Rynn Reads to the Dogs

No. This isn't Roscoe with some new highlights, and yes Roscoe is still our first love, but this is another special dog to whom Rynn read for a happy thirty minutes at the library. As I've mentioned before I am in love with our library. And now even more so. Rynn participated in our library's program "Read To The Dogs" this past weekend (read more about it at http://dovelewis.org/programs/Read_To_Dogs.aspx). The program is certified therapy dogs and their volunteer owners who spend an afternoon in the library reading with children. After Rynn picked out a stack of books, she went to one of the quiet rooms where she sat on the floor with this precious yellow lab and read to her for half an hour. Eleanor and I spent the time on the other side of the library. Rynn's comment, "Mommy, the dog really listened! She did! When can I read again!."

And for those of you interested in our church HOPE, we have some exciting changes ahead for which you can pray. This Sunday we are moving to Morning Worship (9:30am!) at a new location near Grant Park (yep, near Ramona. I'm excited.) We hope this will be a good move for the next chapter in our church's life. Pray that the transition will go smoothly, that we'll have new visitors, and that God would grow our congregation here in Portland. Thanks!

Going to the Theater and Rat Guts

Some characters from Artists' Rep 's production of All My Sons

It has been an intellectually stimulating 24 hours. Last night I saw an unbelievable production by the Artists Reperortory Theater of Arthur Miller's play All My Sons. I had never seen the play before, but my friend Laurie got us amazing seats on the second row of an intimate black box theater. The acting was amazing. The story even more so, and the whole energy of the night was completely stimulating. It reminded me why it is so important to support live theater in this age of two dimensional big screen TVs. Seeing live people feel emotions and live out a story in real flesh and blood right in front of me was, well, heartwrenching and disturbing and entertaining and joyful all in a way that film is not. So, go see a good play. I'm still trying to get over my jealousy of the actors that they got to be up there. Maybe some day I'll get to...

But for today, it was blood and rat guts. yep, I started my first class of Anatomy & Physiology today with a three hour lecture and then an afternoon lab. I couldn't believe that we dissected a RAT on the very first day. And the suprising thing was it was kind of fun. I could see the little lady's intestines, spleen, liver, heart, stomach, and more. I almost posted a picture, but it looked kind of gross. I have a lot to study and learn in the next week, but it is fun to be learning things so very different from everything that I am usually drawn to or have studied in the past.

some weather highlights

I'm kind of a nerd when it comes to weather. Maybe I should have been a weatherwoman or something...wear bad suits, iron my hair so it won't move while I'm waving my hand over the jet stream, well- anyway, here is the interesting "Weather Highlight" from today's Oregonian.

Yesterday was one of two days of the year when the sun rises due east and sets due west everywhere on the planet. Spring equinox is the other day this occurs. There is not equal time for daylight and darkness on these days however, because refraction by the earth's atmosphere changes the time of sunrise and sunset.

COOL.

Blazin' Hot and Bears?

Molly, Rynn, & Eleanor posing for a CD cover...the next kid band?

It is hot out here. Really hot. 97 degrees hot in September. NOT normal. Such weather leads to strange and unusual behavior such as...

Jason chasing racoons with a broom in the dark of night shouting, "Caroline, Gretchen, get inside! Racoons are like small bears!."

A man's gotta defend his castle...

Hanging Around With her Pants Down

She wasn't much older than I am. She might have even been my age. Sometimes it is difficult to discern age when face bears the deep lines of living on the streets, of mental illness, of the hopelessness of this world. She was standing there with her pants down on the corner of Burnside and 6th. She wasn't completely naked. She was wearing a black thong and waving her arms around when a kind woman walked up from behind, her mouth saying something like "Let me help you," and her gracious hands pulling up this woman's pants before the signal turned and the Good Samaritan walked across the street.

My light turned, and I, just another 'normal looking' thirty-something mother in jeans (pulled up over my underwear), my GAP shirt, and my Suburu Outback, drove on. But the woman with her pants down went with me. She was in my mind as though we had traded places, and I was the one on the corner who needed a stranger to pull up my pants.

Do you ever wake up in the morning groggy? Or have those days when even two cups of coffee can't pierce the sense of blahness hanging over you? I do. In fact, so regularly that I mark them on my calender because, strangely enough, they seem to come on cue every month about two days before a regular monthly visitor. It is on these days that I am convinced that hormones are the pits. My mom says, "Yes, but you'll miss them when they are gone, Caroline." Perhaps. But the power they hold for two vicious days until the hormonal cycle changes and all is again right with the world is downright irritating. Sometimes I feel slightly on the verge of insanity. I feel like I should be that woman on the corner instead of this preppy mommy in a station wagon driving her daughter to swim lessons.

Are we really that fragile? Are our minds so tender that a mere hormonal shift causes all the craziness in my heart to well up and out so that everything seems just a little annoying and tears might pop at any moment? Yes, this mind is that tender. We all are, in fact. We desperately need help. We need someone to come up behind us and pull up our pants.

This fall we are hosting at our house a small group from church to study the Gospel of John. We began last night studying the first chapter. As Jason taught on John, I reflected on Pat's sermon on Genesis 1. He pointed out that from the beginning God forms creation and then He fills it (for example, he seperates the light from the darkness and He fills it with the heavenly bodies- the sun, the moon, etc..or He makes the waters of the earth and He fills it with swarms of living creatures). There is a literary structure not only to the creation story but to God's story of redemption. He is forming us and He is filling us with His life, His Spirit, His glory as we walk through the darkness of this life. And then last night Jason guided us through the beginning of John which bears remarkable similarities to the first chapter of Genesis. "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth" (John 1:14). We also looked at the purpose of the book of John which John says is "that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name" (John 20:21).

It is days like this when life feels so fragile that my feeble, weak faith reminds me that I am not as self sufficient as I like to think that I am. I am desperately needy and not far from the street corner with my pants hanging down.

Front Porch

Check out Jason's latest completed project...

100 year old house+ rainy winters= rotten, dangerous steps

Jason rebuilt the steps, painted them (added the red backsplash to match red on windows), and repainted the front porch with a beautiful highgloss porch paint that is 'o so slippery and smooth on barefeet.

and my little peanut who looked stinkin' cute today in an outfit she picked out- Oma's dress and her red patent leather Dr. Marten mary janes that I found at a resale shop for $7 (have I mentioned that I LOVE PORTLAND'S SECOND HAND SHOPS?!?!)

Last Saturday I saw a great movie which several folks have recommended to me- julie and julia. I loved it. Not only did it inspire me to blog, but to COOK! Monday morning I pulled down one of my favorite cookbooks Barefoot Contessa by Ina Garten. She visited a restuarant where I worked in Philadelphia promoting her cookbook and making some of the recipes. I bought it almost ten years ago, and it is still one of my favorites. I decided that maybe I'd try to cook all of her recipes over the next few months (not everyday...i'm not that insane). This week we've tried the Lentil Vegetable stew and, in honor of Julie/Julia, the
Boeuf Bourguignon a La Julia Child (rewritten by Ina Garten to be much easier). It has been fun. I was getting sort of sick of cooking and needed a breath of fresh air to motivate getting back into the spirit of family dinners on school nights. Jason is ready to buy the movie after two nights in a row of homecooked meals. We'll see how long this lasts.

Remember Ramona?

Do you remember Ramona Quimby? The infamous character created by Beverly Cleary fifty years ago? I loved and devoured all the Ramona books the summer after my fourth grade year. I remember going to swim team practice in the morning and then, before my hair was even dry, curling up on my flowered comforter with a Beverly Cleary book. So, it was with some sentimental remembrance that I checked out some Ramona books on tape to listen to with the girls on our long drive to Montana. Not surprising, Rynn and Eleanor were as smitten with Ramona as I had been. Her lively personality, her creativity, and her unique child's perspective on the world are timeless. One of the exciting things about our neighborhood in Portland is that it was (well, technically we are about ten blocks from the actual streets) Beverly Cleary's neighborhood. The pool, the parks, the streets where Ramona rode her bike are the same places my girls and I have romped this summer. It seemed fitting then that we would spend the last really warm Saturday of our passing summer at our neighborhood pool Grant and then in the park next door playing with Ramona in the fountain dedicated to her.
Leaving the pool for the last time 'til next year...

Eleanor wanted me to take a picture of her favorite tree which she has named "The NOSE tree." I think Eleanor and Ramona may be related.

Rynn and 'Ribsy'

Friday marked Eleanor's first day of preschool at her new school Childswork. It was an Open House so I got to spend the morning with her. I was so inspired by her room that I want to go to preschool and play! So many nooks and crannies to explore and discover. Her teachers seem wonderful- Molly who specializes in art and Daniel who is a music teacher and will be incorporating music into the classroom.

There is something about this year that seems a bit magical. Perhaps it is that this is my last year before I have two children in school full time. I find myself wanting to treasure every moment as though it were slipping through my fingers. I wish I could somehow immortalize childhood as Beverly Cleary did in Ramona. When I tell people that I have a First Grader I find myself almost choking over the words. Is it really possible that I have a child older than kindergarten?

Rynn's comment on First Grade- "Mommy, you have to listen to the teacher and do what she says THE WHOLE DAY. It isn't like kindergarten at all." But when I asked her if Japanese was difficult or if she didn't understand the teacher she looked at me like,"mom, what is your problem?" and said, "Why wouldn't I understand the teacher? Of course I understand the teacher. Japanese is fun." I'm so jealous.

Exploring little stuff (Eleanor's favorite...finding treasures) at the nature table.

Painting

Crafting

Screwing screws

Exploring the treehouse.

Back to School!

some pics of the last camping hurrah...

Bipolar Portland

Team SWASS crossing the finish line last weekend at Hood To Coast.

It is a cool morning. I'm wearing my over sized ten year old Patagonia fleece sweatshirt. Tomorrow is Labor Day. Rynn starts school on Tuesday. The light is settling in on our front porch in a decidedly different angle, and I sense that autumn is poking his crisp nose through our front door. We are at the Finish line of summer, and I feel the coming of this fall with mixed emotions. Our summer has been full and busy, the days so warm and sunny for Portland, and the time with my children so sweet (well, most of the time...). I'm eager for the return of routine and schedule and yet sad that the free, warm, open days of summer are at an end.

Forgive me if you've heard me say this a thousand times, but I have this theory about Portland. After living here now for two and a half summers and two full winters I believe that Portland suffers from a bipolar condition- we are manic in the summers and a bit depressed in the winter. There is a certain urgency here in summer that I have never felt anywhere else I have lived. The comment, "We have to get to (you fill in the blank- camping, mountains, coast, berry picking, farm, river rafting, church picnics, concerts in the park, etc...) before the rains come," is on the edge of everyone's lips. It can be downright stressful reading the newspaper and all the options laid out before you for potential activities, concerts, festivals, outdoor adventure, you name it, in July and August. And then, like someone set a timer, Labor Day weekend arrives and with it cool temperatures and the first three days of rain in a row since June. Neighbors rush to close off their blocks for that one last block party in the street before everyone retreats from their front yards, their porches, and the sidewalks to the coziness of the inside, of the umpteen coffee shops or pubs. It is then that the quiet bookishness of Portland sets in with the hoods of the rain jackets pulled down over the eyes as hipsters sip on their espresso and toss down a cigarette, as children pull on their new rain boots, and the campgrounds put up their signs "Closed for Winter."

We have finished our summer with flurry of activities in the spirit of true Portland style. We sent Nana (my mom) on her way after a great week with her. Thank you Nana for being patient with our grogginess after Hood to Coast! We said hello a day later to Terry and Cathy (Jason's parents) and then headed out for one last night of camping across the Columbia River in Washington's Gifford Pinchot National Forest. I think I have had enough sleeping in a sleeping bag this summer to sufficiently carry me through the winter.

So, raise a hot cup of coffee to the change of the seasons. Welcome, welcome fall!