’s pouring down rain? Who’s going to pick me up from school?” “What’s for dinner tonight?” Usually, I can answer all these questions at once, but I just pull the pillow over my head.

Something stirs me from my coma-like state, though; Claire is poking me in the small of the back with every other stroke of the bow across the violin. I didn’t know she had one; I didn’t know she played. Daddy gave it to her, today of all days. “That’s nice, sweetie, do you think you could practice downstairs?” “Can’t I just have some peace and quiet around here?” she retorts. If only. I lie there wondering which might be worse: my stomach ache, or what I’ll find in the kitchen when I get up.

Somehow the world keeps revolving. I drag myself downstairs (the kitchen is definitely the worst of it) and into the minivan. Time does weird things when you’re sick. The twenty minutes I wait in the car line to pick up Claire after school seem like forever, but while I’m sitting there I marvel at how she could grow up so quickly. Wasn’t she just a baby? Wasn’t I? It starts raining. I think I’ll go back to bed…

Alchemy

One would think, with all the chaos generally reigning at our house, that I’d spend my free time in a serene, lavender-scented oasis listening to meditative music. But no. I choose to spend my few precious “off hours” a week in a dimly-lit basement (otherwise known as Fine Art Jewelry Classroom 15) playing with open flames, toxic chemicals, sharp instruments, and a lot of other people banging their tools loudly. It’s divine.

A couple of friends and I have been taking this class for years, although it’s more like open studio hours, as the teacher doesn’t really instruct us unless we ask for specific help. My current project is a self-guided experiment in repoussé, an ancient metalworking technique in which a malleable metal is ornamented or shaped by hammering from the reverse side; our instructor has never done this before, so we’re figuring it out together. This could take a while.

My last project took weeks, and I felt like I knew what I was doing. It involved sawing out miniature patterns, texturing silver sheet in a giant roller, soldering together all the various bits, and figuring out the final finish. I’m a fan of the sandblasting technique; it gives you a nice matte surface with tiny flecks of sparkle. After two months of work, I finally have a box that will hold about six quarters.

This work is its own reward. The process of transforming something unremarkable into something special is a real joy. And when you begin a project fearing you won’t be able to realize what you can visualize, and then manage to do it, it seems like a downright miracle. I guess I better start praying right now about that repoussé…

Warm Cake In The Bathtub

We just spent a long weekend in Santa Cruz at the old beach house that James’ parents bought back in the 50s. Now a multitude of kids, grandchildren and great-grandchildren trade weekends and track sand and collect freckles a stone’s throw from the harbor lighthouse.

Beyond the obvious serotonin-related benefits of spending three days in the sun (okay, only two – I’ve already forgotten the first downpour of the season), a trip to the beach house always offers up a few extra treasures. This time, it was a porpoise sighting and a small colony of otters that has moved into the neighborhood. You never know what will go sailing by while you’re standing on the front stoop.

Sand castles, seaweed wars, touch football, and giant crater digging are great activities for wearing out a passel of energetic kids. Sitting by a crackling fire at the end of the day, I question Claire about the best activities of the weekend – what rates highest? “Well,” she replies, ”I liked boogie boarding and chasing butterflies on the beach, but the best part was a warm cake in the bathtub.” Cake? In the tub? “No, Mom! CAPE!” I finally figure it out: Claire’s idea of happiness is a warm towel from the dryer after a dip in the cold Pacific waters. Ah, the simple things in life…

Three Seconds of Fame

I was able to impress my kids (NOT!) the other day when I remembered my brief brush with "stardom" as a walk on for an MTV video back in 1980. Wynham said, "I didn't know they had color TV back then..." I was more impressed by the fact that I could actually find this video on line. Get a laugh out of this blast from the past, and see if you can find me -- don't blink!

Let Them Eat Cake

Here's a shamless plug for Gayle's Bakery in Capitola, CA (http://www.gaylesbakery.com). Every time we visit the beach house in Santa Cruz, a morning trip to Gayle's is obligatory. It started out as one tiny store front a long time ago and has gradually expanded in an attempt to keep up with its success. This place is as close to pastry nirvana as you can get here on earth, and everyone has their favorites. Wynham lives for the egg and bacon croissant and Chloé favors the one with ham and cheese. The chocolate macaroons are my weakness, and James loves the bear claws. Claire always goes for the cupcake with frosting in various shades of sea green and an elegant souvenir fish on top. Jack's easy, he'll eat anything as long as you tell him it's a cookie...

If we have visitors (as we do this weekend), I like to get up especially early and make a run to Gayle's for "supplies". It's great when there are a lot of people at the house, because it gives me an excuse to buy one of everything for a sampling plate. This time, the Schnecken (pecan pie meets breakfast roll) wins the taste test hands down. We generally buy twice as much as anyone could ever really eat for breakfast, but mysteriously, over the course of the day, a mile-high platter of pastries is reduced to a tiny pile of crumbs. Those usually end up disappearing as well.

The sandwiches and salads bring the notion of a picnic lunch to new heights of euphoria. The cakes are works of art, inspiring "ooohs" and "aaahs" from even the most jaded chefs and gourmands. It makes me want to throw a party or a wedding, just for an excuse to buy one. Wynham peers over my shoulder as a write this, and says, "Oh, Mom, can we go there again tomorrow? It's SOOO irresistable! I could eat there every day without ever getting bored..." Of course, all this caloric excess is justified by the fact that we can "walk it off on the beach". If we can even move after all that eating...

May Peace Prevail On Earth

Today is the United Nations’ International Day of Peace. (To learn more, visit http://www.un.org/events/peaceday/2007/) Twenty-four hours for World Peace? We can’t keep the peace for more than five minutes in our own living room, so I’m dubious that I could have anything relevant to say on the subject.

I decide to ask the kids what they think, and they all agree that the first thing to do is to stop the fighting. “And just how are you going to stop all the fighting in the world?” I ask. “Not the world, Mom,” says Chloé, “Just our family.” It’s a valid point. Peace starts at home. I’m reminded of the lyrics to a song we sang in church so often when I was young, by Jill Jackson and Sy Miller:

Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me;
Let there be peace on earth,
The peace that was meant to be.

With God as our Father
Brothers all are we,
Let me walk with my brother
In perfect harmony.

Let peace begin with me,
Let this be the moment now;
With every step I take,
Let this be my solemn vow:

To take each moment

and live each moment
In peace eternally –
Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me.

We all agree to give it a try. And that’s a start; a small step in the direction of a more peaceful planet. Dona Nobis Pacem!

I Want to Go Back to Kindergarten

Okay, I have to admit that I’m envious of Claire – she gets to spend her days in a kindergarten class, and it’s made me nostalgic for those halcyon days of my own past. My love for kindergarten is both philosophical and practical.

In a world full of chaos, the kindergarten classroom is its own little universe of structure and order. The hook where you hang your coat and book bag has your name above it, your box of crayons has your name on it, everything has a place and usually gets put back in its place. This almost never happens at our house. If I opened the pen/pencil drawer in the kitchen and actually found a pen or a pencil in there, I’d probably faint.

A kindergarten classroom is so colorful. The walls are covered with groups of tidy layouts in every imaginable color combination; a graphic artist’s dream and nightmare all rolled into one. And so many school and art supplies, I love them! These things encourage creativity – almost everything in kindergarten is an art project, even the math. Drawing and coloring and playing with glue are part of the curriculum. Well, at least we do a lot of this at home, too. Especially on the walls…

Books get priority in kindergarten. This is my idea of heaven. Can you remember getting to spend a big portion of your day with books? The joy of learning to read? Being read to? In kindergarten, it requires no suspension of disbelief to enjoy the stories. That gingerbread man you made in class really did hop out of the oven and run away while you were at recess. And now he’s sending postcards from around the globe!

People are nice. They know that “warm fuzzies” are things you say to make folks feel good, and that “cold pricklies” are better left unsaid. Kindergarten kids know that “please” and “thank you” are important words – they work like magic – and they can’t really ever be overused. It’s okay to talk about your feelings in Kindergarten, and even more amazing, people usually listen. Kindergarten is a place where it’s safe to be yourself – too bad the world isn’t taking notes.

Plus, there’s an extra benefit in the kindergarten classroom: the signs and books and labels all have big enough print that you can read them without putting on your reading glasses first (and believe me, this is big)…

The Lost Art of Sleep

Lately at our house, we’ve been conducting a study entitled “How to Lose a Lot of Sleep (and Potentially Your Mind)". It typically unrolls something like this:

10pm, lights out; ah, Blessed Dark! “Mom?” “What is it, Wynham?” “How did my new shorts get dirty?” How could I possibly know? After fifteen minutes of argument (pardon me, I mean discussion) about how it must be my fault, Wynham finally remembers that maybe it happened when he threw his shorts up at the bathroom ceiling near the exhaust vent. I didn’t even ask why he was doing that. I probably wouldn't want to know...

“Mom, can you come down here right now?” Chloé asks this question rather frantically, so I hop out of bed a little worried. It appears that some younger sibling has spilled a whole glass of water on her bed. When I dare to ask why she couldn’t just change the sheets herself, she says, “But MOM! It soaked ALL the way through!” A towel over the wet bit and a new sheet really don’t meet her standards, but it will have to do until morning. 11pm. Can we go to bed now?

Sleep seems necessary, even possible. Suddenly, I wake up and remember that I forgot to post my blog for Tuesday and put the steel cut oats in the slow cooker (cold cereal for breakfast; Claire will not be pleased). Technically, since it’s now after midnight, I’ve missed the deadline on both of these items, so I gracefully let go of the guilt and try to go back to sleep.

At 1am, James decides to let the dog out. This must be some secret agreement they have, and I stay out of it. While he’s not looking, I close the bedroom window because it’s getting really cold out. As soon as James thinks I’m asleep, he opens it again because he “doesn’t like his feet to get too hot”. Repeat steps one and two until exhausted…

2am, and Jack is calling “Daaaadaaaa”. This starts as a plaintive whimper and progresses to a howl until Jack gets satisfaction. He used to call my name until he figured out that I can hold out longer than he can holler, but he knows Daddy’s a pushover. Already, I'm not a big fan of co-sleeping, and now Jack’s kneading my shoulder with his little toes.

Not surprisingly, Claire shows up half an hour later saying, “I had a bad dream”. I say, “Go around to Daddy’s side.” Things are going okay for nearly an hour, and then she needs to go potty. When she gets back, she wonders if somebody will give her a foot rub. Are you kidding? A few minutes of silence, and then it starts: the Surround Sound Symphonic Snorefest. These guys really need to work on their harmonizing skills, dog included.

4:51am, and Jack gets restless again, crying, “Go, go, GO!” in his sleep and pointing straight up. I take this as a sign, and decide to get out of bed for good. James lifts his head and says, “Wow. I almost had three whole uninterrupted minutes of sleep.” I think the universe is telling us that it’s a bad time to try and quit caffeine. Espresso, boys, and make it a triple…

Wild Wonderful Wynham

Wynham has a real knack for being wacky. He amuses his younger siblings (and the rest of us, too) with his own personal brand of silly slapstick, and he can put on a show at the drop of a hat. I think the pictures speak for themselves…

(birthday hat photo by Paul Simcock)

Step By Step

(posted by popular demand and reprinted by permission of Chloé Guillemot, who delivered this commencement speech [chosen in a blind evaluation by district administrators] at Del Mar Middle School Graduation on June 13th, 2007)

Congratulations! You’ve just climbed 100 thousand steps of your life staircase. Great job – only a couple more million to go! But don’t sweat it – we’ve made it this far and I know we can climb higher. Take a look at the people around you. You know everyone, and they know you. We are basically one big family, alike and different in our own ways. For the most part, from the time we learned our ABC’s to the time we learned to factor equations, this Class of 2007 has been together. Having only been here since 4th grade, I don’t know my classmates as much as others do, but I feel just as connected to everyone as those who have been together since Pre-K.

Remembering my first day of school at Bel Aire brings back one of my most treasured memories. It was recess, and I was wearing some spandex pants and an ugly neon colored turtleneck, and I stood alone looking for something to do. I was just about to leave when a girl started dragging me across into the four square cube commanding me to play. Thinking she was a little wacky, I stepped out of the square and looked away shyly. But she insisted that I play with her, and that’s when it hit me – I had just made my first Bel Aire friend. Could it be real? I pinched myself to check, and sure enough, there I was in the middle of a group of people playing four square. Never, in all of the other schools I had attended, did I make a friend as fast as I did at Bel Aire. From that point on, I knew the Reed Union schools would be my favorite schools and a great place to make new friends and meet new people. And just to let you in on a little secret, the girl who dragged me over to play and I thought was such a freak is actually one of my best friends to this day.

But that’s enough about me. Today has been created to commemorate a passage for each one of us, and for the fantastic times we’ve shared together throughout the years. We started out as pieces of string, and were gradually woven together into strong bonds of a beautiful blanket. Each thread tells a different story, but this tapestry we’ve created tells one story that connects us all. It tells us about Reed, where small kids chased each other around playing tag and trying not to get cooties. It tells about our times in Bel Aire, hiding under tables from the bees at lunch. And finally it illustrates our experiences at Del Mar, where we metamorphosed from silly kids into mature people. So much has taken place since the day we were born; yet we are not even half way through our lives. We will be forced to make choices, we will all make mistakes and learn from them, we will endure pain and sadness, and we will experience utter happiness. These things are each a part of life, and we will have to encounter them at some point. But don’t be scared, because these first stages of our lives have prepared us for whatever comes our way. That’s what growing up is about – learning to be independent and how to face challenges on our own. We’re on our way down that bumpy path right now. And wherever life takes us – whatever path we choose to take – will determine who we are.

So, I ask you once more, Class of 2007, to take a look around you. Though high school will come and separate some of us, we will never forget this part of our life. It is from pre-K to eighth grade where we learned to love, cry, laugh, perform, make friends, share special moments, act silly, play, dance, scream, strengthen bonds, and transform into who we are right now. The friends we’ve made will always have a special place in our hearts, no matter how far apart from each other we may find ourselves.

Many years from now, we will have a tremendous appreciation and respect for everything that our teachers taught us. They are the ones who remind us of the Reed School District Mission Statement: “Together we provide our children with extraordinary opportunities to enlighten their minds, inspire their hearts, and strengthen their resolve to positively impact the world.” All of these elements we should be grateful for, however big or small, because they guided us towards being kind, good, helpful, and knowledgeable people. Congratulations, eighth graders! You’ve just climbed 100 thousand steps of your life staircase– only a couple more million to go…

Crêpe Expectations

The Saturday Morning Meal can be quite a production at our house – it’s the only day of the week we have time for a “luxury” breakfast. So when Chloé came home from France with her recipe for Pâte à Crêpes Sucrée, her crêpes immediately made the Saturday Top Ten List. The recipe is simple: roughly 2 cups of milk, 3 eggs, 1 cup of flour, a pinch of salt, and a teaspoon of vanilla-infused sugar (the recipe also calls for 2 tablespoons of rum, but never mind that at breakfast time…).

After you whip up the recipe, things start to get complicated. First, the batter has to sit there for an hour so that the proteins can do something scientific in the bowl, and they like to take their time about it, thank you very much. This is apparently very important to the success of your end result. After that, it’s all about technique. Deft wrist action is needed for spreading out the perfect thinness of the crêpe. Flipping over the crêpe at the perfect moment of doneness without tearing it requires a level of dexterity I certainly never possessed, but Chloé’s got it down.

Since Wynham is about to be crowned King of the Perfect Single Fried Egg, I got all excited about trying my hand at the savory version of the crêpe, made with buckwheat flour. Everything seemed to be going all right until I attempted to fold my crêpe into that just-opened-flower shape that Jaques Pépin makes so effortlessly – mine looked more like a crushed soda can. C’est la vie…

Well, I don’t need to tell you what the kitchen looks like after all this fun, especially with Claire and Jack “helping”. This is a good time to get very philosophical about the merits and methods of house cleaning (I start by closing my eyes and taking deep breaths). So when Wynham asks, just a little plaintively, “Mom, can we please just have buttermilk pancakes for breakfast this Saturday?” I’m quick to respond “Of course!” Flapjacks, I can do.

The Tao of Hot Wheels

Non-contention. Lao Tzu noted that violence and conflict could only cause negative side effects. The Tao ideal is to solve problems through peaceful means. In other words, keep plenty of Hot Wheels handy at all times, and no one gets hurt.

Non-action. Foolish folks expend a great deal of energy and time trying to do everything and end up achieving nothing. Conversely, the truly wise don't seem to do much at all and yet achieve whatever they want. Like when Jack says “car” and the Hot Wheels automatically appear from purses, pockets, under car seats...

Non-intention. People often perform virtuous deeds hoping to receive praise or recognition. That's no virtue at all. True virtue is a state where such actions happen naturally, requiring no conscious effort or thought. In preschool, that means you’re sharing your Hot Wheels when no one is looking.

Simplicity. The basis for our reality and our existence is elemental and uncomplicated. Human beings create a lot of trouble for themselves by making everything more complex than it needs to be. In Jack’s world, it’s so simple; just hand over the Hot Wheels.

Wisdom. Logic has its place in human affairs but isn't everything. There is a limit to what we can understand through rationality and reasoning. Why do all little boys love Hot Wheels? How come they’re hard wired to make those “vroom” sounds from birth? Do you really need to know?

Humility. The more you learn, the more you realize there's still so much more to learn. This tends to make you humble. I thought I knew a lot about Hot Wheels, but they are not created equal, let me tell you. Just try, when you’re attempting to leave the doctor’s office for example, to get Jack to trade the cool Hot Wheels that belongs there for the one you brought from home…

Duality. Lao Tzu pointed out that all qualities in the world possess meaning only by the existence of their opposites. Something can only be big if there is something else that is small by comparison. Good exists in the world so long as evil exists as well. Jack playing happily with his Hot Wheels is good; Claire trying to steal his Hot Wheels, well, that’s just the natural balance of things…

(Elements of Taoism excerpted from "What Is Tao?" by Derek Lin)

(toy deer and photo courtesy of Deborah Smith Read)

The New Narcissism

The first hint of fall blew in yesterday, with a tinge of orange on the plum trees, a chill in the air, and overcast skies. I'm delighted, because it means Chloé will (hopefully) be wearing more clothing than she has in the warmer months…teen fashion, yikes! While it’s a well known fact that teenage girls spend an inordinate amount of time on their looks, either checking themselves out in the mirror or talking about the latest styles on the phone, modern technology has brought this narcissism to new heights. Chloé can take her own picture or video on her own phone, send it to her own computer, upload it to the internet, and IM her friends so that they can see it – all in a matter of seconds.

Not unlike how this blog works, come to think of it… I’m on the fence about whether or not it’s a good thing. On one hand I can share a lot more with a lot more people in a lot less time, on the other hand I wonder: how much information is way too much information? Only time will tell, but Chloé and Wynham were both disappointed to see that they didn’t get visual coverage in my first blog entry: “What about ME???” they asked.

I remember when an instant picture was a Polaroid that you had to smear with a stick of gooey stuff to make it develop, and you had to wait a whole minute before the image would actually appear; it was like magic! A slide show required a projector, a screen, and a great deal of fiddling with equipment. Editing a movie required a console and some strong-smelling glue, and meant a pile of film leftovers on the floor. This just makes the kids shake their heads in amazement. One thing hasn't changed, though; a mirror works exactly the way it did back then, and perhaps I spent as much time in front of that reflective surface as Chloé does now. Maybe. Just maybe.

(photo by Paul Simcock)

Veggie Tales (with Cheese)

The end of summer brings with it a bounty of incredible organic, locally-grown fruits and vegetables, picked at their peak. Sheer perfection on a vine! Our largest farmer’s market, held in the shadow of the Marin County Civic Center designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, is a treasure trove of other-worldly delights. On our latest visit, we saw pink carrots, golden raspberries, and purple potatoes which Claire pronounced “simply gorgeous”.

For dinner we roasted up a beautiful medley of vegetables with some olive oil and rosemary to accompany grilled lamb with lemon and herbes de Provence. The miniature Japanese eggplant didn’t go over so well, and lately the ruling majority is down with mushrooms, but everything else is usually a go. People say, “Your kids are such good eaters!” but I don't feed them anything else, so how would they know differently?

Conversation at the dinner table circled around the topic of 9/11, with Chloé commenting that no mention was made to mark the day at her new high school. We’ll never forget? How quickly. Cheese turned out to be the real hot button of the evening. James says that anyone who eats dairy ends up cow shaped, but the rest of us argue for the quality of life – what would la vie be without fromage?

Besides, "cheese" is one of Jack's favorite words (along with "car", "go", "stop", and "shoes"), and how could anyone deny him anything?