Not a Dinner Table Night

I have two teenagers, one of whom has his very own car. And it's summer. So you'd think these guys would be flitting about from friend to friend barely acknowledging their mom's existence — a.k.a. me at their age. I'm lucky to have two homebodies who occasionally hang out with friends, are here most every evening, and understand the significance of a home cooked family meal at the dinner table. Tonight was not a dinner table night.


We've learned to work around each other's schedules, and this appears to be "accommodate our working mom" week. Due to a dismal economy, the magazine's ad department will take anything, even if it's just a few days before deadline. Which is the case this week. Great timing ... my week with the kids before they're off on a two-week camping trip with their dad and I'm forced to work brutal 10-hour days. I return home at 7:00 and feed my daughter cheese, crackers, veggies & dip for dinner — my favorite meal and fast becoming hers. We're in "Flight of the Conchords" mode. Cliffie comes home from a card game and we're all watching this hilarious episode starring the bumbling Bret and Jemaine.


Bret: She works down at the cheap zoo
Jemaine: The pet store?


Then the outtakes. Here's one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSTAM3qdFeM


I'd seen this before, but watching it with these guys brought it to a whole new level of funny. Belly laughs, I swear. I love that they get the humor. I ask you, what's better than laughing — I mean REALLY laughing — with your kids? Not much, in my book.


Stress? What stress?

A better "to do" list

Chore day — and things have gotten way out of hand here at the house. On the agenda: things like scrubbing bathroom tile grout and hard water deposits, dusting and organizing 16 bookshelves, cleaning out the fridge. As if transforming my home to Martha Stewart perfection will simultaneously create order, direction, and purpose in my life. Reality: Inside I'm a mess, even after my house is sparkling clean. Think how great I'd feel if I accomplished everything on a list like this: 

1. Draw a picture using crayons on construction paper.

2. Go to beach and hunt for seaglass.

3. Select pastry at local bakery.

4. Find a three-year-old to play with and follow her agenda.

5. Create stellar playlist on i-tunes. Purchase new songs if needed.

6. Find some good smooth rocks at the tidepools. Go home an paint at least one.

7. Find and memorize a significant line of prose. 

8. Choreograph a dance to Wham's "Young Guns."

9. Play a card game with at least one of my kids.

10. Reread "Nancy Drew: The Secret of the Old Clock." 

11. Walk the neighborhood and photograph all the birds I see.

12. Pick a wildflower bouquet and deliver to a deserving friend.

13. Compose a song by tapping on glasses filled with water. 

14. Telephone boyfriend and field his responses to 10 random questions.

15. Find a perfect spot and have a heart-to-heart with God.

It would be the best day ever. And soul cleansing at that. Maybe tomorrow ...

Fog & Ray Charles

Written five months ago... 

I love my Saturday morning hikes out to the ranch. I not only get to work off the few pounds I’ve likely gained during the week, I also enjoy quiet time with my “maker” taking in the sights and sounds of perfect beauty. No time limit, and I always come back energized both physically and spiritually.

It was crisp and sunny when I left the house, and I cranked up an upbeat Cowboy Junkies tune on the ipod. What could be better? But just before I rounded the corner leading to the ranch, I noticed a chill in the air and dense fog rolling in. Jogger guy barreled by me, scaring the lovely family of deer in the small clearing entering the ranch. And — oh great — the ground was damp and muddy— I’d have to trudge through it, and navigate around the trees that lay horizontal in the path in front of me — victims of the last brutal storm. This’ll be fun.


I write little essays in my head during these walks. What could all of it mean, I pondered, on the way to my “quiet spot.” “I’m pretty much in a fog most of my waking hours?” Nah. Lame. True, but lame. Just walk, Kirsten. And turn off the damn ipod. It’s still God’s country even though I’m in thick fog and can’t see ten feet in front of me.


Made my way to a bench I like to sit on that overlooks the ocean. No ocean in sight today but the sound of the surf coming in loud in clear. Sitting for a long time reflecting on the usual things: Love and loss. Then my brain was told to shut up by my higher power and I experienced all that was around me at high intensity. The sounds of waves crashing, birds chirping, and something scuttling in the pine tree next to me. The smell of sea air mingled with pine scent from said tree. After a while, the taste of my tears. And am I delusional or did I feel the comforting touch of someone holding me in his arms? I’d been to this spot hundreds of times, but never before had I experienced the loveliness around me in such depth or with such reverence.


All of this and no ocean view. “Damn you’re good,” I said to God. He replied, “I was blocking what you normally focus on so you could experience these other things more fully.” “Oh, duh,” I said. Hence the theme of my essay. (No, it’s not “oh duh.”)


I’ll call it the Ray Charles factor. We all know Ray was an extraordinarily talented musician who experienced and performed his music with unusual depth. Being blind, he developed a capacity to react to his world through sound rather than sight; and the result was, of course, off-the-charts brilliant. Maybe that’s the way it is with my own personal losses. (Stay with me here.) I want things to be like they were before — when I clowned around with my little bro or had a good heart-to-heart with Dad. When my marriage seemed like it was perfect. Yeah, sad those days are over. But because they’ve been blocked from my view, might I be more able to more fully experience all of the other wonderful blessings God has bestowed on me? Or even notice them? I think yes. Not to mention the great stuff just around the corner I don’t even know about yet.


Who knew that in the middle dense fog I could come to such a revelation? Duh.

Bizarre room tour

I'm beginning to think (beginning?!) I'm one of those parents who trumpets on and on about the virtues of my kids to the point of everyone's utter horror. You've been warned.

Once every couple of weeks our house serves as the local Dungeons & Dragons meeting spot. Totally my son's thing. (And so NOT satanic, for anyone with concerns about that.) My son doesn't play sports (except for a bit of tennis) and while most kids in school spend their waking hours worrying about who they're going to ask out, what party they're going to, or what they're going to wear the next day, he is imagining other galaxies, creating role-playing scenarios for the next D&D session, reading science fiction books, and listening to podcasts of vintage radio shows. I love that there are at least five like-minded boys at the local high school who are happy sitting around a kitchen table playing a mind-challenging, role playing game in their spare time. And I'm more than happy to support this in the way of ample supply of Cherry Cokes, pizza, pretzels, popcorn, brownies, cookies, etc. etc. You don't know the meaning of a challenge until you've tried to keep six young men fed for a day!

If you've been following my blog you will know that my bedroom is, in fact, in my kitchen — so when the D&D boys arrive, I'm banished to one of the two upstairs rooms. On this particular night, with my girl home and very involved the social networking mecca that is her room, I was forced to hang out in my boy's pad for the evening. And let's get this straight right off the bat: I'm NOT the kind of mom who ever snoops around my kids' rooms for any reason — I vividly recall my own teenage years and would have been mortified if my mom went drudging through any of my stuff. (To her credit, she never did.) But everything in plain sight in my son's room is, well, just so incredibly cool, and speaks volumes to who he is. He is huge pieces of my highly creative, big-thinking father and introverted and artistic mother. On his dad's side he's off-the-charts smart and questions authority like his grandfather, and friendly and accepting like his grandmother. To top it all off, he's blessed with his dad's dazzling smile. What he gets from me I'll never know. 

I'll write about my amazing daughter in another blog. But for now, suffice it to say God has bestowed upon me two exceptional children. I feel it my sole life's purpose to recognize and convey to them their every attribute. They must know just how much they have to offer in this world. 

By the looks of the stuff in my son's room, he's well on his way.

The king and his court

Comic books in a row

Fruit of his "pointless" crafts class. Seaglass chess board. Priceless.

Mom's x-ray = really nice window art

More than just random meaning here.

Neatly stacked Magic cards, never mind the dust.

Friends and pastimes

Jemaine & Bret approve

Apparently taking out the trash doesn't apply to his own room

Ninja guards the deck

Jazzy Tuesday

Canyon HS Vocal Ensemble circa 1982

Lately I've been entertaining a horrible thought: What if I'm the girl in the choir who really thinks she can sing but in reality is the most off-key vocalist in the group? I struggle daily with this line of thinking.

But I take comfort in the fact that I have excellent taste in music. No, really. And tonight, I'm feelin' a little jazzy. Check out these selections and tell me these aren't some of the coolest jazz vocalists ever. I know I'm old. And you're welcome!

Joe W.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYVEdPy8gQY

Anita O'Day

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XH4Uzusrc0&feature=related

Torme

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r6M3v1QDysc

Betty Carter

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFanKvS__iI

Sarah

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJTxN6nIClA

Ella

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbL9vr4Q2LU&a=ErJodczmHgI&playnext_from=ML

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEaDj6TXiQQ&feature=related

Louis & Keely

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ql8kyRtgKMw&feature=related

Me on the right...

Bed & Breakfast

One of the things I love most about my German family is being the recipient of genuine European hospitality. It's amazing to know someone's spent so much time and effort just to make you feel at home. Such was the case at a recent overnight trip to my Tante Ulla's house — everything presented with thoughtful attention to detail and a touch of loving kindness. The only thing better than indulging in all of this is creating it for someone else — a tradition well worth passing on to my own children.

My beautiful hostess

Treats in my room

Oh the garden!

Almost too pretty to eat

The Promise

Written over a year ago ...

I took a few days off of work this week. Mainly to “spend time” with Cliffie and Melissa, who are on spring break. However, Melissa has a 3-day long church campout, and Cliffie wanted to watch reruns of Flight of the Conchords and play video games with his friend Adam. Teenagers. So I got a rare day to myself – and it was wonderful. Slept in, read a good book, visited a girlfriend, then went to San Simeon beach to read some more and took a nice hike up the cove.

God speaks to me during these quiet moments. I looked down and noticed the caterpillars mingled with the broken branches and fallen Eucalyptus leaves. Lots and lots of caterpillars – so many it was hard not to step on one. In due time they’ll become the gorgeous Monarchs that descend on this area en masse, making the cove even more spectacular if that’s possible. A small example of God’s grand schedule, which is always perfectly timed.

I decided to veer from the usual trail and cut across to the other side of the cove. The thin trail that guided me for a while broke with a fallen tree and didn’t reappear. So I trudged through the grass — offroading it. Maybe this was a mistake, I thought, as I climbed through the foliage and fallen trees with no end in sight. I reached the other side to what I hoped would be a promising peak at the ocean — never get to see this side since it’s not on the main trail. I ducked under the branches and through the little hole leading to the viewpoint. What I saw brought me to tears. It was that lovely. Big waves crashing on a clear black table of rock with ridges, amber sand cliffs, purple daisies and flowering ice plant. And a subtle ocean spray almost kissing me. I sat for a while and cried at the sheer beauty of it. My gift today, for sure.

Caterpillars and butterflies, days and nights, new growth on broken trees — all expertly timed according to a precise, divine schedule. Can’t help selfishly plugging my own bits and pieces into this line of thought. I want to get better, feel less sadness, live happily ever after. Now. In other areas I want to turn back the clock. But I come here and am reminded: God's timing, not mine.  Cliffie’s 15 and starting to drive — becoming a man before my very eyes. Tall, dark, and cute with ocean blue eyes. Same dazzling smile as when he was a baby. His thoughts and ideas are complex, sometimes way out there. He continues to amaze me daily (on the order of that ocean scene I shared in previous paragraph). Also, he understands and appreciates good comedy. I now have someone to watch Will Farrell movies with. 

I believe it to be true that the more pain you’ve suffered in your life the more you appreciate the little gifts God gives you along the way. I just think you notice them more, maybe because you’re still expecting bad stuff to come your way – and when good things come instead you can hardly believe it. For me, everything seemed to hit the fan about five years ago. Marriage, brother, dad — all gone in a little over a year. And to make matters worse I had to give up the only two treasures I had left every other weekend to my lousy ex and that wicked witch that tore our family apart (and her own, incidentally). I sat in church one Sunday without the kids, unable to control my feelings of despair and helplessness. I had no idea what was going on with them, but I was sure they were being horribly abused and there was nothing I could do about it. With this experience now part of their backgrounds they would grow up crack addicts or teen parents for sure. Then God spoke to me. (Here's where it gets cheesy, you're thinking ... bear with me.) So loud and clear I’m sure the rest of the congregation heard it too. “Don’t worry. They will be OK. I’ll be taking care of them.” Oh yeah. You’re God. I didn’t have to carry the burden — at all. So I let it go right then and there and things have gone surprisingly better for me from that moment on. A promise.

What I didn’t know then is that that promise would continue to be fulfilled in droves as Cliffie and Melissa have grown. They’ve been blessed with great mentors, teachers, friends, friends’ parents, experiences. Hell, even their dad and his side of the family have stepped up to the plate most of the time. And when it seemed like family might have failed them, others stepped in to fill the void. To us, this little town is family. When the kids walk into town I know they’ll be safe because our friends who manage the shops and drive the streets are watching out for them. And not only are they OK and being taken care of, but they are also growing into happy, amazing human beings. I’m convinced they will go on to do wonderful things with their lives. God means business when he makes a promise. I don’t doubt it for a second.