I must preface this blog post by noting that Dave was out of town last week.
On Tuesday night I worked late in Palo Alto. And when I came home at 8:30pm and was upstairs with all Three Pinks, the garage door opened. We fled the house for our sweet neighbors' and I called the police. With the help of a big dog and his powerful nose, two men packing heat searched the house top to bottom, and then the garage and the yard. Eventually they declared it safe to return. We went to bed late. In my case, getting into bed did not translate to a good night's sleep.
On Thursday night I went to an NCL meeting, leaving The Pinks with instructions to turn on the alarm after I left. What I did not leave them with was an understanding of the Stay vs. Away alarm settings. And so an hour later one of them tripped the alarm and again, the neighbors came to the rescue. One came over immediately. A different one was there when I got home 30 minutes later.
And then there was Friday. Eleven hours of this day was spent in the ER. Where The Pink who instigated this adventure came to the conclusion that she prefers female doctors and male nurses. I do have to admit the department manager nurse who came to her rescue when the first nurse collapsed a vein while running her IV, was awesome. He was gentle and fast with needles, and entertaining as well.
On Saturday arrived Fabio, a gift from a friend. I'm going to leave him on the front porch for a while.
I set aside time Friday morning to walk with Lisa, who I talk to frequently but don't see nearly often enough. The last time we had plans I cancelled because one of the Pinks was sick and needed me. The sick and needy part doesn't happen very often, either.
So on Friday morning I got up and dressed for walking, and then ended up in the Emergency Room with a hysterical child. This child is witty to begin with and she's downright hilarious when she's on the verge. Eleven hours later we left the hospital with a diagnosis of something exceptionally rare for a child. This was one of those times I wished one was less exceptional. And so I cancelled on Lisa again.
Being the kind of friend she is, Lisa offered to pick up Eldest Daughter at school. And Eldest Daughter, who could have driven herself, then talked Lisa into dropping her and the unaffected twin off at the hospital to see The Patient. Of course she came in, too, since I needed a hug and I was getting tired of holding it all together.
Lisa has become my hospital friend. She is good, okay great, in a crisis and is tolerant of bureaucracy. She is super reassuring. She talks without babbling. She listens without judging. Lisa was in the waiting room when our children were born. She took me to the hospital a few times while I was pregnant. And she took in Eldest Daughter when Dave and I needed to make hospital runs in the middle of the night. Yes, runs. Plural. Even when her husband had the flu.
I didn't realize I had an official hospital friend until yesterday. I'm grateful for her. Hopefully you don't need a hospital friend.
There's something about blown glass that intrigues me. It's like the ocean -- fluid, changing. It looks different as the light changes. I like how the basic elements of glassblowing haven't changed in 2,000 years. It's still just fire, movement, gravity and centrifugal force. I probably should collect blown glass. Or maybe I already do?
The first time Dave and I went to Venice together, in our 20s, we were so overwhelmed by the amount and variety of glass that we didn't buy any. When we went back for our 10th anniversary we visited the island of Murano, where Venetian glassblowing has taken place since it was banished there in the 13th century for fear of burning down the city of Venice. We made a point to pick up a significant piece, hand carried it back, and it's been displayed in our bedroom ever since.
Our family makes an annual trek to the Cohn Stone Studios in Richmond each fall to see the glass pumpkins and we often stay a few hours, unable to pull ourselves away from the talented tradespeople creating the pumpkins before our very eyes.
I remember looking long and hard at the blown glass jellyfish in Hawaii, fascinated that such a delicate animal could be replicated in glass.
While we were on the cruise in Mexico two Thanksgivings ago I listened to a speaker on a glassblower who creates in the style of waves. While this particular style of blown glass wasn't to my taste, it was an interesting talk and fascinating to learn about the techniques used to create this kind of art.
And recently I read a mediocre piece of historical fiction called The Glassblower of Murano, where I learned that huge glass chandeliers are transported hung in large vessels of water. It makes sense once you think about it.
Given all this, it's no surprise that Eldest Daughter and I visited the Chihuly Gardens in Seattle when we were there in January. The gardens are just 18 months old and include both indoor and outdoor space. Look at the floral piece in the photo above. It's 100 feet long and made up of 1,400 different pieces. This space, called the Glasshouse, must be available for event rentals. The Gardens contain eight galleries which are dark except for the art, lit all different ways.
Dale Chihuly is Seattle native, best known for his large-scale installations. That humongous floral chandelier in the Bellagio hotel? That's Chihuly. We also saw four of his pieces in the casino at Atlantis. Strangely, the largest public display of his work is in Oklahoma City. Inexpensive land? He also went to school at my alma mater, the University of Wisconsin in Madison. Once you get a visual grasp on how large his works are, you understand why he established the team approach to glass blowing. It would be interesting to know how it's all assembled so that the pieces don't break.
I look at the purple glass below and wonder how the glass doesn't break when it's very windy outside. I will be back in Seattle for a week this summer and plan to return to the Gardens so I can take my time through it.
We sniffed that possibility out by touring UC Davis this morning.
Davis is 45 minutes from our house, on the way to Tahoe. I'd long wanted to see more of the campus than we see from the freeway so Eldest Daughter and I tagged along with my sister-in-law and niece, the high school senior. Eldest Daughter has always said it was too close to home to consider and, although she came along today, she appears to still feel that way.
UC Davis is a college town. It felt like Berkeley to me in that crunchy way. But it wasn't as dirty and the buildings weren't as pretty. The campus felt fairly laid back and it would be a great place to go, in my opinion, if you studied agriculture, natural resources or environmental sciences. Bikes were everywhere and the campus was flat.
One of the things I liked about the school was the salad bar garden in front of the plant and environmental sciences building. From time to time the garden team hosts salad lunch days and students bring their own bowls, harvest their own greens and mix ins, and the school provides a washing station, salad spinners and salad dressing.
This was my second official college tour and it made me realize how much the tour guide influences the visiting prospective student's experience. While this tour guide was fairly knowledgeable and could speak from a memorized script while walking backwards, she lacked energy and the ability to engage tour participants.
Pictured here is one of the Robert Arneson Egghead sculptures. It's called Bookhead and sits at the entrance to the Shields Library.
My brother, my dad, Thing 2 and I played poker on the last night of the annual three-generation ski trip. We didn't have poker chips up so we played with pastel colored M&Ms. It definitely changes the game when the colors don't have a set value. At one point my brother was out of greens so my father reminded us that blue and yellow make green. And then, after laughing hysterically, we continued.
It was also funny when, on the way home from Northstar, we talked about a book I've had on my Tahoe nightstand for several years. It's on the Donner Party. I started telling my brother that I've been meaning to read this book and my father said, "Oh. It's a cookbook?!" Again, hilarious. But only if you know California history.
We had three days of beautiful weather and togetherness. The snow is what you'd expect from the amount of rain we've had this year-- minimal. The best ski conditions are in the morning and you'd think that being right here on the mountain we'd be the first ones out. But no, we're a little lazy that way. Especially Thing 2. I love the way Thing 2 skis with my brother -- more aggressively and without whining. He challenges her.
My rocket scientist moment occurred when I took my boots back to Granite Chief because they'd been bothering me. The guy in the boot department managed to keep a straight face when letting me know that the likely reason they hurt was because I'd put new liners in without first removing the old ones! Lovely. Being able to laugh at yourself is a gift.
A storm was coming in as we headed back to the Bay. This weekend, as my family divides and conquers between Disneyland, a lacrosse tournament on Treasure Island and the NCL Tea, will be epic.
They're purple and grey and green with a little orange and made of cotton. And they're sewn together with lots of love and a super soft Minky backside. Then they're mailed to a city on the eastern seaboard, a city still cold and snowy and deep into winter. To someone who needs to know that her California cousins are thinking of her and wishing they were there to make her matzoh ball soup. And drive her to appointments.
Do you recognize the smiley girl on the right? Yeah, neither did I. Apparently she's an 11-year-old dance wunderkind, a role model for miniature dancers worldwide.
As it turned out, Sophia Lucia was at the same dance competition Thing 1 was over the weekend. And she was sweet enough to pop this picture with Thing 1. She was also classy enough not to audition along with the other children, leaving them with a chance to win scholarships and receive recognition, which Thing 1 did in the form of a jazz award.
This was the last dance convention of the season and I have to admit, I'm glad. From here on out it's just performances and competitions. Up next: Disneyland. Oh yeah, Dave will take her. Eldest Daughter and I will be at the annual NCL mother-daughter tea.