Dear Critters

I have a request to make of all critters out there: Please, I beg you, stand still when I am trying to locate you with my binoculars to identify you or when I am trying to get a picture of you! Stop hiding behind trees and in the brush! Don't run away from me!

I know you think that I am plotting to do you some harm, or that I am considering having you for dinner.  I'm honestly not interested in you as a meal.  What I really want to do is take your picture so I can upload it to Facebook and iNaturalist.  Then I'll go away and leave you alone.



Hey, raccoon! Move closer to the trail just a bit
so I can get a better picture!

A few weeks ago I acquired an actual new-to-me camera, and I've been playing around with it trying to figure out how it works (I know, I could read the manual, but this way is more fun. Really.)  I had envisioned that what was going to happen was that I was going to take this marvel of technology out into the woods, and all the birds were going to fly around my head as if we were in a Walt Disney movie, chirping gleefully and posing like models while I snapped away.

This is NOT what happened.

I could hear the birds- but I couldn't actually see the birds.  And when I could see the birds with my eyeballs, I couldn't find the birds with the camera. Clearly, bird-finding is a skill that will require more practice.  I'm not terribly unhappy about that; it's another reason/excuse to get outside and on the trails.

When I got home, I downloaded the pictures I had onto the laptop.  My son wandered over to take a look, and the first thing he said was "How come  you took so many great blue heron pictures?"

At least the great blue herons will stand still.

Because, unlike sparrows or woodpeckers, great blue herons stand still- and they're easy to find.

Since the walking around and staring at trees technique wasn't working out like I'd planned, I thought I'd try staying in one place until the birds came to me.  If I made myself part of the landscape, my thinking went,  maybe all the critters would eventually ignore my presence.  I chose a likely spot and sat quietly, and just as I started getting impatient, a woodpecker appeared nearby and started pecking away.  Just as I had the woodpecker in view, however, my phone rang.  It was my son, wanting to see if he could go to his friend's house to play Legos.  The woodpecker flew off.

(Naturalist tip #1: turn your mobile device to silent when trying to move stealthily through the woods). 

On one of my practice excursions, I decided to try taking pictures of birds flying.  This was not as easy as other people make it look when they share pictures of birds in flight.  I could see the birds, because they were in the sky.  But they were flying around! I tried to anticipate where the bird was going and get a picture of it that way.  This somewhat worked:

At least I can tell it's a turkey vulture.

And this one isn't too bad, for an absolute beginner.



Almost centered!

Taking pictures of birds would definitely be a lot easier if the bird would pose in plain sight and not hide behind some branches:


Could you move a bit so I can see you clearly?

However, my time outdoors has not been entirely filled with uncooperative subjects.  The other day I was walking along the trail and a lovely Eastern phoebe flew in front of me, landed on a fence post, and stayed still while I was able to get several pictures. 

Eastern phoebe, just being cute.

Thank you, phoebe, for your assistance in my efforts. The rest of you, cooperate, please!

Christmas Letter

I don't send out Christmas cards anymore because I am lazy and most of the people I'd send a card to are also my friends on Facebook so I can just post "Merry Christmas everyone!" and achieve pretty much the same result of spreading Christmas cheer but in a more eco-friendly way.  However, I enjoy reading the letters that other people send to me in their holiday greetings.  Most of them are very upbeat and full of successes and adventures. The letters are always accompanied by adorable photos of the family which clearly took a lot of time and planning.

If I did write a Christmas letter, however, it would probably not sound like those letters.  It would probably sound more like this:

Dear Friends and Family,

Enclosed is a picture of the kids. You'll notice that the grass is brown, they are wearing summer clothes and neither one looks particularly enthusiastic.  That's because this picture was actually taken on the first day of school and it was about a hundred degrees outside. If the Son of Never Stops Eating's shirt looks a little small, it is. He grew a lot since I bought it. However, it is his favorite shirt and I just haven't had the heart yet to sneak into his room in the middle of the night, pick the shirt up off the floor and hide it at the bottom of the Goodwill box.

Earlier this year we had some extreme excitement when the Teenager finally got her braces taken off.  This meant that we no longer had to make a 30 mile round-trip drive down a freeway under major construction every two weeks for a five minute appointment.  This past summer, on her mission trip to Tennessee, she called us in a panic because she had stepped on her retainer and thought she had broken it, but it turned out that she'd only bent a wire.  Crisis averted.

We thought about taking a family vacation somewhere spectacular, like Alaska or Yellowstone, or maybe a six week trek through Europe, but then we remembered that marching band camp starts on August 1 and apparently there is this zero tolerance policy about missing the first week, so we ended up just driving down to Grandpa's house for a few days.  It worked out well because the kids ate all his food and saved me a fortune on my grocery bill.

In related marching band news, I sold over $500 worth of band pies for the annual fundraiser.  Let me tell you, $500 worth of pies is a lot of pie.  Also, the pies all had to be kept frozen and our freezer is just not that big.  It was really stressful at the time, but looking back, it was a hilarious family bonding experience. 

Due to a massive wind storm that came through the area in early summer, we got a new fence.  Since our old fence was original to the house, this is a dramatic improvement in the appearance of our property.  The new fence doesn't lean into the alley at an awkward angle, so our neighbors are probably also happy about the new fence, and the city has stopped sending us letters from the code enforcement officer.  Earlier in the year, we had a massive line clog in the kitchen and couldn't use the sink, the dishwasher or the laundry room.  It took about ten days to get it fixed. Homeownership is such a joy!

In other news, we also had to get new brakes for the older car and a new washing machine. Two days after the new machine was delivered, it stopped running. locked up, and started flashing codes. After seven hours on the phone with the manufacturer's customer service department, it was determined that the mystery codes meant "This washing machine is defective".  The customer service agent said that she'd never seen that code before, so she learned something new. Our second new washing machine seems to be functioning as designed.  I was so relieved that the laundry that got locked in there was some old bed sheets and not anything like our underwear or the marching band uniform.

We have a lot of exciting things to look forward to in 2017, including the Teenager taking her driving test, getting new duct work installed in our attic and starting the college application process.   This will also be my last season as a high school marching band parent.  I'm trying to decide how I feel about that.

May you have a fantastic Christmas and a wonderful New Year!

His Heart's Desire

The Son of Never Stops Eating has been working diligently on his Christmas wish list.

How do I know this, you might ask?  Because he reminds me about it constantly.  He has all his favorites bookmarked or memorized, and just when you're busy doing something like trying to take a lasagna out of the oven or paying bills, he'll walk over with the iPad and show you exactly what he'd like to find under the tree on December 25.

A few days ago, I was down with a stomach virus.  Not just any ordinary stomach bug, either; this one seemed especially designed to kick my butt into the next century.  I was laying in bed rolled up into a human ball of endless agony while fervently wishing that aliens would come abduct me and take me to another dimension when the Son of Never Stops Eating walked in the bedroom and stood over me, a concerned look on his face.

Hi, Mom, he said.  How are you doing?

I think I replied by moaning something like "go away", or, more likely, "uuhhggghhhh".

He leaned over me with the family iPad in hand and said, "Mom, I just want to show you this Lego City Prisoner Transport set on Amazon.  It says right here there are only four left. Maybe you should buy it now".

A thousand curses on whoever taught that kid to read.

Hint to all youngsters working on their list of heart's desires for Santa Claus to fulfill on Christmas morning: When your mother is laying down in bed because she's too sick to get up, that is not the most strategic time to bring up your Christmas shopping list.  Your only move should be to ask, "Can I get you a glass of ginger ale and then leave you alone?". 

The Son of Never Stops Eating's birthday is only twenty days before Christmas, so if he's not pondering what he wants for Christmas, he's pondering what he wants for his birthday. I totally get that;  I've been known to spend hours on the computer drooling at cameras and binoculars that I wish would magically be dropped down my chimney by the guy in the red suit with all the reindeer.  But he's just so darn persistent in making his heart's desire known.

I actually feel like there is a double standard at work here.  He has no problem showing me his heart's desires on the iPad several times a day, even though I tell him that I got it; I know what he wants. His wish list is embedded into my brain. But if I ask him to pick up his room or feed the dog more than once, I'm being an annoying, nagging mother and I get the sigh and the eyeroll and the attitude.

The other day, he was very curious as to what my plans were for the day after Thanksgiving.  I have a personal rule of never venturing near any retail establishment on Black Friday unless it is under extreme duress.  As an introvert, I am not a fan of massive crowds in narrow aisles all aiming to get the last of whatever the hot gift item is of the year.  Ordering online is a dream come true.

Why do you want to know, I asked him? I'm probably going to try to go for a hike if it's nice outside.

I thought  you might want to go to Target, he responded.

Target? I said. Why would I want to go to Target on Black Friday? I'm not going anywhere near there.

He stared at me like I was missing some extremely vital fact. Then he sighed, pulled out the iPad, and said "Mom, because the Lego City Volcano Explorer set might be on sale! It's my heart's desire!"

I'm not going to Target on the day after Thanksgiving, I told him. He looked disappointed for a brief minute and then cheered up. 

Don't worry, Mom! he said. There's always Amazon!

So, between now and Christmas, if you see me in my car hiding out in a parking lot, or at the local coffee shop, sitting in a corner and trying to look inconspicuous, I'm escaping from the iPad with the list of heart's desires on it.  Don't tell anyone where I am.

The Low Bar

The older I get, the lower the bar becomes for success in certain endeavors.  One example: The traditional Thanksgiving feast.

For years, the Dad of No and I labored over providing a home-cooked, festive Thanksgiving feast to anyone who was in our home on Thanksgiving Day.  Actually, I should say that the Dad of No did a significant amount of laboring because (and I know I am about to reveal heresy here) I have no idea how to cook a turkey, and he does.

I do know how to make that green bean casserole, though.  The kind with the crunchy onions on top that everyone makes once a year for Thanksgiving.  I mention this because I don't want anyone to think I am a total failure in the Traditional Thanksgiving Dinner cooking category.  If you ever invite me to your house for Thanksgiving, sign me up for the green bean casserole.  I can guarantee perfection. 

Once, I found a recipe for a "healthier" version of that casserole from a healthy eating magazine, and I made that instead.  It turned out that what everyone really wanted was the kind with the canned green beans and the canned mushroom soup, not the green bean casserole that involved searching out organic fresh green beans and making a creamy mushroom sauce from scratch.  I tossed that recipe away.

A few years ago the Dad of No was scheduled for surgery the week of Thanksgiving.  I don't remember exactly how that went down, but the Grandparents of No were coming and at first, the Grandpa of No said, hey, we'll just go out to eat dinner, and for various reasons that didn't work out, and then someone hit upon the ideal situation of ordering the dinner pre-cooked from a local grocery store.

I placed the order online and on the day before Thanksgiving, I went and retrieved the dinner. It came in a large cooler bag, and contained a turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry relish, rolls, some vegetables, and gravy.  The grocery store even tossed in a coupon for a free pie.  I remember thinking, if I'd only known all these years.  The meal was delicious, and the kitchen was much easier to clean.

The pie was an extra bonus, because the other part of the traditional Thanksgiving Feast I am not very adept at is pumpkin pie. No one in my household likes pumpkin pie. I don't even like pumpkin pie that much.  Blueberry? Yes! Key lime? Yes! Chocolate? Yes! Yes! Yes!  Pumpkin? meh.  Whatever. I know, the Pilgrim Mothers would be shocked and appalled.

Until a few years ago, I did make a dessert for the Traditional Thanksgiving Feast, which was usually some kind of chocolate because that's the only thing that everyone likes.  Then the Teenager became a member of the high school marching band, and in a twist of fate that can only be described as serendipitous, the marching band sold pies right before Thanksgiving!

Now, I obtain the Thanksgiving pre-cooked meal from the grocery store, make the unhealthy version of the green bean casserole with the canned soup and fried onions, and buy a few band pies.  Voila, my work here is done.

Just in case someone is reading this thinking that I am an awful person, flouting tradition like this, let me assure you: the Family of No does have Thanksgiving traditions- they just don't involve defrosting a raw turkey.  For about four years, the Teenager and I have volunteered to cut pumpkin pie at a local church the day before Thanksgiving in preparation for a large Thanksgiving dinner they conduct for the community, and then the day of Thanksgiving we get up early and go run (walk) a 5K Turkey Trot. This way, we can eat all the French Silk Chocolate band pie we want and not feel remotely guilty about it.

Rest assured, however, that the bar is not completely lowered.  I hardly decorate and I buy the dinner pre-cooked, but I do still use my wedding china.  It's the only time of the year it gets used.   The gravy boat, however, stays in the cabinet.  We just warm up the gravy in the container and put it on the table with a spoon.  It still tastes delicious.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. 

Charging

The Household of No has reached a milestone: we now have more gadgets that require charging than we do actual available electrical outlets.

Our house was built in the early 1980's, when most people only had one telephone unless you were a kind and gracious parent who loved your teenagers enough to get them their own land line, and then you had two telephones.  My parents chose not to spring for that second line, which meant that I had to have those top secret gushing about cute boys and complaining about the parents' unfair rules sessions with my BFF's while sitting on the floor in the pantry, staring at canned peas and flour and kitchen appliances that the Grandma of No hid in there, probably so that the neighbors wouldn't think she had a cluttered kitchen.

It likely never occurred to whoever built our house that one day outlet needs would move beyond a television, a microwave, and a toaster. 

Now everyone in my house has a phone of their very own. We have iPads and e-readers and rechargeable batteries for digital cameras and handheld game devices and every single one of these items has to be charged, and of course they all have to be charged at the same time, which would be 9:30 PM on Sunday night right after everyone in the house has finished watching The Walking Dead and we all realize at the exact same time that all of our devices need to connect to a power source before we go to bed in preparation for Monday.

My kids even have arguments about chargers.  My brother and I had our share of sibling conflict, but we never fought over whose iPad charger was plugged in by the sofa in the living room.

I should have anticipated this crisis a few years ago when I was traveling for work and ended up in a hotel room that had two available outlet plugs for my use. I had a laptop, a cell phone, an e-reader, and a digital camera, all of which needed to be charged.  I made the mistake of unplugging the only light in the room that was turned on so that I could use its outlet, and immediately stubbed my big toe on a piece of furniture that had decided to move while the lights were out.  The next day I was limping around in pain. One of my co-workers noticed and asked why I was hobbling around.

I was trying to find an outlet to charge my phone and I think I broke my toe, I told him.  He just nodded and made no further comment.

I have a box in one of my kitchen cabinets that has extra charger cords. I would be willing to bet that some of them probably go to devices that we no longer actually have. It seems to be some cosmic universal rule that every device has to have its own specific charger, and they seem to break rather easily.  One day in the distant future, alien archaeologists from a neighboring galaxy will be conducting a dig where my house once stood; they will find these charger cords and be perplexed.

At least this is a problem that will be solved with time; in less than two years the Teenager will be moving out and taking about a third of all these electronic devices with her.  I just hope the dorm room she moves into has more than four electrical outlets.  It will be a good opportunity to practice some negotiating skills with a roommate.

In the Woods

I walk in the woods
To mend my soul.

I must abide here for awhile
Quiet, still, calm

I hear the river in the distance flowing.

Like many a dragonfly
My wings are tattered

But I will still fly.

I stand and let the wind
Flow through me

One day soon I will hear the squawk
Of the Great Blue Heron

Summoning me back
Once again to venture into the world.

Sibling Love

The other day, after school and work and before dinner, the Son of Never Stops Eating and I went for a walk down to the park, along with the family mutt.  As we were meandering along, letting the dog sniff the grass, he mentioned that they had talked about texting and driving at school.

Texting and driving is bad, he informed me.  No one should text and drive.  You can get pulled over by the POLICE!  Or you can get into a BAD accident with your car.  A really bad accident and the ambulance will come!

I nodded in agreement.

Mom, he said, I don't want you to ever text and drive. And when I drive I am NOT EVER going to text and drive.  Because it's bad, and I don't want to get into an accident. And I don't want to get a ticket from the police.

I told him I agreed. I didn't want him texting and driving, either.

And, he said, I'm going to tell MY SISTER to never text and drive.  Because I don't want her to get into an accident.  So I'm going to tell her no texting and driving!

To that, I just raised my eyebrows, smiled, and made noncommittal "good luck with that" sounds.

I can only imagine how that discussion will go over with the Teenager.  One thing I feel sure of is that sixteen year old girls don't really enjoy getting lectures, even well-meant ones, from their younger brothers on things they should not be doing. 

My two kids have had what I think of as the typical love-hate relationship between two siblings somewhat close in age.  One minute they would be in the Teenager's room having a "campout", watching videos on TV and eating popcorn while snuggled up in a nest constructed of every blanket we own.  The next day, the love would evaporate and be replaced with the complaint every parent knows:  MOM! TELL HIM/HER TO STOP BOTHERING ME!

Several years ago, I hit upon one of my favorite parenting techniques, called the "Rest Stop Calisthenics Offspring Bickering Reduction Technique". I was on a road trip with the two little darlings to see the Grandparents of No. The two kids had been fighting in the back of the car about everything from where we were going to stop for lunch (I want McDonalds! Well, I HATE McDonalds! I want Sonic! Sonic sucks! We always go where you want to go and it's NOT FAIR!) to "MOM! Tell him to stop looking at me!" "Mom, she's kicking me!" "I'm not kicking you! Stop trying to get me in trouble!".

I noticed an exit sign for a rest stop, so I took it and pulled over.  I ordered the two miscreants out of the vehicle and told them to stand by a table and do jumping jacks until I told them to stop.  They both stared at me for a minute, trying to decide if I was serious.

Start now! I told them, in my best drill sergeant voice.  They looked at each other as if to say "I think she's serious!" and then began jumping. After about twenty jumping jacks, I had them stop and then race around the tables and up and down a small hill. By then they were both out of breath and laughing.  Ten minutes later we were back in the car, one asleep and the other watching a movie on the mini DVD player.  It was pure parental bliss. For the rest of the trip, I heard not a single bicker from either one.

Of course, a day later, the warm fuzzies had worn off and everything returned to normal, which is to say that they were arguing about who got to watch what on TV and complaining about the other one doing something obnoxious like eating all the Doritos or not flushing the toilet. 

However, they both watch out for each other even while they don't want to admit that they even like each other. That is why I think it's incredibly sweet that the Son of Never Stops Eating is worried about his sister texting while driving even though I also know that when he tells her that she shouldn't do it, she'll probably roll her eyes and tell him he's being a pain and to go away.

Sibling love.