Such Small Hands

If nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies.
-Anonymous

Last Tuesday I got out of work early and walked (rather than drove) to pick up N from school. Making our way down the front steps of Prescott there was a hot wind blowing. The sunlight caught the side of her cheek as she smiled at me. We grabbed hands and crossed the street together.

From that first step onto the cross-walk to the last step on the front porch I listened to the melodious sound of a six year old babble about school. She rendered the latest and greatest song from music class, listed what different kids ate for lunch (“oh, by the way, mom, couldn’t you throw a dessert into my lunch-box just a little more often?”), and she mentioned liking the smell of her teacher’s perfume when she gets a hug.

Subtract the sunlight, the hot wind and I’m left with a moment that isn’t uncommon.

In the daily grind of dinner, dishes, bedtime, laundry…rinse, lather, repeat… I often forget to relish in what an affectionate creature N is. It goes without notice, sometimes, how she'll instinctively hold my hand, or even delight in our being together.

It won't always be like this. She'll bound across streets with or without me. Grow into an adult who never gives a second thought as to how hard it was to tie her own shoes.

Everything changes eventually. Even the smallness of her hands. Our relationship will change accordingly. Being a parent often conjures a lesson I keep learning, forgetting, and learning again that you have to love what you have while you have it.

Everyday Things for a Healthier Planet

Happy Earth Day! Without a lot of time to write a long diatribe about the environment I fall back on the premise of a book by John C. Ryan called Seven Wonders. Each chapter focuses on an item from his list of choices we can make for a healthier planet. Its a good book and one I recommend. Ryan uses his research to paint a picture of things I can do rather than leaving me with a hopeless or deeply depressed feeling which pervades the eco-lit genre.

In a nutshell Ryan recommends we opt for the following Seven Wonders to benefit the planet:

1. The Bicycle
   
2. The Ceiling Fan
3. The Library
4. Pad Thai Tofu
5. The Condom
6. The Clothesline
7. The Ladybug

My favorite among the list is the bicycle. We went on a family bike ride just last Saturday. You remember that feeling you had on your dirt bike when you were a kid? The rush you got from tick-tick-ti-ti-ti-ti-ticking of your bike chain? The way your cheeks got a little flushed from the thrill of mobility? Call me a big kid but its a feeling I've never outgrown.

Obviously I'm a huge fan of Thai food and my vegetarian husband proliferates the veggie servings present at our table. So, my taste-buds must give a nod to the Pad Thai though I know the tofu mention rules that out for several of you.

In celebration of Earth Day I hope you'll head to your local library and check out Seven Wonders by John C. Ryan. Its a quick read and offers some good granola brain-food to munch on.

Cilantro Plants for the Taking

Our sun-lamp downstairs works better than I dreamed it would. The McKibbin basement is a cilantro forest. Fresh herbs are expensive from the grocer but these bedding plants are free to a good home. If you're interested just call or email me.

Spring

I like the way the soil kind of stings against my fingers as I work in the garden. The cold, wet earth reminds me we how close this moment rises from winter. I wonder if the winter hibernation isn't some basic instinct of mine during bouts of cold weather? I curl up on the couch more often. Read more. Talk Less. My sleep is somehow deeper under the insulation of snow.

As the daylight lengthens so does my to-do list. Some special breath about springtime awakens my ambition. These mornings, before the alarm, I stay still just a minute to hear the birds outside. I push back the covers with a rush of energy.

Ah, Capitalism!

Anyone who says money doesn't buy happiness doesn't know where to shop. ~ Anonymous

In an effort to educate Naomi on money, and make more fiscally responsible than her parents we started dolling out an allowance for her once a week. She has the right to spend only half of her meager two dollars and puts half into a savings account. The attached image captures the first day she held the two dollars between her fingers. It was a rather big deal. Ah, the thrill of purchasing power!

Somehow the moment came to mind as I read about the economic stimulus package. The McKibbins aren't doing anything rash with the economic stimulus windfall, but I have to fess up to some thrill thinking that we could.

Ooooo The Tax Man

For every benefit you receive a tax is levied. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

You know it must be tax time if I have such a rapid fire of postings to my blog.

I go to great lengths to avoid filing my tax return. I clean my house, I get the oil changed in my car, I go to the yoga class on Saturday. My avoidance can run pretty thick. My financial world has no complicating nuisances so filing the return is not that difficult. With the assistance of a software package I can compose and submit our family tax return in less than a day.

Its not the part about paying taxes. I'm all for roads and bridges, good schools, and all the benefits I reap from my state and federal tax dollars at work. Weird but true. Its not the money I pay the taxman I try to avoid - its that moment after all the numbers crunched that makes me wince. The moment where I look at our income and there are two distinct feelings. One is to stand aghast by the obscene amount of wealth in this country. The other feeling is more selfish in wishing higher digits were involved on the income side of my return.

What craziness is that? If you knew the meager existence I envisioned after graduating from college you would join me in wondering how any amount of money could leave me unsatisfied? Well past the age of twenty-five I was the person who could pack all my possessions into the hatchback of a '91 Dodge Omni. Take the hatchback out of this equation and in a global or national scale, by any measure and in every sense I am extremely fortunate.

At thirty-five McKibbin and I manage to afford our needs and several things we want. I live in the richest country in the world. I am offered every advantage. An environmental career has fed my spirit and been more profitable than I thought it would be to boot.

I don't think the poverty of my twenties, or poverty in general, makes someone an inherently virtuous person. By the same logic I don't necessarily admire a person just because they've made bank. Tax time conjures a murky mess of emotions from disappointment to shock to self loathing to confusion. Its just a mess in my brain that I'd rather avoid. Thank goodness its almost over.

Insult to Injury

With moaning and complaining on the brain I slunk into the gym at 5 pm today. I growled out a mouthful of self-pity to the YMCA check-in clerk about my long, frustrating day with little sleep. I was just dog tired. With that bad attitude I laced up my shoes, and walked upstairs from the locker room. The half-marathon training guide said I still had to run six miles.

I fired up my treadmill, plugged in my headphones and surrendered to notion that, bad attitude or not, the next sixty minutes of my life would be occupied by running. Adding insult to injury the news report told me that my favorite, favorite junk food of all time (cheese fries with ranch dressing) topped a list from Men's Health Magazine of unhealthy foods.

Talk about kicking a girl while she's down!

Visions of Camping Trips Danced in Their Heads

Somebody told me it was frightening how much topsoil we are losing each year, but I told that story around the campfire and nobody got scared. --Jack Handey

Since the recent wealth of warm weather Naomi's imagination has fixed on camping.

We had planned to take out the tent last summer. I'm not entirely certain what happened, but our plans abruptly changed. A few hours prior to the camping trip I stumbled upon Naomi amdist a gaggle of her cousins. Hushed, excited chatter rose steadily from their tight-cousin-huddle. I forget sometimes that I am the grown up. The kill-joy who walks up and and bursts the bubble. "What's going on here?" I asked without finesse. The kids responded like dry rice spilling on the floor crackling out shushh-es as they scattered. Naomi stood eerily still with eyes wide. She quickly burst into tears and clung to my chest.

Camping was too scary, she said between heaves and sobs. We, we just couldn't go. We couldn't go camping. McKibbin unpacked the tent from the trunk of his car. The ice in the cooler melted. We stayed home. Draw your own conclusions as to what happened there.

This year, however, a brave and bold Naomi has gone to Kindergarten. She has turned six. She hasn't huddled with her cousins in months. She is amping up for a summer camping trip. At bedtime Naomi asked if she could practice by sleeping on the floor tonight.

"No," I said. "Generally people sleep on the floor when they do not have a bed. You have a bed. You should sleep in it."

Naomi was quick to retort Sleeping on the floor would be more fun. I bet rich people sleep on the floor all the time. It saves money. She sleeps, now, in her bed. But on the rich people saving money jag I stand corrected.

My Inner Sci-Fi Geek

Say the word sci-fi to a woman and she’ll respond by
shrieking as she runs into the other room to go read
The Kiterunner.

-- That Guy Who Hosts The Daily Dish
on E! Entertainment Channel

Looking in the mirror this morning, I had a moment of clarity. All junkies start their sobriety stories that sort of revelation, don’t they? I’ve been reduced to a puddle of my former self by the marathon Battlestar Galactica episodes this week leading up to the season premier tonight. My brother and I watched Battlestar Galactica’s original rendering in the ‘70s. Yep, my Battlestar addiction dates back to the days when Starbuck was a guy, and the Commander was better known for his role in Alpo dog-food commercials.

Here’s the scoop: the old show was campy and fun but this new show is genius. I’m not the type of sci-fi fan who’s hooked whenever a show throws down a couple of good special effects or a techno-gadget to inexplicably save-the-day. It’s the plotline of the new Battlestar Galactica that grabs me. The story is both exciting and relevant. It manages to capture the essence of a very human story. Uh, its just … its just …genius.

I know there is a lot of Battlestar hype out there. You’ve seen the Bringing the 'Battlestar' fleet home: 5 questions article in the Journal Star or the 'Battlestar Galactica': Why It Might Save Your Marriage article on MSN. Seriously if you are at all on the fence I recommend checking out the final season.

Latecomers can catch up on the last four seasons by watching an 8 minute clever synopsis posted by the SciFi Channel called What The Frak is Going On?

My Parting Gift

Sometimes I don't like going new places.
I think all the kids will laugh at me.
--Naomi (when she was four)

I’ll admit it: I’m a pain in the posterior to travel with. Scratch that. Preparing for a trip brings out the worst of my Type A anxieties. I’m an absolute pain up until the moment TSA grants me the permission to put my shoes and my belt back on. By that point my luggage is checked and my boarding pass is in-hand. If I’ve forgotten to pack something, if there isn't enough food in the gerbil’s cage or I've left the bathroom light on its going to have to wait until I get back.

Actually I like to travel. But it’s the traveling part I like not the packing up or getting ready to go. I like the way new places have an unfamiliar bite to the air. I find guilty pleasure whenever I nuzzle into a pillowy bed with clean sheets that I didn’t change myself. So long as my family is still speaking to me as we board the airplane we generally have a good time. Unfortunately McKibbin and Naomi only got in on the Type A furious preparation and none of the joy of my recent trip to Raleigh.

Taking my seat that first day at the conference in Raleigh I was reminded of that nervous and giddy feeling I used to have on the first day of college classes. But my mood took a sharp turn as I sank in my seat and that familiar adolescent feeling I have yet to outgrow took hold.

I became convinced that talking to anyone would later morph into a dumb-blonde story the stranger would laugh about at coffee break. I fidgeted with my cell phone. I flipped through the notebook. I checked to see if my name is spelled correctly on my name-tag. It’s bizarre to choke up like this but it happens, like clockwork, in most if not all new settings for me. I’ve read all sorts of I’m Good Enough, Smart Enough, and (Gosh Darn It) People Like Me sorts of books in attempt to boost my self concept. Ultimately I had to put down the self-help mantras and embrace the dumb-blonde within. If I became a character in a coffee break story I decided to consider the punchline a parting gift from yours truly.

I arrived home with my blonde-brain full of acid rain requirements, continuous emission monitor nuisances, the road ahead for mercury emission compliance, etc. Bless McKibbin’s heart for letting me babble gibberish for a few hours about the industry I work in and the fascinating people I met in Raleigh.

My Type A trip preparation frenzy far enough in the past, McKibbin didn’t hold a grudge. How smart of me to have married such a forgiving sort of person. I do like traveling. It allows me to miss my everyday life, and revel at the sight of familiar faces.

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Currently Reading: Oil On The Brain by Lisa Margonelli
Currently Watching: Battlestar Galactica Marathon on the SciFi Channel