Friday, May 28, 2004

Homeowners again

At the closing yesterday: a family affair--

Papa, what's the cookie fortune say? Will we have a real yard again?


Hmmm.... These terms seem acceptable at first glance but I'll have to contemplate them. After a snack and a nap.


So we own a house again. We'll probably start moving Saturday afternoon or Sunday... I'm so ready. Haven't packed a thing, but I'm ready.

Pictures from last week

Laz's birthday -- we took a morning nature walk with Christine and Jai, to see the amazing wildflowers the rain has brought (the beauty of which my little digicam can't begin to capture)...


An outing with Maggie on a cool morning (I knitted the hat -- it came out small so I added the crocheted border, and now it fits perfectly)...


My lil' bruiser the day after his operation last Friday (the swelling is gone, the incision is healing nicely, and the doc said it was a dermoid cyst, which is completely benign)...

Saturday, May 22, 2004

Happy birthday, baby

My sweet boy had his second birthday on Thursday. I have to admit that we didn't really do anything to celebrate; I have lots of presents for him (since I spoil him so much, you know), waiting in Christine's barn, but I don't feel inspired to have a party till after we move (since I'm such an uncaring, neglectful mother, you know). I did hug him and kiss him and tell him "happy birthday" all day... but we also had to go to the doctor to see about a bump at the outer edge of his left eyebrow. (I could have waited till next week, but I was worried.) Doc said let's operate, so yesterday I took him to the hospital to have it removed... they had to put him under, and it took the whole day (including recovery) rather than the hour or two I'd anticipated, but it turned out to be two sebaceous cysts, completely harmless. No, not a brain tumor (not that I was worried about that or anything). He's fine now, though he does have some ugly swelling around his eye. Looks like he was in a bar brawl -- oops, I mean a schoolyard scuffle. No, there's lots of swelling and dark bruising, and his bandage has a spot of blood on it, so I think that's bar brawl level. And it was hard seeing him in that little hospital gown... eerie, I guess. I'm incredibly superstitious about weird stuff like that.

Anyway, we'll celebrate after we move into the new house, which will be a week from tomorrow. I'm beyond excited. A bit scared (mainly that somethine else will pop up at the last minute to kill the deal) but still dreaming about having my own home again. I keep my large collection of seed packets right here on my work table just to remind me that it won't be much longer till I'm gardening again. And no longer living IN A TRAILER 14 MILES OUT OF TOWN. (Yeah, the "camping-out" fantasy has worn thin.)

I wanted to put up pictures of Lazarus over the past two years... so here goes.

His first day:


Kissy face:


With grandma:


Morning (just before he outgrew the basket Maggie now sleeps in):


With mama:


Balloon!


First Christmas, in Denver:


Da king of bongo:


First birthday:


Hot summer day:


At the springs:


At the beach (Atlantic side):


Reading:


Second Christmas, in New Mexico:


Walking!


On the road again:


London calling:


The lil' dude:

Wednesday, May 19, 2004

New moon



I just looked at the calendar and noticed the moon is new today. Lazarus and I have been looking for it (he scans the sky everytime we go outside and asks, "moon?") so now I know it'll show up again soon in the early evening sky.

This lunar phase: Lazarus' birthday is tomorrow. We close on the house deal a week from tomorrow, have a party with the sellers and friends Friday the 28th, and start moving stuff over Saturday. Every time I go to town now, I drive by the house just to look. Yesterday I ran into Kurt and Lisa, and we chatted for a while -- Lisa said I could go in and look around anytime, hang out in the yard, whatever, which was generous of her, but I don't want to intrude. And I can endure ten more days of anticipation.

Should I start packing? ...nah.

Thursday, May 06, 2004

Looking outward (it happens sometimes)

First, this is for my mom:


Three weeks until we close on our house. That's 21 days, and in 23 days we'll go over and stand in our blessedly spacious house... and then start filling it up with our stuff, some of which we never unpacked when we left California. I figure we'll end up getting rid of half our stuff (giving some away, selling some, using some to furnish our store which Antonio will finish renovating this summer [*fingers crossed*]). But the house has built-in bookcases all over, including up in the loft, so I can finally bring out my many, many books and feel like an intelligent person again. Well, a well-read person, anyway.

So much for mundane stuff. I finally pulled my head out of the sand and started watching and reading news again. Stuff like this absolutely turns my stomach. If the tables were turned, the US would be spouting holy terror and launching nukes.

"They said they were going to kill us, but in the end they took the bags off our heads and I was surprised to see my friends around me." --Haydar Sabbar Abed, Iraqi inmate, as told to BBC News.

Neither side in this conflict has exactly played fair, but clearly -- not that it wasn't crystal clear before -- current US "leaders" don't believe stuff like the Geneva Convention applies to them, either. To wit:

In the case of armed conflict not of an international character occurring in the territory of one of the High Contracting Parties, each party to the conflict shall be bound to apply, as a minimum, the following provisions:

1. Persons taking no active part in the hostilities, including members of armed forces who have laid down their arms and those placed hors de combat by sickness, wounds, detention, or any other cause, shall in all circumstances be treated humanely, without any adverse distinction founded on race, colour, religion or faith, sex, birth or wealth, or any other similar criteria.

To this end the following acts are and shall remain prohibited at any time and in any place whatsoever with respect to the above-mentioned persons:

(a) Violence to life and person, in particular murder of all kinds, mutilation, cruel treatment and torture;

(b) Taking of hostages;

(c) Outrages upon personal dignity, in particular, humiliating and degrading treatment;

(d) The passing of sentences and the carrying out of executions without previous judgment pronounced by a regularly constituted court affording all the judicial guarantees which are recognized as indispensable by civilized peoples.


President-select Bush is "reportedly annoyed" with Donald Rumsfeld over all this. Probably because Bush and his Rove-ing progaganda masters got taken by surprise and didn't get a chance to spin or squelch this stuff. Now it's a big mess, and that's bad for the administration. Because it's all about Face, you know.

Monday, May 03, 2004

Awwwww

Saturday, May 01, 2004

Poem on Your Blog Day (a day late, of course)

I have a correction to make: the night I went into labor with Maggie, as Antonio drove me to the hospital in Socorro, KUNM's "Spoken Word" program was playing the following (not Maya Angelou's "On the Pulse of Morning" as I reported earlier, thinking I had recognized Angelou's voice in the reading). This is just as fitting and inspirational for marking the beginning of my daughter's life:

Ego Tripping (there may be a reason why)

Nikki Giovanni (1973)

I was born in the congo
I walked to the fertile crescent and built
the sphinx
I designed a pyramid so tough that a star
that only glows every one hundred years falls
into the center giving divine perfect light
I am bad

I sat on the throne
drinking nectar with allah
I got hot and sent an ice age to europe
to cool my thirst
My oldest daughter is nefertiti
the tears from my birth pains
created the nile
I am a beautiful woman

I gazed on the forest and burned
out the sahara desert
with a packet of goat's meat
and a change of clothes
I crossed it in two hours
I am a gazelle so swift
so swift you can't catch me

For a birthday present when he was three
I gave my son hannibal an elephant
He gave me rome for mother's day
My strength flows ever on

My son noah built new/ark and
I stood proudly at the helm
as we sailed on a soft summer day
I turned myself into myself and was
jesus
men intone my loving name
All praises All praises
I am the one who would save

I sowed diamonds in my back yard
My bowels deliver uranium
the filings from my fingernails are
semi-precious jewels

On a trip north
I caught a cold and blew
My nose giving oil to the arab world
I am so hip even my errors are correct
I sailed west to reach east and had to round off
the earth as I went
The hair from my head thinned and gold was laid
across three continents

I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal
I cannot be comprehended except by my permission

I mean...I...can fly
like a bird in the sky...


I love this poem, and I love reading it again. "I cannot be comprehended except by my permission" -- what a statement. And "My strength flows ever on." Most conspicuously, and meaningfully, through my beautiful children.