To One Hundred and Twenty

Yesterday, was my birthday, and it was a significant birthday at that.
When I was young, the age I am now seemed impossibly far away--after marriage, after children (yeah, I didn't realize that there is no 'after children')--and certainly after the 8th grade for heaven's sake!

But somehow, the earth kept orbiting the sun, and the years kept passing--faster and faster, it seems--and now I have reached that age that I had once defined as "old." Others, it seems, define it so as well. AARP recently sent me an offer of membership. But of course, it is unlikely my generation will ever see those social security benefits we've been paying for since we started working. So if I were to get an AARP membership, it would only be to emulate the boomers when they were young, and burn it in a protest march.

So here I am, having reached my childhood goal of being "old", only to think that I am not so old at all! I don't wear purple (at least not often), my trousers are only rolled when I have to wade through the snow (creeks being somewhat scarce here), and I certainly don't drive like an old lady (except on a very blizzardy day in the canyon).

Fortunately, when my beloved Engineering Geek toasted me over the cake, which was presented at a New Mexico Patriot Alliance meeting, he said, "May you live to 120!" This comes from the age at which Moses died, at which time "his eye had not dimmed, nor had his moisture fled." So the blessing implies living to a righteous old age enjoying life of the mind and a little loving now and then.

My fellow patriots presented me with a plaque that honored me as the "mother of the R3volution". And I quipped that I am happy that they didn't say "grandmother of the R3volution". But the EG's toast did give me a wonderful new goal, now that I realize that my current age is not "old." Old is 12o! And now I have a new goal: to live to be 120! Which would take me well into the second half of the current century. A worthy goal.
What miracles and wonders would I see, should I live so long?

And so, given my venerable age and gender, I wish to change my mind. I'll tell my patriot friends that I do want to be "the grandmother of the R3volution." When I am old. When I am closing in on 120!

May we all live "to 120!"

Sixteen Candles . . . and One to Grow On!

NEARLY WORDLESS WEDNESDAY

Sixteen years ago, when I was transported to the hospital in labor with the Boychick, Albuquerque was in the middle of a decade-long drought, and there was no snow in sight.

That drought ended, and we moved up to the mountains, the combination of which has meant that we regularly have snow sometime within the week of the Boychick's birthday.

Yesterday, we had snow in morning, and then snow again overnight last night, just a day after we celebrated another trip around the sun for Boychick.


Before the snow, Boychick got his wish and we spent the afternoon of his birthday in town, frequenting a guitar store, and the bookstore. We stopped and got a German Chocolate Cake, candles and T-bone. The Engineering Geek had to shovel the way to the grill, but we had the Boychick's favorite dinner.

Although he's now taller than me, he still wanted a candle "to grow on" so here is the Boychick, ready to blow out 17 candles.

The trip to the guitar shop was fruitful. The Boychick got a small amp for his birthday. Like the RCA puppy before him, Umbrae cocks his head trying to figure out what is making that noise.

The Boychick here practices his acting ability. Frankenstein, about to attack a giant piece of cake,

complete with ice cream.

At least we know the Boychick can use those calories for growning. The Engineering Geek and I have no such excuse! But we had some anyway, just to be companionable.






No, he's not twenty-one. That will happen in another five years.
But that bubbly is sparkling apple cider.
It's sweet, and it's great for a toast.

To the Boychick! Here's to another great trip around the sun!

The evening ended with entertainment provided by the Boychick and the new amp--small, but it has good sound.

Doing the dishes went quickly as we listened.

Sixteen? Soon I am going to have to come up with another nickname for the Boychick. Manchick just doesn't do it for me, somehow.

Another Trip Around the Sun, Almost "Old and Wise'

As I mentioned in the previous post, today is my birthday. I am starting another trip around the sun today.
Since I am nearing fifty, the Boychick told me that I am almost "old and wise."

Thanks, kid. Can I take the wise without the old, please?

Here is my birthday song this year, Alan Parson's Old and Wise, from Eye in the Sky:




" . . . And someday, in the mist of time,
If they asked me if I knew you,
I'd smile and say you were a friend of mine.
And the sadness would be lifted from my eyes.
When I'm old and wise."

Grandma Madge: Time Stand Still!

With all of the happy news in our family, you'd think we'd be complete.
But now there is a new member of the extended clan,
and Aunt Madge, of Camp Aunt Madge fame, has become Grandma Madge.

My nephew and his wife announced the arrival of their daughter, Lily Marie, during the week of Hannukah. Here she is, on her birthday, being held by a very pleased Grandma Madge!

This makes my mother a great grandmother, and me a great aunt! Hmmm. Madge doesn't really look like a grandma . . .

We're too young for these extended titles.
I thought Mother of the Bride (MOB), my new working title, quite mature enough.

My, but the wheel of the years seems to be turning faster and faster. Tomorrow I will enter the tail-end of the fifth decade of my life. Whoa, girl! What's the hurry? "Freeze this moment a little bit longer . . ."





"I let my skin get too thin
I'd like to pause,
No matter what I pretend
Like some pilgrim --Who learns to transcend
--Learns to live
As if each step was the end . . .

"Summer's going fast, night's are growing colder,
Children growing up, old friends growing older . . .
Experience slips away,
Experience slips away . . .

"Freeze this moment a little bit longer,
Make each sensation a little bit stronger,
Experience slips away . . .
The innocence slips away . . ."
Rush, Hold Your Fire

Samurai Baker

This weekend I celebrated another trip around the sun in fine style. One of the greatest pleasures of it being my birthday, is that I do not worry about getting or making the cake.
This year, N. made the cake for the first time, and MLC advised and took the pictures.
I was banished from the kitchen.

Here, N. can be seen mixing some the ingredients together with an electric hand mixer. He told his sister that he thinks I should receive a professional mixer--"you know, the kind with big metal bowl attached"--for some future "occasion upon which mom can expect a present."

Here, we have 'Samurai goes high tech."

For some reason I was not privy to, the young padawan decided to change tools. Remember, I was banished from the kitchen.

The hand mixer went away and the food processor came out. Maybe he likes it better because there is the possibility of using sharp implements of destruction?

Is it a new martial arts form?

Or does it represent mindful joy that the food processor works?

This one is rather fussy and if the top is not connected to the bowl just so, it refuses to go.

At any rate, we can see that the grasshopper is having a great deal of fun.

The cakes are out of oven.

Note the serene smile of accomplishment. And although no picture documents it, the dishes were also all done, and the supplies were put away. That is surely living in the moment and showing respect for all living things, including his mother.

When Bruce and I arrived home from dinner out with friends last night, I was led into the breakfast nook, and here it is...a Samurai masterpiece.

Note how old I am according to the numbers on the cake. My AS kid has either developed a wonderful sense of humor, or he has learned a fine social skill. Yes, my young apprentice, flattery will get you everywhere!

Reason number 1123 for homeschooling. At least you will live with the satisfaction that your homeschooled padawan will not only be able to cook, but clean up as well.

And no, I will not tell you exactly how many times I have been around the sun.

A woman has a right to discretion in certain matters.

Fourteen Trips Around the Sun

Last night's birthday celebration combined with Shabbat went very well.
I have never been the Chuck-E-Cheese birthday party mother, anyway.
N. was never thrilled about the noise and confusion of those kind of birthday parties to begin with, and when he attended such celebrations for other kids, he usually wanted to be taken home early.
Anyway, my home-made lasagna beats pizza parlor cooking hands down.
And leftovers are a beautiful thing.

So I spent the afternoon cooking, and since N. invited MLC's boyfriend, and A. was still with us, we had a full table.

My Challah was a hit!

We don't cut the Challah with a knife on Shabbat. Rather, everyone holds the Challah while the blessing is said, and then we become "holy tearers." (The picture is the second go-around on the Challah. I was flattered).

The reward of an afternoon cooking--I enjoyed many compliments on my cooking. The greatest compliment of all, though, was that almost everyone wanted seconds.

Then it was time for the cake.

We cheat a little, and have the cake complete with candles, even on Shabbat. Fourteen candles makes quite a blaze!

We are hopelessly old fashioned. We go for the full number of candles, instead of the candle-numbers. If the birthday kid is under 18, we include "one to grow on!"

He moved when I snapped this one, but look at the smoke from all those candles.

N. was really into celebrating fourteen trips around the sun. He has now experienced fourteen examples of each season. And he has seen some other cool things--like comets, meteor showers, and lunar eclipses.

I am having a hard time believing that my bouncing baby boy is becoming a young man. Yikes--as my friend Steph said.

Of course, there were presents.

Two that N. specifically requested were a Taekwondo headband and a dragon necklace.

Here, his helpful older sister tied the knot.

He also got two books, a T-shirt, and a bookstore gift certificate. And MLC's boyfriend gave him a bag of sweets and treats.

It was a very good birthday celebration. Last year, his birthday was overshadowed by his Bar Mitzvah. This year, we were back to our usual mode of celebration. It's probably a bit tame for some tastes. It is not the birthday extravaganza to outdo the Jones.

This kind of birthday works for us, though. I think N. gets more of what he wants: adult attention, fun conversation, and good food that he likes. And the atmosphere does not over-tax his senses.

We don't know the Jones anyway.

N.'s Archery and Challah-day Birthday

Yesterday, MLC and I went into town to "get a few things." N, who was preoccupied with entertaining his friend A., whose dad came home from the hospital yesterday, did not act as if he had the slightest suspicion about the nature of these errands.

Fourteen years ago today, at this time, I was checking into the hospital. We had planned a homebirth, but I had been confined to bed with pre-eclampsia and I was having early labor pains. At 4 PM, the doctor broke the waters, and real labor quickly ensued. N. was born at 9:07 PM, after a very short, very intense labor.

For this Shabbat birthday, N. has requested an Oreo Cake, my home-make Challah, and his favorite meal, lasagna. Oh, and chicken soup with matzah balls. I told him that three out of four on the home-made list was a pretty good deal. MLC and I purchased a cake and a few presents in town, yesterday.

This morning, I started on the Challah.
It is quite a production because I use a high-altitude recipe (even the usual modifications for 3500 feet and above do not work at 7000 feet) and I use the food processor to knead the dough. This means that I am constantly working between two books.
And I have to divide the ingredients amounts into two, because the food processor cannot handle nearly seven cups of flour at once.

Today, after forgetting the sugar in the first half--I hadn't had my cup of coffee yet--I swore that I am going to type up the altered recipe in a more organized fashion, on one sheet of paper as I do it! And I will, right after I post this blog entry...




The Challah came out well, despite the chaos of baking and serving breakfast to the whole family in two shifts.

Actually, I made the boys some breakfast drink and gave them bowls and spoons. They got out the cereal and milk. I am not a Better Homes and Gardens poster child!

While the dough balls were on the first rising, I ate some breakfast and drank some coffee with Bruce and MLC.
During the second rising, I cleaned up the mess and washed the dishes. During the third rising of the braided loaves, I pre-heated the oven, mixed matzah-ball dough, and started some chicken soup.


While I was monitoring the bakings, N. was working his arm on his new compound bow.
MLC's boyfriend had gotten N. this bow for late Hannukah. It has a 50 pound draw, and N. is drawing it 10 times, three times a day, to strengthen his arm.

It was kind of cool when N. received the bow. He looked it over, in an excited way, and then inspected the arrows. He talked about the workings of the compound bow, the fringe that makes the draw and snap silent for hunting, and the type of arrow points.
MLC's boyfriend was impressed.
"Where did you learn that?" he asked.
"Unschooling," N. replied. "I have two books and a magazine about it."


Every now and then, I am brought up short by the stuff this kid has learned without my expert guidance.

A. has entered a different world.
When he came over, I explained that we limit TV here.
He announced rather dramatically, "I can't live without TV!"
MLC said to him, "Wow, you don't have much of a life, then."
N. said, "You don't need TV to tell you what to think."

As it stands, the boys have been so busy that they have only watched one movie this entire week. Right now, they are working on how to calculate distances using the sights on the compound bow.
A. doesn't know that he has entered the world of unschooling, as he does math uncousciously, for his own ends!

Soon, I must get the lasagna set up and ready for baking. I have to form the matzah balls and get the soup warming. We will have Shabbat dinner with birthday dinner tonight. Oh, and just in case I did not get enough present-wrapping in a few weeks ago, I need to wrap a few today.

Fourteen years ago, I was explaining to the labor nurse that, no, we would not have a circumcision in the hospital. It would take place in eight days at home, with a mohel. Now I am smelling the wonderul aroma of fresh baked bread, and getting ready to do a little cooking.

Fourteen years ago, I cradled my nine pound baby boy, and he fit into the crook of one arm. Today, he is almost as tall as I am, and he recently hit 100 pounds. He knows things that I don't--like the parts of a compound bow and how to use the sights by distance--and he has interests that I never imagined. He is all boy, and I like who he is becoming!