I was so cute in 1977

My mom, Dee, made this for her grandmother's Christmas Tree. That'd be Gramma Bunnie's (Helen Jaques) mother, Great-Gramma Emma Ellis (nee Peterson), who lived as long as I knew her, in her white house on the corner in Canton, SD. It was this little girl who sat, curled up, under the buffet when the drunk antics of Uncle Lydell disturbed the peace of our Sunday afternoon at Gramma Emma's. This little girl learned, too, that death brings a deep complexity of emotion turmoil, when Uncle Lydell's drunk antics were ended, once and for all, by an exploding hay bailer. Every single birthday, this little girl got a birthday card from her great-grandmother containing one taped-in quarter and one-to-several sticks of Wrigley's gum du jour. Every year, it was addressed to a different variation of Diana Lambert in her shaky, old-fashioned, granny hand. Coffee reminds me of her; her house radiated warmth and coffee (and busom, I gotta say it, the woman was like 75% busom to me). Always the big enamel pot on the warming stove in the dining room. She'd dash to the kitchen to make a fresh batch when my dad arrived. If it was a baking day, she'd put aside some coffee to cool, to later mix with powdered sugar to frost a spice cake. A spice cake not from a box. Nor a recipe, for that matter. And this little girl would be invited to help. Not an imposition, a guest. Sometimes, in the summer we'd sneak to the kitchen and she'd give me an ice cream cone from her giant freezer that had a room of it's own. Aaaahh it was this little girl who forever linked baking in a kitchen (and busoms) to the most profound gift of love possible. Her scents hearken thoughts of acceptance and attention. When I make Spice Cake, I think of them, that woman and that little girl, the magic of a simple cake... yeah, and the busoms too. Thanks Emma ♥

The Warner Bros. Cartoon Posse

Hayden really enjoyed hanging these up ♥ Happiness bubbled right out of his every orifice while he manipulated these into this year's tree display. They're his on the tree every year ornaments. Magical, touchable, dare-I-say taste-able? holiday decor.
They surely came from Gramma Mimi, our Warner Bros. connection. They must've arrived early in our holidays together, I don't remember a South Dakota Christmas without them. They're definitely young family ornaments with memories attached: I remember both kids gnawing at them during several seasons. They've held up well ♥
[insert conversation about the missing foghorn-foghorn ornament and my newest quest to find him/one... updates soon]

A Gift of Gratitude

Friday I saw the end-of-her-rope mama and I approached her with unclenched heiney. And that's saying a lot. I practiced for hours at home. I talked to my friends. I sat in quiet contemplation. I processed what gift I could best give; I felt called upon to inspire this mama in a positive, loving way. In a way that would make a lasting impact on her right here, right now with her beautiful children. I breathed often and deeply. I processed and put aside my own baggage of judgment and sat in complete compassion. What would I need to hear from me? What would awaken me and inspire me? Wherein lies the gift? O the Gift. In the swishy quiet I found the answer: a blank card. A blank card with a baggie of Hannah in the bottom corner. I hugged that mama tight, first thing, loving too that desperate part of mySelf. Then I showed her the envelope which reads: A Reminder. I pull out the card and I ask that she, during the happy easy moments, take the time to list some points of gratitude & stash the card in her bag (adding to it constantly). The next time she finds herself needing the corner of the knit shop, she can pull it out, think of Hannah and remember...
She softened instantly. She knows I know. We know there are productive alternatives to destructive thoughts. A reminder is a good thing. Reminders and support and modeling are great things. Kindness in the throes of red-hot-anger is a freakin miracle ♥

The Mission, 1993

It's funny that I should buy this ornament to commemorate my first Xmas with Mitch, as just a few years later, Mitch spent Xmas inside the actual San Fernando Mission. At least his ashes did. Do. He's still there, in the cupboard in the mausoleum. There's a plaque that says "Son, Husband, Father" above

Mitch L. Jenner
June 15, 1968 - December 3, 2000

There's a doohickey attached there, too, for tokens to be left, like flowers; or, if you're like my kids, water balloons and dum-dum suckers.

One Last Day, Remembered...

There was panic before my mother-in-law's visit! Mitch had just begun slamming himself into every available doorway, as he lurched his half-working flesh through the house. His entire left side was darkly bruised, on top of becoming ever more limp since the stroke. I'd never want to see my own child in such a state, I knew she did not, either. I begged him to be careful, to move slowly and only when absolutely necessary. I realize, too, that it was only ass-lead inertia that moved him from room to room; only that deep breath of courage and a heave of body -working or not- in the general target direction and eventually, after bouncing off enough obstacles, that brought him to his destination of choice. Destination of determination. Determination to cling to the last vestige of independence. Bruises or no, I could not take it away.
His mom came and saw the reality. The really fucking sad reality of her big strong boy shriveling of body and expanding of soul. For two weeks they were gifted with one another, given the luxury of her special care and his specific need for her care. It was almost as though he put on a brave face about becoming weak. He was both patient and champion. He was both sick and recovering. He was needy and fiercely independent. He was dying. I remember snapping these photos thinking, Though I don't make him oatmeal with milk, I do produce a mean scramba-legg and toast breakfast & I want it documented for posterity. Both realizing and denying how close we are to the end of days.In *this* moment, these are kids who have less than 48 hours with their dad. And they know it's a possibility. And we're all eating scramba-leggs and life is good right now.
No sense in getting all caught up on whatever, whenever when daddy's here right now and we got hot food and good laughs right in front of us! No panic in them.

A Whine with your Crackers?

Just a little one, really.
I discovered last night that all of my local friends, with whom I've discussed Twilight, to whom I offered my audio versions, every single one of them has already seen the movie. Even the ones who asked that we not discuss the movie because it absolutely wasn't going to be seen.
No one called to invite me.
Do I smell bad? Yes. I know.
Is it so bad you don't want to go to a movie with me? Apparently, yes again.
What's so bad about hanging out in a movie theater with me?
I even have the 50 cent bucket we could share.
Inviting me now is just pity (though I will totally take you up on it, Kat!).
I just don't get it...
Never mind, I published then bled... now I feel better.

Gratitude, Gratitude, Gratitude

My RockMy SelfMy GiftsMy BoyMy NeighborsMy New PresidentMy SavingsMy Man & My DogMy FireMy CompanyMy PieMy Neighborhood DecorMy Heart, warmed by You

This book is stalking me!

Anne sent me this book. By India, I could not take another word. Then Christine sent me this book, I immediately regifted it to Mary. I worked hard to put the EPL frenzy out of my universe. Months ago, I actually downloaded it. I had a pretty stinky attitude about it though, so when the Dare's MP3 player couldn't keep the tracks in order, I figured it was the gods on my side, proving this book is not for me.
Then after months of quiet, the book appeared on the counter of Sunnyside Up. For many days in a row, it stared at me, subliminally challenging me to confront my own self and just hear what it has to say, promising not to take it personally if I find nothing, merely encouraging me to seek the possibility of enlightenment between these covers.
As one who is striving to take a hint in this life, I took this one. I put the tracks on my (amazingly cute orange) EnV & viola! the tracks are organized perfectly ♥ I'm at India again, she's buggin me again and this time, daggumit, I'm making to Indonesia & home.
Then I'm gonna really look deep at those places in my psyche most irritated by this story. It will be an amazing exploration in itself. Then I'll write the author and explain what she's done to me. No matter what, I'm gonna learn something here, I just know it!

One Rebellous Meme

The rules:
A) People who have been tagged must[who want to might] write their answers on their blogs & replace any question that they dislike with a new question.

B) Tag 8 people to answer the questions.

1. How many songs are on your iPod MP3 player?
I've got 323 tracks on my phone, at least 25 of them are for the audio books I'm listening to (Eat Pray Love -- finally! and some David Sedaris) and I've not yet moved the new David Cook album (I'll listen while I walk Charlie later today)

2. What music would you want played at your funeral?
Though Skyline Pigeon seems to be our family's funeral song of choice, I'd like some Raffi please. The whole group should be sure to "Shake [their] Sillies Out"

3. What magazines do you have subscriptions to?
US News & Weekly Report, Nat'l Geographic, X-Box, Game Informer

4. What are your favorite scents?
coffee, bread, marijuana, lilacs, mama-milk-fed babies, fresh rain, cut grass, bonfires, Hayden's puppy-scented head

5. If you had a million dollars that you could only spend on yourself, what would you do with it?
I'd find that perfect Frank Lloyd Wright-esque Arts & Crafts house, complete with stone fireplace, and move it onto land south of Corvallis. While waiting to move in, I'd treat my family to a European tour. I'd hire Cesar Millan to train us to be better pack leaders for Charlie, then I'd get a blue mastiff puppy and we'd name it Sir Snarfs-A-Lot Purple Jennerson. And we'd all ride around in my vintage volvo station wagon, probably powder blue.

6. What is your theme song?
Almost any Amy Steinberg song :D Exactly, Wide Sky Life and Grieve, especially.

7. Do you trust easily?
Yes, but I'm increasingly philosophical about the failure of most people to be trustworthy, especially those in power or authority (politicians, doctors, etc).

8. Do you generally think before you act or act before you think?
I think before, during and after.

9. Is there anything that has made you unhappy these days?
One kid-hating-mama I encountered, though that has been turned into redoubling my efforts to be kind, sweet and loving to the kids in my life (hers included)

10. Do you have a good body-image?
I think I have a realistic body image; I'm learning more and more to accept and love and nourish the body I've got.

12. How do you spend your social networking (Facebook, etc.) time?
Thinking and typing ;-P

13. What have you been seriously addicted to lately?
I've no serious addictions, addictions should be lighthearted and fun! Like watching House, eating tacos de carnitas & drinking Mexican Coca-Cola, while knitting a bag for felting.

14. Why do people still believe in the supernatural?
There are still miracles in this world that are beyond our current human rationalization abilities.
...and face it, it feels good to think of someone/thing bigger than you, who is watching your life with mild amusement, and genuine concern (like the parent most of us never got to have...)

15. What’s the last song that got stuck in your head?
Should I Stay or Should I Go -- The Clash

16. What’s your favorite item of clothing?
My red Privo slip-on shoes from Beth Fuller, which I've worn almost every day since late May!
(which I shall soon be replacing with these orange ones, only because I'm wearing them out!)

17. Do you think Rice Krispies are yummy?
I'm famous for my love of RK bars! They're especially good when made with Earth Balance instead of butter (so as not to make me sick, sick, sick) with extra marshmallows.

18. What would you do if you saw $100 lying on the ground?
Without an obvious source nearby, I'd splurge on a date with the family -- a day at the beach or dinner and a movie or two :D

19. What items could you not go without during the day?
my glasses, my phone

20. What should you be doing right now?
This right here. Next comes walking the dog, loading the dishwasher and prepping the living room for the Solstice Tree.

1/2 Baked Life of Gods' Folly

If I could eat dairy, there'd only be three of these to sell! Chocolate Sour Cream muffins with Dark Chocolate Chips and Strawberries. These are fully baked. Oh yes. I'd eat them. As comfort. And joy. Comfort and joy. Tis the Season and all.
The other day I was in the knit shop, finally purchasing the pattern for the Lucy Bag and enough yarn to make one for Gramma Bunnie for Xmas, when I was once again Folly of the Gods for a few moments. I just love these times. There I am, happily reveling in some cool Hannah memories, thinking of the red scarves I'm making for the Jizo Ceremony; all in love with mothering a daughter, when I hear that voice. The voice of the Mother Who Hates Her Children, Especially the Daughter. When she & I attend the same homeschool functions, my heiny is in constant clenching spasms. I know I've gotta say something after hi! What can be said, really? I work to channel Mary Lewis. Yes, I actually said to myself "What would Mary do?" and it helped. Sorta. I smiled thinking Mary would do a much better job at this opportunity for kindness. I remembered Mary questioning my purpose in this mom's life. Like to be the bearer of the one kindness that shifts the tides of unhappiness from this woman's fragile straw-hut of a relationship with her kids. Like the one who consistently models kindness & joy in the face of her ugliness. Like the one who keeps standing in possibility for people to do better when they know better. I touched every skein of wool yarn in the place, taking my time to fantasize about what I really wanted to say figure out what kind thing I could muster the goodness to say. As I was leaving I smiled even bigger, and wished her a wonderful afternoon, reveling in her childlessness. Oh she says I wish I was here joyfully, I'm here because I hate my kids and need to be away from them right now. Well, I stammered, Hannah's face flashing before my eyes and You Ungrateful Bitch dancing on my tongue, even that is a gift, I continued, y'know, being able to acknowledge how you're feeling and to have the support to actually doing something about it. Tears stinging my eyes, my heart about to leap itself onto 4th Street, I don't think I'll survive. I suppose so, she grumbled, my husband's pretty great. I breathed & Flash-dreamed about killing her, then said, at least this way they're not getting drowned in the bathtub and you've no reason to be put in jail. Sounds like a win/win situation. Hope you go back with better feelings after your knitting break! And I ran like the wind. Out to my car on shaky legs and one super clenched heiny. I'm still not unclenched.
I may never recover. Then again my recovery chances are greater than her kids.
Making pink mashed potatoes (beet juice) with my kid, whom I do not hate, helped my mood immensely.