Epiphany, or 20CMB10 as we like to call it

It’s Three Kings Day – Epiphany! We acknowledged the 12 Days of Christmas by being lazy about cleaning up our tree and then this morning, all four of us stepped outside in the frozen tundra of the desert (the lows last night must have been in the 40s — BURR!) to bless the house.

God of Light, bless our house and our family. May this be a place of peace and health. May each member of this family cultivate the gifts and graces you have bestowed, dedicating our talents and works for the good of all.

Make this house a shelter in the storm and a haven of rest for all in need of your warmth and care. And when we go out from this place, may we never lose sight of that Epiphany star.

As we go about our work, our study, our play, keep us in its light and in your love.

It’s a Methodist prayer and we are Episcopalian, but like God really cares. I also don’t think God cares that the marking of the door with the date and initials of the kings should be done in chalk and over the door. We don’t have chalk. My kids’ teachers use dry erase and it seems to work miracles in the classroom. It looks good, right?


This version has the added benefit of being mobile. When the landlords kick us out so they can move in (whenever that will be because they just let us know things are “progressing slower than expected”), we’ll just take our blessing with us. That tile is a gift from my boss. She’s way cool like that and I say so knowing full well she doesn’t read this blog.

Kings’ Day means no more tree. What a mess! Better get out the vacuum.


Wah, wah, waaaaaaah.


I replaced the broken belt with a new one, which quickly burned through like the first after I made a big show to the kids that they had to learn to fix such things. Stink and smoke later, both kids stared at me with bitter disappointment in their eyes. I’m going to try a third belt to salvage the vacuum because maybe I didn’t make entirely sure that the brush was rotating properly. Also, I have to show everyone I’m right and that buying a new vacuum would be wasteful. Until then, the broom does an adequate job.

Christmas is cleaned up. Thank you letters, where appropriate (only to the most elderly of family members), are written. Presents put away. Sadly, the end of Christmas means no more of these (from a former boss),


or worse, no more of these (from the attendance clerk at my son’s school).


I like my gifties. Maybe I can craft a convincing argument that all my friends and family should resolve that in 2010, they will give me awesome gifts all year long. Maybe Hawt Mz could send home another empty bag of these cookies.

Anyone? Anyone?

Christmas Gifts

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Gifts we gave. We made all our gifts this year, including zipper pulls for the cousins’ backpacks.


Gifts for the kids. The tree is propped up by presents especially selected by our loved ones for us. Some of us were excited and some of us played it cool.

The leather jacket emphasizes the cool, don’t you think?


Gifts for the dog. Toys marked “chew me” don’t last long around these parts.


Gifts for the future. I pray that I have enough of my children’s great grandmother’s genes to look this good in my mid 80s. She works out every day. Bleh.


Gifts to make me cry. Caddo Artist also gave handmade gifts. It’s too bad I couldn’t catch the detail on the beading along with the way it catches the light. Then again, all I’m trying to pass along is that people not on her Christmas list should be jealous. I’m jealous of myself!

My mom told me that I would have to wait until she died to get this scarf, just like she had to wait until my grandmother died. I didn’t have to wait and how nice is it that my mom is alive? She also recounted in a lovely illuminated letter the story of the scarf and a childhood trip with her mother to San Francisco.


Dreams of our new year. I can count my blessings at Thanksgiving, but I learn so much more about giving at Christmas. Between now and the new year, I’ll be considering the generosity of my family by birth and by choice. This season I’ve been put on notice that the world has the capacity to be beautiful, kind, and creative. I must respond likewise. I’ll have challenges, but I’ll have support. In this way, I (you are welcome on the journey) can continue to dream for a world in which every day we celebrate the best in each other (after you quit gagging, of course).

Studly gets a name

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Did I mention I’m in love?

The darling girl from this video aside, how amazing was her teacher? The woman who put this together is doing her student teaching in the 7 YO’s classroom. I watched around 24 of these videos and the narrative in each brought out the unique voice of the first or second grade author. I once received a letter from Nora Ephron in which she discussed the importance of voice and once a writer discovers that voice, it should be coveted — maintained for life. Most folks never get into that groove and so it is a testament to, er, I don’t have a code name for her. How about we just call her “Studly” because she can no longer be considered a student teacher but a studly teacher?

This was the capstone piece to a unit Studly did on transportation. Here are photos and a short movie a parent put together from a field trip the kids took as part of Studly’s transportation unit. Pay special attention to the last little bell ringer because she’s dreamy.

Tomorrow we say goodbye to Studly. Her term in the 7 YO’s classroom is over. We will celebrate with gifts from parents and letters from students placed in a canvas bag embellished by none other than my baby girl. I won’t say more, because you never know who’s reading in (no one is reading in, but saying that sort of thing ratchets up the suspense, doncha think?)

Christmas Giving

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Now that we’ve gotten past the food and many of us have exorcised our inner shopping demons, I’d like to provide, as so many others have, alternative thoughts on gift giving at Christmas. My brother-in-law has requested a no spending policy between our families this season and I’m more than pleased to oblige. We did agree that no spending could mean finding our inner craftster, however, I’m unlikely to make this for his kiddos:


This Tampon Angel arrived in my Facebok in box from a most unlikely source. I’m not saying it’s my Senior Warden because if she had wanted folks to know about her inner subversive, surely she would have posted it on her own wall. Then again I told her I wanted to post it post-turkey and with her reply of, “I dare ya!” she cast herself as a provocateur. For this reason, I will allude to the identity of the sender rather than state outright it was the Senior Warden, who would also have you know about the Grace St. Paul Alternative Christmas Fair on December 13th. Last year they had Just Coffee, handmade items, and sales that benefited not-for-profit organizations.

Wise Bread also offers strategies to keep you in budget this year. If you are considering pulling out the plastic, consult this post from Pimp Your Finances. Man Vs. Debt challenges his giving policy — something most of us can afford to reexamine.

Christmas shouldn’t be a drag. I plan to get my kiddos that Shoot ‘Em Up Pet Shop Pokemon Heavy Metal Glitter Goo-gaw. I certainly learned from my own family that getting that one oh so materialistic as to be painfully obscene gift does bring joy to all involved. I also know that the Christmas we had relatively few presents, but ate a huge breakfast and watched black and white footage from my dad’s childhood was one of my favorite Christmases — though I liked the Barbie Dream House too.

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When I posted the 9 YO boy’s Tucson Winter, I went on a search of Just Another Banana’s bog because I remember she ran to the bird sanctuary one snowy day to snap some photos. I couldn’t find her snowy cacti pictures, so I went to the school’s Web site to see if they had possibly loaded some. Instead I took a trip down memory lane.

That place is special and is where community for me first burst into full bloom. One person has an idea, another does research, yet another gathers the supplies, and before you know it, you’re placing the tiles for a human sundial.


I love that hat.

You can see how the project proceeded here. Follow the links for the human sundial. Maybe check out the plan identifier links too. You’ll see photos of Fungal Heart’s eldest.

We can all consider this my Thanksgiving post as it’s way full of the gratitudinal mush one wold expect this time of year.

Mom-a-tron Works

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I’m at a conference. I’ve left my life in the hands of Handsome Hubster, whom I continue to trust though he’s given me plenty of reasons to question this tendency of mine. One thing he likes to do when I’m gone is throw things away, things like integral pieces of expensive gadgets and all my tax receipts. Consequently, I don’t go away much.

Hubster claims to love the children, so I trust him with them as well. This is the third time I’ve been away from my children in the 9+ years I’ve been a mother. Three years ago, I left my kids with their dad and this is the result:

Aren’t they cute? A-DOR-able! Even so, they need me home. They may not realize it because this trip all they know is movie night is every night and chicken nuggets are the order of the day. Even so, I predict that upon my return, the kids will realize Hubster trashed their treasure, sucked their awesome, and, yes Hawt Mz, yucked their yum.

Girl Scout Cookie Season

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Cookie season is a major event for the girls in green. They love the excitement and enticements that accompany those sales. In Arizona, boxes are slightly more expensive because they offer so many scholarships to the girls. Last year, our troop sales were incredible and we paid for visits to Build-a-Bear, Rocks and Ropes, and Camp Creepenstein, as well as donating boxes of cookies and cash, and still they put aside a large chunk for later. I hate cookie season.

I have trouble selling the boxes, trouble chasing down the folks who ordered boxes, trouble getting money for the distributed boxes, and worst of all trouble with the self-control of the two adults living under my roof. But the season is here and tonight the Girl Scout leaders for the 7 YO’s troop launched into the various incentives for the girls, possible ways to promote the cookies, and the TONS of (annoying but necessary) rules. I hate rules. They confuse me.

Brownie Leader: You wouldn’t believe some of the things that have happened. For example, parents were taking the cash from the sales and writing bogus checks to the Council, so there’s a rule about that. Also, when staffing a booth, parents can’t stand off to the side smoking and yacking away.

Me: Well, I don’t smoke but the yacking sounds fun.

Magic: A friend of mine just returned from Brazil with a ton of slides.

Me: Oh, I guess I’d be interested in a slide show.

Magic: No. I mean we could take the cookie money and go to Brazil. DUH!

Okay, Magic didn’t actually say, “DUH!” to my face, but I would have if I were her. See? Rules confuse me. I’d like to take the cash, write a check, and stand off to the side yacking about Brazillion trips.

In January, the 7 YO girl will take your orders for cookie sales. If you live far, you can buy boxes for Troops to Troops, our troop charity (TBA), or Joseph’s Pantry. Just send me cash and I’ll cut a check to the Council. Okay, not really. You should send a check. And you should buy lots because if George sells 3000 boxes ($12,000 in value), she gets a lap top.