Goddess of Love and Beauty

I love my little girl who is not so little anymore. She has wanted my help in detailing a Halloween costume. She's got a great getup basket of costume items with sashes, scarfs, dresses and you name it that i am constantly sifting through and eliminating things from(and constantly being called on my actions, "Do you know what happened to my cat mask...It would have been perfect for "Kitty Pride" (the X Men girl, I guess). She tried a variety of things. We brainstormed characters she likes, books she likes..Jean Gray, Matilda? Ramona? (She kaboshed that one indicating she didn't want to be a pest), Word Girl? And then out came the mother load of brainstorm resources. Her heavy volume of Greek Gods and Goddesses. She devours these morbid twisted tales of husbands eating wives and children sentenced to the underworld, it is worse than Daytime Soaps for SAHM's. She begins to browse through the wealth of long, prism haired maidens, topless mermaid waifs (desiring some in the modesty category) and sees on the cover one of her personal favorites, Aphrodite. She fingers through the pages until she finds a story with Aphrodite in it. Inspired by a gossamery, light reflecting gown she begins to create a costume. A bright, dark blue dress of mine is the foundation.. A tulle pink ballet skirt is tied into a shawl, looking a little like wings. We cut a piece from a gold curtain to make a skirt addition for some sparkle. A black veil as a headdress frames her pixie bob. On the way out of the house I told her to put socks on. She furrowed her eyebrows in distress but came back with Alaska socks (which she hoped no on would notice). I put some magenta lipstick on her and she asked if she could spray some perfume in her hair (Of course!). The kids paraded around the church gym for the trunk or treating activity. I stopped Carolina and whispered to her, "I think you have the best costume." Little Aphrodite floating amongst the princesses, Hannah Montana's and witches. She's an original, my girl.

The bus stop

Like a vigilante, today I stopped the orange-yellow cheese, size of an elephant mobile-the school bus. Sunny took just a little too long getting ready this morning. In her zombie stupor each morning she insists she must be the one to pick out her outfit (why, oh why don't I insist the night before she make her choice, I am a masochist, that's why.) I tried giving her a variety of options, knowing full well she would not approve of any of them. Sensible long sleeve shirts, cute prints on all of them. Her stylish pants she's not into either, she prefers the Mahona sweat pants and comfy capris. Some one's got to teach this girl fashion is not about comfort. Ever heard of stiletto's? I saw the bus through the blinds called to Sunny and told her I had her backpack and encouraged her to high tail it out of there and forget the rest of teeth brushing. The bus driver paused and was about to give up since Sunny was not surfacing. I ran back to the door and fed her to the mouth of elephant cheese slice. Luckily for me I don't think this incident was anymore than a moment for her but I had flashbacks of what a bus means to me.
"Run, Forest, run!" "Run home to your mommy!" Familiar calls directed at me as I leaped off the bus running as hard and fast as Florence Joyner Kersee (remember those nails...see Sunny, fashion has its merits...fashion saves!) down the pebbly, dust-ridden hill-I wouldn't stop until I turned the corner, I triumphed every time. I high tailed it as quick as possible primarily to distance myself from those tobacco chewing, shorts-wearing in twenty below Alaskan winter weather teenage boys whom I had developed a healthy measure of contempt for. Then, there was each cold, dark morning walking to the bus stop, alone. Being the oldest by six years in my family I grew accustomed to solo so it was fine but waiting the 12-20 minutes at the bus stop was not on my top ten list of favored past times. Being a blindly obedient child my parents, sensibly told me to bundle up in such weather. And I certainly had proof the insulation made a difference: my winter attire reminds me of the brother and sister bears in Richard Scarry's "What People Do All Day"-each has every article of clothing imaginable including petticoat, rubbers, legwarmers, over coat, dust coat etc. My junior high get up warmly included light blue snow pants (suspender, zipper-type style), a neat invention of a polar fleece neck warmer, mittens (keeps your fingers warmer as the fingers each other to produce warmth-some kindergarten science for all), a warm, double lined Colombia jacket and a warm hat. The only problem, which isn't necessarily a problem, although if I find cause to hash it out 10+ years down the road... These pesky teenagers, all older than me would mock me to no end with my snow pants and my mommy and obviously how much better they were than me. Do not worry, oh, I showed them who was who-by day by day standing on the opposite side of the road from them. Social suicide complete. Another chapter on the yellow submarine: Clinton, my cub scout younger brother I was so proud of is going on his first Cub Scout Day Camp trip. And thanks to me, his last. He conceded to let me go with him kind of as a junior chaperone. I was excited to spend some fun, outdoor time with him. Archery, leather work, scavenger hunts, pond exploration, swimming (something we both enjoyed) all on the agenda. The change of the weather had brought on a cold for me so on the bus, in route to the lake campsite I retrieved a pre-used gnarled tissue from my jeans pocket. Gingerly unwrapping it like a lace doillie made by Aunt Louise I held my receptacle up to my nose and blow long and hard, three times I believe is what it took to empty the phlegmish substance from my nostrils. Glancing at Clinton I realized something. That a 15 year old sister focused on determining the most effective way to dislodge mucus from a most stubborn nostril is a hair away from the epitome of cool for your average nine year old who works hard on his image (he even trained his hair part to spread in the middle for a slick surfer look, all it took was two pinkies and plenty of repetition) Tragically, although I realized my thoughtlessness, I got so caught in the moment of how hilarious this was that my laughter bubbled over like bubble and squeak on some English dude's stovetop. I did not improve the situation. For the record, Clinton did not pursue scouting, leatherwork and lives in a box today. But hey, a man is his own agent, right? Can't sit around and blame your problems on everyone else. Still, maybe I better cool it with the bus hold ups if I want Sunny Carolina to have any chance at going to college.

Pronuncations and Perceptions

Driving home from school today Eli asked Moses questions about his day. He has been struggling with recess and lunch time. Problems encountered with recess include loneliness, boredom and the hot sun. It's easy to see your problems magnified when their analyzed. He sulks in the shade and feels sad. Once Sunny showed up at his recess-unfortunatley this was because she lost track of time, didn't hear the bell ring and spent some time with Moses. This made his day. He reported he was so happy to see her but felt so sad when she had to go. He was all alone. Tears came in his eyes. Cafeteria dilemmas include: too many people, a general feeling of chaotic commotion and it doesn's smell good in there. He is his father's son. No Christenson in their right mind would turn their nose up at cafeteria food-we are the ones known to visit the town hospital to visit the "restaurant" there-and that is what we call a treat. Each day recess and lunch are the low points of his day. Then lunch and recess have to happen. Mrs. Hunter makes him feel safe and loved, there is organization and fun games to play. But today great things happened. Moses made friends with Angelo at recess. He is so funny and so crazy! They laugh and play fun games together and he had hot lunch for the first time and loved it: waffles, sausage and chocolate milk-maybe that makes the smell tolerable. Eli checked in with Carolina while she read her Box Car children book looking up to show us the 1/3 portion of the book she had already read. He asked her if she hads made any new friends. Silence. Asked again. "What?" She was busy reading, we dropped it. Walking to the park last night we reached the intersection where the kids are well trained (most of the time) to wait until slow Mommy and Rainbow in arms catch up to cross together. Carolina tagged with me and told me of the book she is reading. Benny had found a clue and they were already at the Blue Bay...(Box Car Children Blue Bay mystery). I delight in her joy reading the series, I loved them when I was young. She told me, "They are are on an 'is-land' " Her reading prowess made known through pronunciation. Tonight I checked in on her as I could still hear her mulling about the room when the others had zonked out. She had a piece of tarp like fabric spread out near the heater register, three bent curtain rods, a pile of beads, rope caulk tape mangled into a ball of funtional gray clay and several clay forms: a duck complete with breathing nostrils above the beak, a snail, a whale which was smaller than the snail and a few sharpened and unsharpened pencils. Obviously, she had undergone a surgical procedure to extract carelessly dropped beads from the heater's cavity and found inspiration in that resurrection and was forced to create by the divine powers within by whatever inspired materials she could accumulate. This could not wait until morning, the magic would inevitably be gone. I could take a lesson from this girl. Stuck to her bed was one more creation: a clay sign with writing etched. I couldn't decipher the writing yet. She told me it says, "Sunny's caf." I thought I heard her wrong and asked, "A baby cow?" "No, you know the food place..., a restaurant." "Oh, cafe!" I can tell she has been reading an awful lot.

1st day of school.

They are at school. Moses just started afternoon, Sunny has been there all day. As Moses' class line followed his gray-haired grandmotherly smiling teacher, Mrs. Hunter his class passed Sunny's class. She said hi to me but I don't think Moses saw her. He was focusing on the procedure he was in. This morning we met Sunny's teacher, Ms. Mulligan, a tall, athletic blond. She introduced herself to Sunny and asked what school she had come from and what grade she was in. She told her she had a desk just for her. Then we joinied the other 2nd and 3rd graders in the library. Gabrielle, her assigned helper friend was given the duty to show her all around the library. Then the bell rang. All morning Moses has been asking, "Is it time for school yet?" Phew, am session would have been better but finally the time came. Also waiting were a pile of girls, a small blond boy with a Mohawk whose Dad had several piercings, a chubby hispanic boy. He pleasantly took his place in line and gave me a hug. No tears, no worries. What a brave guy. See you at 3:00.

Oh yeah, I am not guilty.

When I exit a clothing store where the greeter/loss prevention specialist cordially bids me goodbye suddenly I nervously look away, find myself slurping my own spit in nervous manner. Whoa, maybe I do need to be checked on-perhaps by someone with a slighly different expertise. Then again, maybe I am a thief and I don't even know it. Kleptomaniac. Images of Dana Carvey in Lost In Paradise. I am pretty sure in my odd nervous state I wouldn't pass a lie detector test. And I am innocent! What would I do if I were guilty? Hey, maybe I've a future...I just might be the coolest, calmest, most innocent criminal to grace this side of the Willamette. And today we had a pre-employment drug test. My warped senses rear their nasty heads again. Maybe I've breathed stale skunk-like air that had something else in it just walking down the street, maybe I ate a poppyseed muffin. You just never know. How sensitive are these things. They wouldn't let me flush the toilet after filling the specimen cup, he checked the bathroom after I left, wouldn't allow me to wash my hands unless in his presence. Senor Phlebotomist even checked around the sink piping to make sure I hadn't switched specimens. Real nice guy, very thorough, friendly manner, just doing his job but nothing like the third degree to make you think even you'd missed something.

We signed the kids up for school on day two today, we got there midmorning so the secretary suggested we just wait until tomorrow for attendance. We walked around the school and all felt great about the place. Moses' nerves were calmed an awful lot after seeing his enticing, colorful classroom with cubbies, baskets, books and toys. Paper apples the size of dinner plates and a welcome sign adorned his classroom door. Carolina will be in a 2/3 split. Day three will be for real.

Just kidding about the first day of school.

I am a woman fairly hip around the edges with this obnoxious unraveling thread from a wool cotton blend sweater that seems to dangle and catch things in its path like a tumbleweed. Things like dry babywipes attached to misplaced spoons, a lone flax seed planted on my shoulder yearning to be back with his friends in the half eaten bag of Dave's Killer Bread and a sweet four year old's plump hand, sticky with Oregon strawberry freezer jam. Things like a tidy, well-placed office, a silverware separator free of crumbs and the ability to manage 6 loads of matching, folded laundry usually escape me. Thus, I can be a challenge for a type B personality. But at the end of the day in front of me I see (within view) 42 boxes ready to be filled with the contents of our abode for a move approximately two weeks away, the Sprint bill strewn upon the floor (that will show the man what I think about that Corporate Big Brother) a mirror with little hand prints, cards taped to the walls with Portuguese words, a barbie doll and an empty baby bottle. The things I feel ahead are a new adventure upon us-one that we are unsure and partly worried about how it will materialize. Stepping one foot into the unknown clinging, to faith that God will see us though, grateful to have apartment management skills that have allowed us security and friendships, confident the Lord gives us what we need not always what we want. The gentle muffle of The Subterranean Howling, "20,000 Leagues Under The Sea" trying to get it mixed ASAP to enter a local contest in hopes of landing a spot to be the opening act for "The Killers" Portland show. Thinking of many type A activities that might help balance today's strong leaning towards B for tomorrow-turning in kindergarten shot records, signing a job offer, organizing some orders for the business, maybe sorting and packing some of these 42 boxes. But today was for memories-the day we missed the first day of school.

Squeakie's blog

Carolina started a blog today. Her blog can be found among my blogs. It is http://squeakieswebsite.blogspot.com/
She named her blog "Sunshine Canyon" and the url is in honor of her own given nickname "Squeakie"-the sound her favorite animal, a mouse makes. She wrote this beautiful entry. Keep an eye on her, she'll go places.