COUNTING MY BLESSINGS (17): Loco Rosa

My son Tyler served a mission in Peru for a few years.  While I pined away for him, he was having a great adventure of the Indiana Jones type, as well as the spiritual sort.  When he returned home to us he was heartbroken to leave the people there, and it took him a while to reacclimate himself to the land of plenty. 

In 2008 Tyler and I went back to Peru to experience more of the country and touch bases with the friends he left there.  One real character was Rosa, lovingly referred to by Tyler as Loco Rosa (no translation needed).

Tyler lived at Rosa's house while he was in Juliaca.  Rosa is considered fairly well off by Peruvian standards.  She's a widow with 3 grown children, was involved in politics, and owns land.  We stayed with Rosa for about a week, and toured Cuzco with her, including Pissaq and Machu Picchu (and Wayna Pucchu!).  By American standards, Rosa and her family live in poverty.  Rosa is a little four-foot something dynamo who scares most people.  She tried so hard to communicate with me, but my crash course in Spanish failed the moment I set foot off the plane, and we struggled.  One of my favorite moments was when I woke up and realized that the altitude sickness had finally stopped, and I could eat breakfast.  I was so excited, and started using American Sign Language without realizing it, trying to tell her that I could eat (feeding guests is a privilege to them).  She got very excited, and ran up the hall, returning with toothpaste.  Huh?  Because of my hand gestures, she thought I was telling her I wanted to brush my teeth.  I laughed so hard and loud that Tyler came running out of his room to see what the ruckus was about.  When I finally spit out what had happened and he translated for Rosa, we all got quite a laugh out of that. 

There was very little language exchanged between me, Rosa and her family because of the language barrier, but the tears and hugs when we got on the bus to leave them needed no translation, and the bond forged between our families lives on. 

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS (16): The Club House

My sisters and I love to read novels.  We like romances, mysteries, historical fiction, vampires, series, young adult fiction.  You name it.  I'd like to say that we only read the best in what's out there, but to be honest, we just like to be entertained and taken away for awhile.  Now that our daughters are grown, they have also joined our passion for a good read.

We have joked in the past about buying a small condo or renting an apartment for our book club.  No one could use it unless their intention was to sit around and read, preferably in jammies and slippers, maybe have some snacks, and talk about books.  I remember one year the three of us were at a parade of homes touring huge, too expensive residences.  Each one had a library-type nook in them, and we decided that we needed a club house for our reading club. 

I've been thinking recently about the club house again.  We really do need one.  I imagine it lined with bookcases containing all of the books we've read, sectioned off by genre or age group.  There's a fireplace for cozy winter nights, smelly candles, delivery menus tacked to a bulletin board, and cushion covered couches to sink into.  Elizabeth can make the quilts for us to wrap up in, I'll do some artwork for the walls, and Tina can bring the snacks.  Then, as each of the girls in the family turn 16, they can be inducted into the club and receive a key to the secret location...

What makes this so alluring?  Maybe it's the idea of a physical escape to go along with the mental escape that a good book provides.  Or is it that all of the books we read feature a woman who rises from the ashes and kicks her antagonist in the rear?  Maybe I just miss my sisters.

I have a camper.  Maybe the three of us should just redecorate it with some girlie fabrics and colors, park it in the back yard, and put up a sign that says "Private, no boys allowed."

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS (15): Hope Floats

One of my favorite movies is Hope Floats.  I liked it before I saw it, because the title is profound.  Hope floats, no matter how deep the ocean of despair, anguish, mourning, or sorrow, just like a magic bubble hope will work its way to the surface of our consciousness and bob into view like a bouy. 

Then I watched the movie, and I liked it even more.  Sandra Bullock's character is an aging 'queen of corn' prom queen whose husband has cheated on her, humiliated her on national television, and sent her packing to her home town and parents to lick her wounds.  Her daughter is a spunky kid who wants her Dad, and can't understand her Mother's inability to cope.  Grandma is a taxidermist who is trying to hold her family emotionally together, and the little cousin who lives with them hides his feeling of abandonment behind silly costumes.  Toss in Harry Connick Jr. in all his handsome glory and theme song, and you've got a blockbuster.  Through all of the turmoil and angst, the Grandmother reminds them that Hope Floats, and will get them through it.

I read a quote from an Emily Dickensen poem today while doing some studying:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all...

What exactly is Hope?  I've been thinking about this all day today.  I think hope is that one shred of joy buried in our soul that never dies, no matter what struggles pile up on top of us and threaten to eat us alive.  It may get buried beneath earthly trials and daily disappointment, and is often out of sight for a time, but hope is always working its way to the surface ready to remind us of all that we have and all the amazing things that can be.  Hope is ultimately what makes the hard times bearable, because everything good in life that is worth having is something that we have hoped for in the past, or are hoping for our future.

It just floats.

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS (14): Fanged!

The girlies in my family are a tad vampire obsessed (well, most of them).  We all love a good story, especially the tales that contain some mystery, monsters, and romance!  Having things to share and enjoy together, even silly ones, is a great blessing in families.  My three granddaughters have been taken with the Twilight saga phenomenom, and are all firmly planted on the side of Team Edward.  (No, they have not watched all of the movies, they just like them.)

I recently saw just how much children internalize what they see and hear:

Beautiful Paige (4) was having a hard day at Grandma's house, and our conversation went something like this:

Paige:  "Grandma, tell Amber to give me the Belle doll - I want to use it!" Me:  "Paigey, Amber is already using that one.   Here are 5 other dolls you can use, you can have all of them." Paige:  "NO!   I WANT BELLE!   GIVE ME BELLE!   GIVE ME BELLE!   GIVE ME BELLE!" Me: "Paigey, settle down, it's OK.   There are lots of dolls to play with.   It hurts people's feelings when you take what they are playing with."  (Aren't I such a sweet Grandma?) Paige: Throws herself around, knocks over the chair, starts screaming words I don't understand. Me:  Hugs, "Oh Paigey, let's calm down." Paige:  "LET GO OF ME!   [Insert showing of fangs and hissing here.]   YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE!   DON'T TOUCH ME!" Me:  "Okay......" Then she falls asleep.   Where's Edward when I need him?

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS (13): Peonies

We moved to Portland when I was 13.  The landscape was so different from Kodiak, and the Bay Area before that.  It was early Fall, and the streets were lined with intense gold and rusty red leafed trees, rhododendrons were still blooming, and it was just - picturesque.  What really took my breath away, though, was the arrival of Spring.  If you do not live in the Pacific Northwest, you can't quite understand that anticipation of Spring (unless you live in Antarctica, of course, because you don't have Spring).  It rains in Portland from late Fall through ... today is March 21, it snowed this morning, and now it's raining again.  Spring often gets around to Portland about the same time as the rest of the United States is enjoying early Summer.  This is agreeable for vampires, but not so enjoyable for me.

The first Spring in Portland was breathtaking.  Since the sunshine comes in bits and pieces it's always a surprise, and because of the 'lush' habitat, all sorts of amazing flowers, bulbs and shrubs come to life all at once.

I still remember the first time I saw a peony plant.  I thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and still have that reaction to them.  Peonies are like a blessing we receive for enduring the winter.  Sort of like the blessing we receive after enduring a hardship or trial.  Sometimes the blessing comes in the form of relief, sometimes peace, but it always comes.  The Winter may be grey, but with a little luck and patience, Spring will eventually come.

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS (12) - Fishy Rituals

Living it the beautiful Pacific Northwest, we are just a few hours away from the Pacific Ocean.  Going to the beach has provided a lifetime of memories and good times spent with family and friends.  One of the little rituals we have enjoyed over the years is stopping off at Karla's Smokehouse in Rockaway Beach on the Oregon coast.  If you don't know what you are looking for, you'll drive right past it, but Karla's is a true Oregon treasure. 

We've taken our children there, and everyone but Sharon has shared the Karla's experience with all of their friends and family as well.  (Sharon thinks there is no good use for fish and that God made a mistake when he created them.)  A few years ago, during the week before Tyler and America's wedding, Tyler and I shared the Karla's experience with the Ruggieri's who were visiting from Illinois.  We were running late (Karla's closes up early), and I called the smokehouse from the car.  I explained what we were doing, and they stayed open until we got there are were able to share one of our favorite rituals with our new family members. 

One summer when the kids were younger, I decided to play hooky for a day and go to the beach.  I came downstairs and told the kids and Mike, "I'm going to the beach for the day.  Who's coming?"  Cricket chirping.  Really?  "Okay, then I'm going by myself.  See you later."  I picked up my purse and keys, and headed for the front door.  As I was climbing into our white minivan, Tyler (13) came flying out the door, "Wait!  I'm coming!"  He climbed in and buckled up, and we began backing out of our steep crumbly driveway.  The front door flew open again and out comes Blake. "Wait!  I want to drive!"  Blake had his learner's permit, and I thought this was a good idea.  I was wrong!

He was doing a good job once we got on the freeway, because it was a fairly clear time of day, but when we hit the twists and turns of highway 24, that was a different story.  He was having such a good time that I didn't want to curb his enthusiasm, and he did almost kill us once.  We eventually arrived at Rockaway Beach in one piece and pulled up to Karla's.  We hadn't brought anything else to eat with us, so we decided to just get some smoked fish, pop, and chips, and call that a meal. 

This was the first time we had been to Karla's on a Wednesday afternoon, and we were in for a treat!  Wednesdays are smoking days, and the fish had just been pulled out of the smokers.  The pink salmon and snowy halibut was warm and dripping with juice.  It was like eating bacon, alot of it!

We took our treasures down to the shore and ate one of the best meals I've ever had.  Was it because it was from Karla's, or because I was on a surprise holiday with my two teenage boys?  Maybe it was a bit of both.  Sharing rituals and having traditions makes memories that just seem a bit more vivid.

We scorched ourselves in the sun and decided that we didn't want to go home, so we went to Safeway and bought deodorant and a toothbrush.  We found a motel with a swimming pool, and I called Mike to let him know we weren't coming home.  He was ... annoyed.

The next day we went back to Karla's to replenish our stash, and spent the day on the beach enjoying the sunshine and one another.  When we were rounding the corner and headed for the driveway, I called Mike again to say we had decided not to come home, were staying at the beach.  We listened to him complaining while we pulled into the driveway, and walked into the house.

Best. Hooky. Ever.

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS (11): Sea Salt Caramels

What is it that makes someone crave a particular food?  Pregnant women crave pickles - I seriously doubt they are having a vinegar deficiency causing this craving.  Babies crave food of any sort.  I watched 10 month old Cooper inhale an adult size plate of lazagna, salad and roll, and then a piece of cake.  I know for a fact that he'd just had a jar of baby food because I could smell the pureed vegetables still on his breath. 

I crave sea salted caramels.  It's gross, really.  Take a perfect, gooey golden caramel, dip it in beautiful, dark chocolate, and then dump salt on the top?  Not ordinary salt.  Sea Salt.  It makes no sense, but there you have it.  They just taste delicious - at least I think they taste delicious.  Is it because someone was paid to tell me it was delicious, and so I believed them?  Is it because I have so many fond memories of time spent at the beach? 

There are 'break out novels' that sell a million copies that I've read, and haven't necessarily thought too much of them, but word of mouth has turned them into household names.  There are 'blockbuster' movies that get all of the award nominations ("Hugo"), that didn't bust any of my blocks when I watched them.  Does the hype make them amazing, or are they amazing, and I just don't get it? 

Is a Starbucks $5.00 coffee really better than the $1.00 coffee at a corner coffee shop, or does the green logo magically infuse special flavor through the side of the paper cup?   During the sixties, we all owned something with a school bus yellow smiley face on it.  Millions of dollars were made off of that image.  I was desperate to have smiley face pee chees for school. 

So back to the sea salted caramels.  I love them.  They make me feel good.  Just like going to the beach, sea salt and all.