I've received the first two Christmas cards of the season. The first was from one of the volunteers, with a nice message about getting everything you wish for. The other is from Zirpu's stepbrother and his family with a message about how Jesus came "for you and me" and, strangely, a school picture of the older child but not one of the younger one.
I must admit that I don't like receiving Christmas cards. I like receiving kids' photos for the brag board, especially since the kids change so much and it's fun to compare last year's photo with this year's. So those of you who send me Christmas cards, please don't stop doing so because I really do appreciate them! Even the ones with newsletters in them!
But I don't send Christmas cards myself. This might be because I'm lazy and might be because I'm rather ambivalent about Christmas. Also I figure that I've been in contact with everyone during the year to whom I might send a Christmas card (if I were a Christmas card sender) and I hope they know that I wish them joy and prosperity and love all the time. Still, when someone distant sends a Christmas card, I feel guilty: I should send them one too! But if I do it this year I'm committed and I don't want to set a precedent.
I've actually been wondering if I should give Christmas cards to my volunteers. A lot of them are older, and therefore old school, and it would be a simple way to thank them for their work this past year. I don't want to seem as if I were raised in a barn. I do, when asked, come across as not-Christian (though gently), which should get me off the hook. I don't have any kids or animals to get photo cards made (which Shmeen tells me are difficult to find without a Christmas theme) to send out, though that sounds like the easiest option.
Of course I have to make a decision soon, which means that I might get away without making any decision because eventually it will be too late.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Overheard
I had a Berkeley moment today. I participated in it, too.
I was at the Whole Foods on Telegraph buying whole red winter wheat berries, dried fruit, and soy powder. I walked up in line to hear a woman say to another: "Isn't it great that we've lived long enough to see these changes manifest?"
The first woman went back to the line where her groceries were (since I walked up late, I don't know why she was in one lane when her stuff was in another). I put my basket down and dashed over to her lane to say, "That's the most right-on thing I've heard all day. Thanks for that."
I was at the Whole Foods on Telegraph buying whole red winter wheat berries, dried fruit, and soy powder. I walked up in line to hear a woman say to another: "Isn't it great that we've lived long enough to see these changes manifest?"
The first woman went back to the line where her groceries were (since I walked up late, I don't know why she was in one lane when her stuff was in another). I put my basket down and dashed over to her lane to say, "That's the most right-on thing I've heard all day. Thanks for that."
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
It's Raining Again
Vernonia's flooding again.
This is the small town where YaYaWOT and her family were living when I started hanging out with them. I met them about four months after the big flood of 1996, one they were calling a "hundred year flood" because the water was so high.
It rained ten inches in one day, a lot even for western Oregon. The Is lives on a hill and her house is dry, but the National Guard has been evacuating people by Zodiac raft and by helicopter. It seems like it's only been in the last couple of years that Vernonia has recovered from the '96 flood, and when I moved there V-town, a logging community, was feeling the spotted owl effect.
Now it's under water again. Here's to our friends and neighbors in Vernowhere.
This is the small town where YaYaWOT and her family were living when I started hanging out with them. I met them about four months after the big flood of 1996, one they were calling a "hundred year flood" because the water was so high.
It rained ten inches in one day, a lot even for western Oregon. The Is lives on a hill and her house is dry, but the National Guard has been evacuating people by Zodiac raft and by helicopter. It seems like it's only been in the last couple of years that Vernonia has recovered from the '96 flood, and when I moved there V-town, a logging community, was feeling the spotted owl effect.
Now it's under water again. Here's to our friends and neighbors in Vernowhere.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
I'm A Winner!
The Year of Big, Fun, Scary Things has ended and I have received a certificate for completing it!
Of course, big, fun, scary things never end. That's life - finish one, and another appears in its place. Sometimes it's a big thing - or a fun thing - or a scary thing - and sometime s a combination of two, and sometimes all three. Shanelah would call the third combination an AFOG: Another F----g Opportunity for Growth.
Here's to growing! You don't have to embrace change, but you can brace for it.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Half Lit
There are a few houses in the neighborhood that really take decorating for Christmas seriously. I was hoping to snap some pictures of the most-lit up houses, but most of them were dark.
This house has new decorations:
This house, believe it or not, has more than half their lights off tonight:
There's a street in Portland called Peacock Lane on which every house decorates for Christmas (see photos). People walk up and down the sidewalks or drive up and down the street, headlights off, to look at the lights. Enterprising kids sell hot chocolate and treats, and the year I went the Girl Scouts were doing a toy drive. One December while I was working at Harry's Mother I came up with the idea to take the clients to Peacock Lane. It would get us out of the house, and would be something fun to do, if a little silly.
The clients, my colleague, and I got into the van and we drove up and down the street. Cries of "Look at this!" "Over here!" and "Whoa!" mingled with questions like "Does [Portland Gas & Electric] help with their power bill?" and "That house isn't decorated very much - d'you think they're Jewish?" and "If they were Jewish, why would they buy a house on this street?" It was fun, and the teenagers in our care really enjoyed it.
This house has new decorations:
This house, believe it or not, has more than half their lights off tonight:
There's a street in Portland called Peacock Lane on which every house decorates for Christmas (see photos). People walk up and down the sidewalks or drive up and down the street, headlights off, to look at the lights. Enterprising kids sell hot chocolate and treats, and the year I went the Girl Scouts were doing a toy drive. One December while I was working at Harry's Mother I came up with the idea to take the clients to Peacock Lane. It would get us out of the house, and would be something fun to do, if a little silly.
The clients, my colleague, and I got into the van and we drove up and down the street. Cries of "Look at this!" "Over here!" and "Whoa!" mingled with questions like "Does [Portland Gas & Electric] help with their power bill?" and "That house isn't decorated very much - d'you think they're Jewish?" and "If they were Jewish, why would they buy a house on this street?" It was fun, and the teenagers in our care really enjoyed it.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Advising
Free advice is worth about as much as you pay for it, so they say.
The problem with advice is that even when it's good advice, you only know so in retrospect. Often you can't take it in at the time you're receiving it. I advise people all the time, and my advice is rarely taken. I accept that. We all make our choices.
At the shower yesterday, we all made a book of advice for the tiny human. I'd asked each person to bring a photo of herself as a young kid to put into a memory book with some piece of advice that she wished she had received while she was growing up. Until I received a photo and a [piece of advice for the book from Shanelah's mother-in-law (who wasn't able to attend), I didn't realize how much the advice people submitted was going to be about them personally.
I brought these two photos:
When I was a junior in college and the end of the first semester was approaching, I was considering dropping out of the School of Education because I didn't want to be a teacher. At that time one could get a teaching degree as part of the BA, and I was carrying a major, a minor, and then this minor-plus education course load (this was going to result in my having two electives in my four years of college). I was student teaching at schools unlike the small ones I'd attended with other academically-focused students, and I hated it. Of course I was freaking out about it, because I'd wanted to be a teacher for so long, and I had no idea what I would do if I didn't become a teacher.
I was talking about it with my academic advisor, and she gave me the best advice ever - which of course I could not absorb at the time, though I remember it word-for-word. The Killer Lady was teasing me yesterday by telling some of the other guests that now that I have the message, I do my best to spread it. I compared it to the zealotry of the converted. This is what I wrote in the book for the tiny human:
The problem with advice is that even when it's good advice, you only know so in retrospect. Often you can't take it in at the time you're receiving it. I advise people all the time, and my advice is rarely taken. I accept that. We all make our choices.
At the shower yesterday, we all made a book of advice for the tiny human. I'd asked each person to bring a photo of herself as a young kid to put into a memory book with some piece of advice that she wished she had received while she was growing up. Until I received a photo and a [piece of advice for the book from Shanelah's mother-in-law (who wasn't able to attend), I didn't realize how much the advice people submitted was going to be about them personally.
I brought these two photos:
When I was a junior in college and the end of the first semester was approaching, I was considering dropping out of the School of Education because I didn't want to be a teacher. At that time one could get a teaching degree as part of the BA, and I was carrying a major, a minor, and then this minor-plus education course load (this was going to result in my having two electives in my four years of college). I was student teaching at schools unlike the small ones I'd attended with other academically-focused students, and I hated it. Of course I was freaking out about it, because I'd wanted to be a teacher for so long, and I had no idea what I would do if I didn't become a teacher.
I was talking about it with my academic advisor, and she gave me the best advice ever - which of course I could not absorb at the time, though I remember it word-for-word. The Killer Lady was teasing me yesterday by telling some of the other guests that now that I have the message, I do my best to spread it. I compared it to the zealotry of the converted. This is what I wrote in the book for the tiny human:
No decision you make is the only decision
you get to make about any particular thing.
It is okay to change your mind.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Snow Francisco
While it rarely rarely snows here, after my Northwestern Exposure and my Colorado experience, winter without snow doesn't feel right. Even though I've experienced many more winters without snow than with snow (and those Portland ice storms do not count), and I was 19 the first time I saw snow fall, snowless winters feel unusual.
When I was in third grade, there was a big storm one night and in the morning there was snow! By then we'd all been to Tahoe a few times, so we knew snow, but everyone knows "it never snows in San Francisco!" All of the kids in the neighborhood played hooky (even the ones too little for school), and one or two of the moms took us to Buena Vista Park to play on the slopy hills in the park. As we arrived at the park, we saw our classmates walking up from the school with our teachers. We all played in the snow for awhile and as it was disappearing from the heat of the action (literally), J Jump Joyful's mom suggested we go to higher ground.
I don't remember where we went exactly. I remember that it was Mount Tamalpais in Marin, but it seems more likely that we went to Twin Peaks. Twin Peaks is much closer to the old neighborhood, but Mt. Tam is much higher and not as full of tourists.
One of the first few Christmastimes I was back in California, Dnever D and I were at Mom's for an early Christmas with Mom, No, and KT, who were going to be with KT's family for Christmas proper. Denver D was there, so it would have been 1999 I think. I don't remember a big storm, but it was raining, and at some point I looked out the window and the rain had turned to snow. We all watched it fall, and watched cars drive uncertainly up the street.
The snow didn't last long, but did cause Mom, No, and me to launch into the story of the day there was snow in The City for Denver D and KT.
When I was in third grade, there was a big storm one night and in the morning there was snow! By then we'd all been to Tahoe a few times, so we knew snow, but everyone knows "it never snows in San Francisco!" All of the kids in the neighborhood played hooky (even the ones too little for school), and one or two of the moms took us to Buena Vista Park to play on the slopy hills in the park. As we arrived at the park, we saw our classmates walking up from the school with our teachers. We all played in the snow for awhile and as it was disappearing from the heat of the action (literally), J Jump Joyful's mom suggested we go to higher ground.
I don't remember where we went exactly. I remember that it was Mount Tamalpais in Marin, but it seems more likely that we went to Twin Peaks. Twin Peaks is much closer to the old neighborhood, but Mt. Tam is much higher and not as full of tourists.
One of the first few Christmastimes I was back in California, Dnever D and I were at Mom's for an early Christmas with Mom, No, and KT, who were going to be with KT's family for Christmas proper. Denver D was there, so it would have been 1999 I think. I don't remember a big storm, but it was raining, and at some point I looked out the window and the rain had turned to snow. We all watched it fall, and watched cars drive uncertainly up the street.
The snow didn't last long, but did cause Mom, No, and me to launch into the story of the day there was snow in The City for Denver D and KT.
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