Sunset

It is a cold afternoon in Indiana as I take a walk around the neighborhood before the sun sets.  Getting outside or active at all has been a challenge since my last marathon in October.  There is something about reaching a goal that is highly motivating and yet very deflating once it has been accomplished.  There is a sense of "what now?" as I search for the next goal.

As 2013 sets into our past and a new 2014 begins to rise in a few days, it is a cliche time to think about setting new goals and trying to answer the "what now?" with "Now this!".  There are not too many goals on my horizon at the moment, which makes this the time to set some new ones.  I would like to continue to grow as an educator, seeking out new experiences and learning opportunities to help me be a better teacher and just a person who has more tools to help children learn and develop.  Whether this is through workshops, volunteering, or continued education, I would like to keep working at my professional life.

Adventures are an important part of life.  Moving forward, I want to experience more with my family, have more laughs, and go experience new things.  Whether this is a new food or a trip to a new place.  I know Disney World seems destined in our future, but there are other things I would like to experience as I grow older.  Interacting with different people, seeing new animals, and trying different perspectives on for size are things that make being a human amazing.

Reflecting back on this past year, we have been very lucky to have our health, and a wonderful support structure consisting of family and friends.  I have been fortunate to continue working in a job I love and to have a terrific wife who supports my goals and has always been there for me.  I thank my lucky stars for my family all over the country:  Alaska, Washington, Oregon, Arizona, Virginia,  Washington, DC, Indiana, Illinois.  My daughters are my everything, and seeing them grow up is now what I consider to be my life-work.

 I am happy to continue running and look forward to some more long distance running when the snow leaves and I can focus on training outside.  I feel fortunate to have my health to be able to do such activities, and hope to maintain it moving forward in life.  Perhaps some other things besides running may work their way onto my list of goals in the upcoming year?

So I leave my list open as the sun finally sets tonight.  Tomorrow the sun will rise and a new day will begin, leaving open the possibilities that are limited only to my desire and ambition.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Phone Photos:

Audrey and Violet open Uncle Michael's annual Winter Solstice gift:  Michael is on the Level...or is he?  They spent the next hour leveling objects throughout the house. 

Audrey and Violet playing with beans and seeds!  This is inspired from the bucket of popcorn seeds at Aunt Irene's house in Virginia!  

The family enjoys a spin on the carousel at Brookfield Zoo during Zoo Lights.  It is quite a different atmosphere at night with all the lights.  Yes, we added the special edition Mold-O-Ramas to our collection!   

Violet getting to open a gift on Christmas Eve.

Audrey opening her Barbie Camper.  This was the only picture that captured her face without blur.  She was excited to say the least.

Violet held onto this picture of Grandpa Ted and Lisa all Christmas Morning.  She was opening presents with one hand for a while.  

Violet and Granny having a moment in the kitchen on Christmas.

Violet at Christmas in Indiana.  Her happiness is endless.

Cousins:  Audrey and Penelope.

Violet and her "Special Things" pile that she didn't want to share with anyone.  Very Grinch-ish after such a lovely Christmas.

Granny with Penelope and Violet.  Content.

Sunday Snowfall

Last night it was raining, sleet, cold, harsh.  I fell into sleep just wanting to be unconscious and not aware of the world around me for a while.  While the holidays are a time of thankfulness and joy, it is still nice to have a deep sleep of peace and quiet.

This morning I awoke to silence.  Not just quiet, but silence.  The kind of silence that can only be had through a snowfall that muffles the outside world.  I drew back my blinds to reveal the beginning stages of our snowy Sunday.

I took the dog outside, who still seems confused when it snows.  The large flakes softly landed on her black coat and contrasted nicely for a few seconds before dissolving into her hide.  On our way back into the house, the sight of my own snow prints brings a memory from childhood back to the forefront of my mind:

In Juneau, as a kid, I would sometimes wake-up very early for no reason.  In the winter, the snow blankets everything.  The entirety of snowfalls there made the landscape an almost perfect white, and the reflection of the snow would make things appear more light than normal at such an early hour.  At times like this, with massive snowflakes the size of silver dollars, I would bundle-up and go for a walk.  The silence of it all is what I remember most.  Just walking, the soft crunch of snow compacting under my boot step.  The only other sounds were the fluffy snowflakes landing and my own breath as I trodded through it all.  It was so peaceful.  No one else out at all...no signs that anyone else was around.  Just pure white snow and the steam from my hands.  I would walk through the cemetery, zigzag through neighborhoods, or sometimes walk by the water.  In a town completely asleep, I was the only one awake.  On my return home, I would sometimes come across my own snow print from earlier in my journey.

So now, on the couch with coffee and fresh bread for breakfast, I sit nuzzled into the corner of my couch chewing on this childhood memory as the snow falls outside and the world around me slowly starts to wake-up.

Burnt Edges

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed, especially in the holiday season, about the need for newness.  We buy new things, get new stuff, enjoy new items and packages with newness topped by a bow or ribbon.  We love the new, especially at holidays.  New is what adds change to our life.  New is what makes the old mundane and boring.  I imagine what it would be like if the tables were turned and we were culturally raised to desire the old, the experienced, the used.  Imagine the car commercials where a 20-year-old vehicle with rust patches was in the driveway with the giant red bow.  A diamond wedding ring passed down through the generations rather than going to a store. 

What I am guilty of often forgetting is that while new is a good thing in many regards, I must remind myself that older means experienced.  Something that has been around a while has managed to be durable enough to last up to this point.  Something used has a beauty of its own, telling the world that it has a story to tell, that it has been places and seen things that others have not.  Like a treasure map with burnt, torn edges, it knows the way. 

While things that are not new may not always have the greatest curb appeal, they more often than not hold a place in our hearts because of their history.  They may not work as perfectly as the newest model, but we know their tilt because we've had a good run with them.  While a new thing may provide an opportunity, it cannot provide dependability. 

Now, amidst all this metaphor, I present this thought, which sparked this post:  Instead of thinking about objects when reading this entry, go back and imagine I'm really talking about people in your life.

During this time of newness and giving, I will do my best to remember and be thankful for the people with burnt edges in my life.

-a 

Cold Turkey

The time has passed, but the memories of Thanksgiving still hold strong.  So here are some leftover pictures that I will reheat to enjoy on this cold December morning.

Uncle Fred and me.  

Audrey and her completed "Museum Wall" at the Richmond House.

Aunt Irene with Audrey and Violet.  This picture makes me happy.

A final goodbye hug in the front yard before our long journey home.  Violet is holding an octopus stick puppet that her cousins Same and Emma bought her.  

We returned home and lit our electric menorah that was made by my grandfather, then given to my father, and is now a piece of my own family Hanukkah tradition.  It is special to us.

And what would Hanukkah be without gingerbread house decorating?  Here is Violet and her house (with a little help from Mommy).

Audrey and her gingerbread house.

The temperatures have dropped, and the promise of warm weather above freezing looks like a long way out.  But we have our blankets and fuzzy socks to keep us warm, and look forward to the holidays with other friends and family.  Thanksgiving is a special time for me, though, and I have already penciled-in next year's visit on our calendar.  With all that changes in life, and all of the variables and uncertainties out there, it is comforting knowing where we will be for certain in the next year of life.  Thank you to Uncle Fred and Aunt Irene for being such gracious, giving, beautiful hosts.  My heart is stuffed with love, laughter, and memories that will keep me content until we meet again.

-a

On the Couch

I am sitting here with Audrey, watching a Snoopy Christmas on TV.  We are munching on fresh Challah from the bread maker.  The darkness has taken a complete hold of the evening, and we begin to turn our thoughts towards the week ahead.  Audrey is beginning in a new classroom, completely consisting of 5-year-olds.  She is excited, yet nervous.  Change is something that does not sit easily for for a lot of us, so it is completely understandable that a young person has some reserves about moving to a new classroom on the first day of the week.

Before a new week begins, we look back at a beautiful Thanksgiving holiday.  We are still recovering from the 14-hour drive back from Virginia.  We arrived home at about 2am, and have been taking it "easy" all Sunday, savoring a few movies, quiet cleaning, and lots of laying-out on the couch.  Violet is in the midst of a 4-hour nap, which she will soon be awoken from so she can decorate a gingerbread house.

The drive to Virginia was a long, sometimes dangerous, adventure.  The lake effect snow in Indiana made for a 10-foot visibility radius.  That, coupled with the dark, made driving a 12 mph experience for a couple hours.  But soon enough we were clear and the rest of the evening was a blur of highway and gas stations until sunrise and a slow trek on highway 95 into Richmond.

Our time with the family was precious.  Every Thanksgiving is packed with memories of cheese and crackers, smiles, laughter, figs and pumpkin custard, making puns, and sharing the things that have affected us the most throughout the last year.  Having the chance to discuss education and progressive learning with my aunt and uncle, and to enjoy scones while sharing laughs is something I will do my best to never miss.    Being part of this Thanksgiving tradition for the past 15 years, I have learned that there are many things in life that change and pieces of who we are alter and evolve.  However, sitting down at a table with the same core of people is something special and something to be held dear as the years breeze by.

The drive home is always one of warm memories and deep thought.  Passing through West Virginia in the mountains watching the sunset and the land turn purple really provides the setting for thought and reflection.  Talking about where we want to go in life, thinking about family members not present at Thanksgiving, wondering about our children and their futures, all these things and more are points for thinking as the miles tick-off on the odometer.

So now we return to "life" with all of its routines, daily rituals, and the things we are most used to.  Thanksgiving is a memory, but one that shines with our continued lighting of the Hanukkah candles for the next few nights.  We move forward now, though, with the memories and experiences of the past few days, making us stronger in heart and spirit.