Always a Good Time When Bryce & Bradley Visit

Cousin Laurel had a lunch date last Friday so I she let me keep her boys for a few hours.  Bryce was at school, so Bradley came over on his own first.  We had pizza for lunch and then Brad made a sock puppet.

When it was time for Bryce to get out of school Brad and I walked over to meet him.  Well, I walked and Brad rode in the stroller!  Brad helped me figure out which gate Bryce would come out of.  When we finally saw Bryce he had on a backpack almost as big as he is!

When we got home Bryce made a sock puppet, too.

 

They put on a cute puppet show just for me.  Then. . .

they discovered my electronic keyboard!

 

Brad plays so fast his hands are blurred!  Next, Bryce took over the keyboard and Bradley did the dancing.  Check out the video!  (You need to be my friend on Facebook to view it - due to the security I have set up there - so if  you can't view it, go on Facebook and "friend" me.  It's hilarious so it'll be worth it!

Ha ha ha ha ha!!!  Told ya!

Happy Lasagne to Me! Memories of Me Monday

 

 {May 1958 - My First Birthday}

TODAY'S MEMORY JOGGER: "Describe at least one family tradition that you remember from childhood. Do you have a favorite tradition?"

EASY!  Definitely, birthdays.

On our birthdays we ruled the day.  My favorite part was not even the gifts . . .

. . . my favorite part was dinner!

The birthday person got to choose what we'd have for dinner that day.  My dad always wanted my  mom's special meat loaf and scalloped potatoes.  He still requests that.  Strangely, I don't remember what I chose for each of my own birthday dinners but I do remember, as I got older, that I usually requested my mom's lasagne.  MmmmmMMM!

Lasagna was a big deal, a special meal, at our house.  It's labor-intensive, as anyone who has ever made it knows.  Especially if you make your own sauce like my mom did (none of that bottled stuff!).  Then the layering of the noodles, cheeses and sauce, and the topping it off with yet more cheese.  Then it had to be baked for an hour or so.  Finally, it came to the table bubbling and fragrant and accompanied by a huge green salad and garlic bread.  Wow!  In my mind it even eclipsed the cake.

 

{My 9th birthday}

Our birthday cake was always homemade, too, by my mom.  It was usually a round, two-layer cake, carefully frosted, and with the appropriate number of candles.  It's funny, but I don't remember what kind of cake I usually had, though I'm sure I requested chocolate as often as any other flavor, but I sure remember that lasagne! Thanks, Mom!

FOR NEXT WEEK: "What is the most outrageous thing you did as a teenager?"

Uh oh.

Life Lessons from my Siblings - Memories of Me Monday

{back, left to right: Steve, Lisa, Denise, Mike; front, left to right: Debbie, Kristen, Karen, circa 1994}

TODAY'S MEMORY JOGGER:  "Talk about, describe, the oddest or most unique person in your family tree." 

This made me laugh.  How would I ever pick just one??  There's just no way. Even among just myself, my two brothers, and my four sisters, you're going to find some of the oddest and most unique people you could ever hope to meet. And we're all so different from each other that I can't for the life of me figure out how we ended up in the same family.

Politically diverse, opinionated, competitive, independent, and at once both rebellious and loyal, we argue over who has the better claim on Dad (I do), we each think we're Mom's favorite (pssst: she secretly told me that I am), and every one of us would rather fight than switch.  We're our parents' greatest joys, and their worst nightmares. Family get-togethers can be calm and loving or erupt into screaming fights with someone jumping up and down on the couch or slamming a door, but most of the time they're somewhere in-between: boisterous, rowdy and loud!

Over the years I've learned a lot from each of my sibs. I've watched them go through tough times and good times, lose jobs, find new ones, get into trouble, cause trouble, help each other out of trouble, change careers, change direction, better themselves, move to different states (in one case, to a different country), marry, divorce, start businesses, buy homes and cars, and raise kids.  It's been a wild ride at times, but no matter what, we've always come through for each other, and always will.

For each of my brothers and sisters, I've listed just one of the many little life lessons I've learned from them.  Here they are, in birth order:

#1 Mike:  If you're a square peg living in round-hole world, then be the coolest & hippest square-peg the round-holed world has ever seen.

#3 Steve:  Surround yourself with people you love and who love you, and cook great big meals for them.

#4 Denise:  Casual, throw-a-meal-together entertaining is just as much fun for guests as the formal three-full-days-of-preparation kind, and it's a lot more fun for the hostess.

#5 Lisa:  No matter your age you can always look fabulous and have gorgeous feet.

#6 Kristen:  Let your emotions out; you'll feel better and  everyone around you will know exactly where they stand.

#7 Karen:  There's nothing so terrible that can't be made better by spending a quiet afternoon with knitting needles, yarn, and one or more cats.

I wonder what my siblings have learned from me?


FOR NEXT WEEK:  "Were you in a band, drill team, pep squad in high school?  Describe your experience."

Girl Jockey

TODAY'S MEMORY JOGGER:  "What did you want to be when you grew up?  Why?"

THIS!!

Because I loved horses (don't all young girls?)....

But then I grew too tall so I decided to be a writer.

But writing didn't pay so I eventually became a computer programmer/systems analyst.

I made a lot of money, but writing computer programs almost completely destroyed my creativity.

I've spent the last two years trying to get it back.

I'm almost there.

Maybe I'll dig up that half-finished novel and ... well ...

... finish it?!



FOR NEXT WEEK:  "What is your secret or recipe for good health?"

 

Hand-Delivered by Santa Himself

 
Stevie, 19 mos., Debbie, 4-1/2, Mikie, 6 ~ February 1962

Today's Memory Jogger: "For how long did you believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy? How did you feel when you learned the "adult truth" about each of them?  Do you still retain some of that magic feeling as an adult?"

I still believe in Santa Claus, because there really IS a Santa Claus, sheesh, everyone knows that!  Many people just won't admit it because they are afraid of being laughed at (which they will be, and I know because I'm laughed at all the time but I don't care, I know what I know). The Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, of course, are just made up, like leprechauns, magic carpets, and genies in lamps.  But Santa Claus has always existed, and always will.

I remember very well my first encounter with Santa, and I'm talking the genuine dude, from the North Pole, in his high black boots and red fur-lined coat, not one of the many "helpers" who impersonate him at malls and department stores.  I'm pretty sure this is also my very earliest Christmas memory, of any kind.

It happened very, very early on Christmas morning, 1962, in Hermosa Beach, California.  (Since he spends so much time at the cold North Pole Santa really really likes California because the weather is so dang nice.)

1220-24th Street ~ Hermosa Beach, CA. (photo taken May 1964)

At that time my family lived on 24th Street, in a three bedroom, 2-story house that's no longer there today (I know because I went looking for it about 10 years ago). The house's second story was an attic converted into two bedrooms with a connecting door. One room (which was my older brother Mike's) was slightly larger than the other and included the opening to the stairs which led down to the den. The attic bedrooms had low, slanted ceilings. On one side the ceiling slanted clear to the floor, on the other only partway where it met a wall about half the height of a normal wall. My dad could only stand all the way up in the center of these rooms. Each room had one window set into the outer wall at its far end. In my room, which I shared first with my baby brother, Stevie, then later with baby Denise, this window looked out onto the flight path for airplanes arriving at LAX. I spent many hours when I was supposed to be sleeping, standing in that window behind the curtains, watching those lights in the sky at first very small and far away, and then increasingly larger and brighter as they followed their set path to the airport.

I was probably doing just that on this particular Christmas Eve, when I was five-and-a-half, since I'd have been too excited to asleep. Sometimes my brother Mike would watch the lights with me, but he was nearly seven years old and already knew how to read, so it's more likely he was in his own room using a flashlight to read a book. Stevie was about two-and-a-half, sleeping in a crib at the foot of my bed, with a cloth diaper tied to one ankle. By the time he was a year old Stevie had learned to climb out of his crib. No matter how many times he was put to bed he'd climb right back out again until, in despair, my mom took a cloth diaper and tied one end to his ankle and one end to the crib bars. After a night or two of howling Stevie accepted his confinement and simply went to sleep. After awhile, all my mom had to do was tie one end of the diaper to his ankle, leaving the other end free and, just like a horse whose reins are simply draped over the hitching post, Stevie still thought he was held fast!

So I'd have stood alone in the window that Christmas Eve. I watched the lights closely, sure I'd eventually see a lone red light among them, Rudolph's nose of course, as Santa made his approach to my part of the country. I never did though and, finally tired, I climbed down and back into my bed where I quickly fell asleep. But then, much later, when the sky was just barely beginning to show the light of the new day, I heard The Footsteps.

Heavy footsteps. Unmistakably the sound of heavy boots clomping across my bedroom floor and into my brother's room. I'm quite sure my heart simply stopped beating for a minute or two while I tried to decide whether or not to open my eyes and get a peek at the big man. I knew I was not supposed to catch Santa in the act of leaving gifts or he'd take everything straight back to the North Pole and put my name on the naughty list! I heard some rustling noises, and then the crackling of paper and then, was that the sound of footsteps treading the stairs?

I sat bolt upright in my bed and opened my eyes wide. In the early morning light I could see that my room was empty, but I was sure I caught the briefest glimpse of a flickering shadow on the wall at the head of the stairs. Then it was gone. My left hand touched paper and there, at my side, was the stocking I'd hung on the mantle the night before, now bursting with toys and a candy cane poking out the top.

With a cry of excitement I grabbed it up. From my brother's room I heard the sound of paper tearing so I knew he was also awake. My feet hit the floor and I ran to Mike's bed where he was ripping open a bag of candy. In his lap was a happy scattering of gaily wrapped little packages, candy, nuts, and an orange.

"Santa was just here!" I yelled, jumping onto Mike's bed, my stocking clutched in my arms.

"I know," he said, cramming chocolate into his mouth.

"You saw him?" I asked.

Mike shrugged, chewing, and began unwrapping yet another piece of candy, "Sure."

I was incredulous. "But we aren't supposed to see him! He'll take everything back!"

"You aren't supposed to see him," Mike said, "I'm older."

In those days, when I was five-and-a-half, that explained everything.

It HAD been Santa! Right there in our rooms, Santa Claus himself, personally delivering our stockings to our beds! I could barely contain my excitement, wondering if at any second I'd hear reindeer hooves on the roof just above my head.

From back in my room I heard the bouncing and squeak of the springs in Stevie's crib and his little voice, "Ma?"

Suddenly Mike tossed back his blankets, scattering candy wrappers, nuts, and small packages to the floor. He'd just remembered that bigger and better treasures awaited downstairs.

"Come on!" he shouted. "Let's go see what's under the tree!"

So, as soon as I'd lifted Stevie from his crib and set him on his feet, I grabbed up my stocking and ran to catch up with my big brother.


FOR NEXT WEEK:  "What is your favorite animal, and why?"

I Raised a Pig Named Wilbur

TODAY'S MEMORY JOGGER: "Describe the perfect winter day.  Tell about an activity you would do on that day."

1968.  In the living room of our home in Hopkins, MN, was a chair, I guess it may have been a recliner, I can't remember for sure, but it was softly upholstered (burgundy?), it rocked and it turned, and it was situated near a heater vent.  My perfect winter days were spent there, on Snow Days when the schools were closed, and we were cocooned from outside noises by the thick blanket of snow covering the ground.

But they weren't just "perfect winter days . . ."

When I think of the word "contentment," I see myself in that chair, my stockinged feet on the wall just above the heater vent to catch the flow of warm air, a stack of books beside me, and my yellow-and-white stuffed bear with the button eyes, Christopher, under an arm.  Deep into a book this shy little girl raised a pig named Wilbur, rode ponies on Chincoteague Island, and solved mysteries with Nancy Drew while my brothers and sisters roller skated or played games in the basement, my mom baked bread and made our lunch, and my dad worked a job (or two) to provide for our family.

At nine years old it didn't take much for me to feel completely happy and content.

It still doesn't.

And that, by far, is one of the greatest blessings I've been given in my life.

FOR NEXT WEEK: "For how long did you believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy? How did you feel when you learned the "adult truth" about each of them?  Do you still retain some of that magic feeling as an adult?"

Memories of Me Monday - Postponed

Due to pulling a muscle in my upper back, and spending all of yesterday on a heating pad, my Memories of Me Monday post did not appear this week.

It will return next Monday.

Meanwhile, a reminder of the memory jogger: "Describe the buildings, grounds, etc., of the junior high you attended. What was it like walking to school?"

The Dog Ate Our Christmas Tree - Memories of Me Monday

Christmas 1960
Me, my older brother, Mike, and my little brother, Stephen

Today's memory jogger as posted in last Monday's blog: "What tradition at Christmas is your very favorite?"

That's easy - Santa! I LOVE the guy. I always have, and I always will, love everything about him; letters to Santa, sitting on Santa's lap, getting photographed with Santa, his reindeer and his red suit, his sleigh full of presents and his fluffy white beard, his shiny black boots and his hearty "Ho, Ho, Ho!" I even love that he lives at the frigid North Pole, even though I don't like the cold! There's just not a more likable guy and I won't tolerate a word to be said against him.

The best Christmas parties always include Santa. In the early 60's my parents had a group of friends that they were very close to. The Luceros, the Harris's, and the Sessions. They got together with them frequently, so all of us kids saw each other a lot as well. Shelly Sessions was my best friend. (In the years to come the Luceros would move away, Giselle Harris would often babysit me and my siblings, and I would develop a terrible crush on Kevin!)

The adults had dinner parties, played cards, and took us to the beach, the mountains, and, once, camping in Mexico. We probably often got together for Christmas, but the one year I remember well was when we had a party and Santa showed up as a surprise guest!

Christmas approx. 1963
at the Lucero's home in Hermosa Beach, CA.
I'm on the very far right, half-hidden behind Giselle Harris;
others pictured are David Lucero, Kevin Harris, and Shelly Sessions

Another tradition I loved, growing up, was Christmas Eve at Grandma Ware's house:

Christmas 1967
Steve, Lisa, and Grandma Ware
Hawthorne, CA.

Gram always made a huge dinner, had a decorated tree and gifts for everyone, and planned games and activities for us kids. All my cousins came, too, the Bisks and the Lutes, so as our families grew we became quite the crowd.

I will admit that one thing I did NOT like about these Christmas Eve parties was my Gram's Christmas pudding. Oh, it was horrible! The only way I can describe it is as a super-heavy, very dense, fruitcake-y thing with a thick & sugary burnt-maple-flavored sauce poured over it. Apparently, it was a tradition that Gram had grown up with in Canada and that she was determined to continue. On the way to her house each Christmas Eve we kids (and my Dad, too) would be threatened to within an inch of our lives to NOT let on that we didn't like the pudding. We were to thank Gram and eat every bite!

I don't know if Gram ever figured out that none of us liked her Christmas pudding!

Although I love Christmas traditions, I have learned that the most memorable Christmases are the ones where there's something different, new, or unusual. Once, just once, our family had a flocked Christmas tree:

Christmas 1965 - Hopkins, MN

Scary - my brother, Mike, got a BB gun!

It was so pretty; all white with just blue glass balls for decoration. Very different from the usual green tree with construction paper chains, lights, and a variety of ornaments. I can even remember watching as the men at the Christmas tree lot sprayed the white flocking onto the tree. I never knew, until very recently, why we never had another one like it. Turns out my mom hadn't liked it, she thought it was too "cold."

Christmas 1965 or 1966 - Hopkins, MN
Me, our new puppy Elkie, and my brother, Steve

Only once did we ever receive a pet for a Christmas gift. It was a Norwegian Elkhound that we named Elkie. We were so excited! Elkie was trouble, though; we couldn't keep her away from the Christmas tree. She chewed on it every chance she got, as well as our toys and shoes. I can imagine the hassle of housebreaking her in the middle of winter with several feet of snow on the ground. In our neighborhood there were no fences so she ran free most of the time when she was outside. She was not very obedient and would run off whenever she wanted. One day she got run over by the school bus and broke her leg. She recovered and our family brought her with us when we moved back to California in 1968. Our new house in the suburbs of Redondo Beach had a very small yard and she was unhappy there, so we eventually gave her away to a family with more room.

Another Christmas that's memorable to me is the one when I was about 8 or 9. That year I discovered the closet where my mom had hidden our wrapped gifts. I excitedly peeked in every single package! But then on Christmas morning I felt sad because there were no surprises.

I think the best & most memorable Christmases are those with both long-standing traditions and something new or different.


FOR NEXT WEEK: "Describe the buildings, grounds, etc., of the junior high you attended. What was it like walking to school?"

The Cat Loves Yogurt

If Scout had opposable thumbs we'd really be in trouble at our house. She does help herself to whatever she wants!

Emma's Bat Mitzvah

Emma, Bat Mitzvah

Ha ha, Michael hasn't changed a bit (see previous post).

He can make a nice face when he wants to! Michael, with Emma, at her bat mitzvah this past Saturday. We had a GREAT time! Beautiful ceremony - Emma did fantastic leading the service, singing her parts (in Hebrew!), and she looked sooooo grown-up!

Emma with her brothers, Michael and Rodrigo, sister, Maya, and Grandma DeZubiria.

Even more family! Aunts, uncles, cousins, sibs, parents, and grandparents.

Mazel tov, Emma!

Ronald Reagan Presidential Library

Weekend before last my friend, Linda, and I drove from northern California to Simi Valley, in southern California. Among other things I was scheduled to give a digital scrapbooking demonstration in Rancho Palos Verdes, another hour or so away, so I figured it was a good time to combine that activity with a visit home.

My parents live in Simi Valley and my dad is a docent at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library so while we were there we got a private tour. Above is the four of us just before entering Air Force One, which is also at the library now - yes, the REAL Air Force One 747 airplane, which looks just as it did when Reagan used it (as did several presidents before him, but he was the last to use it so I guess that's why he got to put it in HIS library). It's one of my favorite parts of the library.

The library is situated on top of a small mountain in Simi Valley, with great views of the valley below.

This life-sized painting of Pres. Reagan is on the wall at the end of a long hallway. As you walk down the hallway it looks as though he's walking toward you and will put out his hand at any second to shake yours. Awesome!

Reagan loved the outdoors, horses, and his Santa Barbara, California ranch. I think this sepia-toned oil painting really shows his true, and more personal, self.

The Oval Office, exactly as it looked during Reagan's presidency. My dad told us that this is the actual Oval Office, and that the one that is now in the White House is only a replica. Ha ha ha!!!

A specially-minted gold coin with Ronald and Nancy's profiles.

Flags of the world.

One of Nancy's famous and fancy tea sets for teas on the White House lawn.

Reagan's presidential limousine sporting his movie-inspired nickname.

Air Force One!!

It's huge so it's housed in an equally huge hangar-type building.

Air Force One's view out the two-story tall windows.

This pub was in Ireland. Reagan is of Irish descent and much admired in Ireland so when this pub was closed the entire building and most of its contents were disassembled, packed up, shipped to California, and reassembled. Only the name was changed. True story!

Reagan was instrumental in bringing down the Berlin Wall so an actual piece of it is here.

Reagan's memorial. I took this photo in August 2004, two months after he Reagan died, but the headstone had not yet been put in place.

This photo is from this last visit, the headstone is now in place. Nancy will be buried here as well when the time comes.

Right now the MAGNA CARTA is at the library and can be viewed but NOT photographed. It was interesting to see this famous and precious document in a dimly-lit room and with its own personal guard. It is the document upon which our Constitution is based.

I've been to the Ronald Reagan Library several times now and each time it is a little different, and there is something new to see. Some exhibits, like a display of Nancy's clothing, or the Christmas trees, are rotated in and out. There are a number of films, too, that you can watch that really give you the feel of that time in history, including one about the day Reagan was shot, and the strike of the air traffic controllers.

I came away from this last visit thinking I'd write a postcard to Mr. Obama with just one sentence written on it: "Please study Ronald Reagan."

Head 'Em Up, Move 'Em Out

It's me, ha ha , taking a photo of a cow. Yeah, I'm enough of a city girl to think bovines are pretty cool when you can get this close to them. We were on a bike ride in the Wildcat Canyon Regional Park (northern Cali) when we ran across these lovelies.

We've been riding our bikes quite a bit lately, and I'm getting a little bit more in shape. The long winter took its toll on my fitness level. I have more photos to post but no time today, so I will try to do that after the 21st, when my schedule eases up just a bit.

Tomorrow Mike and I leave for Florida to visit his dad and step-mom. We'll be back on Friday. My cousin, Laurel, will look in on the cats while we are gone. I hope they don't have too many parties and wreck the house. (The cats, I mean, not Laurel, LOL!)

My Precious (my laptop) is not going with us and there's no internet at Art & Betty's house so I'll be totally off-line until late Friday. If you need me, call my cell phone!

Back soon!!!

Plan and Prepare for Your Dreams

And they're off! To Chile, that is!

My sister, Karen, and my Dad have been saving a little money every week for four years; yep, you read that right - four years! They've had a joint savings account and they have always said, as soon as they have enough money they would take a trip together.

It was their dream to do this. And because they planned for it (although they didn't know exactly when) and prepared for it (even though they hadn't decided exactly where they'd go), the day came around when the account was big enough that they decided it was time.

They decided on two weeks in Chile -- including 5 days on Easter Island! -- set the dates, bought their tickets, make reservations for lodgings, and got their passports ready.

This past Monday evening my mom and I drove them to LAX and they were off, their dream had come true.

We've had a couple e-mails so far, that they arrived safely, and are having a wonderful time!

It's a great lesson to the rest of us. If there's something you want to do, start planning for it, even put it on the calendar if you can. Most dreams don't just come true on their own; you have to do your part. Somewhere I read that you should take at least one step every day toward the fulfilling of a dream, or a goal.

Just one step. What are your dreams? Have you started preparing?

First Christmas for the Newlyweds . . .

. . . and we were there!
Dianna and Rodrigo in front of their first Christmas tree, in their little house in Oxnard, CA. It was fun spending a few nights there; we were the first ones to use their guest room so Mike and I felt quite honored. We had a super-comfy bed with thick comforters and we were toasty warm every night in spite of the cold snap that had hit southern Cali with a vengeance.
This is the cross-stitch wedding record that I made for them. It was a lot of work, and there were a few technical difficulties because I made some modifications in the pattern and kit, but I worked them out, and I think it turned out real nice.

Here's my fave gift:
Rodrigo and Dianna gave me (among other things) a cashmere sweater and, can you believe it at my age, it's my FIRST cashmere anything! Love the color, one of my favorites, burgundy - YUM. This will be a treat to wear. You can see how super-soft it is!

The "kids" have three cats. Two are identical solid black female kittens, about 6 months old or so, Meeka and Maddy. They are nearly impossible to tell apart. Here they are playing in a pop-up cube that Mike and I brought to them:
They love it! Pancho, the third cat, likes it, too, but he's a bit older (and more dignified) and preferred spending most of his time in our laps:
Isn't he awesome? Of course, I do have a soft spot for orange male tabbies, dontcha know. He has a curly tail, too, of which this picture doesn't do justice. It curls right up over his back just like a Norwegian Elkhound! I've never seen anything like it on a cat before. I really think he should be in the movies.

We opened our gifts on Christmas Eve because Dianna had to go to work early on Christmas Day, but Rodrigo was a great host and made us a fabulous Christmas morning breakfast; cinnamon french toast, hash brown potatoes, a fancy egg scramble, and french-pressed coffee.
What a guy!
I did the dishes - in my pajamas, of course!