Spring in MN isn’t so much it’s own season as it is the weather jumping back and forth between winter and summer. One day the high is in the 40s, the next day it hits 80. Still, it’s beautiful, and a nice change to be able to go outside most days without a jacket.
Tulips blooming along the south side of the house
Friday mornings usually start with breakfast at the local bakery
then a walk along the lake on the way home. Last week we came across this heron.
hanging out at the playground
with all due respect to all the other parents out there, I think Zoe may be the cutest child on the planet.
preparing fresh asparagus for dinner - she loves helping to cook, I love asparagus. It's all good.
Back before I was a librarian, I worked at a software company, spending most of my time there in customer support as a developer, and then supervisor. When a customer reported a bug, we’d have to fix it, but first, we had to reproduce it. If we couldn’t reproduce it, we couldn’t fix it, and it probably meant that the problem was not in the code but in the implementation. We started looking forward to sending our “CNR” – could not reproduce – messages back to customers. Very easy to close out a bug report that way.
We didn’t start trying to conceive until well after I’d left that job, so I hope I can be forgiven for not seeing the connection between those two, very different parts of my life. And that’s one of the reasons I love XKCD, for finding a way to make me laugh out loud at the hilariously inappropriate combination of two unrelated times of my life. (It should also be noted, for those who aren’t familiar with XKCD, that’s where my regular expressions cheat skirt came from, too).
CNR
I’ve mentioned before that my yoga classes is a community ed class taught in a classroom at the local high school. Last month, the blackboard held a series of questions, no doubt as topics for essays or speeches: What does hope look like to you? – color? – shape? – where is it? The question has lingered in the back of my mind (and in my purse, where I jotted it down one evening before class) because I knew exactly how I’d answer that question, I just had to wait a bit before I could get a picture of it.
Powderhorn Park in Minneapolis
See that barely there, pale yellow-green blur in the trees? How even though the trees are still mostly barren, you now know that they are indeed going to have leaves? That even though it may have taken until May, you know that spring is coming and the winter is well and truly over (yes, yes, I know that it is possible for there to be snow in MN in May and June, but I choose to cover my ears and say “la-la-la” rather than think about that ). That’s what hope looks like to me. (The picture was taken today – May 3 – at the Heart of the Beast’s May Day Ceremony).
I have a somewhat difficult relationship with hope (as do many people, I’m sure). For one, the Hope storyline in Xena the Warrior Princess was a stupid and annoying plotline. But beyond that, there’s such a fine line between the hope that keeps you going, and getting those hopes up and then being disappointed. Whether it’s the hope that you’ll land that job, find a soul mate, finally conceive a child, carry a pregnancy to term, or that a loved one will recover, or even that a favorite lost item will be found, the fact that the outcomes are not fully in our control means that someone somewhere will be disappointed by their hopes, even if those hopes were realistic, even if they had done everything “right.” I still haven’t figured out how to remain hopeful without opening myself up too much to disappointment.
Which is all is really-long winded way of saying that Chris and I have decided to start trying for a second child. And I’m back to wondering how I’ll handle the hopes and disappointments this time around. It feels different this time. We have Zoe, and Chris and I are both so very happy being her parents, and I think that provides something of a buffer. I’m also not sure how much I’ll blog about the whole trying to conceive thing. I know that last time I wish I’d been much more open about what we were going through, but I never felt the need to share all the details (as much as I do find myself poring over other people’s stories). But I wanted people to know, and I’m sure it will come up again.
We got back from visiting my family on Wednesday. I keep wanting to write that the trip was wonderful, but that’s not the right word. So I’ll say it was a good trip. Because it was good.
Grandma’s funeral was on Tuesday, I managed to get through my two readings without completely breaking down. I think it helped that I was holding Zoe. After I sat down, and the pastor started her sermon, Zoe snuggled into my lap and fell asleep – she doesn’t sleep well on trips, and managed to get a cold, too – and then she started snoring. Loudly. I heard snickers behind me from my brother and my grandma’s niece, and I saw Chris and my dad both trying to hold in their laughter. I almost lost it a couple of times just thinking about Zoe snoring away loudly in this somber church. Grandma would have been in one of her giggle fits. Behind me, my brother coughed a couple of times to try to cover his laughs. After the sermon, my brother got up to talk about some of his memories and his laughter gave way to tears. He got through a couple of lines before getting too choked up to continue. I don’t know when I last saw my brother in tears, I’m sure it’s been nearly two decades and I felt so helpless willing him to go on. His wife ran up to him at the front of the church, hugged him, took him by the hand and said, “come on, we’ll do this together” (this still brings tears to my eyes to remember). She went up to the lectern, read from his notes for a few lines while he recovered, and then let him finish his stories, all the while holding his hand. I was hit with so many emotions: the grief, the laughter, the love, the gratitude for having such a wonderful family. The whole visit was a lot like that, though less concentrated. We laughed a lot, told stories, cried a bit, held each other, and it was good.
My grandma died Thursday night. She was 88, and had been in a nursing home since February recovering from a fall. We had hoped that she would be able to come back to live with my parents once she’d gotten a bit stronger and regained some balance. But she fell sick with pneumonia, and then on Thursday morning was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia and congestive heart failure. I booked train tickets for Zoe and I to get out there Friday (yesterday). That evening, after my parents had left grandma at the hospital – she was apparently excited to see Zoe – they got a call from the hospital to come back, as her breathing was getting more labored. By the time they got to the hospital, she was gone. I guess it wasn’t unexpected, but we weren’t ready, I had been looking forward to this visit, and to one in June to see her while my parents were away.
grandma and Zoe this summer
Edith Louise was born on November 15, 1920, in Wernau, Germany to Bertha and Albert. At age 2, her parents brought her and her younger sister Elsie to Baltimore, MD
She and Frank Constanti were married on Nov. 15, 1942. They had one son, Richard Frank on October 21, 1947. Frank preceded her in death on April 12, 1969. She was also preceded by her father Albert Liebold in 1973, her mother Bertha Louis in 1981, and her sister Elsie in 2007.
She later moved to South Dakota, Colorado, Indiana, and to live near her son, Rich, his wife Patsy, and their children, Ann and Carl. She proudly became a US citizen when she was 74 years old, in Indianapolis, IN, in the fall of 1994.
She is survived by her son, Richard, daughter-in-law Patsy, her grandchildren Ann and her husband Chris and their daughter Zoe, and Carl and his wife Roopa. She is also survived by niece Erika of Baltimore, MD.
~ ~ ~
I know that she did not always have an easy life, but for me, she was always one who laughed easily, and laughed heartily. When she really got laughing, she’d laugh so hard, all you could hear were these little squeaks as she tried to catch her breath. It would always crack my brother up, which would send her in to fits of laughing again. They could keep each other in stitches for hours. She let my brother and I explore and experiment as much as we wanted. I think she did as much as anyone to encourage in both of us our curiosity and sense of wonder. We’d make chocolate dipped pretzels for Christmas, but the best part was when we’d run out of pretzels and scour her kitchen for any other ingredients that might or might not be good covered in chocolate, but would at least be fun to try (and she did enjoy the chocolate covered bacon at the state fair this year). One afternoon, she was watching my brother and I at our house where we had those really little champagne grapes. Upon tasting one, she declared that they tasted like wine, so we should try an experiment to make wine. We smashed the little grapes with our fingers in the bowl and then set it aside. We learned nothing about wine-making from that, but we did learn about mold growth when my mom found that bowl months later on top of the refrigerator. I think my brother and grandma and I were laughing too hard at the whole thing to adequately explain to my mom what was going on. At my brother’s wedding 2 years ago, Chris and I left early with Zoe and asked if she wanted to ride with us back to the hotel. No. She was having too much fun on the dance floor.
I miss her.
Zoe looking out over Lake Superior (click to get to the voting page)
Ok, first thing – you all are awesome! Thank you for all the votes for Zoe in the photo contest. I’ve had a bunch of requests for updates and questions, so here goes:
- Zoe is in 8th place currently (oops! now 10th – yikes! Vote!). The top 12 go in the calendar, so it’s looking good. So far.
- But… voting runs until June 30, so if you’re up to it and want to keep on voting, please, please do!
- Yes, you can vote more than once. You either need to close the browser and open it again, or in Firefox, you can clear your cookies and you should be able to vote again.
The most exciting thing is that when I entered Zoe, there was only one other picture of a kid in glasses. Most of the pictures had little to do with children’s eye care. I wrote a post on Little Four Eyes putting out the call for more pictures of kids with vision problems or glasses and now there’s a lot of great pictures that fit the bill. You can check out my Little Four Eyes post for a list of the 13 (!) pictures from the L4E community.If you’re up for lots of voting, I’d love to get as many of these in the calendar as we can. It’s my first foray into Internet campaigns. Today the CEF calendar, tomorrow the world? Thanks for any votes you send our way! It’s been really fun to watch her votes go up, and to see all the great (and relevant) new submissions.
My aunt, me and my mom. Mom is on the right. She made my dress, my shawl, and her filmy top.
My mom can do wonders with all things textile. Seriously. (I’m bragging, but it’s not just bragging, it’s true). She made my wedding dress. And my wedding shawl. She sews, she knits, she weaves, she felts. Heck, she’s made money bags out of shredded money and hats out of dog hair, she’s even spun silk made by silkworms that she raised from eggs (they’re dumb little worms, by the way). She has a master’s certificate in spinning (the kind where you make yarn, not where you pedal a bike to nowhere). She’s a well-known teacher and author. Basically, if it has to do with textiles, she’s all over it.
Somehow, though, I missed out on that gene. I never even learned to sew. Until this week. Now that’s a little misleading, I can sew a button on by hand, and I understand the theory behind stitching things with a needle and thread, and I can knit, but I’d never worked a sewing machine. But recently, I was feeling like this was something I really ought to learn. I should know at least the basics of sewing and clothing repair. Enough to fix seams, to hem pants, to maybe sew a simple costume for Zoe. So while my mom was here for a very short visit this week, we went out and got me my first sewing machine. And I’ve taken a few lessons from mom, who by the way, is an awesome teacher (I was feeling like I hadn’t bragged on her enough this paragraph). So far I have hemmed three pair of pants, sewn three buttons on, and darned a shirt. I have to admit that I scoffed at the idea of sewing a button on with a machine. I mean, it’s not hard to sew one on by hand. But wow! It’s so much faster with a machine. And kind of fun, when you get past the terrifying, will-I-shatter-the-button? phase.
It got me thinking about why I hadn’t learned earlier. Why didn’t I take advantage of her while I lived at home, where she has a great sewing machine, tons of fabric and all the tools to do all sorts of fun things. Well, mom did try introducing me to it once in middle school, I think I sewed one piece of cloth, and that was it. Mom says that it’s a matter of teaching when a person wants it. It’s pretty similar to the “just in time” teaching philosophy that we talk about in the library sometimes. No matter how much they’re going to need to know how to search an online database, no one is going to actually bother learning it until they know they’ll need it. It’s one of the reasons I have such a hard time teaching in classes where the professor hasn’t yet given the students an assignment that will use the library’s resources.
But knowing now how much easier it is with a machine to hem my pants and sew on buttons – I really wish I would have been interested earlier. And I have spoken with students who say they wished they’d learned to find things in the library before they were panicking about a paper. Hindsight and all that, I guess.
Any skills or knowledge you wish you’d learned from your parents? Or any skill that you hope to someday pass on to someone else?
I have the reference shift this afternoon at the library. Since it’s spring break, we’re just on a pager – people can page us from the reference desk – and we don’t staff the desk from noon – 1pm.
I came back from lunch to find this on the desk (we’ve been having network outages all morning). It’s so poetic in its simplicity, I felt the need to save it, because sometimes that’s all there is to say:
The Children’s Eye Foundation voting page is back up. Thank you to everyone that has voted so far, and yes, I’m happy to shamelessly beg the rest of you to vote. There’s another super-cute picture of a boy in glasses, and I’m told that there will be another of a girl in glasses on the beach later today. My not terribly evil ploy to make sure this calendar has some representation from the littlest four eyes in now in action.
Ok, I have a request … The Children’s Eye Foundation is sponsoring a photo contest for its “I Care for Eyecare” calendar, with the theme “It’s a beautiful thing to see.” I’ve entered a picture of Zoe, and I’d love if you vote for her picture (it’s titled “Zoe looks out over Lake Superior”). No registration or anything required. There are 12 winners selected, and each gets a digital camera, which is cool. But mostly, I just think that Zoe’s picture fits the theme so much better than most of the submitted pictures. I mean, yeah, the puppies are cute, but come on! It’s supposed to be about children’s eye care.
Note, the page is back up.
The picture on the voting page is a little small, so it’s not quite as clear that she’s wearing glasses – and looking at the beautiful world through them. So here’s a bigger version, so you can see what you’re (I hope) voting for.
Zoe looking out over Lake Superior (click to get to the voting page)
