Happy Birthday, Mom!

Three quarters of a century ago in the verdant flatlands of Freisland, a little girl was born who would become my mother. Seventy-five is young compared to Pat, but I'm learning what you fit into life has nothing to do with numbers.

(Truth be told my Mom would hate this photo because her hair isn't done as she used to do it. But I love the way it captures her happiness. I look at it and can hear her laugh.)

My father brought her a dozen roses today, as he's done on her birthday for more than 50 years, and a cake which was enjoyed by 30 people at her home.

I know my mother would not have chosen to be unaware she was turning 75. But I feel sure she is aware the person who comes to see her every day loves her deeply.

Happy Birthday, Mom! ♥

 

The Circle of Life

"That's the most beautiful Christmas tree I've ever seen!" Pat exclaimed. I admitted that it was a fake, because although I understand both sides of the environmental Christmas tree coin, it still makes me cry to cut one down - so the whole family has to live with Mom's neurosis and have the same tree every year.

"Doesn't matter. It's still the prettiest tree I've ever seen."

This was a huge compliment because Pat has seen 103 Christmases. Yup. One hundred and three. And, I would like to add, she loves my eggnog too. She gulped it down as though it didn't have rum, bourbon and brandy in it - or perhaps because she knew it did. A woman after my own heart! 

That was three weeks ago. Yesterday Nick, the girls and I had the privilege to spend time with her as she prepares to leave this world. A few days ago she suffered a massive stroke and although she can still think and understand, the paralyzing effects of the stroke make it extremely difficult for her to talk. As Cayenne and Acacia held her hands and I stroked her hair, I thought about how important everything happening in that room was: For Pat to have constant physical contact, rubbing her knobby thumb along those young little fingers holding her; for the girls to come face-to-face with the circle of life, and to witness someone they know completing it with dignity; for me to be reminded of the responsibility I have, currently straddling the generations, to guide the younger one and learn from them both; and for her son and our friend Carl to be surrounded by support right now.

It was a sobering contrast to the previous evening, but somehow they fit together, both marking life cycles. On Friday the 6th we celebrated The Birthday That Almost Wasn't (as one of you dubbed it). Now that Nick's passed his test of survival, he'll probably live to be 103 too, if his family's genes are anything to go by. So on yet another gloriously sunny and warm January day, Nick turned the ripe old age of 42. 

Just a Spring chicken, right Pat?

  

Happy New Year!

My New Year's Resolution is to add sass to my voice. Not Marilyn Monroe sass, but pre-teen what-do-you-want-and-why-are-you-bothering-me sass so the girls can hear what it sounds like. It comes quite naturally to me - you'll be surprised to learn - which tells me I was probably pretty good at it at the age of ten (and 11, and 12...). It also means there's a chance they will, eventually, leave it behind. Maybe. Hopefully.

Seriously? You mean we're spending the first day of the year skiing?? On our last day of vacation? (I have to remember to inject some whine into it. And then to inject some wine into me until the teenage years pass!)

And skiing was a hoot. It's been in the 50s (10*C) for ages so it was like spring skiing, and it's got to be said, the whole family had fun. Even the tortured ones.

The first of the year means my Month-o-Nog has come to an end. This is always a bit of a sad realisation, although my heart would probably disagree: I wonder if my cholesterol level changes at all after a month of devouring fresh eggnog. Have you had homemade nog lately? Not the gelatinous super-sweet gloop from the grocery store. I mean really, good, eggnog. If not, click on the recipe link on the right and whisk away those memories of the yellow slime of yore.

Another thing I've realised is this here blog has been viewed nearly 10,000 times. So to all you wonderful people in here in the US, Canada, France, Denmark, the UK, Portugal, the Netherlands, Qatar, Russia, Mozambique, Italy, Switzerland, Indonesia, Angola, Namibia, Australia, Malaysia, South Africa, Kenya, Germany, The Caymans, Sweden, Mexico, Japan, Vietnam and Thailand (phew! that list makes my heart sing!!) - thank you for tuning in. I love the feedback you've sent via email and the comments section. I usually don't reply because blogspot doesn't let you know when I do that, so I figure you probably won't see it anyway. But I enjoy them, for sure.

To every single one of you: Happy New Year, from my family to yours.

(This is the inside of our Christmas card this year. Please don't be offended if you didn't receive one in the mail, as I sent to family first and forgot how big my family is! Ran out of cards quickly.)

Joyeux Noel

And all there was in his stocking was a lump of coal...

... and a card which read:

There once was a lad named Nick,
who loved his leather jacket - all poofy and thick...
but he fell from the sky -
we still don't know why,
and the nurses cut it off him right quick.

So now it's time to choose some new leather
to keep him protected from inclement weather.
The old one was snuggly,
but really quite ugly -
so this time we'll choose it together!

I painted some tiles to earn enough dough
to buy a new jacket for my beautiful beau.
So soon we'll start shopping
for a new leather topping
to keep him looking chouette in the snow.


Hope you all had a wonderful holiday with loved ones, too!

Vegas, Baby!

What's wrong with this picture? (Might have to click on it to make it bigger to see.)

The first thing I said to Nick when he and the girls were done bumping cars was, "Cayenne's never getting her driver's license." But this was Vegas, so even though the signs say One Way, it's really whichever one way you want to go...

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Acacia was barely four years old when she reached her little arm into the air one evening and pointed at the brightest light in the sky.

"A star!"

"Actually, that's a planet. Do you know its name?"

She thought about that, furrowing the gorgeous eyebrows she inherited from her Daddy, and then exclaimed, "I know! I know! That's Las Vegas!"

That memory kept popping into my head as we walked up and down Las Vegas Blvd. I kept thinking, "She was absolutely right. This place is another planet."

And, it turns out, it is where everybody goes for Thanksgiving. ha! Well, not everyone, but a couple of kids in Acacia's class were there, we had a fun Thanksgiving dinner with my boss/friend Kelly and her family, and we would have shared time with Barr as well if we'd known he was there. Although Barr, you wouldn't have wanted to spend Wednesday with us. Nick and Acacia got shaken and stirred by the rides at Circus Circus until Dad was about to puke. Cayenne and I went shopping. Smart girls that we are.

These rides are in a hotel. This place is nuts. (Nick and Acacia are on the roller coaster in this pic.)

But the best part of our vacation wasn't man-made. Those red rocks really were the perfect balance to the glitz. Every other day we drove the short twenty minutes from downtown to a gorgeous spot in the desert, just waiting to be climbed.

Here's Acacia SpiderGirl:

   

See Las Vegas in the background? Love the dichotomy.

He wore his Red Rocks camouflage.

  

Cayenne's built just like me. Ha! Not.

I have to admit getting the girls away from the hotel's swimming pool and television to go rock climbing involved a not-so-cheery conversation, but once we were on those sun-warmed rocks, seems everyone forgot about being plugged-in. I guess that's one of our roles as parents: Teaching them that getting out is worth the effort. 

While waiting her turn Cayenne went exploring, ending up on top of the rock Acacia was climbing. 

"Don't lean over!" 

"I'm not suicidal, Mom." (Ahh... the first twinges of teen-hood...)

And Acacia decided she wanted to climb one more time, after she'd taken off her shoes.

I'm not sure what part of this is more like her father: That her toes are long enough to grip like fingers, or that she's climbing barefooted at all!

This is where cameras are a good thing. The next time we head out to have an amazing day and they throw themselves onto the sofa - backs of their hands to their foreheads - lamenting their fates of being born Cofmans... I'll have photographic evidence that they enjoyed themselves the last time, and even went back for more!

   

Plane Down

"Oh no."
I knew from Nick's voice it was bad. He'd been reading some national news on his laptop.

"A Trinidad went down in Silverton yesterday. It's gotta be Steve. I'll be shocked if it isn't Steve."

As his fingers typed some searching words, I noticed his hands were shaking, just a tiny bit. My heart beat in my throat. Déjà vu.

When Nick couldn't find Steve on Facebook, he looked up his wife Jan. Already there were half a dozen messages on her profile page reading, "Rest in peace, my dear friend."

There were four people on the plane and no one survived. The Herald published an article this morning but it didn't mention names because they have yet to find everyone, so I still don't know who the other two passengers were. A mutual friend said they were Jan's colleagues from the Alpine Bank and that they were headed to Aspen for a company Christmas party.

This hit close to home, literally and emotionally. Nick and Steve spent many hours together in little cockpits; actually, Nick went with Steve to New Hampshire to pick up this plane when Steve bought it. And Jan was lovely and fun to be with. They've lived here forever and were very involved in the community.

Their families received the same phone call I did, but without the: "...everything's going to be okay" part. Those phone calls are planets apart, and my heart aches for the Osbornes and Measleses, the families of the other two on board,  their friends, everyone at the bank who lost three colleagues, for everyone at Building Specialties, where Steve was owner and president. So many people are hurting right now.


Lying in bed last night I asked Nick how he was feeling, and waited. When I wait for his words I'm usually richly rewarded. He spoke until 2 a.m.

This hits very, very close to home.

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http://www.durangoherald.com/article/20111209/NEWS01/712099902/Durango-remembers

 Steve n' Jan

   

Zion

On the way to Vegas, we spent the night in Zion and enjoyed a day of hiking engulfed by canyons so beautiful, I found it hard to speak. No, really. Check this out:

(For a sense of scale, that's a car in the bottom left-hand corner.)

If you click on this photo (above, right) to make it bigger, you'll see Cayenne and I hiking up Angel's Landing. We're little dots halfway up; not the blue one, look higher.

There are so many truly gorgeous places on this planet you'd have to stop time to see them all. Life is just too short!