Playing Games

We don't have a tv- so there isn't cable to contend with our time. We do, however, have a computer and that can be just as attractive to the human mind. We occasionally watch a show or movie but we have quite the collection of games. A lot of them are games that many families have and some are games that we have found at thrift stores and never heard of or seen before and cannot find online- those are always a blast!
In our old life, in the city, there was a store that was all about games- not video games- not computer games- actual games with boards and cards and all that fun stuff. And this wonderful store, rented games- just like a movie store. For $3 you could rent a board game or card game to try it out for about 3 or 4 days to see what you thought of it.
Seriously, brilliant!

Just imagine- you see a game you think looks good but you just don't know whether it is worth the investment because you haven't ever played it so this store let you try it out first. And, to top that off, the rental feel went towards the purchase if you decided that you did, in fact, like it and wanted your own copy.
We thought this was pretty ingenious.

Well, we did rent:

*Oh Gnome You Don't
*Forbidden Island
*Dominion
*DixIt Odyssey
*Telestrations (3 times!)

and many others that I have quite forgotten the names of. We have a couple of them now and are hoping to save up some day for some of the others.
But for now, I must say that Telestrations is one of the most loved games we have played. A little Pictionary type action and that loved game of "Telephone" we all played as kids and WHAM! you are on the floor laughing.
Basically, you have a dry erase notepad and a marker, as does everyone else and you each start off with a secret word that no one else knows. Now, depending on how many people are playing, you either pass or draw a picture of the secret word yourself. Then you pass it on and the next person doesn't get to see the secret word, only the drawing and they have to guess what it is. Once they make their guess and write it on the new page, they pass it and the next person can only see the words that the previous person wrote and then the new person turns to a clean page and draws a picture from the guess of the previous person. When you get your own notepad back, you take turns reading from the beginning and how your secret word morphed and changed- or not.

I know I sound confusing but it is a blast.
The other night, we had a bunch of rounds and I thought, "What the heck, I'll take some photos because that one is pretty funny."

The Power of Birthday Wishes

I have been wondering recently about the power of a birthday wish.
Here is this special day when someone entered into this plane on this planet and with all that behind it, the wishes seem particularly potent.
I've wished for so many things that seem to come about most often when they are birthday wishes- look at this past year when I wished for a small piece of land with an amazing house and WHAM! There it was, falling into place.
It makes me wonder how often we utilize our powers of manifestation and how often we don't. How often do we plant little seeds of "can't" and "won't" and "don't" along with "I wish" or "I will" or "I could"?
"I could start a business." but inside there is a little "Well, maybe- if you have time and if people decide they want what you make." or you might say "I will move this year." but with that comes a little bit of "Yeah, if you can find a job and an affordable place. Maybe."
But I don't know how much time we actually spend just dream something into fruition and reality. How often do we just sit with our dreams and trace the path to attainment?

At least for me, it isn't very often. I mostly find myself doing the "Well maybe but so many things can go wrong. We do live in a litigious society." or "No one is going to buy that." or, more commonly, "You can't- it just won't work for you."
There seems to be this piece in the back our minds that only comes forward long enough to shoot ourselves in the foot with "reality" and "logic" before retreating with an "I told you so" just as things start to fall apart.
But that birthday wish- the unadulterated wishing that children do on a star or an eye lash - the kind that asks for a horse or to be an astronaut or some crazy sought after toy. That is the kind of wish that can start the ball rolling, and, perhaps, if we let it, it will blossom into something more. Perhaps, we won't wake up to find a unicorn nuzzling our hair but perhaps something else will come-  something that adds up to that thing we are so wishing for.
We just won't know until we relearn the art of wishing and hoping with child-like abandon and enthusiasm.....

Mom- You Don't Get It!

With four children in the house, you bet I hear those words a lot. They're said with emphasis on  "Mom" which is drawn out into a two syllable word in an exasperated tone.

"Mo--om, you don't get it! I'm the only one!"

Now, with that one phrase you can insert so many endings:
"the only one":

-without a cell phone
-without my own laptop
-without unlimited computer and email use
-who doesn't have an airsoft gun
-who isn't allowed to walk into town by themselves
-who doesn't play video games (you may remember that conversation from this post)
-who doesn't get to be on Facebook all the time
-and, a personal favorite because it was said in these particular words just the other day, "who doesn't get to watch graphically violent movies and play graphically violent video games."
Yes, that is an actual direct quote.

First off, I'd like to give a shout out to my son's superb vocabulary and use of the English language. He speaks so well and clearly- even if we are butting heads. And second I want to say:
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
Now, that that's out of the way, I can say, that it is so hard to tow the line between our current society and culture's obsession with being constantly connected to technology and our family's belief that we don't need to be- even as we struggle with the reality that we feel the draw.
Since my husband and I were both raised without telly and video games, we both feel that strange pull that a forbidden thing can hold. For me it was always television and Lucky Charms.
I know, right?
But I was the kid eating homemade granola and fresh made yoghurt while the other kids were horking down Twinkies and Lucky Charms every day. So, when I finally moved out to live on my own, I found myself in the cereal aisle staring down the Lucky Charms, a mixture of severe craving, guilt and drool taking over.
I bought a box and some milk and went home -and ate until there was nothing left. Yes, disgusting, I know- but I loved them- every single bite.

I was the only one who ate homemade bread and natural peanut butter and homemade apple butter.
I was the only one with wool tights and long johns while other children wore t-shirts in the dead of winter.
I was the only one who wasn't allowed to watch Dirty Dancing when it came out (when I was still in grammar school).
I was the only one who made all the Christmas gifts for their family every single year while everyone else got to buy them.
I was the only one who wasn't allowed to watch television every day after school and all weekend. And, I was the only one who only knew what Mario Bros looked like only because I had seen pictures but never actually played.
Even in high school- I was the only one.

Of course I wasn't the only one- but it felt like it. Sometimes that uniqueness feels painful and lonely. But we aren't really alone. There is always someone in our tribe- unique and not quite in the flow of the main stream- slipping slowly along on an entirely different eddy than everyone else. We do find each other, eventually- all those people who feel so alone. And, if we make the time and space, we will also find a common ground with the diversity of people around us.

So, when my children come in that door wailing about how unfair it is that they are the only ones without all these gadgets and gizmos and privileges, sometimes I try to have them count their blessings but mostly, I let them rant it out. Because they are feeling their own uniqueness and that feeling of being the only one is a most exquisite feeling and so often is masked by a sense of loneliness.

So I will say to them:
"Yes, you are the only one - the only one of you, right now, in this moment, on this planet, right now. You are the only one-- and you're not.
"I know I seem like I don't get it but I do. I remember so many of these things and I am trying to find my way through this guidance role I have taken on with the stars and my gut to guide me. Your tribe will come- part of it is already here- and more will come, you will call them in without even realizing it and when you do, you can say, 'You weren't allowed to play graphically violent video games, either!?? I thought I was the only one.' in complete astonishment as they say, 'Nope. Funny, all this time, I thought I was the only one.'
"And you can laugh.
"You are never alone. Unique, yes- but never alone.-- and no, you still can't have a cell phone."

80's Hair

No, I'm not talking that charm of a slightly blue rinse- which, by the way, I think I will rock at some point when I am white-haired and wrinkled in the most charming way possible. No, I'm speaking of one of the quotes that came my way on the ride home.

It was snowing- nice and hard, making the world clean and new and quiet and we were chatting. Well, I was concentrating on driving safely (and very slowly) while the children visited about their day when the following conversation took place:

"Hey Mom, did you love the 80's?- You know, all that style."
Flashes of a young Madonna leapt to mind.
I laughed a bit, "Well, I was quite young so I wasn't really full throttle in the fashion, culture side of it- it was the 90's before I really noticed fashion."
"Oh," my oldest daughter said, "Huh, well Bobby's mom must have really loved it because her hair is really big just like in the 80's- like three feet tall big. She looks like she is still loving the 80's."
I laughed, I couldn't help it. And I had to wonder who Bobby's mom was. Some people can really rock that look while others (like me) look sadly outdated.

After our recent excursion into the world of coming of age movies such as Footloose (the original, mind you) my oldest daughter has been very interested in the fashion of days past. Yes, we wear leg warmers- it is 20 degrees outside on a warm day- of course we do! But, she also does it because it is very chic to her.

Her next request is to watch FAME, a movie that I don't know if I have ever seen all the way through so I will have to preview it. Again, we are talking the original here.

It is always startling to look through the ages of fashion and see the trends that we humans have adopted- super tan, pale- small hats, big brimmed hats- puffed sleeves, long sleeves, no sleeves- big breasts, small breasts, no breasts- slim hips, giant wire accentuated hips- long hair, short hair, no hair- tight clothing, loose clothing- high waists, low waists, no waists- flat shoes, high-heeled shoes- our whims as a society and our expression of what we perceive in that moment of our history to be "beauty", has changed over and over. And it continues to do so until we recycle versions of each thing we have worn throughout the ages in some way or another. What a fascinating species we are!
(Bobby's name has been changed not only because I don't remember it but because, on the off chance that anyone ever reads the posts I write, and thinks that maybe they have fantastic 80's hair, I want to keep it anonymous.)

This Time of Year

 At the beginning of the year, there is that feeling, that in breath and holding pattern that occurs as we enter into this in between stage. It is the only time of year I can think of that feels this way. As we hit March, even if it feels as wintery as ever, there is that knowledge that Spring is well on the way.

The summer is that giant out breath- the warmth and light and expansion as people take to the outdoors and revel in the goodness of the greenery and plenty around us. When Autumn comes, there is a coolness in the air and an energy that sparks an awareness and clarity and, when the wind hits us just right there is that moment when you feel you might take flight with the geese over head. Then, with the beginning of winter, there is the excitement of the holidays, holding wonder and promise.
But January & February feel different, they are the thickest part of winter and everything is muffled by snow (in these northern parts, at least) and the world is blanketed in white (well, some of the time). Sometimes, depression can creep up (I know it does for me at times) trying to nestle in and take hold in the quiet and cold.

But, mostly, I feel that there is a silence that comes on tiny feet to rest in one's soul. And I wonder why I so often seek to turn from this chance when, if I sit still enough for long enough, that silence might take hold, settling me into a time of rejuvenation that will serve to prepare my soul for the coming days and seasons.

Several of the Differences Between Here and There

 

You know what I'm talking about- we're here now but before we were there.
 I won't list pros and cons- not about this, not when it is a cultural thing. I will only take a moment to look at the differences.
There's, of course, the famous accent, a bit of twang, a bit of slang and a slight mountain-people sound to the language. It is quite delicious, actually. I have been given to understand that if I add the single word "wicked" to my vocabulary, I will fit right in.
The funny thing is, I'm not sure I want to. It has nothing to do with not wanting to be "one of them" or "sound like I'm from around these parts" and has more to do with the fact that I like all the places I've lived. I love the mix of soils in my blood and the way they combine to make up my experiences.
My children were born there, not here and I want to hold that space so they won't lose that piece. We chose that city- we chose it for its feeling of town camaraderie.

There was rich experience of the mix of different cultures and orientations.
There is where the fact that anything went was celebrated.
There has the slogan "Keep it Weird" and everyone smiled and laughed and accepted the individual strangeness and uniqueness we each have.
There they had the good food- the food that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head in ecstasy.
There was the land of good coffee, gray weather and a million different grocery stores and variety and affordable prices.
There was where the land was a giant melting pot that was a beautiful celebration of life and diversity.
There is a place where there are so many people, so many different experiences and the world is open and big and exciting.
There is my favorite city and a place that will forever live in my heart.
But, we didn't want city, we wanted stars at night and the howl of coyotes (hopefully not after our livestock). We wanted a barn with chickens and geese and ducks and a sheep, a goat and a pig (and no, they don't walk into a bar) and we wanted a slower pace, a more focused intent to live simply and smaller bills. So we are here.

Here is where the entire town of 1200 people throw a Halloween party- the entire town.
Here is where, for Christmas, Santa comes to the town hall and, again, the entire town shows up and every child sits on his lap and receives an wrapped gift while their parents eat and visit and decorate wreaths and evergreen bunches and make ornaments.
Here is where neighbors know each other and split wood together, where they laugh and joke and everyone smiles and waves- everyone.
Here is where despite differences everyone bans together because people need each other.
Here is where the stars are clear and bright and the sun shines even when the ground is covered in snow.
Here is where you make your own good food because there aren't restaurants.
Here is where the grocery stores are fewer and farther between and the prices are higher but the people who work there, know you and ask about your family.
Here the world is a smaller place.
Here is where everyone in surrounding towns show up for the middle school basketball game because that's live entertainment.
Sometimes I wonder if we have gone back in time- more in the Pleasantville sort of way than a women-shouldn't-vote sort of way.

The world we lived in before, the children had seen elephants and primates at the zoo. They had played with the gadgets and gizmos at the science museum and many had enjoyed the paintings and sculptures at the art museum. In this world, the art is the nature around you and in the words you read and speak or hear, the art is something you and your friends make. The zoo is in the animals that are both wild and domestic in your yard and in the yards around you. And the science museum, that is found in the gadgets and gizmos you learn to use working in the field, house and barn and the things you invent while playing outside.
In this world, the simplicity of a thermometer and it's ability to go up and down with the changes in temperature is something you have time to really wonder at as you put your coat on and head out to sled under the full moon.

The Joys of Needlepoint- Yeah, That's Right, I Said Needlepoint!

I'm an obsessed woman. For many years, I have coveted the old art of needlepoint.
I knew how to do it, the mechanics of it, but I'd never done it.
In my grandmother's house, when I was little, there was a giant tapestry- seriously, it was BIG. It hung in the living room over the sofa in the big log cabin when I was very little and, later, in a different house, in the den. It was a needlepoint from the Lady and the Unicorn series, this particular one was "Desire".
My mother made it before I was born. She'd bought it in Italy and spent four years completing it (on and off). I loved it.
Under this gorgeous banner, my grandmother would bring out a tiny silver tea set and we would have tea and I would share my cup and saucer with the stuffed horse I'd named "Preppy" that my grandmother kept in the house for me to play with. Preppy now lives with my mother and my children play with her when we visit and now that tapestry hangs in my mother's house.
I've always loved it but it never really ocurred to me that I could make one too and then a friend came over and sat there doing needlepoint on a scroll frame and flowers blossomed under her finger tips and wool yarn in a hundred colors filled her bag --and I fell in love.

On a trip to Goodwill, I found a kit, it was started but mostly unfinished and it was $2 so I bought it. It wasn't something that I would necessarily hang on my wall. It was small and it was of a macaw. It screamed Golden Girls- but I wanted to needlepoint, so I did. The yarn kept breaking and I grew frustrated until my friend explained that the yarn was old and I would need to buy more and since I wasn't invested in the finished project, I scrapped it.
But I still coveted. I didn't want a cheesy puppy or kitten, I wanted real art- Da Vinci or Lady and the Unicorn-- classic pieces-- or something wild and wonderful- but not Hallmark or Precious Moments style- not because there's something wrong with them- they're just not my style.
I found a counted cross stitch, something I had never done before and didn't entirely understand. It was $4 and new and complete and I got it- it was a peacock and a spider and I knew I could alter it to be something I would like more. So, I dove in, slightly intimidated by the tiny size of the aida cloth and even more intimidated at how many times I had to unfold it before it was completely open.

And then, on Solstice, my mother arrived with a gift sent all the way from England and when I opened it, I found the most amazing Solstice-celebrating needlepoint I'd ever seen. It was the first in a six part series that I now hope to collect and complete. To date, I have finish a the first fifth of it -- and I work on it all the time.
Between needlepoint, knitting, lace work (don't get too excited, I make it up as I go), sewing, needle felting (sculptures and wool paintings), spinning, crochet and cross stitch, it is hard to get to all of it and still go to work, fill any orders I might get and be a decent mother and partner. So, I stay up late and sneak time with all these handwork lovers and achieve what I can in those stolen moments. Sometimes I wonder what it was like when this was what the days were like, needlepoint and handwork arts and if I would have loved living then or whether I would have wished for something different.......

I'm Sorry, I Don't DO New Year's Resolutions

I know, that title is definitely a little bitchy- it can easily be said with the attitude of a hormone driven teenager, incensed by their parents' suggestion.
But, I'm not a teenager (well, on the surface) and I don't do resolutions.
I remember the first time someone told me about them, I was so small, a little slip of a girl (which is a whimsical way of saying "shorter and younger than I am now but with the same attitude) and I thought, "Wow, how exciting!"
I made them every year when I was younger:
"This year I will take a walk every day."
"This year I will get up every morning early and make mom breakfast."
"This year I will learn to do a split."
"This year I will run a mile every day."
"This year I will lose 20 pounds."
"This year I will be a more compassionate mother who speaks quietly and in constantly calm tones."
"This year I will be unflappable."
"This year....."
You get the picture.

The thing is, year after year after year, I disappointed myself. All those lofty goals and expectations, left a wake of un-acquired goals and each year, I lost a little more faith in myself. Even as I saw people around me not quite meeting their marks, they did far better than I did and little by little I felt worse about myself.
So, when last year rolled around, I thought, "If the Mayans are right, I could be far more evolved by the end of this year and if Western Culture's shock-factor approach to the Mayan calendar is correct, there might be an apocalypse and I may not be here at all. Either way, I should probably get my butt in gear."
So I chose one thing but NOT as a resolution. I chose it as a daily practice and I put as little emphasis on it as possible.
And one day at a time, like every thing else in this life, I did this one thing. I missed some days but, with a determination I didn't realize I had, I kept at it.
I don't know why this year of all years I managed. I don't know why it was easier but maybe I can thank that auspicious year of 2012 for a little boost in the evolution department. And despite everything that changed and moved and revolved and resolved and all the ups and downs, I did in fact spend one year creating a daily practice. A little thing, something that someone might call "nothing" but that "nothing" changed everything just enough to reset my orbit.
So, now I am mulling over something new as one practice comes full circle.
I am leaning towards spending a year honoring my body. A strange idea and somehow selfish - though I know it's really not.

This body has grown four children- from scratch, stretching and growing to accomodate an entire human being (isn't that amazing?!) and it birthed them and nursed them -- for eleven consecutive years, I might add. And it is scarred and tattooed and sore and strong--- And it is growing older with as much grace as it can muster- and I spend no time honoring all the things it has done for me in all these years I've been blessed with, this go round on the planet.
So, perhaps it is time to honor it with a daily yoga and meditation practice.
Perhaps it is time to look in the mirror and see this skin I'm in and say, "Thank you" before moving into a sun salutation.