Laura

If I'm going to wish Dad a happy birthday, then I ought to wish for the cake, too - another family tradition. "Angel food cake with grease". I was at least ten, maybe even in my teens, before I realized no one else knew what I meant when I said that, no one else called it "grease". I have no idea why we did, where the term came from! It was angel food cake with a kind of thick sweet creamy topping, and, until the diabetes changed his diet, another staple of Dad's birthday. I thought it was Bavarian cream for a while, but I think that was wrong; it doesn't quite match. No clue what it actually was....

Under our tree, there are now several packages, two "from my parents" (okay, the boxes are mine, for those), and more packages to appear (I hope, I plan). Some of them are Mercer Boys gifts. (Family thing: a gift you give someone else, either after you've enjoyed it or so you can enjoy it with or after them, is a 'Mercer Boys' present. From my Dad's family - apparently he was notorious for buying Mercer Boys books for people, and reading them - I think before giving them, but it's been generalized to include any selfish or semi-selfish gift.)

Also under our tree, intermittently, is a cat. Babe has decided not to play with the tree skirt (oh my, it might survive to be used next year!). She is far happier to lie on it right over the heating vent it covers, which I am leaving clear of packages. I'd do that anyway for the sake of the contents of the packages, but I admit it's made more fun because it gives her a place to lie down.

Here is a photo of Babe beneath the tree (click photo for a larger view):


Also uploaded tonight were photos of Ribbon Ridge, a very seasonally decorated car, wreaths at Saturday Market (with peacock feathers in), and an absolutely gorgeous sunrise. Check them out here.

Missing my parents tonight, I went back through my listing of memories to write about, which I had somehow not gotten back to (read: run away from and/or delayed).

Mom, around the time I was in school, drove a Jeep - a CJ-7, a real off-road sort. She contended it was appropriate for the road we lived on and actually, I can't entirely argue that, since that road vibrated a tail light out of its socket (push-in, not rotating, but still) in my Corolla, last year. It wasn't any better when I was in high school. The CJ-7 had a soft-top so it was cold in the winter, even with the heat on, and there tended to be a breeze. I felt much less safe in it than in an ordinary car, because it had a roll-bar. Of course, I'm not sure why this made me feel less safe, other than acknowledging the possibility of trouble, where I would have preferred to ignore it. It was cinnamon-orange and Mom was rather pleased with it, I think, especially since when chained up it could travel nicely even in icy conditions.

I tried to learn to drive it, once. I had learned on Dad's Volkswagen Rabbit and I wanted to master Mom's Jeep. The Jeep won. I didn't have the strength and finesse in my leg to control the clutch - I could push it in no problem, but when trying to let it out, I couldn't keep it slow and steady. It would kick my leg back up - I complained that I almost ended up with my knee in my face, though I doubt that was actually true. I remember saying it, though! It was definitely difficult. A few times I did manage to get the Jeep into reverse, and first gear, but nothing else was possible for me. I'm sure with enough time I could have mastered it, but it was mostly a challenge - I didn't need to drive the Jeep or even really want to drive it, other than to be able to. And in the end, I couldn't. Mom could, though.

They got rid of it later, and I don't remember why, if I knew. Not sure if she tired of it or there was some other reason. I know she really liked the Saturn. I'm also realizing that the Jeep is the only car I can recall that was "Mom's car" that was not red. The Maverick, the Escort, the Saturn - were all varying shades of red. Hmmm.

The dresser we have now was my parents' first. They wanted to get rid of it and get a dresser better-suited to their house - years ago, I think before we moved to this house, but I'm not sure of that timing - and asked if we wanted it. I said yes. Not because we needed a dresser (although we did), but because I love that dresser. It is wood, it is beautiful, it has a mirror. Yes, the drawers stick a little, but not bad. Now the mirror likes to tilt forward; we have a temporary fix in place, but I need to more properly fix it. But it is a lovely piece of furniture and a part of my childhood, also. And besides, Mom told me once or twice that they bought it cheap from someone who'd been storing it in a barn, and they had to clean goat shit off it, strip, and refinish it. You couldn't tell it by looking at it, let me put it that way. It's lovely.

Today, I was running the dishwasher while I did work-work. Normally I start the dishwasher and wander away, but the laptop was set up in the living room, not too far from the dishwasher, so I was listening to it. It was like going home to childhood: something swishing in the washer on the back-porch would sound very similar. The hum and the swoosh of water, the comforting sound that meant Mom was doing all the domestic things she normally did (and, if it was the clothes washer, that there would within a couple hours be something warm from the dryer - how I loved, in the cold months, to hug warm clothes to me!). Eventually, the laundry had to be taken into town, because the well was such that the washer couldn't handle it. I think the dishwasher had the same problem. But still, in my early childhood, they were all used and that's what the sounds mean to me. (And Mom and Dad had had a clothes washer since they got the new well, at least - and a dryer all along - I imagine being able to wash the clothes at home again was a real nice change, though.)

Heck, back when the washer still worked, I remember the old laundry line strung between the shop and the pasture, to the east of the shop. Dad put up two T-poles and the lines, all standard stuff, and we actually hung clothes out to dry. I remember playing with the clothespins, and wandering through the laundry as it dried, idly batting it aside. I don't remember if I got told not to, but it seems likely, since my hands were probably dirty from playing. Ah, childhood. One thing I miss is having a place to hang laundry. And I don't know why I miss it. Practically speaking it is no better than using a dryer and, with my allergies and the risk of weather, might be worse. But I miss it anyway, because it is part of my memory of caring for things. I suppose it's silly, but...

I posted, a while back, about the letter that Mom wrote to Ford about the Escort. That car really was a lemon. Which is a pity; I gather later models in the same line were nice. And I've been surprised how happy I've been with our Ford Taurus cars. Scott had to push me into getting the first one, I was so set against Ford. But really a lot of the problem was caused by then-Newberg-Ford, whose servicing of the car at that time caused probably half or more of its problems. I was extra not-thrilled with it since it had replaced the Maverick, which I loved. I think I loved the Maverick mostly because it was "our car" and older than I was - we'd never not had it until then. Things change, though. I didn't like that even as a child. I've learned to cope but I still want to cling to things-as-they-are, sometimes too much, and I know it.

I'm not sure, speaking of allergies as I did a moment ago, how old I was when this happened. I believe I was about six or eight, but my memory's not reliable on that fact. I went in to be tested for allergies, and some idiot at the clinic told my parents I could not take my theophyllin for three days before hand. They sword afterward they did not say that, so perhaps my parents misunderstood, but they said not. In any case, the theophyllin is not an antihistamine (which you really do need to avoid before such tests, of course!) but an asthma medication, a preventative that takes time to build in the bloodstream and should be kept at an even dose and not skipped. So I had a nasty asthma attack one night, presumably either the day of the appointmnet or very shortly after. Mom took me into their bed and I was coughing so hard that it shook. Finally they took me to the emergency room. (My memory says this was McMinnville. I can't think why: presumably it was Newberg. Unless Newberg Hospital had not been built yet, but I thought it had - not the current one, but the previous one, which used to be near the swimming pool. Anyway--)

I remember we had the blue and white striped blanket that someone (I believe Erma Orr) had knitted for me with us, and I remember that I coughed so hard that I was ill on it, and that I was horribly upset that I had damaged my precious blanket. Mom had to reassure me that it could be cleaned up okay. Anyway, Mom when she told the story remembered the intern, who asked, "Are her lips always this shade of blue?" Since he was laughing a bit, I think Mom found that reassuring, though only a little bit. They gave me a shot of adrenalin. It didn't stop the reaction. They gave me another shot of adrenalin. No dice: the net result was that they now had a hyper kid having an asthma attack. So they admitted me overnight and put me on an IV of theophyllin. The adrenalin had probably at least helped my reaction some. I clearly, vividly remember that the IV needle was put into the bottom of my foot for some reason, though I don't remember any pain, just the odd sensation of it after it had been in a while. My parents told me that no, that was not the case, it was put in the arm in the normal fashion. I have no idea where my mind dreamed up the foot bit! Interestingly, the place I remember it in is almost the place that many years later I would burn on the kerosene heater, so perhaps that played into it? I have no idea.

My memory of the allergy tests is also flawed. I was convinced they had been done on my back, to get a large enough section of skin, but I was told no, it was my arm. I have vivid memories of how uncomfortable the tests were - on my back. The odd thing is, while the placement may be wrong, the memories aren't far off - when I had the tests done recently for my allergy shots, on my arm, they were (other than location) about as uncomfortable as I remembered them.

The foot - that was during college. I came home one Christmas break and was lying in front of the kerosene heater (a shop-type kerosene heater, the long sort you plug in, not the squat round kind you take camping). I was swinging my foot back and forth and managed to stick it (the triangle area behind the ball) right on the heater. I yanked it away quick - I have good reflexes, so I "only" got second degree burns. Ow! It helps that I drew a bowl of cold water and jammed my foot in it before calling Dad to see if he could come home and take me in to get it looked at. Not my best moment, to put it mildly. At least I knew not to try driving with my right foot out of commission that way.... And no permanent damage or harm done.

I don't like hot weather. Which makes it funny that, during cool or cold weather, I love heat enough to be a hazard to myself. That was not my first run-in with heat (and of course, I've mentioned the 'fresh from the dryer' effect above). When I was little - too little to remember this, fortunately - I had another encounter. I think it was while we were still at Carlton, but I could be wrong; if I am, it was not long after we moved. I would have been between 3 and 5 for this. I was bare-naked after a bath, and trying to get warm or stay warm. I backed toward the woodstove. I backed right into the woodstove. Which, yes, was lit. My parents told me this one (in response to my burning my foot, actually). I couldn't sit for quite a while apparently. I'm amazed I don't have even dim memories of that, but I cannot say I am entirely sorry that I don't recall it first-hand.

The woodstove at the house on Ribbon Ridge has front doors you can open and set a screen over, to have a fireplace. How I loved to lie in front of it, basking and baking in the heat, watching the flames dance. The cats liked it, too. It was interesting to pet a cat who had been there so long that their fur was radiating heat into your hand. I wonder whether some of our ditzier cats simply baked their brains out. (Then again, the same question could be asked of me, I suppose.)

Besides posting memes and linking news on product recalls, I spent a fair bit of time at my parents' house this weekend. Scott came out with me and we got a bunch of stuff boxed up. I'm not even going to try to assess most of the books right now - just bring them over. Any I don't end up wanting, I can sell to Powell's then, after all. That's not an applicable strategy for a lot of the items but for the books it was silly to try to go through them out there and put them in a keep or no-keep pile.

Other things I found today:

• Yet more stuff on genealogy as a profession. Someone - I think Jon, but I'm not sure - said they were surprised Dad retired as early as he did. I wasn't - I knew there was a lot to do fixing up that house, and I knew that he wanted some time to enjoy what he'd done and earned (and I'm glad he got that), and I knew he was still into genealogy. I hadn't realized he'd been looking at it as a possible second career, though. And perhaps he wasn't; perhaps the books and such on that topic were there because they had other information he wanted. But it seems he may have been - I can see him enjoying that.
• Two boxes sent to him by Uncle Jim, full of photographs and/or negatives. I think the place that did the scanning may be seeing me again.... (I've found a couple more of mine that weren't in the original set to them too, come to that, around our place.)
• Two black-and-white images labelled as being Crater Lake, and done by Jon Howell (hi, Jon!).
• An old binder for "household projects" - it doesn't have the more recent projects in it, but it looks like this dates back to when the new barn was going in. The new barn is probably 25 years old or so, now. I'm not sure how far forward of it the projects go, but not far. But what made me smile and cry a little is that it has a front and back 'cover' of graph paper slipped in - with little cartoons about planning things out on it. In my very young handwriting and style. I don't remember doing that at all, but....
• The aerial photograph of the house at Ribbon Ridge, taken back when we still had the Maverick - so between 1980 and 1987 at a guess - probably earlier rather than later. It's lovely, and yes, this is the home I remember. It's matted, but not framed - I think I may get it framed and hang it, as I would like to have it up, as long as Scott is okay with it being about somewhere. It's pretty, and while I can't go back to that house - the house as it is in that photo hasn't existed in years, really - I can bring it to me, and that's comforting and sweet.

I forgot to mention, last weekend, I found a shirt I'd made. Probably intended for Dad since it was made from one of his old undershirts. It's all shredded and ripped and cut (sure hope I got one from the rag-bag, and permission!) and says something (I can check later) about "I visited Mt. St. Helens...May 1, 1980!" So depending on how soon after I made that, I was probably 5, maybe 6. It's not well-done, it's a cute idea but the rips and cuts were way overdone...but for that age, who's surprised? What astonishes and touches me is that Daddy had it in his dresser, after all these years. Tucked away back, yes, as things that you don't actually use tend to end up, but still in his dresser. I didn't even remember it existed. I still don't remember it - I know it now, but I don't remember doing it then.

I'm on call for work next week. I'm frustrated by that, because I can't be out at the house getting things done all next weekend (but Scott is going to go out), at least not easily. But I'm also grateful, because it's so hard to do this. I need to, not just for the legalities but for what I'm finding. It's sweet. And it hurts, sometimes, yes. Sometimes because it's sweet. It reminds me how much I've lost - how much we've all lost, who knew my parents.

Scott rocks. We now have a shelf unit up in the garage to hold some stuff, that should help a bit. I put the whole thing together (he probably would have, if I'd asked, but I enjoy that and I'm kinda pleased by how well I can get these particular ones together), and he attached it to the wall (Laura is not so fond of this process right now, not sure why, and power tools used even with my shoulders or so - due to our stepladder and my height, that's the best I can do - are not my idea of fun, though they probably ARE good exercise for my arm muscles, I suppose...). Also, he put up the coat hooks by the front door this weekend. And the key hooks sometime in the last couple weeks.

I fell today, but only in the mud. The one casualty (at most) was the knee of my jeans, and that's only if the mud stains (but mud does like to do that, I know). I hope it doesn't; I like the jeans; but if it does, oh well. They're well-worn, so if it doesn't come out and they're work-around-the-house-only jeans in the future, so be it. I did scrape my knee a tiny bit, but no skin broken (though I washed with betadine just in case - yeah, I know, but it reassures me). I may have bruised it, but if so, not bad. (Can't tell by looking, being as it's stained orange thanks to my over-caution. ;)

I haven't gotten more of the scanned pictures prepped and up, unfortunately. But I did take photos of my visit to the Japanese Gardens on Friday. It was lovely, very soothing and peaceful, and I think the pictures also captured at least some of that, though they couldn't get the cool breeze, the quiet of the place, the gentle chatter of the water, the bird calls soaring tree to tree. And the photos are up at Flickr, or rather some are. I am uploading a total of 38. They should end up at this spot unless, of course, the uploads take longer than to midnight. (Edit: they did take over the night, though only three went up on the 19th; those are at this spot, oryou can get to them at the time of this post by clicking on my photostream or clicking here to see the most recent uploads, regardless of date. (Obviously that won't be the best path once I upload more, but for now.)

I'm trying the new Vertigo layout for my browsing the LJ site. So far, I like it - quite a bit better than Horizon. I think the name is dorky, especially as I find it less disorienting than the horizontal layout, but I really don't care much about the name if it works! :)

Some of you who watch my Flickr account have already seen these, as I started the upload last night and let it run while I went to bed. But, I've uploaded another set of photos (slides) from Dad's stuff. This contains at least part of the beach trip where my aunt was present (the same visit my Grandma was on, and there's a photo with her also). And another bunch from winter involving me discovering an icicle almost as big as I am. And one of a neighbor kid I used to know. And a few of my Lite Bright. And me with the model train set I remember! I think this is the best one of me with the train set while this shows a little more of the train set itself.

There are also a few landscapes and several shots of me and my parents, both at home and on some trip (I can tell we were at some event or conference - Mom is wearing a name tag). And this shot of me with my Mom in the kitchen, which I believe is my favorite one from the set.

These are photos scanned from some old slides. They are mostly of me, with some of Mom and one of Dad. This just happened to be the first set of slides up, but it was nice to start with a set that I actually could roughly place the time frame and all! They are up in this set.

I think Mom, were she still alive, would be annoyed by my choice of the photo to represent the set. Maybe not, though. You never know.

Some of you asked about my previous post about pinks. When I was growing up, Mom was very very into gardening and caring for the property (a focus that was ultimately defeated by the weak old well - by the time the new well was available, she was no longer physically up to the tasks, I think, and certainly was out of the habit). There were little round flower beds in the front lawn (not so little, really!). One held a variety of flowers including columbines and pinks. I adored the pinks. I wanted to have pinks here at my house - they'd offered me cuttings. But we never got around to cleaning up the back yard.

So we finally do and I talk to them - and a blackberry has overgrown that flowerbed. The pinks are gone. And I have only memories of them from ten years ago (I didn't spend much time staring at the flowers when visiting, I fear!) - and my memory's not that great, nor is visual memory. I start looking for flowers commonly called "pinks" and the most common ones, dianthus, are named for the edges of their flowers, which look like they've been attacked with pinking shears, if I remember right. These are not my "pinks" as, as best I can remember, they had smooth-edged petals (and were named for their vivid shade of, well, pink). My parents did not know what the real name for the pinks was either.

The best I could think of to do, which I had not got around to doing other than half-heartedly, was to look for flowers that "looked right" and settle for one of those, likely never knowing if they really were "my" pinks.

In these old photos that were scanned, some are in the front yard. And some have the pinks in the background. I have yet to find a really clear image of them but I have a couple blurry ones, at least. One was in the set I just uploaded - I cropped it to focus in on the pinks, here. With luck, I will be able to get enough of these to let someone familiar with flowers find a more probable match than my best guess. (I'd forgotten, for example, how tall they are! I remembered the flowers being on a low-to-the-ground plant...which they patently are NOT.)

Today, my order of all three seasons of the original Star Trek arrived.

Today, I picked up the CDs with the scans of slides/negatives (mine and my parents' photos). As well as the slides and negatives, of course.

Yeah, guess who is not watching the DVDs tonight? You got that right. I've looked already at two of the three CDs done from the slides (those will take the least work to get ready for upload since no cropping is needed), and am very, very pleased. So maybe, just maybe I will get some of those up tonight. Maybe I won't. I may just be browsing through them and enjoying the memories...but I have them. GLEE!

We had neighbors who lived up the road much of the time I was growing up, and they sent a letter of sympathy when they got the news (which I sent them) that Mom and Dad had passed away. I'm quoting the letter because they also sent memories (although I am omitting the contact info that they gave me, since this is a public post :). I wasn't there for the one and I don't recall the other, but they both made me smile.

I wonder whether that's the party where he lost his wallet, which was at the vineyard and the same year (in September). It seems likely, except the descriptions don't seem to fit (although neither is very detailed; they could be the same party). I will never know for sure, I suppose, but this is a sweet memory; I can envision Dad there, having a good time and pointing out constellations.

( The text of the note, minus the signature block )

It is really pretty out there. There's snow in some areas, freezing rain in others. My 'easy' route to Newberg goes through Sherwood and Tualatin. The school districts in both have closed for the day. So has the school district where work is, the school district where I live, Newberg school district (which would be on snow routes if it was only bad up at the elevation of my parents' house - closed means it's bad down near the city, too), and everything in the vicinity of the town where I need to pick up Basta's shots appears to be closed too.

High in the mid-30s. I seriously doubt it will thaw out enough to go to most of the places I planned. There is a chance that mid-afternoon I can get to Newberg, and if it looks good I will, but only if it looks good. Otherwise I'll skip that and just do the local stuff. Snow day. I get to take photographs and play World of Warcraft (a lot of the to-do list can be done from home, but not so much that I won't get to play).

The road reports for the freeways don't actually look that bad but in this weather, if I didn't have the day off, I would work from home and not go into work because of the side streets. I'm pretty sure that means that going to Newberg (which, although I can do it almost entirely on highway/freeway, means going over Rex Hill at about ) is a bad idea. Oh, wow. Okay, the traffic reports online show no major issues. The verbal one on the radio tells me that the steady-no-accidents is steady at about 10 miles per hour. I don't think the freeway is in good shape either!

When I first saw it, my heart ached. This weather killed my Dad. It's hard to see. And then it hit me - first, I've always loved snow. Second, from the way he photographed it, either he loved it or he loved other people's love of it. And third, this didn't kill him. If the weather had been like this, he would probably not have gone, or would have gone with chains on very cautiously. Bad luck and borderline weather did, but not this.

I wish he could see it - I hope he can, from somewhere. I think he might like it, and if he didn't, I think he'd enjoy my love of it.

Scott called when he got to work to tell me that he was there safe (we normally email for that, smart man, as I would've called if I'd not had anything by not long after he called!), and also to tell me I probably didn't want to go anywhere today. I think he's right, unless the afternoon really does a number. (Though if it melts the snow and the roads are safe, I might dare to go to the library, locally.)

Happy birthday to me, I get a snow day!

First, my one-a-day shot today is of Basta: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyrielle/357857146/ (bonus shot of Babe: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyrielle/357857152/ - couldn't leave her out, after all!).

In addition, some photos of my Dad from his undergrad days at Rutgers, courtesy of Ray Powell (and with his kind permission), are up at http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyrielle/tags/fromraypowell/ - and Denise Kamath sent a couple photos, one with Dad in the background, one of Mom and Dad, from her wedding - those are at http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyrielle/tags/fromdenisekamath/

I haven't uploaded anything more from Dad's photos today, though.