BRANDON AND SOPHIA - 2011

January

Brandon was 11 in early January.  Sophia was 8 in November 2010.

Just the three of us

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER

As Christmases go, I rank this one in 2011 as one of the best.

It has been our practice since Brandon was old enough to understand the words "Santa" and "presents" that on Christmas Eve I take my pillow, toothbrush, etc. and spent the night at the kids' house.  Otherwise, when the call comes Christmas morning at oh dark thirty that Brandon and Sophia are up and anxious to open their gifts, I would have to quickly get dressed and drive over in freezing temperatures.  Not my favorite way to start the day, let alone Christmas Day.

Early in the evening Brandon began negotiating what time we'd get up in the morning.  He started with 5:00 AM and got an emphatic NO.  Then he moved to 5:30 and Bob compromised with 7:30.  Brandon, 6:00; and Bob told him if he didn't stop, it'd be 9:00.  So Brandon went to 6:30 and Bob, 9:30 with the added question, "You still want to do this?"  I don't think the precise time was ever agreed on.

The kids were in bed at 9:30 and Bob's and Dawn's gifts went under the tree around 10:00.  Santa's followed some time later.  While Dawn prepared for bed, she found Brandon's watch with the alarm set for 6:00 under the armoire in her bedroom.  She disarmed it and hung the watch on the tree.

I heard Brandon get up at least three times during the night, supposedly to use the bathroom.  He wasn't particularly quiet, but he didn't overtly try to wake anyone.  Sophia was restless, but even though she's now nine, she is afraid of Santa in the flesh and wouldn't venture from the bedroom alone.  I know it was difficult for Brandon to go back to bed, because he could easily see two new bikes sitting beside the tree on trips between his room and the bathroom.

Sometime close to 6:30, Brandon couldn't stand the anticipation any longer and he knocked on Dawn's bedroom door.  Sophia, who had slept on a pallet on her floor so I could have her bed,  jumped up to be ready for the rush to the living room.

There were so many special gifts.  Bob had wrapped his gifts for Dawn and Sophia set them on the couch beside him.  The kids distributed presents to the adults while also unwrapping theirs.  Occasionally Bob would give Dawn one he'd gotten for her.  I knew what one of them was and I waited with the camera.

 Midway through the unwrapping, Sophia, to my left, was busy opening a gift and chattering away while wearing an Angry Bird hat that Brandon had given her.  On my right were Dawn and Bob, sitting on the couch.  As Sophia jumped up to show Dawn a gift she'd received from Santa, Bob handed Dawn the littlest package, and as she opened it, he slid from the couch to one knee on the floor.  I couldn't hear what he said because Sophia was jabbering.  

Brandon looked at Sophia and asked, "You don't know what's going on, do you?" and with a puzzled look on her face, she replied, "No, not really."  To whatever Bob had said, Dawn responded, "Yes!"  And thus, they are now engaged! 

 

 

 

Bob is a musician and he once made a comment to Dawn that he used to have a guitar and missed it.  He now has one, a gift from Dawn. 

There were special presents for Brandon and Sophia as well.  In addition to the bikes Bob gave them, there was a Wii for the family and an iPod for Sophia.  Nana and Pap had made a chest for each for their treasures.  Sophia's even has a music box.  And I got what I most wanted:  a storage cabinet for the garage!

 

 

We spent the rest of the day enjoying our gifts.  The Wii controls were passed around as each took a turn.  Brandon, Sophia and I played word games with each other on our Apple iPods and iPad.  And Dawn and Bob smiled a lot.

 

NOVEMBER WEEKEND IN SAN FRANCISCO

It's been two years since Dawn and I visited  Brett in San Francisco.  The three of us try to meet somewhere each November to celebrate Dawn's and Brett's November birthdays, but last year he was in China.  This year, however, Dawn and I, along with her boyfriend, Bob, and Brandon and Sophia flew to San Francisco for a long weekend celebration.

Fortunately, the rain that greeted us on landing Friday was gone by Saturday morning and we had three glorious, cloud-free, sunny days.

 We had an agenda for the weekend.  Our destination on Saturday was Muir Woods National Monument. The trees, some of which have been dated to before 1000 AD, are giants.  Their size dwarfs the people, and visitors walking beneath them converse in quiet tones. 

After leaving Muir Woods, we headed to the top Mt. Tamalpais where we took several pictures of the family.  Brett set up his camera on a tripod and once the first family photo was framed, he raced down the hill to get into the picture before the timer went off.  It took several tries to get an acceptable shot.  On one shot early in the session, Brett didn't get seated well and ended up tumbling down the hill just as the picture was snapped.  Eventually, however, our needs were satisfied.

Sunday was a day for taking in the sights of San Francisco.  We began with a stop at Alamo Square where the opening of the TV series Full House was filmed.  Sophia was disappointed when she learned that the family didn't actually live in one of those homes and therefore, we couldn't visit it as well.  Then it was off to Lombard Street for the short drive down it.  There was barely time to take a picture.  

We parked the car near Pier 39 and took public transportation for the balance of our day.  At Pier 39 we visited the seals and then had lunch at Boudin's, known for their sourdough bread.  Dawn and I relish the clam chowder served in bread bowls and Bob enjoyed chili similarly presented.  Brandon said his grilled cheese, prepared with sourdough bread, was the best he ever had.  (It should have been for $8!!)

 

Appetites satisfied, we rode a trolley down to Market and Powell and then waited our turn to ride a cable car back north.  

 

Our destination was Chinatown.  After leaving the cable car, we walked a few blocks downhill, east to that neighborhood, and took time for the kids to sample Chinese ice cream and to look at goods being sold.  Neither Brandon nor Sophia thought the fish looked appetizing!

 

Then it was time to cllimb the hill to Coit Tower.  The grade was so steep that steps are available for pedestrians who prefer them to the flat uphill ramp.  Once on top, and after catching their breath, Dawn, Bob and the kids went to the top of the Tower to look at the view.  Then it was a walk back down the hill, where a little girl, who had been walking with her parents, took Sophia's hand for the descent.  A few minutes later we were back at the car where we collapsed for the drive back to San Rafael.

Resting at the foot of Coit Tower

 

A view from the top of Coit Tower

Earlier in the weekend, Brett purchased tickets on-line for the six of us to tour Alcatraz.  We took the ferry from Larkspur to the Ferry Building in the City and then walked a mile to another pier where we caught the Alcatraz ferry.  

All visitors must listen to a welcome presentation before heading off to see the prison.   We entered through the showers, a large, open room with perhaps 50 shower heads  over a wide trough.  I realized then that time spent here as an inmate would be no picnic.  The size of the cells  depressed me as well.  I cannot imagine spending years in a space 5' wide x 9' feet long by x 7' high.  Each single-person cell contained a toilet, sink, cot and two shelves, each about a foot long.  No cells have windows, and although some cells receive daylight, others do not.  After two hours walking through the cell blocks, we returned to the ferry and to the City.

The next morning, Tuesday, we were up at 3:30 AM and headed out the door shortly after 4:00 to return to the airport and fly home.  As I write this, we've been back four days and only now are the muscles in my calves returning to normal.  However, the memories we made during our visit will not fade and there are lots of pictures to keep the memories fresh.

 

THE END OF ANOTHER FOOTBALL SEASON

Football season is about to end.   Both Brandon and Sophia participated, Brandon as a player, Sophia as a cheerleader.  Fall weather is a mixed bag.  The temperature on the field during Brandon's first game early in September when the following photos were taken was 124F.  Two weeks ago, after Brandon's team was out of the playoffs but Sophia's was still in, it was windy and raining and the temperature was in the low 50's.  Absolutely miserable both times.  I couldn't shed enough clothes for the first game and couldn't put on enough for the second!

 Brandon isn't as tall as he appears standing next to Sophia, although he's taller than I am now (probably 5'2" or so).  But Sophia is that tiny, the shortest of the eight girls she cheered with, although no longer the shortest girl in her third grade class.

 

Football season for Brandon's team technically was over several weeks ago. Although they played six games, the Titans were in last place from start to finish.  They just couldn't score, therefore, didn't win a game.  Brandon, quarterback on offense and end on defense, is #42.

 

A team consists of about 15 players and each plays both offensive and defensive positions.  Players at this level (11 and 12 year olds) are drafted.  Picked to play as quarterback because of his passing ability, Brandon felt responsible when they lost.  He put his heart into every play and his frustration at losing brought him to tears early in the season.  Eventually he realized that there were eleven boys on the field and each had a specific responsibility.  Once he accepted that, he was able to play "looser" and enjoy the game.  He didn't like losing any better, but he was happy to be playing a game he loves.

 

 

Then there's L'il Miss Sophia who was a cheerleader.  Her gymnastics training proved worthwhile.  She can tumble.  And she can move with rhythm.  So she had a grand time, and she expected us to watch *her* and not the boys she was cheering for.  On occasion, each of the eight girls on her squad seemed to be moving to her own drummer.  One in particular rarely moved in sync with the others.  She was 1/2 beat behind (or ahead).  If right arms were to go up, it was her left.  If the squad  moved left, she went right.  But they're only 8 and 9, so we just enjoyed the entertainment.   

 

TURNING PAGES

I am a reader.  I have been since I was a child, although while Dawn and Brett were growing up, my page turning was generally restricted to the daily newspaper.  But now I'm back to books and I rue the day my eyesight cannot be corrected to allow that sedentary activity to continue.

My preference is mysteries.  My current favorite author is Lee Child who has written  over fifteen novels with Jack Reacher, who served 13 years as an MP in the Army before mustering out, as the main character.  I like the plots and Jack's perpetual ability to out-think and out-maneuver suspect parties.

When I'd blasted my way through those novels (and blast I did, as though the books and their tight story lines would disappear before I could more slowly make my way through the series)  I learned of Bill Bryson.  He writes both autobiographically and historically in such a way to often give people and circumstances a humorous edge. 

I'm a Stranger Here Myself is an accumulation of articles Bryson wrote while working for the Times and Independent while living in England.  The following excerpt is from the article, "At a Loss":

"...I always have catastrophies when I travel.  Once on an airplane, I leaned over to tie a shoelace just at the moment that the person in the seat ahead of me threw his seat back into full recline, and I found myself pinned helplessly in the crash position. It was only by clawing the leg of the man sitting next to me that I managed to get myself freed.

"On another occasion, I  knocked a soft drink onto the lap of a sweet little lady sitting beside me.  The flight attendant came and cleaned her up, and brought me a replacement drink, and instantly I knocked it onto the woman again.  To this day I don't know how I did it.  I just remember reaching out for the new drink and watching helplessly as my arm, like some cheap prop in one of those 1950s horror movies with a name like 'The Undead Limb,' violently swept the drink from its perch and onto her lap.

"The lady looked at me with the stupefied expression you would expect to receive from someone whom you have repeatedly drenched, and uttered an exceptionally earnest oath that started with "oh" and finished with "sake" and in between had some words that I have never heard uttered in public before, certainly not by a nun.

"This, however, was not my worst experience on a plane flight.  My worst experience was when I was writing important thoughts in a notebook ("Buy socks," clutch drinks carefully," etc.)  sucking thoughtfully on the end of my pen as you do, and fell into conversation with an attractive lady in the next seat.  I amused her for perhaps twenty minutes with a scattering of urbane bons mots, then retired to the lavatory where I discovered that the pen had leaked and that my lips, tongue, teeth, and gums were now a striking, scrub-resistant navy blue, and would remain so for several days."

Here's a bit from Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything, starting with the "big bang": 
 

"A proton is an infinitesimal part of an atom, which is itself of course an insubstantial thing.  Protons are so small that a little dib of ink like the dot on this "i" can hold something in the region of 500,000,000,000 of them or rather more than the number of seconds it takes to make half a million years....

"Now imagine if you can (and of course you can't) shrinking one of those protons down to a billionth of its normal size into a space so small that it would make a proton look enormous.  Now pack into that tiny, tiny space about an ounce of matter.  Excellent.  You are ready to start a universe."

Now we skip a few sentences ahead:

"[to build a big bang universe] you'll need additional materials.  In fact, you will need to gather up everything there is--every last mote and particle of matter between here and the edge of creation--and squeeze it into a spot so infinitesimally compact that is has no dimensions at all.  It is known as singularity.

"...get ready for a really big bang.  Naturally, you will wish to retire to a safe place to observe the spectacle.  Unfortunately, there is nowhere to retire to because outside the singularity there is no where.  When the universe begins to expand, it won't be spreading out to fill a larger emptiness.  The only space that exists is the space it creates as it goes.

"...the singularity has no around around it.  There is no space for it to occupy, no place for it to be....  Time doesn't exist.  There is no past for it to emerge from."

Well.  After only a few pages, I was rendered speechless, overwhelmed as I tried to comprehend the concept. And unfortunately, once Bryson had gotten me through the creation of earth in Small History, I realized that reading about the next bazillion years didn't interest me as much as I had thought it would, and I returned the book to the library.
    

*****************************

If my praises and quotes from two of his books haven't put you to sleep, then perhaps you would be as mesmerized by Bryson's compositions as I am.  (If not, ah well....)  While the concept of History turned out to be more than I wanted to undertake, I can vouch for A Walk in the Woods, At Home, and In a Sunburned Country being easier reads.  I found all three to be entertaining and educational. 

A MATCHED SET

A few weeks ago I wrote about June's total joint replacement of my left knee.   Recovery was amazingly easy and quick.  I am convinced that the success I have had is due to doing what was asked in the physical therapy sessions, knowing that within a few weeks therapy would be completed and I'd be walking like I did thirty years ago, before brother Jeff and I climbed a mountain in Arizona to scatter our mother's ashes where she loved to hike.

Those six weeks of therapy preceded vacation with Dawn and the kids in Myrtle Beach.  As soon as we returned, I had a follow-up visit with the surgeon who gave me a high-five and agreed to schedule surgery for the right knee.  I had anticipated waiting several weeks, but was amazed when I was told there was an opening in seventeen days.  Fantastic!

Much was the same; some was different.  I'd opted both times for spinal and femoral blocks.  That meant I should feel nothing in the leg operated on for 24 hours following surgery.  That was the case with the first surgery.  But I had a different anesthetist for the second and those blocks wore off in the first 12 hours.  Like the left leg had been, the right leg was wrapped in several layers of padding and held together by an elastic bandage.  Sitting (or lying) still caused no sensation, but to pull myself up in bed required moving the leg and in the hours after surgery, that took my breath away!  I also tested for the return of feeling by using the muscle above my knee cap to pull the leg flat against the mattress.  Ouch!! 

On the day two, contracting that muscle became less stressful.  If I took a deep breath and moved quickly, I could swing the repaired leg out of bed and let my foot rest on the floor.  Twenty-four hours after surgery, the dressing came off and white elastic TED hose were put on both legs.  Occupational therapists came in to help me  learn to dress since my knee would be too stiff initially to bend so that I could put on socks.  Physical therapists came as well to help me learn to walk with my walker.  Over the years my stride changed because I hadn't been able to fully straighten either leg.  Now I could. With the new joints, I found that if I failed to fully extend my foot, the knee clicked.  It didn't hurt, but the sound reminded me to slow down and  walk correctly! Three days post-op, I came home.     

After the first surgery, I'd used a walker for a week and then moved to a cane.  By week three, I was walking unassisted.  When I got to my room after the second surgery, Dawn told me that there had been a hiccup during the operation, and the rod attached to the new knee had poked through my femur.  The doctor had repaired the damage, but it would need time to heal, and I'd  be required to use the walker for six weeks to prevent any possibility of falling.  Well, crap.  However, I reminded myself that six weeks is a short time in the long-term picture.  Get too big for my britches, fall, and spend months recovering from surgery to repair the damage?  Not an option.

Three-times-a-week physical therapy began the day after I returned home.  Good news, bad news.  While I was allowed to put full weight on the leg, the exercises could not stress the bone.   The doctor was firm in saying that I could not twist the knee or spin on my foot.  Apparently that also meant I could do no stair work, but I was encouraged to pedal myself silly on the facility's Nu-Step and stationary bike.  The stand-by exercises of leg lifts, knee bends and heel slides were equally worthwhile and required.

Three weeks post-surgery the staples were removed.  Those white elastic TED hose are annoying and somewhat uncomfortable, so being able to chuck them was welcome.  I'd hoped that the surgeon would x-ray my leg and announce that I could begin driving again and take on all recommended exercises.  Unfortunately, he held firm and said the only way to slow me down, to ensure I wouldn't fall, was to keep me on the walker.  Well, I didn't want to break a leg or screw up the new joint, so I didn't argue.    

However, shortly after that visit,  I allowed myself to use my cane for short distances in the condo.  Then five weeks after surgery, I quit using the cane while indoors but remained cautious as I walked.  As soon as I began taking a more normal stride, the knee muscles of both legs felt better. But the walker remained my escort whenever I left the condo.

When the six-week anniversary of the second surgery arrived, I returned to see the surgeon.  Hallelujah!  X-rays showed that the femur had healed, and I was finally given permission to do all physical therapy exercises AND given permission to drive again!  Finally Dawn was free of her tether to me as chauffeur to appointments.  As soon as she brought me home after the appointment, I grabbed my car keys and headed out to drive myself, free at last, to the grocery store! 

Physical therapy will continue for a few more weeks as the newly introduced exercises continue to strengthen my right leg.  Some muscles surrounding both knees remain stiff, particularly when I sit still for extended periods.  But walking is not painful and I there is subtle improvement every day.   And while I've had a relatively easy time rehabbing both knees, I'm also glad that I'm not an octopus with six legs to go! 

MILLERSBURG GATHERING

We haven't had an occasion to meet as family, just us, in over 30 years.  Now as we're getting older, there's time available, or we three siblings are finally making time, to get together.  It was  going to be just a short visit, an afternoon, so with the exception of my daughter and her family and Jeff's daughter, none of our other children or grandchildren were there.  

Jeff and Jason entertained us with stories they recalled of our years growing up in South Bend. For example, mounted at the peak of our suburban garage was an old farm bell.  Mom would ring it when she needed one, or all, of us to come home:  1 dong for me, 2 for Jason, 3 for Jeff and 4 (or more!) for all of us.  

One day when they were between 11 and 13, Jason and Jeff were at a neighbor's playing football in the back yard with the boys who lived there.  Also present was another neighbor -- "Max", who was considerably older, in high school, and a bully.
  

Mom rang the bell for Jason and Jeff to come home, but Max wouldn't let them leave.  Either Jason or Jeff saw Mom, who was wearing a dress or skirt, come to the fence that separated the yards and then turn around and go back into the house.  

She came to the fence again in a few minutes, this time wearing pants and a T-shirt.  Instead of opening the gate, she vaulted over the fence and approached the boys. Looking at Jason and Jeff, she asked, "Didn't you hear the bell?  When you hear the bell, you come home."  

One answered, "Well, yes, but....," looking at Max.  

Max stepped forward and said with authority,  "We're playing football and they can't leave."  

Mom spun and *decked* Max and said, "Don't you dare get up or I'll put you down again!"  (It's doubtful Mom would have gotten away with that these days!)  

To which Max, flat on his back, replied politely, "Okay, Mrs. Currey."  

They entertained us throughout the afternoon with stories of the dumb/silly/stupid stuff they did -- shooting BB guns at each other while in the basement and throwing darts without being able to see the target, for example.

Brandon trying to land the helicopter on a beam

Jeff also brought out an infra-red toy helicopter that Brandon and Bob took turns trying to land on the open beams in the living room.  Once those attempts were successful, they moved on to landing the helicopter on the blades of the fan above us. Ah, boys and their toys.....

The time was too short.  But that only means that we will try hard to meet again, sooner rather than later.  

Evie and Jason

Jeff and his daughter, Brittany

Head chef Jeff and Mimi

 

 

MORE ON MONARCH BUTTERFLIES

 After sharing my post on September 1 regarding monarch caterpillars and butterflies, I discovered one of those pictured caterpillars preparing to go into its chrysalis phase.

It was hanging from one of the milkweed leaves, very still.  I thought it might be dying or already dead.  But it was also an opportunity to witness the metamorphosis of caterpillar to butterfly if it was alive.

I cut a portion of the milkweed, including the leaf the caterpillar was suspended from, and put it in a vase.  I didn't expect to find much more than a dead caterpillar when I got up in the morning.  Boy, was I surprised!

Waiting for me was a beautiful green chrysalis that was adorned with golden specks.

Metamorphosis, changing from caterpillar to butterfly, takes from nine to fourteen days.  I kept close watch, but nothing happened in the first eleven days.  But on day twelve, I noted that the green was changing.  By the time I went to bed, the colorful wings could be seen through the now translucent chrysalis.  I was confident that within 24 hours, a butterfly would emerge.

This morning, with the colors even more vivid, I decided to take the chrysalis outdoors.  My plan was to see the butterfly appear, watch as it hung and its wings dried and then move it to the milkweed from where it would finally fly away.

I took the daily crossword puzzle, camera and cup of coffee to the porch and got comfortable in the chair where I was prepared to spend most of the day.  But before an hour had passed, I looked up just as the butterfly slipped from the chrysalis!  It hung there for about an hour, its wings slowly straightening.  Eventually I moved it to the milkweed plants where it spent the afternoon until it flew away.

If you're interested in reading more about monarch butterflies, I found this link informative:
http://butterflybushes.com/monarch_

metamorphosis.htm