Growing Up

Do you remember being young enough to sit in the back seat and ask, "Are we there yet?" Can you recall running into the kitchen to find out "What's for dinner?" We were sure in a hurry to grow up. At least, everyone I knew was in a hurry. We wanted it all. The driver's licenses, and freedom from parental rules. 

What were we thinking? Wouldn't I just love to sit in the back seat now, not worrying about what the government was thinking or doing; not stressing about the taxes or how many in my country are having financial problems. I wish I didn't know what our dollar is currently worth, or how much our national debt is. 

Parents today must be very brave. Did my folks think that, too? Does it always feel like that, or does it seem like our world is getting to be a more challenging place to raise children? 

Okay, Mom. Maybe I'll just go live with you for awhile. What's for dinner? (I suppose she'd want me to follow her rules again... And watch NBC news. No, I don't suppose that would work for more than a couple days.)

Human Nature and Procrastination

What is it about human nature that allows us to put so much enthusiasm into one thing while making an equally intense project feel like just so much of a chore? 

When I have baby gifts to knit or crochet, it never seems to be too much trouble to pick up the needles or hook and spend hours working and praying over the project. When my mom wanted a new sweater vest, and we settled on a project with cables running up the front and back, I was engrossed in the growing design. It made me so happy just to work on it. I thought nothing of spending eight or more hours a day with the needles in my hands. Not only was I happy to do it, I felt blessed by the process.

I've been working on a short sleeved sweater for myself for over a month now. I'm slowing down. The back is done, along with one front side and a third of the other. It's really great yarn, turquoise and very soft, so it feels good on the fingers. I can't use the scratchy yarn excuse.

It's the first sweater I've made for myself since high school. I graduated over forty years ago. I keep myself pretty busy with gifts, so it's not like it's been intentional. I've just been very surprised that I can't get the excitement and energy and joy out of the making as I get when I'm working on something for somebody else.

Human nature? Just what's natural about that?

Weird April

After a winter where we had almost no snow, suddenly we're enjoying an April of seesaw temperatures and plenty of the white stuff. Two days ago it was in the 80s. When I went to bed last night it was forty-two degrees and raining. 

I woke up around one in the morning, thinking to use the facilities and go back to bed. I noticed a white glow emanating from beyond the windows and stopped to stare out at the frosty elegance of snow encrusted pines towering above the white laced ground. We got somewhere between two and three inches, and it's still coming down this morning, just gently drifting—making me smile. I know, it takes all kinds. 

Somebody once said that if you really wanted to make God laugh, you should tell him your plans. It dawned on me this morning that the last two snowfalls have coincided with days when I had a book or audiobook coming from Amazon. Would you believe? That's right. I'm expecting a delivery today. They won't come into the foothills in the snow. I don't think I'll be enjoying J. D. Robb tonight.

Water Leaks and Pea Soup

When Matt's Heather sent us home from Easter dinner with the leftover ham bone laden with meat, none of us could that predict it would end up feeding a neighbor during a difficult time.

Poor Doug. He's the HAM radio fanatic friend and terrific neighbor we enjoy so much who lives on the top of the hill, just one home above ours. We share meals and laughs, occasionally sitting on our deck in the evening. This hasn't been the best week for him. He had a shock when he opened his water bill. 

We all get the same water bill, paying $90 quarterly for more water than we could ever use. We could turn our acre and a quarter into a veritable landscaped showplace without going over our quota. We, of course, wouldn't consider doing that. I lived in Okinawa during high water rationing periods. What is that? That's when the water is turned on from the main source for two hour intervals every other day. That's rationing. You learn to revere water. You learn not to squander it, turning faucets on and off while brushing your teeth, and things like that. You walk up the stairs to get cold water from the fridge if you need cold water rather than letting it run.

Okay. Put down my soapbox. Doug opened his water bill and it was nearly $300. He called and was told that a worker from the water company would come out. He waited. The man never showed up. Doug wasn't amused. He called again. The guy had been detained at another appointment, but would be there the next day. Doug stayed home. The guy came, but the news was bad. Somewhere beneath the acre and a half of Doug's little portion of foothills, buried beneath the granite and pines, the wildflowers and shrubs, was a leak. It was on Doug's property, not the problem of the water district. 

Several days have passed. Dozers and diggers have been moving earth at Doug's place. He's got one of the oldest homes up here, built probably twenty or more years before ours. His water's been turned off during the day while they dig up his water lines, trying to find the leak. He's having them put new lines in next week, but since they didn't find the leak yet, they're not ready to do that. He just doesn't want to go through this again in a few years.

We convinced him to eat at our place, just to relax and get away from the strain and worry. He loved the pea soup from the Easter Ham. I'm just so grateful that Heather sent it home with us. I'm even more thankful that I didn't make it sooner and scarf it down without Doug. Last night we had our chicken tacos, and while we sat around the table eating, I asked if there was going to be any way to get some of this back from the water district? No, he admitted, he was going to be out at least $6,500, and that's if they find it Monday. If it drags on much longer, of course, it'll be even more.

"$6,500... Wow," I said. "That's a lot of books." I guess I was trying to lighten the mood. Maybe I was just putting things in perspective of how I relate to money. 

"Books!" he said. "That's two HAM radios and a new antenna!"  I wouldn't have thought I had cheered him up at all, except that he and John started laughing so hard. Sometimes I just don't understand men at all.

Few Meteors, But Not a Waste of Time

I rested my neck on the back of the deck chair, the hand made quilt stuffed around me in the pre-dawn chill while I stared at the canopy of stars. Occasionally a meteor shower will reward me with dozens of shooting stars in any half hour of watching. Last night I saw about five per hour. They were nice, but they weren't the best part of the experience.

Sitting there, absorbing the quiet of the foothills, one of the things that came to mind was the times I tried for same experience from our yard in the California suburbs. The return into the house was a mixed bag. There was frustration at all the lights everywhere. It's hard to see the night sky when the neighborhood never gets truly dark. Dogs were constantly barking, and cars came by, no matter what time of night it was. Southern California doesn't really know how to sleep very well. What you could see of the sky was beautiful, but it was limited. How I felt was good, but reflected those limits.

It's not in me to think that I can say something best. As I sat for so long alone during the wee hours, it wasn't my own words that came to me, but snippets of quotes, phrases from literature, and then just a profound sense of well being. "Music of the spheres." Ah, yes. You can hear it in your spirit. It's swells from above the sound of the wind whispering in the pines, the crickets that go silent just before the sun starts to rise. "You'd soar a sprite above your heavenly throne/Had you no shame to leave your starry home." Oh, boy. Haven't thought of the Rubaiyat in awhile. 

"Be still and know..." I got some good direction to questions I've been asking last night, and conviction that I can do what needs to be done in my life.

Pondering the night sky, for some reason, always leaves me remembering one of my very favorite quotes. Robert Browning, back in the early 1800s, said, "A man's reach should exceed his grasp - or what's a heaven for?" Thank you, Mr. Browning. You said it so much better than I could.

Here Come the Meteors

A few times a year I manage to go to bed early enough that I can get up in the middle of the night and sit on my deck to watch meteors streak the sky. I normally wake up between five and six, so you wouldn't think it was that much of a stretch, but for some reason my body thinks three o'clock is much more unreasonable than five. 

This night's show is going to be more complex. Yes, there will be meteors. No one knows how many to expect. The Lyrid Meteor shower is an annual event caused when the Earth passes through a stream of dust in the tail of Comet Thatcher. (I wonder if it's Margaret.) I don't know much about comets and meteors. I just love how they look slashing through the night sky. I feel small and big at the same time, peaceful and whole, part of everything.

Venus and the crescent moon are mated in the sky right now, seeming to fly together. They're going to join in the show. Depending on your location, the moon is going to obscure Venus. It's an eclipse, except that it's the moon eclipsing a star other than our sun. Western North America will be able to enjoy the view. Pacific times zones should be watching by 5 a.m. to see Venus disappear. If I read the star charts right, which is not at all certain, it will be about 7:20 when it reaches my side of the Rockies. 

I'm going to go set up my blanket by the door to the deck and get my thermos lined up so I don't have to turn on too many lights when I wake up. I'm excited. I know, it doesn't take much.

Dan Brown to Release The Lost Symbol

Whether you're struggling to perfect your first novel like I am, a seasoned author, a dedicated reader, or just a regular movie buff, most likely you're aware of Dan Brown. I happen to be a fan. I have his books and audio books, but none of the movies.

His novels The Da Vinci Code and Angels and Demons, are about to get a sequel. The Lost Symbol, again starring Brown's complex and intelligent character Robert Langdon, is slated for a six million plus print release on September 15, 2009. Since this isn't the sort of thing I usually blog about, I'd like to explain why I'd tout this book that I haven't even read.

Brown does many things right. He's just a great story teller. He weaves a tale that binds the interest from beginning to end. He not only charms and enchants, but intrigues. He sets puzzles for the reader to solve. His research is a critical element that ensures the pieces all fit without discordant notes. The twists and turns of his plots will often startle and surprise, but never ring false. 

His action is beautifully paced. You'll be able to catch your breath—just often enough. You'll even be able to figure out who to trust—almost. Sometimes. Brown will put you sensually in the scenes, almost smelling the grease on your fingers, or feeling the rain in your hair. No matter how long the novel, you won't get bored.

I suppose it's too early to pre-order.