Crisp @ Random-Sunday Edition
Posted: August 17, 2008 Filed under: A Zany Life, Goals, Writers Write | Tags: China, Olympic Swimming, writing Leave a comment »I’ve been in a holding pattern of sorts. The girls have a week until school starts. Bacon is between temp assignments. We’re hanging out at home. Which means, I’m picking things up off the floor–ponytail elastics, white athletic socks, colored markers . . . you get my drift. I’m ready to pack up my family and send them where they need to go, but it’s not time yet. I’m holding off the impulse to be impatient and gripe a lot.
Coming home from New Mexico, the transmission died in the minivan. The timing was good, if that can be said about a catastrophic repair. We were pulling into San Antonio instead of driving through the New Mexico desert. We limped home. The car works again, but we have a dent in our savings account, and we’ll have to look for a different vehicle to pull our pop-up trailer on next year’s adventure.
Coco celebrated her seventh birthday. The anniversary of Cherry’s adoption day was this month. Eight years ago this week, we were in China. Watching the Olympics has been a special experience. It’s impossible to count how many times we’ve said, “We were there. We saw that. Look, girls! Look!”
It’s terrific to watch the Olympic swimmers with our baby dolphins. Cheering on Michael Phelps as he reached the pinnacle of his sport has been our primary activity this week. Coco was so sleepy yesterday that she asked us to wake her before the relays. Cherry wrote down finish times like she does at her swim meets.
Thank you, U.S.A. Swimmers for setting such a terrific example for my children. Dara Torres went to the judge to explain that her competitor had torn her suit and would return. Michael Phelps thanked his teammates and his mom. These images weren’t lost on my children, who were fascinated by the underwater dolphin kicks and the slow motion replay of the butterfly final finish. This week, I’m glad we own a television. I don’t always feel that way.
I’m diving back into my work in progress by writing back cover copy for the finished book. Since the book isn’t finished, it sounds like I’m ahead of myself, but writing the blurb will help to focus my concept. I’ll see better where I’m headed.
Have a great week!
Spiritual Home
Posted: August 14, 2008 Filed under: Joined at the Heart, Mouths of Babes, Writers Write | Tags: Ansel Adams, Holy Ghost Creek, New Mexico, O'Keeffe, Spiritual Home Leave a comment »
We took the girls and their cousin, Rascal, to the Georgia O’Keeffe museum. Rascal was sure it was pronounced “O’Keeffie.” We harassed her into the correct pronunciation. This summer’s exhibition was a comparative exhibit of O’Keeffe and Ansel Adams. Many of the same scenes were displayed side-by-side, Adams silver gelatin prints juxtaposed with O’Keefe’s view in oil. They captured the soul of the land with brush and lens.
The girls were precocious, asking appropriate questions and choosing their favorites in each hall. They were the only children in the museum, and it was fun to watch adult arrogance wither with the girls’ observations. At the end of the visit, we watched a short documentary of O’Keeffe’s life. I’d seen the film before and warned the girls about the nude Steglich photos of O’Keeffe in the presentation. After the first one, Coco sidled up to me, “Is that it Mama? The naked one?” As if it was in doubt.
It’s funny. I remembered the naked pictures, but I’d forgotten what O’Keeffe said. Since I didn’t write down the words, I’ll paraphrase.
New Mexico is my spiritual home. It’s the place I feel comfortable in my own skin.
That’s how I feel about Holy Ghost. It’s my spiritual home. What is it about water slapping against rocks in the creek or aspen leaves shimmering in the wind that makes me comfortable? I’m writing this on Bacon’s old laptop in the front seat of the minivan. A cold rain is imminent. Without the internet or email to check, I haven’t read a newspaper in a week or watched television. Why is it necessary to live in this narrow canyon for two weeks a year?
I just know that it is.
On Horseback
Posted: August 7, 2008 Filed under: A Zany Life | Tags: family, horses, trail ride Leave a comment »
“I signed the three girls up for a trail ride.” Bacon came back from the Terrero Store to find out if it was a good idea.
We’d climbed into a kiva at the ancient Indian ruins, fed the trout at the fish hatchery, and examined the silver jewelry for sale in front of the Palace of the Governors. We were running out of things to keep three very active little girls occupied. A horseback ride sounded like an excellent idea. I was relieved he had come up with a plan. “Great!”
Bacon hesitated. “Only one catch. Since they’re little, they need an adult to ride with them.”
“You mean one of us?” I said, “No thanks. I haven’t been on a horse since I was eight.”
“How about you, Cowgirl?” Bacon turned to my sister, Rascal’s grandma.
She shook her head. “Rascal’s grandpa does the wrangling for us. I only feed and pet the horses.”
Bacon walked over to BBC2′s trailer and knocked on the screen. “Cookie? Want to take the girls on a trail ride?”
My sister-in-law took the bait. An hour later, I was standing at the old store counter, filling out the appropriate forms. As an afterthought, I added Bacon’s name to the list. “You really want to do this.” I told him. “Why else would you have set this up?” He grimaced, but went along with it.
Cowgirl, Bacon, Cookie, and I walked out onto the porch to wait. Cherry, Coco, and Rascal had seized my camera and were shooting pictures of a pretty paint, saddled and ready to ride. That’s when Cowgirl had an epiphany. A few minutes later, I found her standing back at the counter, shelling out cash.
“You’re going to ride?”
“If Cookie can do it, so can I.”
“I don’t want to sit here alone waiting on you to get back.” I plunked down a twenty, a ten, and a five. Just like that, the wranglers were setting stirrups for three children and four adults. We were giggling like little girls.
The view of the New Mexico high country is amazing from horseback. The ride was bumpy and exhilarating. None of us were experienced, but the college-aged wranglers were patient, saying over and over, “Don’t let the horse put his head down.” Cowgirl’s mount was fond of oak leaves and Cherry’s liked to eat Mexican Hat (the wildflower not the head gear.) At the end of the trail as we headed back into the corral, Max, the Terrero Store dog, welcomed us home.
Why was I the last one to jump on horseback? Why did it take so long for me to decide to play too? Whatever the reason, riding goes along with the off-balanced path I’m traveling. It felt good to lean into the horse going up hill.
