Sharing The Girly Traditions

When the girls were young and still trying to figure themselves out--and we know they are all finished with that now at 23 and 25--I made every effort to offer them ample opportunities with varied efforts to make that task all the more easier.

Anything they wanted explore, I supported them. Of source the one stipulation was, anything they started they had to finish through--just to give themselves the full benefit of having explored it.

We--as a family--had so many creative outlets! Now, in hindsight, I have to say we are the more richer as a result (even though the "original" family is scattered!).

Part of that enrichment took the form of Philharmonic Orchestra and the once-a-year Nutcracker Ballet.

We were privileged to visit the Philharmonic Orchestra performances on a variety of occasions. I was tutoring the conductor's wife on computer and she was kind enough to provide me and my young girls with exceptionally good seats. So befitting the occasion, we dressed to the nines and attended with quiet respect. The girls ages were still in the singles digits. They were quiet and sat in awe of the precision in which the musicians played. And after each performance, they were privileged enough to go backstage and see all those shiny instruments up close and personal. I still think these visits had something to do with my eldest being first chair cello and my youngest being first chair flutist in their high school years. The seed was planted...

The ballet was a different matter altogether.

It was always such a special occasion. The girls would don their Christmas dresses. The good perfume would be brought out and used with wild abandon, Hair would be upswept and the "fancy" earrings would be pulled out of safe-keeping. This was a grand occasion.

In spite of their early years, I remember how the girls would sit mesmerized throughout the entire performance. During intermission, we'd venture into the lobby for bathroom breaks and keepsake Christmas ornaments were purchased.

At the end of the performance, we'd gather up our treasures and spend the ride each discussing out favorite parts of the evening.
This was a "girls only" outing-- not that Dad every felt slighted or showed any interest at all.

This was a girl thing.

This year--after a 10 year break from this holiday tradition--the city-girl and I will be introducing Momo to the Nutcracker Ballet. I'm really terribly excited.

I'm sure the city-girl will be happy to know that tickets have been purchased and the date has been marked on our calendars. Three generations will be seeing the Nutcracker this year.

The only upsetting part is that the youngest member pf our female entourage--Miss Jeni--will be unable to join us. But she will be there in spirit...

Potholes In The Road

The first time you travel through a pothole, it may startle you because you never saw it coming. This is your chosen path-- over all others -- and you have learned to lean with the curves in the road. There's a certain comfort found in familiarity.

Second time around, you might get angry at yourself--because you knew it was there, right? What were you thinking? When the jolt rattles your teeth and upsets everything, you may blame yourself for not fixing the broken part of the road, even though you know you are ill-equipped to do such things.

So you continue traveling the same way, thinking you will see the pothole in time to drive around it. Such confidence! Inevitably, the scenery proves to be distracting and you hit the damn hole again.

No blood, no foul. So you just keep going.

At some point, it may dawn on you that the pothole is not getting fixed. Others may not find it as unpleasant as you do. There must be some who may actually like potholes and accept them as part of the ride. In fact, they may drive right through the potholes at high speed just for the thrill of the jolt. So what if it takes a day or so to get everything adjusted and back in line?

But soon you notice, those who seek the jolt don't get everything adjusted and back in line. The papers that are scattered by the bump stay scattered. What has fell off the dash and rolls under the seat, stays under the seat. Yet they continue to plow right through the pothole as things scatter and roll.

You may find yourself wondering what is wrong with me that I can't see the thrill in the jolt? Jolt seekers may suggest you are too rigid and controlling because you choose the comfort of knowing where items are, over speculating where they may have shifted.

You may listen, but ultimately you decide you won't be spending time retrieving anything from under the seat. It may take a bit more effort while traveling to look for the pothole and drive around it, but you realize this plan nets the greatest benefit.

But as you swerve to miss the pothole, you may realize this old path just isn't as scenic as you once thought. This particular path has lost a bit of its charm. You may even begin to believe the journey doesn't justify the swerve in the road.

He's The Love Of My Life

I have better pictures of Elijah Blue--I just can't put my hands on them right now.

This is how he looked before our move to Virginia in 2001.

He made the trip and has since, lost his sight. He moves around as if he hasn't, though. I admire his dignity.

What I love most about him is how he is always glad to see me, always forgiving and puts no other before me. He is my ever faithful companion, through thick and thin.

Makes me think of the saying "If you want undying love and affection, get a dog."

Happy Tenth Birthday, Elijah Blue.