Generations

This picture represents the brackets of my family.  Brackets?  Well - maybe not the best word, but that's the only one I could come up with after this week I've had.  Don't get me wrong - it's been a wonderful week.  My boys and I went to Alabama to spend some time with my family, including Melinda, her youngest daughter Sara, and little Brian, my great-nephew.

That's Brian in the picture with my grandparents.  Brian is almost a year old.  Mama Dee (the maker of quilts) is 88 and Papa Dee is 90.  Great-great grandparents and great-great grandson.  Miraculous.

I'm too tired to blog.  There's never enough time to catch up when you have only a few days a year to see those people you love most.  I've hardly slept since Saturday night, although it's been worth it.

I'm not as young as I once was - all-nighters stick with me too long these days....but that doesn't change the need to sit up all night and remember - old boyfriends and old songs - sitting on the deck with guitar in hand and playing Wish You Were Here and just remembering the us that we used to be, dorky and stupid, idealistic and romantic. 

That's a 40th birthday present to hang on to.

Blanky Memories

This is a picture of me from 1968, laying on a blanket in the backyard of our house in San Bernardino, California. The quilt on the bottom was made by my maternal grandmother, Mama Dee, just for me. My grandmother has always quilted, piecing together scraps of fabric into bundles of warmth. I always loved that her quilt blocks didn't come from the inside of a fabric store, but from the worn and tattered remnants of clothing and sheets and whatever she could find. She took things that were ready for the trash heap and turned them in to treasured items.

This particular quilt was crafted from one of my mother's childhood dresses. She was about 8 years old when she wore it, and it was her favorite dress. It had a full circle skirt, and when she twirled, it spread out like a ballerina's. The memory of that dress makes my mom smile and re-live that feeling. I just asked her about it again, to make sure I had my facts straight, and she smiled and put her arms out to demonstrate how she had twirled and whirled.

Memory is a powerful thing.

This quilt kept me warm as a child, decorated my room as a teen and adult and had grown tattered around the edges. The binding had long since worn away, the batting was starting to seep out around the edges and I was afraid I was going to lose it. I took it to Mama Dee not long after I married Dr. SmartyPants and she put a new binding on it, from her fabric stash. My boys love the quilt, even with the pink and red flowers, because they know it belonged to me and to my mother and to my grandmother.

Family is a powerful thing.

Mama Dee has made quilts for all her grandchildren and her great grandchildren, including my boys. They have their places of honor on the bed - never going in the closet. They are too precious for that. They pull them out and talk about them and call them their favorites. Of course they are. I have other quilts she has made just for me and I would rather wrap up in them than in all the most precious luxurious fabrics in the world.

Love is a powerful thing.

Once Upon a Time...

IMG_0004, originally uploaded by diahn.

There was beautiful princess who got everything she wanted. She had long flowing blonde hair (that she didn't have to pay for), big blue eyes and a luxurious castle in which to live. If she wanted a piano, all she had to do was say, "I want a piano, please" (because it's very important to be polite, even if you are a beautiful princess) and POOF! A piano appeared in the background with a strange step stool like chair thing in front of it which was covered in newspaper.

If she wanted a set of rattan chairs...POOF! A set of rattan chairs. Like that - you see.

One day she decided she wanted a black cat. So she asked, very politely of course, for one. POOF! Coral, the magical black tomcat appeared in her arms and she loved him very much. Things were wonderful in the rattan kingdom for the beautiful princess until at last the magical black tomcat transcended this world and left her behind.

Then the beautiful princess asked very politely for another magical black tomcat, but instead she got a mullet.

The end.

Identity Crisis

Dr. SmartyPants has been very concerned about all these pictures I've been posting. He's suggested that perhaps I was adopted by this family and they have pictures of some random girl that isn't me, that they've been telling me is me all this time. He says that none of the pictures look anything like me. Or the me that I am now.

He also wanted to know when I started looking like the me that I am now.

I don't know.

I think they all look like me. Because I've seen them all before and I know they are me, by gum.

I've just changed a lot in the last 40 years. Doesn't everyone? Fashions change, hairstyles change (mine more than some people's - but that's a post for another day), weight changes. Everything changes.

When I was 10, and hanging out with Spiderman, I looked like this:



But it's still me.

When I was 14 and starting my world piano tour (okay, not really), I looked like this:



But it's still me.

When I was 17 and rivaling Madonna for coolness, I looked like this:



And no. I wasn't drunk. I have a lazy left eye. But it's still me.

Unfortunately.

I'm starting to see that the 1980s were really not kind to me. My memories of me back then were that I was cool and punk and a rock star and awesome and apparently no one ever took any pictures of me being cool and punk and a rock star and awesome. They only took pictures of me being lame and stupid and drunk. Drunk-looking. I was in high school for crying out loud. I didn't drink.

My mom reads this blog.

So. Now that I'm almost 40, I realize that I have no idea which of these pictures is me. Am I the cool punk rockstar I've always thought, or am I the lame dork?

My little sister just told me I'm a nerd. And that nerds are cool. Okay.

Maybe tomorrow I'll have someone take a new picture of me and I'll let you all be the judge of that.

Nature or Nurture?

There have been some people, in the past 40 years of my life, who have claimed I have some control issues.  I know what you are thinking - Diahn?  Control freak?  No way!  She's so laid back and relaxed and spontaneous and freeeeeee.  

Stop laughing Melinda.

Anyway.  This morning I had an epiphany.  See, I've always assumed that the control-freak that I am was a direct result of the life I'd lived - the family I was born into and the outside forces that had shaped us all through the years.  This is not to say that there was anything wrong with my parents or my brother or my sister when she came along, but that no one is BORN a control-freak.  You become one later.  Right?

Well.  This morning, we were all laying in bed watching the Formula 1 qualifying from Hungary, and Dr. SmartyPants asked us if we wanted pancakes for breakfast.  That's kind of his weekend thing - he cooks us all pancakes and bacon after we've spent most of the morning watching auto sports.  

D said, "Yes!"

J, my youngest, and the one most like me, responded like this:

"Yes, I'd like pancakes.  But without syrup.  And I don't want them cut up.  And regular bacon, not turkey bacon, because I don't like turkey bacon.  And can I have some eggs, too?  The flat kind without the yellow part?"

M-hmmm.  I, of course also said, "Yes!"  Because I am a grown-up and I appreciate people doing things for me.  But on the inside...

Well - you know how it goes.  "Yes, but gosh, it's already 9 in the morning, isn't that kind of late to be having such a big breakfast?  And what are we going to do today?  What's the plan..."

I think you're just born with some things, and then you spend the rest of your life trying to figure out how to live with all those other people who don't understand that if it isn't done EXACTLY the way you want it done the world will stop rotating on its axis.

Poor kid.

BTW - this picture has nothing to do with this post, except that I'm a kid in it and my brother is there and we're cute and tan and look like we've been living on an island in the middle of the South Pacific.  But that's just because we were living on an island in the middle of the South Pacific.

Camping Out

You many thousands of readers three readers know that we like camping in this family. It's fun - we get to go outside and enjoy the fresh clean air, etc...

Well - when I was a kid, my family went camping too. We had an old green canvas tent. I guess it was probably new then, huh? We'd go and set up and cook out and have a grand time. Well. I think maybe my mom set up and the rest of us had a grand time. See - here she is getting everything in order. That's our VEGA in the background. It was YELLOW. And a VEGA.

Look how nice everything is.  Stove ready for coffee.  Chairs arranged so you can talk AND enjoy the scenery.  Water thermos ready and waiting for thirsty children.  Nice vinyl tablecloth. 

 Meanwhile - my brother and I are off skipping rocks on the lake and my dad is snapping pictures and probably demonstrating his "indian magic" on the fire (that would be throwing a cup of white fuel on it when no one was paying attention) and regaling the other dads with his stories.

Which is why my mom looks like this:

(isn't she DARling?) 

Reminiscing...

Do you have a lot of pictures of yourself at younger ages? I'm fortunate in that respect. As a matter of fact, I have pictures of a lot of people in my possession because I convinced my mother that I could take better care of them than she could because I was a SCRAPBOOKER and she was not. I haven't worked on a scrapbook in three years and the pictures are currently residing in non-acid-free boxes in a closet, exactly like they were in my mom's house. Aren't you all proud?

In any case, it is quite painful fun to go back and look at some of those pictures from the last 40 years. I started out this life as a pretty cute kid, then 1980 showed up and well...some of you were there. You KNOW. I may have to pull some of those pictures out just for kicks, but let's just concentrate on the 1970s for now. MUCH better decade for me. I was blonde without having to pay for it. And my only make up needs were a shmear or two of peanut butter and jelly.



I had my own personal seamstress who kept me clothed in the most delightful dresses. Did I mention that I didn't have to pay for that blonde hair? I'm pretty sure that besides the bangs, it was uncut, too. Strangely enough - I think that's the same haircut I had last fall.

My mom made me this awesome birthday cake for my 8th birthday. I was the envy of the neighborhood girls. Of course, they were all especially envious of my blonde hair. That I got for FREE. (Can you tell I went to the salon over the weekend?)

Of course, even the 1970s had their ups and downs. My school evidently had a "Dress as the Biggest Dork" day. I think I won.

The More Things Change...

My dad sent me a message the other day via Facebook. He had been reading my profile and had to comment on my "Political Views", which I have listed as "Leave me alone and I'll leave you alone."

Here's what he had to say..."Your political views are very nebulous...I happen to know that you are a converted liberal, leaning toward a Goldwater conservative! Especially where your kids are concerned! HA!"

I can understand where he would get this idea, but it isn't really accurate. I am conservative with my kids, but that's not a political conservation. I just don't let them watch certain things on TV and restrict their video game playing and I don't let them say "dang" even though I do. And I'm too young to know what kind of conservative Goldwater was. Dang.

I just can't figure out if I'm a liberal conservative or a conservative liberal. I love voting, but I hate politcal parties. I've voted in every presidential election since I was old enough to vote, and I've gone back and forth between parties. I've never voted a straight party ticket for anything. How can I? I've got Dissociative Identity Disorder when it comes to politics.

I'm a Republicratic Liberalvative.



I believe that everyone should have an opportunity, but that hand-outs are the quickest way to failure. I believe that immigrants should be given a chance in this melting-pot, but they should have to follow the rules and if they don't then they don't get to stay and they don't receive any federal aid.

I believe in the right to bear arms.

I think parents should be responsible for their children and that schools are no place to learn life's lessons. I believe everyone has a right to an education, but that not everyone has a right to pass, just to fulfill a quota. I believe that the "No Child Left Behind" movement has and will continue to make U.S. Education a joke.

I believe we should conserve energy, recycle, plant trees, compost, search out efficient, renewable energy sources (especially solar energy - that helps out Dr. SmartyPants AND the environment!) and that we should open areas to more oil exploration and get our refineries up to snuff.

I believe in God and that the path to Him is through Jesus. I respect your right to disagree. I believe that being a Christian shouldn't make you intolerant of other faiths and shouldn't ever cause anyone to worry what you might think of them. I worry that "Christians" are ruining Christianity. I believe that everyone, regardless of race, creed, religion or sexual orientation, is entitled to respect and love and care. I believe that marriage, by definition, is between a man and a woman.

I believe in pledging allegiance to the flag, apple pie and Chevrolet. I don't currently have a flag (although I'd like one), I don't like eating apple pie, and I drive a Ford. SUV. That gets 16 miles to the gallon. Did I mention I recycle?

I love vegetables. I love meat.

The older I get, the worse all this gets. In high school, I wanted to be a lawyer and I took a trip to Washington DC to see how all the political business was handled so I could strap on my conservative, black-and-white-no-shades-of-gray blinders and get busy helping Reagan turn this country around. When I was in college, I was a liberal, peace-sign wearing, Greenpeace and World Wildlife Fund supporting, hippie who just couldn't understand why we can't all just love each other and embrace the great cosmos that is out there, man. It's funny, because that phase also had its black-and-white-no-shades-of-gray blinders, but I just felt a little more self-righteous. Now - well, now everything has gone a few shades of gray (and I don't just mean my hair.)

So, who is the candidate for me? Honestly - I just don't know. There's one that's only 7 years older than me and that just freaks me out because I'm not old enough to run a country. The other one is a decade older than my parents and maybe that's just a little too old? I don't know - somewhere in the middle might be nice. One has too little experience and comes across (to me) as if he believes himself anointed to the kingship. The other is a bit pandering, don't you think? My candidate of choice has been out of the running for a while, now and I'm struggling.

November 4 will be not only election day, but will also mark the 20th year since I cast my first presidential ballot. It will also mark the first time that I was unsure of which candidate would receive my vote. If I could just find a box labeled Demopublic Conserveral, I'd check it and be on my way.

Peace.

T minus 30 days and Counting

I awoke this morning with the urge to check my calendar and see exactly how many days were left before I turn 40. I was stunned to see that it is exactly 30. 30 days left of my 30s. 30 days until my 40s. Wow. So - being the compulsive and obsessive industrious person that I am, I have decided to obsess selflessly document the process. 

That does, of course, require a logo.

I don't exactly have a handle on where this particular journey is going to take me, only that it will end up on my birthday with a giant celebration of the 40 years I've been given on this fabulous planet. See - here's the thing...I thought this whole concept would kill me. Turning 40? Good golly - I remember when the characters on thirtysomething seemed ancient. How can I possibly turn 40? But I'm finding this strange sweetness in the years - a marveling of the changes I've seen in the world around me and the ones inside me.

I was talking with Melinda last night and we were joking, as we often do, about our neurotic selves and how everyone else seems to get along just fine without dissecting every last emotion and action and moment and dust mite, while we have to blablablablabla about our angst and foibles and all. It hit me, suddenly, that perhaps we aren't so much neurotic as we are overly truthful. Come on - it can't just be us that are so messed up and confused about how to raise our children, to manage our households and love our husbands even when they pass by that same pair of shoes on the floor 900 times, right? We just have no problem sharing it endlessly on occasion.  

So - what does this have to do with my upcoming 4th decade of life? Absolutely nothing. Just sharing too much information, as we neurotic people are wont to do.  

I hope you'll join me in this last gasp of thirtyness. I'll try to make it interesting so you'll send me lots of presents want to continue reading, but I can't promise anything. I'm no spring chicken, after all.

Jelvis Has Left the Building

J in Cade's Cove, originally uploaded by diahn.

In the car today, voices from the backseat (as the stuffed animals they were playing with)

D: (High pitched) Oh, I totally forgot that Elvis was your dad.

J: Thank ya...thank ya very much.

D: So. Why do you have to dress like your dad all the time?

J: (deep, drawling voice) 'Cause that's how you get the women.

Me: (bursting out laughing) What do you do with the women once you get them?

D: (Completely like duh) You marry them.

Oh. Lord. Help me.

People - Lock.  Up.  Your.  Daughters.

Thou Shalt Not Mow

It seems so simple.  A machine does all the work.  All I have to do is walk behind it and make sure I'm not destroying any Lego contraptions or super cool Hot Wheels cars.  I can do that.  I usually leave this to Dr. SmartyPants, but sometimes his schedule just doesn't jibe with the grass growth rates and I take it upon myself to intervene.  Like today.

Beautiful day.  Nice to be outside.  Low humidity.  A perfect day for a little mowing, right?

You'd think.

But then, suddenly, the indefatigable Toro just quit.  We bought this mower soon after we bought our first house, 8 1/2 years ago.  It has started on the first or second pull every single time, even given that the spark plug has only been changed twice.  When I started it today, it was purring like a kitten.  Golden man...golden.  Until the long stretch of grass by the back deck.  When it just quit.  On me.  It has gas, I added some.  That is the limit to my working knowledge of the internal combustion engine.  Gas?  Check.  Uhhhh...

So, it sits.  Yard 3/4 mowed.  Waiting for the doc to come home and fix it.  I hope.

I think I'll fold some laundry.

update:  The doc came home, wiggled his magical engineering fingers over the top of it and it started right up.  

Upside Down

Upside Down, originally uploaded by diahn.

This is an example of how summer has been in this house. It will surprise many of you to know that during the school year our days are structured and scheduled. We get up at the same time every day, we do the same things at the same time every day, my google calendar beeps little reminders of what is coming next.

This is NOT because I am an innately organized and structured person - no...quite the opposite. If I didn't add reminders in my calendar to vacuum or go to the grocery store or cook supper, those things would likely never happen. I would go to the closet to get out the vacuum cleaner and see a book that I accidentally set down in there the last time I vacuumed and pick it up and read 3 chapters and put it down to get the boys a snack and then wonder what it was I was supposed to be doing today and decide to check my google calendar and get distracted by all those wonderfully well-written and illustrated blogs on google reader and then Dr. SmartyPants would call and say he's on his way home and I'd have to ask him what he wanted to pick up for dinner because I forgot to cook.

No lie. It's happened way too often. Poor man. He is, of course, one of those innately organized people who can't for the life of him imagine how someone can forget to cook supper when you eat supper every single day. How hard can that be?

So, anyhow...this summer all calendars and schedules have gone out the window. It's impossible to take 42 summer vacations and keep to a schedule. But it is starting to wear on me a little. As nice as this free-wheeling, schedule-free life can be, there's something in all of us that craves a little order to the day. So. Order must return. TV watching must cease. Sleeping in late is over. All-day book-reading is a thing of the past.

We'll start tomorrow.

or Thursday. Or maybe on Monday, because it's hard to start a new schedule on a Thursday because then you have the weekend coming up and...

Happy Blogday

Three years ago, I decided to try this thing called blogging.  I set out not knowing what I was doing, but that is a pretty familiar place for me - not knowing what I'm doing.  It's been interesting watching the changes over the last three years.  Some months I've blogged heavily, some not at all, and some I probably shouldn't have but did anyway.

I've found friends, both near and far.  Linda is the only one I've met in person (and the only one to take care of my cat for a week...thanks so VERY much) but the others are no less friends, confidants and sources of constant inspiration.

There are days when I'm not sure what kind of blogger I am.  I read art blogs and news blogs and mommy blogs and homeschooling blogs and writer blogs and sometimes I feel like I try to be all of those and end up being none of them.  I've considered having multiple blogs to compartmentalize all those different elements of myself, and actually have one under a nom de plume that maybe I'll tell you about someday (shhh Linda).  But then I think that that's just too complicated and as I am an artist and photographer and reader and writer and mommy and homeschooler then my blog should reflect all of those facets.  

The real question is..."For whom do I blog?"  The answer is not so easy because it depends on the day.  Sometimes I blog for myself, because I have something to say and I need to get it out there.  Sometimes it is because when I see my thoughts or photos or art onscreen it helps me to see what needs to change and what the best way is to change it.  Sometimes I blog because I have seen something amazing or beautiful and I think everyone else needs to see it, too.  Sometimes I blog so that in 20 years my children will be able to see what their mama was like before I got old and gray and stuck in my ways.

So.  If you are a frequent visitor here, thanks for coming by.  I'd love it if you'd all comment and say hello to me someday, even if you generally just lurk.  I'm constantly amazed at how the internet has shrunken our world.  I'm even more constantly amazed at how similar we all are across the globe and across the generations.  

Golden Gate

I spent half the day yesterday, on my own again. Took a bus to the Golden Gate Park to see the Chihuly exhibit at the de Young museum. VERY nice. I took some pics on my small camera, but I can't upload them here, so when I get back to Tennessee, I'll see if any are good and blog them then.

I was rather manhandled and harrassed by a drunk, quite possibly schizophrenic man on the bus, which really ticked me off for a while, but staring at the sculptures helped tremendously. So did Dr. SmartyPants' arrival when his conferencing was over. We spent a little more time in the other exhibits, had lunch and headed out to the Golden Gate Bridge.

After a couple of strange misdirections and one bus driver who just made a loop and skipped going where the route said he was supposed to go and then stopped at an intersection and said, "END OF THE LINE!" Okay...Anyway...

We found another route to take us there and made it finally. And I got to take this...



along with quite a few others. You can check them all out here if you are so inclined.

We're off together today - heading back down to Pier 39 to take a boat ride and go to the aquarium and just be together.

More when I get back...Saturday is a special day...hmmm...

City by the Bay

San Francisco is a blast - I'm having so much fun! I spent the morning at SFMOMA eyeing their collection and the Frida Kahlo exhibit. THAT was a tortured soul, people. Then I rode a cable car to Fisherman's Wharf and spent the rest of the day exploring there. Dr. SmartyPants joined me when his conferencing was over for the day and we ate dinner overlooking the Pier 39 sea lions, the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz and Oakland. Nice.

Today, I'm off to the de Young Museum for the Dale Chihuly exhibit and plan to explore Golden Gate Park. My legs are aching, my feet hurt, I'm a wee bit sunburned on my face and I'm having SUCH a good time!

Here are some pics for your viewing pleasure...

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008)

I just can't help but smile when I watch this. I don't know why. But try...see if you can

Independence Day

Independence Day 020, originally uploaded by diahn.

Hoping yours had a little sparkle in it, too...

Fly

Perfect Day 5, originally uploaded by diahn.

Happy Independence Day, US peeps.

Chillin'

Chillin', originally uploaded by diahn.

I'm taking a vacation from vacations. Yes, Linda - all 42 of them have officially worn me out. This week - nada. Actually, the next couple of weeks will be pretty restful for me. Next week, the boys go to day camp for 4 days (12 hours a day), so I'll have Monday through Thursday to do whatever my little heart desires...I'm hoping my little heart desires to spend a lot of time in my studio slinging paint. I'm going to be spending this week ensuring that there are no excuses up there - that everything is clean and organized and ready to go.

Then I'll be back on the road again the next week. This one was a surprise to me, actually. The boys are going to their grandparents houses and I thought I'd have another week at home, but Dr. SmartyPants informed me that he has a conference to go to and a surplus of miles in his account and that I'm going with him...to San Francisco! Yippee...my mom tells me that I was there when I was a baby, but that doesn't really count now does it? My first trip to San Francisco!

So...my dear blogging friends...here's where you come in. I know all the touristy places to go - and I have a few things on my list, like the Frida Kahlo exhibit at SFMOMA, and the bay tour under the Golden Gate, etc., but if you know SF, what would you spend your time doing? I'll have about a day and a half, maybe 2 completely on my own to do whatever I want, then another day and a half with Dr. SP. I'd love some suggestions on things to see, places to go, etc., as well as some AVOID AT ALL COSTS things!

Now, I've got to go shopping for some really smashing clothes...

Fun in the Sun

The boys and I spent the weekend with my folks down in Alabama - my mom is remodeling her kitchen and she wanted some more input on colors and things, so I told her I'd trade her some color consulting for a day or two on the boat.

I think maybe I got the best part of that deal. The weather was perfect on Saturday and we spent most of the day on the water with my mom and dad, my little sister K., and my niece A. The boys had a blast riding the tow behind boat and jumping in the lake to swim. We all stayed up way past our bedtimes talking and laughing and it made getting up this morning VERY difficult, especially given that our early rise times today were in order to go the dentist (boys) and the (torture chamber) orthodontist (me).

Ah, well...at least we have the memories...


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

The Evolution of a Camping Family

I just have to laugh at us.  If you've read here before, you might remember that Dr. SmartyPants and I don't do anything slowly or halfway.  We met, married, got pregnant, moved to a new city, started a job and had the baby all before our first anniversary.  We have a tendency to move every couple of years.  SO.  It should come as no surprise that we've done the same kinds of things with our camping gear.

About 3 years ago, we decided to try camping with the boys who were 4 and 5 years old.  We borrowed a tent and all the gear from friends and headed out.  Dr. SP and I had camped individually before we were married, but had never been camping together.  We both had fond memories of it and wanted to share it with our boys.  That first trip was a resounding success.  Everyone had a ball - we loved it so much we went out and bought our own little tent, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, etc.  We used it exactly 2 times.

Now, it wasn't that we didn't like our little tent.  Quite the contrary - it was just big enough for the 4 of us and I LOVE tent camping - hearing all the sounds and feeling the breeze through the open windows...heaven.  However - on the trip shown above we were encountered with one of the unfortunate realities of tent camping - 4 days of solid rain.  We were SOAKED.  Everything was soaked.  Those poor boys were sleeping in puddles (without a single complaint.  I kid you not.)  And it was cold.  In the mornings, I would turn on the van and the heaters and let them dry out and warm up and change clothes.  Just miserable.  On our way home from that trip we decided to stop in at one of the RV dealerships...just to look...

A month or so later, we had this...

A perfect little pop up camper.  All the benefits of sleeping in a tent (open, airy, breezes) combined with a little comfort (heater, stove, benches and table).  Brilliant!  We camped everywhere and it still fit into our garage.  We spent 10 days at the beach in it, and it was my favorite beach trip EVER.

But...there was just one little thing...storage.  You see - when you go somewhere for 10 days, you have to carry a lot of stuff with you, so - while you are up and moving around you put it in the bunks, and when you want to go to bed you have to put it on the benches and pile it up on top of the sink and you still have to store some things in the car because they just won't fit.  And - the fact that I have to bring along every book and art supply I can squeeze into a gigantic bag, it was just too small...(you see where this is going, right?)

So - the last time we camped in the pop up, we saw a camper on the other side of the campground that looked interesting.  It had a hard sided middle section, like a typical travel trailer, but the ends folded out into beds, like a pop up.  WAIT.  Really?  So - I could store things in cabinets and closets and still get to sleep in a tent?  Are you kidding me?

Yep.  You guessed it.  Meet our new tent on wheels.  It's fabulous.  We've already taken it out twice since we got it a month ago, and we're going again at the end of the month.  It's got everything we could ever want.  Storage...tented beds...heat...a toilet (yippee)...a fantastic awning that is a miracle of usage - so so so so easy to put up.  I'm in heaven.  And I'm not even kidding.  We are not getting anything else until this one falls apart.  It's too big to fit in the garage, so we've had to rent a space at a storage facility, but that's okay - we can both park in the garage now!

Someone mentioned getting a canoe the other day and I said absolutely not.  If we got a canoe today, we'd have a cabin cruiser in 3 years and I just don't think I can take it.

Cades Cove, Continued

Look at me, being all alliterative.  Two in a row, no less.  If you aren't an English language geek, please disregard.

I promised more from Cades Cove, and I try to not disappoint.  We had a great time and did a few things we've never done before, including riding our bikes around the loop.  It's an 11-mile ride all the way around, although we cut off the tip by riding through the cove on one of the cross lanes.  The longest bike ride for the boys (and probably me, to be honest) up until Saturday was about 3 1/2 miles.  We did close to 9 miles on Saturday, and they did great.  Thankfully, there are all those downhill sections after the uphill sections where one can rest and recover breath.  (Whew.)  We saw 5 or 6 wild turkeys, at least 12 deer - including 3 or 4 bucks, antlers coated in velvet, but no bears.  I don't have pictures because I forgot to bring my backpack, so hauling around my big DSLR was out of the question.  I do have a little video, but I haven't edited it up yet, so just close your eyes and imagine it...or go here to see what it looks like.

The boys worked through a Junior Ranger book, and as part of that, had to identify some trees by their leaves.  I picked up a couple of oak examples and sketched them in my large Moleskine sketchbook.

They also had to attend one ranger-led presentation.  We sat in on Ranger Mike talking about the black bear population in the park (about 1500) and J was selected to play the part of an approaching black bear, while Ranger Mike played a hiker.  He got to wear a real bear skin and attack the hiker. He was laughing the whole time - it was great.

Ranger Mike swore them in and gave them their junior ranger pins.  Most national parks have this program, so if you are near one and have a little naturalist in your household, check it out.

I'll leave you today with my boys - growing so fast and well...

Languorous Loafing and Lethargy

Summer stirs up in me the deep-seated need to lie around basking in sunbeams and snoozing with gigantic tomes of mostly forgotten literature on my lap.  It does not stir in me the need to produce art on any scale, because that involves thought and planning and attention to detail...exactly the opposite of what summer requires.

I am fortunate that for the entirety of my life, I have followed the seasons of academia  (broken only by two summer internship positions, as a graduate student).  As a child and student, and now as the homeschooling mother of two, summer is a time to rest, to reflect, to rejuvenate and, quite honestly, to forget 1/3 of what I learned the previous academic year.  I don't apologize for it.  It just happens, and if you take summers off, you know it does.  Ask any school kid what he learned in the last 2 months of school and you'll get a completely blank look.  Not.  A.  Clue.

But, I digress.  Summer IS a time of explorations and poking about in the woods, at least it is for me and my boys.  Of course, any season is a time of explorations and poking about in the woods for me and my boys.  We took to the road again just this past weekend - up to a place we've been many times, but never camped until now - Cades Cove - in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

The 17-year cicadas had burst forth from the ground, molted and were dropping rapidly when we arrived.  Our campsite was covered with dead, mostly dead and slightly alive buggies.  The holes in the ground from where they had emerged from their tunnels were still very evident.  Their orange wings and bright red eyes were captivating.

Other varieties of wildlife were abundant, too.  Deer by the dozen, a coyote crossing the road in front of our moving car, and sweet little barn swallow babies asking for some food.  I had none, but mama swallow and daddy swallow were working their deeply forked tails off, providing for them.  The fact that they built their little mud nest in the most active historic building in the Cades Cove Visitor Center is a little concerning, however.

We did a few other things, too, but I'll have to tell you about them tomorrow.  Right now, that anthology of women's literature is beckoning me to the bed.  Don't expect anything early, though - it is summer, after all.

And So It Goes...

Is it just me, or does everyone have this problem?  I state that I'm going to do something...emphatically, no less, with a great flourish and a little cliff-hanger and...well...SPLAT.  Nothing.  I have started something new.  I have failed to achieve what I wanted, but I'm determined to work it until what I have in my mind comes out onto the surface with which I am working.

I started here...

Then it all fell apart.  I think the multimedia artboard I was using was part of the problem - the other was just an ill-conceived plan.  But fear not, internet.  I'll make it do something.  And I have a question for you...is it completely narcissistic of me to continue to do self-portraits when I want to do a portrait?  I keep thinking it's a matter of convenience and frugality, but sometimes I start to worry...

And I still need to add in a thrift store session or two, I think.

Hmmm.

This is a scan of a tracing of a pencil drawing I did of myself...

Hiding

I'll admit it.  I've been hiding.  End of school - beginning of the camping season - lack of motivation - whatever... dust is piling up on my art supplies and desks, sketchbooks are laying forlornly around the house.  But... I feel a breeze blowing - I've got an idea in this head of mine that may spark another and another and another...  It's one of those I can see almost fully formed before I've even started.  I love that.

Out from under the covers now - pencils and brushes and scissors (yes...SCISSORS) at the ready.  There may even be a thrift shop involved somehow, but we'll just play that by ear.

Getting Closer

J in Pencil and China Marker, originally uploaded by diahn.

This little guy escapes me. I just can't quite get his eyes, no matter how hard I try and the eyes are really the key, aren't they? I will keep trying - I've got him around for another 12 years or so, now don't I? Nothing like a captive model...

This is the One

This is the one who made me a mother. This is the one whose sweet face I adored from the moment I saw it. This is the one who taught me how to not be so selfish and full of myself. This is the one who I have 973 hours of video of sleeping.

He is the one who made my heart stop the first time he took a step near the edge of a pool. He is the one who made me realize that I cared more for that little man than I had ever cared for myself. He is the one who drives me completely nuts when he doesn't live up to his potential. He is the one who made me understand what that meant. He is the one who made me a mother.

This is the boy who makes me laugh. This is the one who, when he was small, fell asleep on my chest and tickled it with his eyelashes. This is the boy who doesn't like to sit in Mama's lap anymore, but will if I insist. This is the one who doesn't like to hold Mama's hand when we walk across the parking lots of life...but will if I make him. This is the boy who runs up to me if I visit his class and hugs me tightly - right there in front of his classmates. This is the boy who taught me patience.

This is the boy with the heart as big as an ocean. The one who cries when he sees people or animals in any kind of pain. This is the boy who wept when he thought Benji wasn't going to make it after the bad guys knocked him out. The one who wept for a dog that no one wanted while he watched "The Dog Whisperer." This is the greatest compassion rolled up into skinned knees, freckles and curls. This is the boy who is just like his dad.

This is the boy who made me a mother.