Stories, Books and Life--November 2008

November 2008--My sister has loaned Kevin her copy of The Shack, a story about a man and God. It's one of the current "IT" books that "everyone should read." I'll probably read it when Kevin is finished. We usually have good discussions about shared books even though our reading tastes generally differ. In the meantime, I remain happily immersed in a dozen recipe books, deciding on cookies to bake and meals to make for holiday dinners. I'm big on the planning, less on the actual execution.

Deer Deaders

Morning drives through town bring an increasing number of deer sightings.

Dead deer, draped across the hood of a truck. Deer are plentiful in this area and hunting is apparently very popular.

Deer season reminds me of a daycare story from about 5 years ago. Hannah and Travis were around 4 and 5 years old and Travis was excited because his dad "got a deer." The conversation was like a slow motion train wreck--I could see that it was going to happen and couldn't do a thing to stop it. In the children's minds "got a deer" conjured up images of some pet deer being led around on a leash, possibly with a saddle on it so they could ride. All of the littles were excited. Travis's dad got a deer! Travis mustered on...."Yeah, it was really cool--it was in the back of my dad's truck and..."

At nearly 5 years old, Hannah knew there was something fishy about a deer being in the back of someone's truck. She began to cast a suspicious eye on her friend. Travis continued..."and there was blood coming out it's mouth."

While every other little in the daycare looked at Travis with open admiration--after all, he had a deer readily available in the back of his dad's truck--the parts clicked into place with Miss Hannah.

"How did a deer get in your dad's truck? WHY is a deer in your dad's truck?"

"Because he shot it with his gun. It was really cool...it was in the back of my dad's truck and there was blood..."

Your dad deaded a deer?" She practically screeched. "He DEADED it?!"

The room grew silent. Travis was near tears. Six faces glared at him.

"Your dad deaded a deer?!" "What if he deaded one of Santa's reindeer, Ms. Lorri?" "WHY does Travis's dad dead deer?"

After a hastily improvised conversation about why people dead, er, hunt, deer and why I was certain this couldn't have been one of Santa's reindeer, I thought we had put the moment behind us. Tears were dried and calm was restored.

And then Travis's dad showed up. Used to being greeted by smiling faces and hugs, he was stunned when he got a cold shoulder. He made another attempt to greet the hostile mob and Hannah, mob spokesperson, melted him with a disgusted look and two cold words.

"Deer Deader!"

Blessings

In Indiana.

Kevin had a meeting in Wabash today; he'll drive over here later.

I stayed last night with a friend in Lafayette. We talked until late, something we've rarely had the chance to do in the last couple of years. Ran a few errands in town before heading out to the farm. The boys are out of school today and it's been entertaining to watch their antics as they help with the pre-holiday housework.

Joshua's class Thanksgiving program was great yesterday. He portrayed the much coveted "Native American," complete with a floppy feather headdress. I've had to miss most of his school programs because of daycare work so it was a treat to finally get to see his school. He liked having an audience of his own--me, his mom, his dad and his Grandpa Larry.

The last 2 days have been filled with the blessing of time spent with family and good friends, with more to come. Hannah, Andrea and Evan will be at Mass tomorrow morning with their dad. Our girls will join us at the farm for Thanksgiving dinner. James and his mother and brothers will join us. Then Friday we'll all meet up at Great Wolf Lodge near Cincinnati for a night of swimming and water slides.

I'll be ready to go home by tomorrow night; I like the quiet and routine of our evenings. But this time of friends and family has been a nice change from our usual days. We are blessed.

Sweet Potatoes and Native Americans

I'm off to Indianapolis this morning to see Joshua's class Thanksgiving show. He tells me he hopes to portray a "Native American."

Schools are very politically correct theses days; Joshua chastised me for saying "Indian." I mentioned it in an email to an older friend. She responded that she remembers when "Indian" was the politically correct term, replacing a host of other, less kind, words.

She also swears one of her great grandsons had the role of a sweet potato last year in his first grade Thanksgiving production. His big line was "I yam what I yam."

I had considered there might be someone portraying a rock, but a sweet potato?

So I am off to cheer on our aspiring Native American, sweet potato...whatever. Like a good grandma, I recognize the kid as having immense talent and I'm certain he will have a headliner part. Something that really showcases his gifts. Like the feast turkey.

Snowy Memories

It's been snowing since mid-afternoon and everything has turned a serene white. The deer were up on the patio this evening, emptying the bird feeders. Kevin has kicked back on the man-couch, close to the fireplace, with his computer. I baked today and the apartment is filled with the smell of banana bread and snickerdoodles.

The snow makes me miss the littles from daycare. Their infectious excitement over the first hint of snowflakes in the air. Asking to go outside and play even through there's barely enough snow to leave a footprint. Haylee would have told me it was "Bee-YOU--tee-ful!" out and Ella would have already had one arm in her coat.

Maybe it's a just a nostalgic time of year. Flashback to five o'clock this afternoon. I was making the bread and thinking Hannah and Andrea would be home from school. Homework would be done and they would take over the mashing of bananas, the measuring of flour, the cracking of eggs.

I would have one loaf of bread for the effort; the other being devoured, hot from the oven, by eager little people with mugs of hot chocolate and Ready Whip.

So I can decide to be sad tonight because I miss it. All of it; the piles of soggy mittens, the sticky kitchen floor where an egg missed the bowl, the loaves of bread with a sneaky pinch missing from one edge. Littles with noses red from the cold and sticky fingers coated in flour. I miss them.

Or I can count my blessings, then and now. Smile at the memories of snowy days with the littles, enjoy the pleasures of snowy evenings by the fireplace with Kevin now.

I'm counting.

Another

A friend of ours received a breast cancer diagnosis last Friday.

Another friend. Another cancer. There seem to be so many on the list these days. Friends who have had cancer, friends in treatment for cancer. Friends who have died from cancer.

Maybe it's our age. Maybe we're just more tuned in to it since Kevin's cancer.

Whatever the reason, it's one more. Another.

Cancer sucks. Have I mentioned that? Cancer treatment sucks. Dying from cancer sucks more. Sometimes.

And our prayer list grows.

First Snow

The first snow of the season.

Woke up to fluffy white flakes and a light snowcover. It's a wet snow and packs wonderfully so I had to make a snowman.

A two minute snowman. Tiny. Let's face it, I like looking at snow far more than I like being in snow.

Joshua's mom (Do you suppose she remembers a time when she had a name of her own, an identity not tied to being the mother of this child?) phoned yesterday to share the delights of being owned by an almost 7 year old boy who has just noticed the season's first snowflakes.

"He ran to the door, threw it open and yelled, 'It's SNOWING!' "

Josh's enthusiasm was a little dimmed when the snowflakes failed to accumulate on the ground, and he was less than thrilled this morning when Grandpa Kevin called to tell him it was snowing here. And Tante Kelly had sent pictures of their snowfall in Michigan. He hoped the snow would come his way today in Indiana. His mom explained that isn't how weather patterns usually work around here.

"So Ohio is getting OUR snow?"

I may have lost my edge as the cool grandma now that he thinks we pilfered his snow.

Early Blizzards

Kate and the band opened this weekend for The Rev Peyton's Big Damn Band at Lafayette Brewing Company. It was fun to see and hear Kate and the guys play again. She sounded stronger and more confident than last time we heard her. Her voice and Matt's sound good together.

LD Miller stepped in with his harmonica for a couple of numbers. For the unknowing, LD is the talented lad from "America's Got Talent" a couple of summers ago. He and brother Cole came in second in the television contest.

Kevin made a recording of Kate singing. I'll see if I can get it posted.

In the meantime, I did find a YouTube video of The Woodstove Flapjacks. Matt and James (our baby daddy) from the Flapjacks are also in The Early Blizzards with Kate. James is the on the left in the video, playing slide guitar. The Blizzards are more country than the Flapjacks but you can hear James and Matt on this clip of the Flapjacks.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nj6nJafGVaM

November Things

November Autumn is in full swing. A few trees are still covered with colorful leaves and it looks like a red and yellow blizzard when the wind starts blowing. I opened the kitchen blinds this morning to the scene of two of this year's fawns scrounging on our patio. Some bird seed was spilled on the table yesterday and this was apparently taken as an invitation to join us for breakfast.

Last night Kevin spotted an 8 point buck wandering up the hillside from the woods. We don't often see large bucks this close so we were impressed. I'm sure next summer we'll see more evidence of his presence when the new fawns show up.

It may still be Autumn outside, but inside my inbox is full of Christmas email ads. The hazard of online shopping is a steady influx of e-junk mail from the retailers. There's a certain nostalgic element lost in the translation. Flipping through a bunch of email ads while parked in front of my computer isn't nearly as enjoyable as cozying down in front of the fireplace with a pile of catalogs from an eclectic array of stores.

Christmas catalog browsing on a rainy Autumn day may be a lost art along with learning how to count change and owning a library card.

Baby News

Talked to Kate tonight. She had an appointment with her doctor this week. James was able to go with her so he got to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time.

Gizmo has expanded Kate's tummy by 5 inches since her last visit and she's gained a pound. One pound. I think she could gain a little more, but then, I don't think I ever gained a pound between visits when I was pregnant. Four pounds, five pounds, six pounds. Never one.

James' current favorite name for a baby boy is "Jude." St. Jude, patron of desparate causes. There's something appropriate here.

Kate says not to get attached to the name because James has a new favorite each week. I'm just pleased "Clyde" was discarded a few weeks ago. And our fear of "Sunshine Moonbeam Morrow" doesn't appear to be on the horizon.

They settled on a girl's name right away and it appears to have stuck with everyone. June Elise. Elise is Paige's middle name. Kelly, my sister and my mother all have birthdays in June. So the baby would be named for her aunts and great-grandmother which would be very nice.

In the meantime the baby continues to be known as "Gizmo" within our immediate family. Josh has great plans for little Gizzy and great hopes that Gizzy enters this world as a 5 or 6 year old boy!

Unknown Connections

Clark Gallery at the Honeywell Center sold another photo! "Garden Jewel" (hummingbird) So I have one left hanging, the photo of the flooded Wabash as a mist is rolling in over the fields.

"Through the Garden Window," "Verse," and "Winter Cardinal" sold from the Hubbard gallery over the weekend.

A gratifying showing overall.

I was thinking today about the connection between a photographer and a buyer. I rarely meet the people who buy my photos. The only apparent connection we have is a photo. But there has to be something more. There has to be a connection between why I took the photo and why someone buys the photo. A feeling, a similar moment lived, a memory preserved, rekindled. Something unknown yet recognized.

"There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer."--Ansel Adams

Home from Indiana.

Had several things in a show opening at the Hubbard Gallery of the Library in Clinton County. The framed prints were already hung when we got there on Friday and looked good. There isn't a lot of photography in this show, more paintings though. We took matted shots and art cards over on Friday morning along with the Santa figures.

I was less than thrilled with this year's Santas. It just felt more like effort year. But they got a good response during the opening reception Friday night so maybe I'm not seeing them the way other people do. I made one large piece this year and he sold soon after the reception opened.

We stayed long enough Saturday to go to the evening Mass over in Lafayette. We debated about staying and were pleased when we did and Father Patrick was the celebrant. He's a talented homilist as well as a dear friend.

It feels good to be home tonight. I really appreciate my father and Mary letting us stay in their home when we're in town, but it's nice to be together in our own little space tonight. Kevin is already asleep. He still gets tired easily and we've done a lot of travel in recent weeks. I'm hoping he sleeps late tomorrow.

There's glittery "snow" scattered across the carpet and bits of raw wool from Santa's beard are still floating through the air. I'll think about tackling those tomorrow--tonight I'm going to settle in with some recipe books. Think about sugar cookies, baklava and raspberry fudge.