Sisters

While I was in Hawaii, when I was way too busy doing fun stuff to blog, I kept thinking of things that need to be examined in web print. So, in an effort to make it through the list, here goes topic number two.

I grew up a kid of the 50's, a teen of the 60's with an older sister who called me "the Brat". Why? I can't imagine, I am sure I was sweet and pink and rosy. I do remember someone quoting a little verse:

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very very good
And when she was bad
She was horrid.

I don't think I was the inspiration, but some might say I could have been.

Seriously, how could anyone say that about this little angel?

Oh wait... wrong angel...
But do you see any curls there? I rest my case.


My sister loved being with me. She couldn't wait to spend time with me...I can hear it now. "Here, hold the baby" "Oh boy, can I, can I? So much more fun than playing with my friends!"


"Hold her hand" "Hmm...How much trouble will I get into if I let go and she falls on her face in the snow?"


My sister loved me so much that she even gave me her favorite dress
"Look, she has your dress on. Doesn't she look cute?" OK, this might have brought out some sympathy. "How absolutely stupid to take pictures of us in the same dress. Come on Mom, get a life"


Oh yeah. That's Mel. She insisted on getting her picture taken with her little brother, because, just like her Aunt, she'd rather do that than anything. Except maybe wear the same dress...

But time goes by and life goes on and things change. Pretty soon I wasn't just the Brat (at least, I think that's true). Eventually, somewhere along the line, we found that we had something in common. Then, it was even more than that. She became my friend. No, not just that. She became what she always was...my sisterYeah, I guess I do have a curl...

Mrs. Mike and How Life Goes On

About a week ago I was reading Oprah magazine and I found some pretty interesting letters to the editor about something that made me think that after vacation I definitely need to blog on this. Then in another one of those 'like mother, like daughter' moments, Mel blogged about her favorite books. Well, here I go anyway... Mrs. Mike, by Ben and Nancy Freedman. Where do I start? On the surface, its a love story. A girl, a big strong Canadian Mounty. But in my life...so much more. I remember that my mom had a copy of the book. I was in 6th grade and one of those kids who would read anything and everything (I never wanted to go anywhere without a book..in case there was time to read a page or two. In fact, occasionally, I have to smile when I see a girl around that age at a restaurant with the whole family, but totally oblivious to anything going on around her, living in some other world between the pages of a book.). I can clearly remember being at a point that I couldn't put the book down (which has proven to be almost anywhere in that book) and taking it everywhere just in case there was a free moment.

It was my first 'grown up' book, a story about Kathy, a girl who became part of my life as she grew up from a 16 year old city girl to a strong woman of the rugged Canadian wilderness of the early 1900's (the original Pioneer Woman, for sure). Kathy's life is full of big and small things, and no matter whether the first time I met her or the 10th, I became a part of all of them. There were smiles and laughter (when she bakes a pie for Mike but doesn't soak the currents first), haunting sadness that comes from true pictures of life in the wilderness, and unforgetable scenes (the dinner table where they passed the water cup and when it came to Kathy, her reaction to the bean floating in the water).

I fell in love with Kathy like she was part of my family and I think she taught me a lot about how each life is touched by time and people and how one life can make a difference to other lives. Kathy was so important to me that I could hardly wait to introduce Mel to her. It touched my heart when she shared Mrs. Mike with the girls in her classroom and now we both look forward to when Kaela reaches the right age. How does a family legacy start? By a 12 year old bookworm turning a page...

Serene and Crispy Cold

I'm looking out the living room window and savoring the beauty of freshly fallen snow. The giant fir trees are weighted down and white lined. Rooftops look like Santa should be coming and the sky is clear blue, not a cloud around. There is a peace about a morning like this that can't be found anywhere else. I especially love the scene out the window this morning because I am taking a break from packing activities. In 24 hours, the view out my window will be very different -- sky, clouds below me and then, in less than 24 more hours -- ocean. Waves for sure, but I don't know what else to expect. Hawaii... unknown but closely watched and anticipated. Pictures to come! Mahalo!

Sniff....

It's funny how sometimes you will see something, or more often hear a song or smell a smell, and you are suddenly in another place at another time. Music does that for me often, but more than anything..smells. And more than any other smell -- dill.

One little sniff of dill and I am immediately standing in my grandmother's kitchen at the cottage. She is wearing a cotton dress and an apron over it. Sometimes the aunts are there too, and my mom. They are rattling dishes and moving around putting together all sorts of things to go with the hot dogs that are being cooked outside.

The trees in Canada made a sound unlike any other trees. They were huge and the leaves at the very top would move in the breeze and make that sound. Every now and again I'll hear that sound, usually when there is a storm working up, and again, I'm immediately transported. Now I'm watching my Uncle John mowing the lawn. My grandfather had a beautiful flower garden far on the side yard and the grass was always beautifully mowed. Uncle John took care of that as far as I know, and I remember a huge sweeper that followed the mower picking up the freshly cut grass.

When I see piles of leaves in the fall, I remember the huge pile of leaves one fall Sunday. There weren't any cousins at the cottage that day, just me. But there was a huge pile of freshly raked leaves (not only was the yard always mowed, but they raked it too!). I remember jumping and running and jumping. And then begging to be able to go home... the new fall shows were on tv and there was some show or another coming up on TV that I just couldn't miss.

The best thing about the cottage? It was family. The cottage was our family. Many of us were there every summer Sunday, others only on the 'must show' days... Father's Day and Grandpa's birthday, the official beginning and ending of the summer season. Whichever it was, the cottage was the place that Grandma and Grandpa surrounded themselves with their children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. One sniff of dill and there I am, right there again.

10 Day Forecasts

Just in case you were wondering... 10 days from now the weather in Kona is going to be sunny. 80 and sunny. I think it's going to be the same 9 days from now, but I won't be there. But 10 days from now, I'll be feeling the sun, smelling tropical smells ...and suffering from jet lag. Also, since I've heard that if you drink lots of water jet lag is reduced, I'll probably be spending my share of time in the bathroom.

I'll be checking the weather every day now, so if there are any changes, I'll let you know.

A tidbit

'Some nanotechnology products are applied directly to the skin, such as cosmetics and sunscreens. Titanium dioxide is commonly used as the white pigment in sunscreen. When it is ground into nanoparticles it can still block harmful ultraviolet radiation, but it allows visible light to pass straight through, which means modern sunscreens can appear completely transparent, while offering the same protection as the old white stuff.'

There ya go...in case you were wondering. We went shopping today and bought a few things for the upcoming trip of a lifetime. Kona here we come! Armed with SPF 30 (I hope I still tan) and a blow up pillow for the plane, we are 13 days and counting!!

In our small town

We live in a small town. Norman Rockwell must have been here. There is a lake in the middle of town with a gazebo on the opposite side. At Christmas time, candles are lit in containers around the shoreline and the Christmas tree floats in the middle of the lake. Santa even rows across the lake for the annual beginning of the Christmas season.




We care about each other in this small town. Even as relative newcomers, we share in the sense of small town-ness.


This morning we heard some heartbreaking news about some friends (in any other town, they would be acquaintances, but, as I said, this small town has this sense...). They have suffered a devastating loss, the death of their unborn child. As he told me, my heart ached. I saw his heart in his eyes and it was aching too. All I could think was "God's purpose". How can we know His purpose in things like this. We can't. More than once, in difficult times, I've been given a peace that the situation didn't warrant. I'm grateful that these friends know that His love is boundless and that His purpose is always perfect too, because without that love and assurance to rest on, how could you bear the pain?

How about Dick Clark?

I watched New Years Rockin Eve last night through the fog of my head cold and was amazed. How about him? His career is about as long as my life. I remember being a very little girl and my sister hurrying home from school every day to watch American Bandstand. He was almost one of the kids then, he was so young! Anyway, I just give him a lot of credit for fighting back through the disability of such a severe stroke to be able to hold his own on the broadcast last night. He must be quite a man.