It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Yeah, I love Christmas. It goes too fast, I spend too much, and I build it up too greatly in advance. But I feel like a better person, and when I'm out shopping in the height of the crazy rush, like today, I feel alive; I feel like there is hope for humanity. Everyone smiles a little more, everyone's a little nicer, and I want that feeling all year; I get greedy for it. ("Scrooged"--OK, I love that movie, too) It didn't snow, but I don't even care about that, either. The only thing I would possibly bitch about is that we only have one whole week off from school, which is a little Ebenezer-ish. But bring on 2007--I'm even over my new millenium neurosis.

Over the river and through the woods. . .

I've always loved Thanksgiving. It's a holiday that can bring people together, and you don't have to give anything in return. Of course there were always those stressed out family dinners of yore, where the expectations were somewhat inflated. But today was perfect. It was a beautiful balmy day, all the food was perfect, and everyone had a good time. We missed Sparky, and his favorite food was turkey. The other hairy beasts had a great time begging for scraps, though. Our newly remodeled basement was a treat, and I truly am so thankful to be back in our house, finally, after two Thanksgivings away. Things are looking up and the turkey sandwiches tomorrow will be awesome.

All Dogs go to Heaven

Sparky was the best dog anyone could ever have. He was gentle, loving, loyal and energetic. He never once growled at an overly rambunctious child, and he never even snapped at anyone, no matter how menacing they were being. He was always waiting there by the window, and he could identify car engines by their sounds. He loved people food, and felt he should be allowed to eat it whenever he sniffed it. He loved cats, and might have even thought he was a cat. He played carefully and gently with Natalie when she was only a couple of months old. We brought him from Arizona, the pup of a German Shorthair Pointer mom and a Dalmatian dad. His mom died shortly after he was born, and I think he always viewed me as a substitute. Then the past few months he stopped eating, had trouble seeing, and had lots of accidents on the floors, the beds, the couch. He was afraid of the stairs, and fell several times. He didn't ever stop being the loving soul he always was, and I felt that he was crying out for release from his pain and fear. I had to end his life today, November 4, 2006, just before he would have turned 10 years old next January. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, but I know he's at peace now, hopefully in a better place, free of his pain. Rest in peace, Sparky.

Tortilla soup for the soul

Is there anything more satisfying and delicious on a cold, blustery day than tortilla soup? It makes the tensions and challenges of the day just melt away. Anything that seemed unpleasant is forgotten in its spicy, thick loveliness. If only there were some kind of intangible balm for the soul that worked as well as tortilla soup does for the stomach! The warmth of a heart-felt thank you, the savory sound of a beautiful song, a kitten's grateful purr after a cold day in a maple tree all come pretty close. Work doesn't even seem a chore, and the time flies by like the crazy whirling leaves rushing to meet the pavement. But, no more snow, please until just around Thanksgiving--then it feels adorable and welcome.

Now at least I have something to do

When the leaves start to turn and the air gets crisp and cold, that's when I like to settle in to my shows. Some falls there are NO decent new shows to watch--like the past few, in fact. But this fall I've actually found a few passable hours to veg out to. My weekly viewing schedule:
Sunday--Amazing Race (CBS) and Brothers & Sisters (NBC), even though Calista Flockhart's annoying as hell. (The Wire onDemand) and I might give Desperate Housewives (ABC) another chance.
Monday--Prison Break (Fox) and Weeds (Showtime)
Tuesday--There is absolutely NOTHING to watch on Tuesdays!
Wednesday--Jericho (CBS) and LOST (ABC)
Thursday--Survivor: Cook Islands (CBS) and ER (NBC)
Friday--Men in Trees (ABC)--Yes, I'm that pathetic!
I do find time to do my chores and actually do school work in between all the tube time. So ye who are without sin, go ahead and cast the first stones!

A crispy taste of heaven. . .

I always have high hopes for apples. They always look great--shiny, smooth, firm. Then you bite into them. A mushy, mealy mess can ruin your day. Sometimes it's the whole bag, sometimes just one or two. But after biting a few bad apples, it's hard to trust again. We're lucky enough to live in the "apple belt" of Minnesota, where the climate is just perfect for growing apples. They're harvesting them now, and for an exquisite, perfectly textured, juicy, tart (but not too tart) snacking apple, the Honey Crisp apples are the ones to beat. Although quite spendy, about a buck an apple, there's no other more perfect treat that cheap. In a week or so, my other favorites, Regents, will be available at an even more reasonable price. Of course, you should never buy them from the grocery store--they're already almost ruined by then! Happy munching!

The best show no one's watching

"Weeds" should be cracking everyone up. It is as good as any 30-minute comedy on HBO; it has a stellar cast; and it's funny as hell. It's already into its second half of a short 10-episode season, and it seems to be getting no buzz at all. Maybe the late summer premiere hurt it, or that it was postponed from an earlier April starting date. The clueless suburban paradise of Agrestic is the place to be this fall, if you're looking for something out of the ordinary to watch.

When the truth is found to be lies, and all the joy within you dies. . .

Again, the reminders of "why we're at war with terrorists". . .like we need to be reminded to hate and blame. But then the rollercoaster ride of his declining popularity can only be nauseating to him and to his party. Desperate measures for a desperate despot. The day is still freshly scarred in my mind as it will be forever. Living through it with Muslim children who had no idea how their lives were going to change and become even more difficult than their days as political refugees flung throughout eastern Africa. Little did we know that day, though, how this "event" would become the cornerstone for his pathetic term(s) of office. The innocent souls still cry out for vengeance and truth.

Why I hate HBO

The last time we saw Al and Alma, there was the promise of something, ANYTHING, to liven up the sour turn this exquisite show had taken as of late. The fake husband had been picked off by one of the Pinkertons (in mid-sentence talking to a raggedy pooch); Trixie had stormed up to Hearst's room, breasts bared to shoot him; Bullock had come storming back, barely able to contain his ire and disgust. It was GOOD! It was what made Deadwood a thrill ride. They had one chance to satiate all of us for a couple of years and what did they do? Stirred in a mish-mash of barely comprehensible blither, sent Hearst smugly out of town, totally in control, with Al cleaning up his own bloody mess in his office. It was almost too much to bear. Then to top it all off, ending Entourage the following night. How are we supposed to get through the winter, anyway?

You call it corn, we call it . . .A"MAIZ"ING!

In a city like this where we actually have a corn water tower, you would expect to find the finest corn anywhere. Usually, it doesn't disappoint. Waiting all year for that 3-week span in August where ears of corn are coming out of our ears. It took a while this year, but I finally have eaten the perfect cob of corn. You can't really search for it, like the holy grail. It just has to happen. As in the past, it was a free cob, from "some farmer's field". Just that ripe perfection, juice squirting everywhere when you taste it--sweeter than candy. Ah, but perfection never lasts, and this will soon be gone, too. Til next summer!

Mama told me not to come. . .

No, this guy wasn't at the party, unless he got there after I left. It was a great time--a beautiful night, with everything perfectly in place. After a month or two of planning, the famous Jaime & Casey birthday party went off with only a few hitches, due probably to the excessive intake of alcoholic beverages by a few of the party guests, but it was definitely the most bustin' party yet. The cute luau theme worked to a tee, and everyone even dressed up this year--no one had to wear the coconut bra of shame. It was great to see old friends from the east coast, and always great to have the whole family get together with each other. You put the lime in the coconut, drink 'em both up. . .

Do ya feel lucky, punk?

Yeah, you sounded like Dirty Harry just then. With everyone moaning about Steve Nash's haircut, I thought I would enter an opinion. Yeah, he kinda reminds me of Dirty Harry now. That floppy moptop that frankly needed some serious hair products is gone, and maybe now opponents will take him seriously. He looks like a serious contender, and more his age, 32. It's easier to see what a good-looking guy he is without all that stringy, goofy hair in the way. He's obviously ready to kick some butt and wants everyone to know.

The city of the big shoulders

It was a great trip. We cruised around Chitown by train, by bus and on foot. A car seemed like it would have been a nuisance. The weather was beautiful, the city was alive and teeming with energy. People were friendly and outgoing, except for Nacho Mama, our waitress at Ed Debevic's--she was a real b*^#h! But then that was part of her act--she was trying not to crack a smile the whole time. The Art Institute was a highlight-- Edward Hopper's Nighthawks-- a favorite. We didn't get to go everywhere we wanted, but got a great taste of the tasty metropolis. Amtrak was OK--kind of stuck in the last century, but then that's part of the charm of traveling by rail. Nathan took tons of awesome shots, like this one of Michigan Ave. It was a ton of fun.

Windy City weekend

The last time I went, Nathan was a toddler and got left behind with my friend, Francis. This time we're going together on the train--a first for Nathan and a treat for me. Then when we get there, it's trains, the el and buses. We're going to hit the good museums--Field, Art Institute and Science and Industry. Maybe the Navy Pier and Hancock Observatory and the Sears Tower, of course. We couldn't really afford the hotel rates downtown so we're staying in a NW burb and using Metra Rail to get in and out of downtown. Hopefully it will be a nice break from the daily grind and Nathan can try out his new camera on our Ferris Bueller adventure--sans the pancreas, of course.

Now that's just gross. . .!

What is it about this particular swath of Minnesota that draws such ridiculous temperature patterns? And then, Minnesotans doing the oddest things outdoors when the mercury and humidity are both sky-high. Eating outside on the patio? Running at 4 in the afternoon, pushing their babies? Going shirtless along the lake walk? Rollerblading UPHILL? I know I lived in and survived Arizona, but this is so much more unbearable in so many ways. Hopefully we won't be stuck with the worst of summer's heat for the next 6 weeks or so. Otherwise I might go buggy. Thank God for the central AC. I don't know how I survived before without it.

Ah. . .summer!

Is there anything more deliciously inviting than a bowl of freshly picked raspberries from your own patch? The succulent juiciness and the tart sweetness explode in your mouth. Corn is on the way, golden cherry tomatoes have started to magically appear on the vine, and the days go on with lazy completeness. The grill is only minutes from fired up, and the smell of hamburgers and chicken sizzling is on every corner. One more day of summer school and then I'm FREE! My favorite season is spinning crazily out of control.

Oh say can you see. . .

No matter how much the current president ticks me off, how annoyed I get by 'American bashing' abroad, I still feel that I am living in the only country I want to be in right now. I still get choked up when I hear the national anthem, a flag rippling in the wind still gives me a thrill. Maybe the factor that provided those feelings is due to actually living in another country outside of the U.S. --appreciating the benefits of American citizenship from abroad. Knowing that I can go home to my running water, comfortable home, family car and personal freedom, while billions of people don't have that reassurance. As far as politics go, I always feel that things will eventually get better--the universe has a way of unfolding as it should. Happy Birthday, U.S.A.

The beauty of the wing. . .

Is there anything more gorgeously delicious than a plateful of buffalo wings? With their crispy, gooey, saucy, spicy perfection, they hit the spot with any occasion, with any drink (yes, beer will do nicely) and with any kind of company. Try to congregate with those less enamoured of the wing than you, so as not to cause any wing struggles. The cool bleu cheese (or ranch, in a pinch) dressing and the celery sticks are also necessary for a true wild eating experience. It's also wonderful to have a waiter or waitress bring them to your table--eating them at home is OK, but not preferred. It is a social activity, best enhanced by good company, a good game and of course, good beverages. Yeah, I'm hungry RIGHT now!

June 7, 1991. . .the BEST day ever!

It's hard to believe it's been 15 years since that hot, still night in June in Arizona. It's a long way from where we started, but the perfection of that day is unmistakable. He was a fussy baby, but started settling down when he was about 6 months old. His childhood was spent on the dusty Navajo rez, where one day flowed seamlessly into the next. Sheep, sand, pets, matchbox cars, "little big cars", camping and riding bike everywhere. When we finally moved to Minnesota, the good life seemed to start. We had our own house finally, and when the fire happened two years ago, he barely complained or ever felt sorry for himself. Always the optimist, bolstering my confidence and making me appreciate the important things, like each other. The perfect, polite, charming son, he always makes me proud and incredulous that he could have come from my genes. Handsome and smart, he makes everything in my life worthwhile. All my selfish old days ended that warm June night, when I became a mom to such an ideal child. It will remain my greatest accomplishment ever. Happy birthday, baby!

In honor of Father's Day. . .

The Secret Heart
by Robert P. Tristram Coffin

Across the years he could recall
His father one way best of all.
In the stillest hour of the night
The boy awakened to a light.
Half in dreams, he saw his sire
With his great hands full of fire.
The man had struck a match to see
If his son slept peacefully.
He held his palms each side the spark
His love had kindled in the dark.
His two hands were curved apart
In the semblance of a heart.
He wore, it seemed to his small son,
A bare heart on his hidden one,
A heart that gave out such a glow
No son awake could bear to know.
It showed a look upon a face
Too tender for the day to trace.
One instant, it lit all about,
And then the secret heart went out.
but it shone long enough for one
To know that hands held up the sun.

I love these guys!

This is what the NBA is all about! Having fun, playing as a team, running the other guys' asses off. I know there are haters out there who can't stand the Phoenix Suns, but they are the only NBA team with heart. Watching them last night against a lackadaisical Dallas team was pure joy. Steve Nash not only deserves to be this year's MVP; they should make a special award and just let him keep it until he retires. How one guy can ignite a team, encourage everyone to play their best is a true testament to the unselfish professionalism of this talented player. He and his teammates RULE! Let's go SUNS!

Season Finale Fever!!!

It's that time of the year, folks. The big payoff time, or is it the big lame cliffhanger that ruins your summer? Of course in Amazing Race, it has to be BJ and Tyler, or there's not a God. On Lost, there better not be any hottie male characters kicking it, or those freaky producers will be getting tons of hate mail from me. ER is working out to be one of the most boring seasons ever, so I don't really care what happens. My new discovery, Prison Break, is set to go out with a bang, and I really need to use the summer to get caught up on that terrific show. And then my true faves, the Phoenix Suns, have never been playing better, and if they don't go all the way, life's not fair. How can there be this much excitement packed into one month's time. Just goes to show, MAY rules!

Home is where you. . .

test out your new Europlush mattress . . . sit in a comfy chair in your newly decorated computer room . . . keep pinching yourself to see if it is really not a dream.

It has been almost two years that we have been banished from our home, due to the evil-doers at Allstate. "Can we get her to settle for a fraction of her claim?"--that's Allstate's stand. Soon it really will be over for good; now it's just the haggling for the last dimes and pennies.

The cats love it here--there seems to be no bad memories of almost burning up the last time they were here. There are a few details to still work out for the living space, but it's coming along at a great clip. Now I just need to get my grill back, and clean up the back yard and we'll be good.

"Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen. " Willa Cather

It's enough already. First the thought of another snow day from school when we didn't expect it was kind of cool--a novelty. Then I started to think about it a little more and detest the reason this region is so inhospitable to outsiders. Tons and tons of heavy wet snow dumped unceremoniously in the middle of almost spring. It was the straw that broke my spirit in 1984 and precipitated my flight to Arizona (where, incidentally, it also SNOWS!) At least we didn't get three feet of it like they did in Flagstaff. But it's "enough to shovel" (a cute phrase the weather guys up here so cheerfully inform us!)

I'm still here. . .

I been scarred and battered

my hopes the wind done scattered

Snow has friz me
Sun has baked me,

Looks like between 'em they done
Tried to make me
Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'--

But I don't care!
I'm still here!

Langston Hughes

Thanks Mykee Fowlin, for letting me know once again, what's important and what really matters. If you ever have a chance to see one of his shows, don't pass it up.