National Honor Society & The Japan Report

This morning at 6:45am the induction ceremony for the National Honor Society at West Salem High School took place.
#6, Caroline, was on the list of inductees.
I was ready to get up early and attend, but she didn't want to go.
She said she rather sleep in.
I will admit I was not too disappointed.

I have attend National Honor Society ceremonies for some of my older kids.
While theya ceremony is a proud moment for a parent,
they are a bit dull.

I sometimes wonder if having 8 kids and experiencing the same events multiple times makes me a less than enthusiastic mom.
I try to be equally excited for each of the kids activities as if it was my first time.
But It's not always easy.

I have been to 8 States Fair,
helped with 8 World Projects,
assisted on numerous art projects,
and helped with countless gereral homework assignments.
Often times, I am embarrassed to admit, with less enthusiasm than my child deserved.
I know I have hit the 100+ count when it comes to choir concerts.
http://jbrownflash.blogspot.com/2007/12/79-and-counting.html
http://jbrownflash.blogspot.com/2009/01/79-and-climbing.html

I remember all the States Project & Fair each child presented in 5th grade complete with a relief map molded from homemade clay.
Most of the kids were assigned the State of Kansas for their project making for a very simple relief map. One child was assigned the State of Oregon. That was a bit more challenging and more time consuming, but I liked the change of pace.

By the time 7th grade rolls around the project moves from the United States to the World and a student is assigned a Country.

I always make sure the kids do their own research, typing, design, and layout.
However, It's generally been my role to help with the art work on the tri-fold display board.
Last night, together with my youngest daughter, we completed my final 7th Grade Country Project. My job was to draw a Bonsai Tree or a Japanese Castle.
I opted for the Tree!

I know I am fairly creative.
I am good with a camera.
I can sew, quilt, and tailor about anything.
I can weave baskets, engrave, and I even dabble in scrap metal projects.
But I'm far from considering myself an artist.
My mom is the artist in our family.
A number of my kids are exceptionally gifted when it comes to drawing as well.
I attribute their giftedness and talent to my mom's early instruction and encouragement.
In fact, I don't know why my daughter didn't draw her own Bonsai tree.
I think she could have done a better job than me.


She often leaves me small hand drawn pictures on my write and wipe note pad that hangs on my frig.
But I wanted her to focus on the knowledge part.
So while she researched and typed, I drew.
I think the project turned out well and I look forward to hearing how her presentation goes.

As my kids grow and make their way through school,
I don't think I will miss homework.
I know I won't miss trying to help with math assignments,
but I will miss working together with them on projects like this.






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Vision & Seeing

I went to the eye doctor today.
I hadn't been to an opthamologist since 2005 when I lived in Nebraska.
I could tell my vision had been slipping the past few years.
I guessed it was mostly due to getting older,
after all I am 50 now.
Regardless of my age, I think I still see quite well with my contacts.
Or at least I did.

The other night I lost my left contact lens.
I had a back up, but it was an old one and now my vision is compromised.
So no more procrastination for me.
I made an appointment and spent the past 2 hours it takes to get fully examined, dialate, measure, test, and re-exam my eyes.

I was right.
My eyes have gotten worse.
I didn't expect a miracle, such as...
Wow!  You're vision has imporved!
Nor did I expect a GOOD report like hearing,
Hey, No change in your vision.

But really?  Its has to be worse?
I learned today that I have a small cataract developing in my left eye.
Wonderful!
I thought cataracts were for old people.
Today isn't making me feel any younger.
But all I can do is embrace getting older.
It is better than being dead.
Or at least that is the spin I am putting on this news.

I don't feel old enough to have a cataract.
For Pete's Sake!... I still remember my first trip the the eye doctor.
When I was in grade school I always preferred to sit in the front row.  
When my teacher moved me to the back row,
I couldn't read the blackboard.
That was about the same time the elementary school health screenings van rolled around.
Remember the mobile trailer that came around to the schools and shuffled kids through checking weight, height, hearing, and vision? 
I was in the 3rd grade when they quickly determined that I should see an eye doctor.

I remember where the doctor's office was located, the exam, choosing my first pair of glasses,
but I can't remember the doctor's name.
Wait...
They guy who fitted my first pair of glasses was Laham, Bob It think.
That's not the doctor, but the guy who sold us my glasses.
(Okay, so I still have my memory, or at least bits of it.)

The most vivid memory I have is the drive home with my new eyewear.
I remember being absolutely amazed that trees had leaves!
 That grass was made of individual blades,
and flowers had very distinctive leaves, stems, and flower petals.

I think this is why I love photography so much now.
I can see and capture such detail in macro,
as well as capture details in landscapes.

I love seeing. 
I watching my family grow, laugh & love.
And I especially enjoy capturing moments with them on camera.
I do love photography and seeing through the lens of my camera.
I don't want to lose my vision or ability to enjoy photography.
I might not exercise as much as I should.
I don't always eat as healthy as I could.
But one thing is for sure,
I won't compromise my eye sight.

I have a new type of contact lens on order that should help me see more clearly.
They aren't cheap.
Contacts for someone like me who is terribly nearsighted,
has about the worst astigmatism possible,
and also needs bifocals is expensive.

But in 10 days I should see marked improvement in my vision.
I hope!




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16th birthdays and Lindsey's Dream

Just 10 short days ago Lindsey, #4, turned 23.  

Most of you know she has been in the process of moving to San Francisco.

http://steppinoutwithdwntwn.blogspot.com/2011/02/families-in-transition.html

Today, she is leaving Oregon 

and on her way to California.

It is exciting and sad all at the same time.

The excitement comes from knowing she is embarking on an adventure that will fulfill a dream.

The sadness comes from knowing we won't see her as often. 

At age 16 Lindsey walked into the Apple Store in San Francisco and said, 

"Mom, someday I am going to live here and work at Apple."  

I should begin by explaining how we, mother and daughter, ended up in San Francisco.

It was a dream of mine to take each child on a trip,
just 1 child & 1 parent, together
yet apart from all the other siblings and chaos of our busy household.
My vision was two fold:
1- to experience a big city, various cultures, mass transit, and something,
anything,
than the limitations of small town life.
Not to say that small town life isn't wonderful, it is.
But we live in a big world that is getting smaller everyday.
My job as a parent is to prepare my children for living in the world,
not just a very small part of the world they grew up in.
2- to connect with each other in a more adult way.
The teen years leading up to 16 & 17 seem to be the most difficult between parent and child.
Getting away for some one-on-one time when the relationship could be tenuous seemed like a good idea.
And with 6 of the 8 16th birthday trips down, I have to say my idea was a good one.

As chance would have it each of the girls (4 so far) have experienced San Francisco for their 16th birthday trip.  And that is how I ended up in San Francisco 7 years ago with Lindsey.

I don't think I will ever get used to watching my kids leave home.  

Good byes are never much fun, but 

I am pretty good at holding it together during good-byes. 

I typically break down once the car, plane, or train has gone from view.  

I don't know why I feel like I have to hold it together, or be strong.

I don't know why I fight back the tears.

My dad openly cried each time I had to leave even if it was only for a week or so.

I never minded his tears.

In fact, I loved him all the more because of his ability to cry with and for me.

I think it is something about being the mom...

If I cry, or worse, completely break down and sob, 

my kids might try to comfort me. 

I am supposed to be the one to comfort them, 

support them, let them know everything will be okay.

Its hard to do that through heavy tears.

I don't want them to know the worry, the fear, or the sadness I hold in my heart.

So I fight back the tears.

I suppose this might be why my mom held back tears too.

Regardless, I am confident that my daughter has made the best decision she can for herself at this time.  

We have raised her to be self sufficient and resilient.  

It is time for her to live her dreams. 

And it is exciting!

God Speed!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=INg5PpVzj10&feature=youtube_gdata_player

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Moving Boxes, Old Photos, & Reminiscing

Do you take a lot of photos?
I do.
It seems I take too many photos of things that don't matter much any more, or at least I used to.
I like to think I am a better photographer now than I was 30 years ago.
I suppose time (and my kids) will be the judge of that.

I also wish I had taken more pictures of my kids when they were little.
It seems I have too many pictures of scenery and things that don't matter so much now.

A couple of weeks ago I blogged about moving and how our family is in a continual state of transition.
{ http://steppinoutwithdwntwn.blogspot.com/2011/02/families-in-transition.html }
If you read the blog then you know its been 5 years since we started packing up and heading to Oregon.
The moving truck arrived June 26th, 2006.
2 weeks after that I had most everything unpacked and put away in the house.
Or so I thought.
Today I am still going through a few unopened boxes left stacked in the garage.
The moving company did a very good job of labeling the boxes so I was fairly confident that the remaining boxes were meant to be kept, but it wasn't necessary I open them for our day to day life.
Today I opened the last 3 boxes.

The contents were for the most part as expected.
But I was treated to:
almost a ream of printer paper...we were nearly out.
A box of envelopes... who can't use more envelopes?
and a half ton of old photographs.

There were old papers and documents, (that should have been tossed prior to the move),
and quickly made their way to the recycling bin.
But the photos...
I brought into the house.

I am glad that technology has advanced and photos are easily stored on the computer or discs now.
The space taken up on discs in comparison to the physical photos, and negatives is minute.
But I am also sad to think that someday down the road my kids won't have the pleasure of sitting together, sifting and sorting through the Kodak envelopes filled with photos.

There is something about peeling back the self stick flap,
pulling out a paper folder of negatives and photos,
and wondering what pictures might be hiding inside that is exciting to me. 
I saw pictures today that spanned 30+ years.
It was a bit like leafing through your life as if it had been photographed, catalogued, and neatly assembled in a coffee table style book... 
except the book wasn't assembled chronologically.
My 'paper sack', 'moving box' storage method is anything BUT chronological.
Today, I didn't mind so much.

I have never liked leaving the "Time/Date" stamp on my camera.
As a photographer, I always believed the blaring red date stamped on the front right corner compromised the photo.
And...
I have never been good about writing on the back of the pictures the date or the people in the picture. I will admit, my family disagrees with me.  They have been known to complain asking.
"How will we know who this is and when the picture was taken?"

I am pretty good at recognizing 'who and when', primarily by who I was pregnant with or when I had given birth..
When you have 8 children, I suppose that is the gage for a lot of events.
For example...."that must be #1's senior year because #8 is celebrating her 1st birthday'....

I do enjoy photography., perhaps too much.
I have been trying to take pictures that will appeal to the family.
Some of my kids are good at posing and love being in front of the lens.
Others dodge the camera making it an extreme challenge to capture them on film/disc.
And I will admit that I take too many pictures that will appeal to No One but me.
Regardless...
too many photos,
not enough photos,

I enjoyed sorting and sifting through tons of pictures today.

I sat in the garage all by myself and reminisced.
I laughed.
And I cried.
Tonight as I went through the rest of the photos with some of the family.
There was more laughter,
and more tears.
Tomorrow I will add this box of photos to the others already in the closet.
I will set them all aside and forget about them until the next time comes to clean out the closet.

I can see myself someday sifting and sorting through the boxes of photos, laughing and crying at the same time, all over again.
However, next time I hope that I am not sitting all alone in the garage.
I hope I am sitting around the kitchen table with all my kids so that together we can reminisce and catalog the 'who & when'.

{ I will most likely regret posting this old photo, but it is a great example of a picture that made me laugh.  Recently I reminisced with my brother how our folks loved to dance, especially my dad.  My brother and I used to practice dancing at home before a big school dance.  If my memory serves me, I was a junior, maybe a senior in high school.
He is a couple of years younger.
Our mom took this photo prior to our dates arriving. 
I don't miss those big glasses, but I do miss those skinny arms! }

Perhaps I should sort through all the photos, alone, just one more time
prior to my kids getting their hands on them.
There very likely could be photos more embarrassing than this one!

Do you hang on to embarrassing photos or delete them right away?



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Volunteerism-Part 1

Do you volunteer?
Do you volunteer often or have a favorite place where you volunteer?
What makes up a person who volunteers?
Is it boredom?
Is it court ordered?

Lack of Employment?
Desire to learn a new skill?
Or is it passion for helping others?


I think there are as many reasons why people volunteer as there are volunteers.


All I can attest to is why I volunteer.
I spent some time volunteering today at Habitat for Humanity, my former place of employment.
 {I wonder how many people end up volunteering where they used to work. 
I imagine that number might be small.} 
I saw some familiar faces in the office, and met some new ones.
The folks who have filled my former position, have asked for some assistance and history in regards to the work they are doing. 
At first I thought it might be awkward going back to the job I left,
but it wasn't.  The new staff are very welcoming.
It felt familiar, almost comfortable.

While spending some time sifting and sorting through papers and files,
the volunteer coordinator and I had a chance to visit a bit about why,
...why do people volunteer?
How do you invite more people to volunteer?
How do you explain to a group of students from Japan, why the volunteering spirit is so strong in the United States?
And ultimately she asked me, why do I still volunteering?
I answered all her questions as best I could and used a couple of stories as examples.
She asked me if I had any of what I shared could be found in the old files.
I said, "no, its just in my head."
And she said, "Its clear that you are passionate about this work."
She is right.  It isn't just information in my head, its in my heart.
She then asked me if I would begin writing the stories down for her.
I said 'yes' right off the bat.  I have never been very good at saying 'no'.

I couldn't help but wonder...
How do I begin to tell the story, the many stories?

Where do I begin?
Do I begin with... 
the ins and outs,
the whys and hows,
or my journey of volunteering and working with volunteers?
Do I begin with the people? 
The absolutely amazing people I have had the pleasure of working with over the years....
Lord knows, I have a lot of stories to tell!
I think there are good ones, if I can tell them right.

I thought to myself, "this is a huge task!  She doesn't know what she is asking of me.
Many of the stories are personal, or a better way of putting this is
I am emotionally tied to the people in the stories. 
I don't know if I can do them justice.
However, I agreed to try.

Sometimes I still wonder how I landed at Habitat for Humanity.
Many days I feel like a shy little girl from Kansas,
who is still wondering how she ended up in Salem Oregon!

When I think about it...
How does a mom/day care provider/youth minister end up working for a construction company?

Oh that's right, I started by volunteering!  
I was new in town and bored.

And, I wouldn't trade my experience for anything.

The past 4+ years I volunteered, then worked, then volunteered again at Habitat have stretched and pulled me in ways I would have never gone on my own. 
On the build site I did everything from set, pour, and strip foundations to roofing, and finishing work.  In the office I did everything from simple filing to writing newspaper articles including being interviewed for a fundraising video. 
Being bored is what got me on the build site.
Being passionate is what keeps me volunteering.

My family didn’t travel much at all when I was a kid.

I was 30 years old before I ever got on an airplane. 
But in the past 20 years or so I have been to Chicago and seen the Sears Tower.
I have seen the space needle in Seattle, Coit Tower in San Francisco, and crossed the Golden gate Bridge by car and on foot.
I’ve seen 3 Frank Lloyd Wright houses, the Lake Yellowstone Hotel, I’ve been in the book depository in Dallas.
I’ve seen the Oklahoma City Memorial and been to the top of the St. Louis Arch…
3 times, no wait... 4 times.

In my limited travels I have seen some wonderful architecture, buildings, and homes.

Yet all of these structures pale in comparison to what I have seen on Wendy St., Ford St., Samaritan Lane, or any Habitat for Humanity build site around the world.
There is something about watching a home go up that brings tears of joy.

The awe, and the wonder, that go through me when I watch walls being raised pale in comparison to standing before the greatest structures in the world. 

The ultimate is standing side by side one of my children working hard to raise that wall.

There is something about knowing that you are building with a family, and helping to house a family, that surpasses any work designed by any architect, or constructed by any company.  And sharing that feeling and experience with my children escalates the joy of it all.

Even though I haven't fit volunteering on the build site into my schedule as often as volunteering in the office or on committees, it remains my favorite kind of volunteering.


But for now... I best get to writing.

Share your passions!

Share your volunteer stories! 


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Looking for Work

I have been looking for work,

Yet it continues to elude me.

I don't mean household work.

There is plenty of that kind of work surrounding me.

And regardless of how much of that kind of work I accomplish,

it seems to always be there.

I am just looking for work, 

a job, 

some place that will pay me for completing tasks efficiently and on time.  

2 years and 6 months ago I blogged about my career/job/work 

http://jbrownflash.blogspot.com/2008/08/careerjobwork.html

At that time the unemployment rate was quite low and finding a job for most teenagers was as easy as applying at the nearest fast food restaurant or gas station. 

A lot has changed in the past 30 months.

A lot has changed in just half that time.

Its been 15 months since I left my last job.  

There are times I miss the work I did at Habitat for Humanity. 

I miss the ministry aspect of that job.

I miss the committees, 

the Habitat families, 

and I miss the construction work.

I don't miss the interoffice politics and struggles.

I left at the right time, 

for the right reasons.

And I have no regrets.

But its time to start looking for something.

My challenge is I am not alone in my search for a job.

I join my son, 2 daughters, a son-in-law, a former co-worker,

and thousands of fellow Oregonians.

Finding employment is vastly different now, 

than it was in August of 2008.

Oregon has one of the highest unemployment rates in the country.

In many cases adults are competing for the same minimum wage jobs as the teenagers. 

I have written and re-written my resume countless times.

I have submitted more online applications than I can remember,

and waited patiently to hear back from anyone.

All I hear is the chirping of crickets.

I am keeping myself busy with writing for a blogging service,

but that work doesn't come frequently enough to keep me out of trouble.

My photography and writing fill some of my time, but that doesn't put food on the table.

I thought about going back to school to complete my degree.  

But I have kids in college.  

It doesn't make sense to add more expense to the already unaffordable college bill.

This sounds like a lot of whining and complaining.

That is not my intent.  

I am mostly puzzled.  

I don't know what else to try.  

I have a strong skill set that would fit well in most any work environment.    

I am competent with both PC and Mac computers.  

I am detail oriented, focused, and organized.   

Being able to multi-task is ingrained in me.  

I also have the skills to evaluate and analyze various topics and situations and communicate effectively with others.   

I am a very quick study and don't shy away from difficult tasks.

I am committed, responsible, and time oriented.  

I have always been intuitive, insightful, and good with people.  
Communicating well with others has been an integral aspect of the various jobs I have held over the years.  It comes naturally to me.  

I think these skills would make me a great employee ... anywhere!

But I don't have a degree.  

I don't have that piece of paper that says I paid thousands of dollars to an institute of higher learning.  
I don't have the magic key that gets your foot in the door 
in a skinny job market that is fat with job seekers.

So I will continue to put my vast job skills to use here at home,
budgeting, establishing menus, streamlining food costs, 
mediating teenager disagreements, networking satellite siblings, 
communication specialist, scheduling queen, fulfilling janitorial duties, 
lawn and landscape care, packing/moving/transfer/storage guru, 
minor auto repair mechanic; including auto detailing, 
inventory & ordering supplies, and any other duties as assigned...
At least until a paying job comes along.

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Love & Roses

Portland Oregon

The City of Roses

The climate here in the Pacific Northwest is ideal for growing roses.  

 

Our Summers are warm and dry,

while our winters are mild, yet rainy.                                                                     

 

Rose gardens are prevalent here, 

and roses are frequently found growing along the roadside, and along highway medians.  

The International Rose Test Garden is also located in our area.

http://www.rosegardenstore.org/thegardens.cfm

I have always loved roses.   I don't recall having a rose bush in our yard when I was a child.

And I don't know all the ins and outs of being a great rose gardener.

I just know I love them and am always learning more.

I think my love began when I lived in Nebraska when I inherited a handful of rose bushes from the previous home owners.

I tended and added to the rose garden in the 13 years I lived there.  I was sad to leave my roses behind, but was excited to begin a new garden in a climate that was perfect for them.

This year my sister and I are both planting the 2011 Official Rose of the Portland Rose Festival Sweet Spotlight. 

Since moving to Salem, I have planted 7 roses plants, including the 2 given to me by my sister this past weekend.  

I am glad to have someone that shares my affection for this beautiful plant.

The other rose I planted this year is the Chihuly Rose.

This rose was named for Dale Chihuly the famous glass artist.  http://www.chihuly.com/home.aspx

If you seen the glass flowers in the Bellagio in Las Vegas then you have seen Chihuly's work.

Even though this is more a floribunda rose, 

(I usually prefer Hy-Brid tea roses)  

I was drawn to the rich colors of the blossoms and couldn't resist giving this a try. 

As I was planting the roses, my daughter (#7) and I had a chance to talk about the flowers and why I liked them.  She admitted hating yard work and gardening.  She also said she didn't like roses due to the thorns.  

I shared how I would prefer to be outside, digging in the dirt to doing housework any day.  

I will tolerate the thorns, pricks, pokes, and scratches I get in tending my roses any time.  The reward is the blooms I get to enjoy later in the year.

I told her Roses are a lot like love.  

It isn't always easy. 

Sometimes it even hurts.

But if you are patient, 

stick with it, 

give it some attention and care, 

you will find joy in the work.  

I reassured her the best is yet to come when 

we cut the blooms in the Spring and Summer.

My daughter also asked me, "Do you and dad have plans for Valentine's Day?"  

I said, "No, we don't."

She said, "That's sad. You should do something."

I tried to explain to her that for me it wasn't as much about what you do for your significant other on that ONE day in February.  I thought it was more about what you do for each other throughout the year.

I saw this example lived out in my parents relationship.  Mom and dad always did little things for each other throughout the year.  It was the small things, the little surprises throughout the year that make a difference over the long haul.  I remember mom putting notes in dad's lunch box for him to find later in his day.  And dad would on occasion bring mom a single red rose.  It was their tradition.

When I was with dad in the hospital last October I had the opportunity to take him outside for a bit of sunshine, as we came back in he spotted the gift shop.  

He said, "I want to by your mom a rose."  

He was very specific, "I just want one red rose, not a bunch of them, and not in a vase, just one red rose." 

His wheel chair wouldn't fit easily into the small gift shop so I said, "okay dad, I'll go in and see if they have one."

I waited nearly 10 minutes for the floral attendant.

I explained my dad's wishes and she hooked me up with one, single, beautiful, red, rose for mom.

When I walked out of the shop, dad said, "I don't have my wallet with me, but I'll pay you back."

I chuckled and told him, "Dad, its okay!  I've got it."  He said in his firm yet loving way, "NO!  I want to give your mom a flower and I'll pay you back."

He was so excited for mom to return so he could surprise her.  I used a sonic cup as a vase and tried to hide the rose behind some items on the shelf.

I know the surprise meant as much to mom to receive as it meant to dad to surprise her.  

The love my parents shared for over 50 years has extended to us 7 kids, their 19 grand kids, and everyone they met.

Their love was contagious.  

When they learned a favorite nurse was working late on her birthday, they both agreed to pass the one, single, red, rose along.  

The surprise gift brought tears of joy to the birthday girl on a very long, hard day.

 When it came time to bury my dad last December the mortuary began explaining the multitude of floral options for the casket.  Mom interrupted the flower schpeel in the same firm, yet loving way dad had with me and said, "I know exactly what I want. One, Single, Red, Rose. And we'll provide it."

Then mom shared the story and tradition her and dad had shared for so many years.

It was then I realized where I developed a love for roses,  It was from my parents and the love they shared.

To everyone out there whether you are married, single, widowed, divorced, or still longing for that special someone remember, how much money you spend on February 14 is NOT what is important.

What makes a difference is the amount of care, and attention you give throughout the year to the loved ones in your life.

I suggest you make time this year for little surprises.

The Best is Yet to Come!

Happy Valentine's Day

Steppin' out with DWNTWN 

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Learning about tires

I am learning more than I wanted to know about tires today.


There are all season tires, performance tires, and heavy load tires.
Tires ares designed for rain, snow, and heat.
There is even a noise rating for tires.

I came into our local tire dealer today because of one simple reason.
My tires won't hold air.
And although the very informative gentleman behind the counter was quite enthusiastic about sharing his vast knowledge with me,
I had 2 simple requests;
To purchase 2 all season adequate tires that fit my Eos,
and
I wanted them to hold the appropriate amount of air pressure without leaking.

I don't want 4 tires just so all the treads will match.
And I don't want 3 tires, although I probably need 3.
I just want 2 for this month.

He looked at me like who is this crazy lady who is not at all concerned with matching tire treads.
I suppose some people (mostly men I judge) care about matching tire treads.
And I know women who pay great attention to matching their hand bag and accessories.

I don't fall into either category.
I simply look for function and sometimes design.
I guess it goes back to me being practical.

http://steppinoutwithdwntwn.blogspot.com/2011/01/being-practical.html

So here I sit in a tire store surrounded by men excited about tires,
or as one guy phrased it, "the new road rubbers" he is getting.

I was just waiting quietly, avoiding eye contact, but mostly blogging (thank heavens for free wireless!)
When the tire technician assigned to my car approached me and said he could not find the tire key lock.
His suggestion was for me to go to Volkswagen and get another one.
After pressing him on what exactly the tire key lock was,
What the key lock looked like,
and why wouldn't the same local tire dealer put it back where it belonged the last time it was used, He walked away.
My questions must have persuaded him to look again....

Voila!
He found it!
It was right where it was supposed to be!

I could write a book about the times I have located an apparently lost item that someone simply didn't look for....
But I hope I'm not here that long!

I am trusting the Goddess (Eos) will be ready for a top down drive in a matter of minutes!
Or at least an hour!
A sunny day awaits!





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Riding the bus & Doing the right thing

I never had to ride the bus to school.
My mom got up every morning and drove us kids.
All 7 of us would pile into the wood paneled station wagon,
big kids in the seats,
little kids tossed in the back,
and off to school we'd go.
There weren't seat belt or child restraint laws back then, just words of caution.   Sit down,   hush up,   and hang on!

For decades I did the same for my kids, hauled them to school.
There wasn't a bus to ride.
Yes, I was part of the mini-van, soccer mom set.
Although I never fit into that mold very well.
Then we got the big blue Dodge Ram Van that seated a small army, a menagerie of critters, and two shopping cart worth of groceries.  Well, not at the same time!  I couldn't trust the kids to not eat all the food before we got home!  I really didn't fit in with the soccer mom set then!

But let me get to the point...
Some of the best talks I've had with my kids have taken place while running my mom taxi service, making trips to and from school, and going to and from practices.  I suppose it is largely due to the confined space and their inability to be silent.  Regardless of why,
those were treasured times.
I have missed those opportunities the past 4 years or so here in Salem.  We have an awesome bus service, and while I am thankful I didn't have to take 4 kids to 3 different schools, I have missed the opportunity to hear their stories.

However this year is different...
This year the youngest, #8, was selected to the honor jazz choir.  Hooray!
The honor jazz choir has class at 7:00am in the morning.  BOOO!

I realize getting out of bed at 6:30 to take her to school is not that early for many people.
But I like to complain about it... just a little bit.

I have to admit that I don't mind so much.  It has been a real gift to be up, out the door, and spending a small slice of my day, one on one with my daughter.  We've seen some amazing sunrises, taken a very curvy, downhill street in thick fog, and had a couple near accidents with inattentive trash truck drivers.  But for the most part our morning drives are uneventful and somewhat quiet.
This morning was no different.  Neither one of us said more than a sentence or two until we arrived at our destination.

The mini van in front of us was extra slow in advancing up the line for dropping off students.  Laura wondered aloud, "why are they taking so long?"
I said, "maybe they are having a conversation with their mom."
She wrinkled her nose at me.
Then she noticed, "Oh, its Preston!  I feel sorry for him.  He doesn't have any friends."
"Oh" is all I said.

She continued, "I let him sit by me on the bus ride home because no one else will."
Noticing Preston was half as tall as my lanky daughter I said,
"You can protect him too."
She grinned.
As we moved to the front of the drop off line she admitted,
"he is pretty annoying though."
I told her, " I am glad you are doing the right thing even if he is annoying."
As she shut the car door she said, "I love you mom."

I love her too!



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Families in Transition

Do you still live in the city or town you were born in?
How many times have you moved in your life?

Growing up I imagined I would live and die in the same city.
I never thought I would venture too far from the tree lined streets where I grew up.
But that hasn't been the case.

The world is getting smaller.
Travel is easier and more affordable.  When I was a child the only people I knew that flew on airplanes were the extremely rich.

Communication and technology fit in the palm of our hands.  Gone are the days of rotary dial phones and party lines.  Do you remember party lines? Sharing a phone line with a neighbor on the next block?

Times have changed that is for sure!

Being the parent of 8 children, all with varied interests and talents,
I suspected they would move away.
I didn't believe they would live and die in the small town they spent most of their school years.
I thought some might, but not all 8.
Little did I know that it would be me that would move away before the kids had much of a chance to.

Our move began 5 years ago this month with my husband heading west ahead of me and the kids.
Our family has been in transition, criss crossing the country, ever since.

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Most of the moves have been due to college or university changes, graduations and job acquisitions.
Some of the moves are due to lack of employment, and some are transfers within employers.

From last July through this coming April there will have been 6 times I have helped a child move.
I Hate Moving! 
I hate the physical act of packing, pushing, pulling, carting, heaving, and hauling STUFF!
I think all this moving is what makes me continually reassess my own possessions.
I am always asking myself,
"Do I NEED this?"

Can I toss this or recycle it?
Who else might need this?"

I have become a pitcher. 
I pitch anything and everything I can't envision needing within a year's time.

I do have a few exceptions.
I like rocks. 
And some shells.

Well and maybe sticks. 

Sticks,
stones,
and seashells catch my eye.

Especially Heart shaped ones.

I will admit to a number of small bowls around the house filled with rocks.

I have begun limiting the number of rocks and shells I bring home.
Only the best ones make it into my pocket.

I've opted for just taking a picture of most of them.
I probably have enough for a rather large coffee table picture book. 

But I can't imagine anyone else wanting to leaf through such a book. 

I have promised my kids I will throw them out my collection before I die, or heaven forbid, before we have to move again.

But I am getting off track.  I was writing about transitions...


The most recent move has been for #4. 
She is in phase 1 of moving to San Francisco. 

I say phase 1 because her first step was to vacate her awesome downtown Portland apartment. 
I loved the old building and her corner apartment with huge windows! 
I was intrigued by the old brick work in the basement.  I wonder about the builders and how long ago the place was built.

She is sharing apartment space with friends until phase 2, the big move south down I-5 that will take place in a couple of weeks.

Its a lot of work moving.
I am sad to see her going so far away,
but I am excited for her at the same time.

Last summer child #2 moved to the Seattle area.
I think things are stable enough with his job that he will be there for a while, but I don't even try to predict transitions any more.  I just keep my fingers crossed.

I sure couldn't have predicted that within the next few months #3 and her family will be moving west and joining us in the area.

Its not easy or cheap to move halfway across the country,
but I am happy to help them move and bring them closer to us. 
I look forward to having them with us.

I never imagined 5 years ago that most of our adult children would be up and down the I-5 corridor within a half day or a days drive of us. 
I am fortunate. 
I would love to have my oldest and her family closer as well. 
But that doesn't seem as likely. 

I also have to realize the four kids still at home and approaching college age,
may not be here much longer.
They have their sights set on leaving home.
(I guess that means I have done my job!)
Oddly enough, some of the younger ones talk of moving back to Kansas or Nebraska.

I guess I simply need to make sure I have good tires on the car and gas money in savings.

This family,
as large as it is,
will always be in transition!





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No time for the fun things!

Do you have trouble making time for the things you enjoy?
I'm guessing for most of us the answer is, 'yes'!
If my time these past few days was measurable my cup would be filled to the brim!


I feel as if I am continually leaning over to sip from the cup's edge to keep it from overflowing.
I can't pick the cup up and take a long drink, nor can I take my eyes off of it or I'll have a mess on my hands for sure.
When life gets busy like this I know what I need to do:
Make Lists
Stay on Task
Don't get down on myself
And
Let go of expectations.
Everything will get taken care of...eventually.
And then I can get back to the fun things of life!







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Giving the Gift of Life

 I am going to give blood today.
There is a National appeal for blood donors at this time.
http://www.redcrossblood.org/national-appeal

I used to be a regular blood donor giving every 56 days.
I began donating in high school at age 17.
Our school had regular blood donor drives.
Honestly, I began because it was a reason to get out of class,
And they gave us snacks!

Somewhere along the way I stopped donating.
I'm not sure why exactly.
Perhaps, It was due to having more kids, and less time.
Add to that I was anemic much of the time and more often than not, they couldn't accept my weak blood.
So I just stopped trying.

I don't have a rare blood type.
In fact, my blood type, A+, is the second most common type.
I suppose that could also means it is in higher demand.
Its time I get back to giving blood.

Its been about 7 years since I last tried to donate blood.
I am glad that I am healthy enough to donate once again.
At least I feel more healthy.
I don't feel anemic like I have in the past.
I guess I'll know in about an hour or so whether I am able to give today.

If you haven't given blood before,
or if like me you have gotten away from being a regular donor,
check out your local Red Cross and Give the Gift of Life by donating blood.

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Wal-mart & a face full of Fix-a-Flat or Nothing says Love Like....

I generally don't title a blog until I am finished writing it.
Mostly because when I begin to write,
I am never certain of where my mind is going or where it might end up.
Today is no different.

This blog could go a number of different ways.
But as I begin I am thinking about ...

Wal-mart & a face full of Fix-a-Flat

or

Nothing says Love Like a Giant Green Frog.

I will begin by saying today has been a good day.

Up early, worked out, felt great, headed to Tai Chi, got done in time to pick up #7 from school at 11:00am, then made out my grocery list for the week.

There are 5 days til payday. 
That means we are extremely tight on spendable cash.
I imagine we are not the only ones living paycheck to paycheck. 
This month is especially tight so I made the decision to go to Walmart.

I want you to know that I don't make the decision to go to Walmart lightly.
I mostly avoid Walmart, like the plague! 
I won't go into all the reasons why, at least not in this blog.
But today was one of those days were I needed inexpensive auto products
and
inexpensive groceries.
Where can you buy both under the same roof? 
Walmart.

You see... it all starts with me needing new tires for my car.

My tires have worn out their tread and burned up the highways from Oregon to Nebraska & Kansas this past year.   They are getting too thin to hold air,
at least for more than a day.
I am tired of putting a dollar in the air compressor machine down the hill at the Shell station.  I, for one, think air should be free!
I knew I needed fix-a-flat and groceries.

As I parked my car, I prayed the prayer I pray every time I go shopping.
"Please God, let me buy only what I truly NEED."
I generally pray this pray twice before ever stepping foot in Walmart.

The first thing I spotted coming down the isle toward me was a woman with an enormous green frog in her cart.  I first thought,
What the heck is that?
Then I wonder...
Why on earth would anyone ever buy that thing?
Does she really need that?
If she is giving it to someone, will they NEED it?
I think not!
(I won't comment on the numerous people I saw shopping in their pajamas even though it was 12:15pm.)  I purchased only the items on my list and came in under my estimated costs. 
I was happy.

I arrived home ready to tackle the issue of my leaking tire.  I thank my parents for raising me to be self-sufficient and am equally thankful my dad taught me how to take care of cars.  I was prepared!

I assume anyone reading this is familiar with the fix-a-flat product.  If not, very simply it is designed to inflate and seal a leaky tire.  Not the ideal solution to the problem, but a good one when you are in a 'fix'.

And I was in a fix, as new tires were not immediately in my budget.

I proceeded to carefully attach the fix-a-flat to the tire's valve stem.
I believe my mistake, (and I admit it was my mistake), was the tire was not deflated enough to accept the contents of the can.  The tire pressure was higher than the pressure coming out of the can.
Pressure backed up and the hose attached to the fix-a-flat scrung loose. 
(sprung...is that at word? Spell check doesn't seem to like it.)
I took what felt like a quarter of a can's contents right in the face,
including my eyes. 
I became a sticky, rubbery mass of goo.
What made it worse, I couldn't see.

I'm not sure what my daughter and her friends thought when I stumbled in the house. 
But I was glad they were there to help.
They located my contact case, solution, and towels.
My daughter asked, "are you okay?"
At that point I wasn't sure. 
I told her, "I am just trying to handle a problem systematically and not panic." 
(I was trying to set a good example for her and her friends)
I could feel her look at me strangely.
I say 'feel' because I couldn't actually see.
Yet I noticed the pause in her voice.
She said, "I'd be panicking!"
I evidently looked as bad as I felt!


I cared for my eyes first,
then my skin,
before tackling the sticky, rubbery goo in my long hair.

I remembered as a child my mom using peanut butter to remove gum from my hair.
I know it isn't the peanut butter that does the trick with gum,
it is more the oil in the peanut butter.
I grabbed all the hair care conditioners and oils I had and headed for the shower.

I am happy to report that I now feel mostly normal.
My eyes are a bit watery
and I lost a handful of hair,
but I am no worse for the wear.

I imagine my dad up there somewhere saying,
"By damn Girl, (in a slight southern drawl)
What were ya thinkin?"

And that makes me smile!

Another day...
Another lesson learned.

Don't buy a giant green frog at Walmart,
you don't NEED it!
And whoever you might be planning to give it to doesn't want it!





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Mushrooms: A Look Through a Kansas Girl's Lens.

I spent most of my day today writing a book.
I think I like it.
Its not a traditional book.
I am not exactly traditional.
At least not when it comes to what I find creative.
I am not an author,  nor do I consider myself a writer.
I think of myself as a story teller.
I just tell MY story.
So here is the story of how I came to 'write' a book today.

I simply set out on a path to fill a need.
I spent a week waiting in a doctor's waiting room one day,
then waiting in an exam room,
then waiting in the waiting room lab,
then waiting in the lab, then....
Well you get the idea.
I left that day, (it felt like a week) tired of looking at drab paintings,
medical posters,
warnings to wash your hands,
turn off your cell phone,
cover your mouth,
and my only visual alternative...,
9 month old magazines that had been read 27 times too often.

I didn't know how to approach my physician regarding my idea, and while my husbands work space wasn't as bad I thought it could use a bit more color, some interesting things on the walls,
and hopefully I could make it more cheerful.
He liked the idea and was very supportive.
I began by framing some photos of local parks, playground equipment,
and a lighthouse on the coast.
I used familiar sights, common items.
I hung them around his office space and they were well received.  I then created calendars with family pictures, favorite sights, and some macro photography.
I had fun creating things that might help alleviate someones boredom, and perhaps remind them of some time or place that they had been or seen.
If nothing else, the pictures might be a conversation starter.

Well the photos are now familiar, and unless you come at the beginning of the month, the calendars are familiar too.   I haven't stopped taking pictures,
so I also have an abundance of photographs on my external hard drive.

At my husbands suggestion, encouragement, and perhaps even some pestering.  I finally got around to fulfilling his request and decided to 'tell my story' with photographs in book form.

My first book (I have 2 more in mind) uses my pictures of mushrooms.
I know what you must be thinking...Mushrooms?  Like Toadstools?

Mushrooms aren't exactly a common item to photograph.
And for this Kansas Girl,  when I began,
I had no idea there were so many different kinds of mushrooms.

In order to photograph mushrooms, you first have to find them.
It involves, camping, and hiking through the woods,
generally in the rain.  I like both those activities,
and the rain is what makes it great!

I've taken hundreds of photos throughout Oregon, and only used a small amount of them in the book.
It's not a technical book containing information, facts, or details.
It is simply a book that tells my story of why and where I hike, hunt, and shoot mushrooms.

It begins with the first mushroom I saw while camping at Silver Falls State Park over 2 years ago.

For my 48th birthday, I gifted myself with my first ever weekend away.
Yes, that's right, alone ... on my birthday.
(Okay, I wasn't alone the whole time. The family was worried about me and HAD to join me for 1/2 the time. There is a lot more I could share about that awesome weekend, but I already blogged about that a couple years ago.)

I wish I could tell you about the whole book and show you all the pictures, but I am not technologically savvy enough to figure that out yet.
Here are a few pictures from my hunts.
These are not necessarily my best photos, but they are some of my favorite finds.

The elusive
Violet Cort!
My absolute favorite mushroom find so far.

The two largest mushrooms I have ever found!

They were 12 inches and about 9 inches tall.










I like these itty bitty guys growing from the underside of a tree branch.

This was the most unique mushroom.
It was translucent and fuzzy!
A very strange find indeed.



Hunting for and finding mushrooms is fun for me.
As a kid growing up in Kansas, I rarely saw wild mushrooms, and when I did see them either my brother was kicking them into the neighbors yard, or dad was swinging a golf club or a rake at them to rid the yard of the eye sore.

I am anxious to get back out there and resume the hunt!
I hope you can join me some day!

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