Pizza Friday -- 1/6/2012 Edition

This week for pizza Friday Liam wanted to have a party.  The key elements of this were decorations and cake.  So, Thursday night we made a chocolate cake and wrapped it up tight.  While I was at work on Friday morning he and the babysitter blew up about 25 balloons and hung them all over the house with streamers.  Friday afternoon when I got home, after we made the pizza dough, we made some chocolate frosting.  The vegan (bless him) brought ice cream, which, of course, he doesn't even eat, and we ginned up an ice cream cake.  We also ate, again, this kale salad because I simply cannot get enough of it this time a year.  (We make it without the cheese.)

Mostly though we enjoyed the balloons.  And the four-year old.  And the pizza.

Liam's babysitter has a cast

She is lovely and talented and injured herself skiing. (Too much, much too much, very fast; she is a ski school instructor for tiny, little children, 3-year olds, but injured herself skiing on her own time.) 

She had a full length cast for about 4 weeks and was not babysitting, but now has a below the knee almost-walking-cast and is working herself back into the babysitting rotation.  So far, so good.  Her cast is purple and has made a big impression.  Although she is not yet supposed to put too much weight on her broken leg, she apparently excels at hopping using only one crutch.

If you look closely you can see Liam's cast, which is a blue pipe cleaner wrapped around his right leg.

We are falling into our old routines and schedules.  Pre-school.  Babysitter.  Work.  Welcome 2012, so far so good.

Ready for peas

The pea brush is up; it needs a little filling in here or there, but it's basically ready.  And the ground is roughed up and compost added.  December was so dry that I was even able to work the soil enough to get a little weeding done.  Liam loves to help with the pea brush, but will weed for only about 10 minutes.  He pulled some carrots and then played a complicated pretend game involving trucks.  If there is a better way to spend new years day, I don't know it. 

We won't plant until February or early March.  This year, I think we'll grow Avalanche, again; we have a small growing space, so productivity is important.  It was slow to start last year but once it came on, it went great.  I'm toying with the idea of growing it on the new-this-year wire front fence too.  Is it possible to have too many peas? I don't think so.

Happy new year everyone!

Say yes

That's my resolution for 2012, and I'm starting early, today in fact.  I know we're all supposed to resolve to do less, take better care of ourselves, lose weight and the rest; and I've got my list of those types of things too, for sure.  But for Liam and me what I really want is to make space in my head, and my heart, and within my responsibilities to say yes a lot more.

Yes, you can go outside and scrape the car at 8:15 on Saturday morning even though we're not going anywhere. . .just because you want to, and there's no reason, really, to say no.  Yes, I will go with you.  Yes, you can feed the birds. . .stir the worms. . .play your music loud. . .leave the couch cushions like that overnight. . .peel the carrots. . .unpack the dishwasher. . .fold the towels all by yourself. . .put the laundry in the dryer even though it takes 100+ years. . .pour the water. . .watch Dinosaur Train on TV while we eat dinner in the living room (every once in a while).  Yes, I will crawl up to the top bunk and read you a story even though you refuse to sleep up there and I wouldn't let you anyway because every night at 1:00 AM you still crawl into my bed and there's no way I think you could safely navigate the ladder while half asleep.  

Yes, I will look. . .listen. . .watch. . ..  Yes, I will play "go fish," again. 

Yes.

What will you say yes to this year?

 

Happy Christmas

Well, I didn't intend to be gone for so long.  We had a lovely Christmas; made better because I decided to just say no to a big complicated dinner and made two soups, two salads, and a bunch of things to snack on instead.  Perfect.  We will definitely do that again.

Before Christmas (and before a quick trip to California to see Auntie Chris graduate, more on that later) we made yule logs for all our neighbors.  It was quite a process but we enjoyed every step.  Here's how it went.  First we went out to the vegan's house where he very kindly cut the logs and drilled the candle holes for us and let us gather cedar and hemlock and even wild holly in his woods. 

 

Then we cut the greens and stapled them to the logs.  Liam unwrapped the candles and put them in the logs.  We made tags and got them organized. Then we delivered them.  I am amazed at how much people like these.  This is something I remember from my childhood, my sister and I used to deliver them to all the neighbors in a wagon.  We will definitely do this again too.

 

I hope all visitors to this space find themselves surrounded by love and light during the holidays and always.

Remembering

Conscientious Objector

I shall die, but
that is all that I shall do for Death.
I hear him leading his horse out of the stall;
I hear the clatter on the barn-floor.
He is in haste; he has business in Cuba,
business in the Balkans, many calls to make this morning.
But I will not hold the bridle
while he clinches the girth.
And he may mount by himself:
I will not give him a leg up.

Though he flick my shoulders with his whip,
I will not tell him which way the fox ran.
With his hoof on my breast, I will not tell him where
the black boy hides in the swamp.
I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death;
I am not on his pay-roll.

I will not tell him the whereabout of my friends
nor of my enemies either.
Though he promise me much,
I will not map him the route to any man's door.
Am I a spy in the land of the living,
that I should deliver men to Death?
Brother, the password and the plans of our city
are safe with me; never through me Shall you be overcome. 

Do students still learn this Millay poem in school?  

It has been ringing in my head lately, a poem that Will always reminded me of, in a way; his refusal to aid or acquiesce in any way to his fate or to even buy in to the idea that what would come might come soon.  He was always steady as he went, always thought the next day or so would bring a new plateau, some new kind of stability, stabilizing treatment, a new routine, and we'd go from there, make that world as big as possible.  Steady.

Although not in the intended meaning, to me this poem always has a little bit of a "live every day for the living" flavor to it.  The idea that you could be a spy in the land of the living by serving death in any way, including by not living your own life.  And there is a little bit of the cheating death altogether idea to it, too, for me.  At any rate, I can't explain exactly how Will reminded me of it, and perhaps it makes no good sense to anyone except me, since those meanings are certainly not born out by the poem's context.  But it's a useful poem, I think, all-the-same, and topical these days, and I've been thinking of it, so here it is.  Never through me shall you be overcome. 

We miss him deeply today.  One year on, and forward into the next because, after all, what else is there but forward.

"Never"

It can be odd to parent an anxious child.  I resist orientation towards labels, but I know what the counselor has said, and I see the obsessive wanting to know, know, know exactly what will happen next in Liam.  I hope he'll grow away from it, or learn to manage it better.  At any rate.

Yesterday we were reading a book about a kitten which was "small and fluffy and had an air of confidence about it."

I said: Liam, when do you have an air of confidence?

What's confidence?

When you're not worried at all because you know you can do it.

(Voice full of wonder and incredulity) Never.

(Trying to redirect) Well, I think sometimes you do, like when you put on your shoes, or when you draw pictures.  And, if you haven't felt that way too much yet, you will more soon, as you get older and learn more things.

I haven't felt that way yet.

Sigh.