Girlfriends

I almost feel embarrassed to admit this because it seems so decadent, but the birthday bliss continues.... My friends are such a gift to me. Even though they are busy people and not "ladies who lunch," I got a call today that went something like this:

Want to meet for lunch?
The fun doesn't have to stop
just 'cause it's Monday...

Upgraded






















As you may have gathered from my earlier posts, I spent this weekend at La Quinta with David, the boys, and several of our close friends who were nice enough to make the trip and help celebrate my birthday. (And yes, our crew of squirrelly teenagers mended their ways and were on their very best behavior after we read them the riot act about the Golf Cart Incident and the Patio Furniture in the Pool Event. Ahem.) Last night David hosted a beautiful dinner for us all at a long, candlelit table outside. And he said something that completely reshaped the way I looked at turning 40: something to the effect that, when you get to have another year with the person you love, it's an upgrade. And then my friends toasted me with such kind and loving words that I felt blessed beyond measure. I will never forget it. This photo was taken by my friend Cathleen (who always takes amazing pictures); it perfectly captures the light and love and effervescence of the evening.

candlelight, wine, stars
and the people I love most
I've been upgraded






Middle School Blues, or The Mother as Sisyphus























Science, Spanish and Social Studies,
which were in a precarious state last week,
are now on the up and up: Glory be.
P.E. is an easy A, of course.
And that one, shining "Outstanding"
citizenship grade is a counterbalance
to the "Distracts others"
and "Not working up to potential".
But now we've got to deal with Algebra,
which is a crisis.
This kid is smart, so what gives?
Summon the tutors;
bring on the Kumon math center.
Let's push the stone up the hill again.

The Crane

















Pardon me while I indulge in some martial arts nerdiness. I have been a student of Kempo karate for many years, albeit with a lot of time taken off for injuries and "life"--a catchall excuse that includes family trips, sick kids, and sometimes just my own lack of discipline. It's humbling. As with raising kids or trying to understand the instruction manual to my Cuisinart, I often feel like the further in I get, the less I know--so I just keep going. In a few weeks I'm going to test for my brown belt, and have been frantically cramming and reviewing all my techniques so I'll be ready.

In Shaolin Kempo, a lot of these movements fall into groupings based on five animals (some of which strike me as cooler than others) with particular attributes--for example, the tiger, notable for its circular strikes and straight-up power, or the leopard, with its explosive speed. I have to learn them all, but some are easier for me than others. Several of the nice folks I train with are big sweaty teenagers who are much faster than I am, and big sweaty adult guys who outweigh me by a lot; I don't have the advantage of lightning quickness or massive strength, so I'm not all that great at the cool-animal stuff. As much as I wish could be a leopard, I'm more of a crane. And I guess I'm okay with that. We've all got to play to our strengths. Crane-style techniques are not about out-muscling an opponent; they involve deflection and precise strikes to soft targets like the eyes and throat. I like that the crane is also a symbol of longevity...not that I want to take any longer than I have to to get my black belt. My haiku in honor of the crane:

the crane spreads its wings
swoops hops deflects then counters
and takes flight again



Cheesecake for Vasco

My favorite Malawian and godson, Vasco, turned 11 today. We went to a little birthday gathering for him chez Cathi and Maury, and I was in charge of bringing cheesecake--Vasco's request. I don't mean to brag, but it was a damn good cheesecake. It made me so happy that everyone liked it. The recipe is a long-time family favorite, courtesy of Dr. Bob O'Connor who is a long-time family friend, an anesthesiologist and an amazing cook--long may he live.

The poem:

Dr. Bob's cheesecake:
for the chocolate ninja who
doesn't like chocolate.


The recipe:

Crust:
¾ c. graham cracker crumbs
2 T. melted butter
1 T. sugar
¼ tsp. cinnamon

Mix together and pat on bottom and sides of a springform pan.

Filling:
2 8oz. packages cream cheese
½ c. sugar
3 eggs
½ - ¾ tsp. almond extract
2 T. fresh lemon juice

Beat together. Pour into crust. Bake at 325 for 35 minutes.

1 c. sour cream
1 1/2 Tbs. sugar
1/2 tsp. vanilla

Mix together. Pour over cake. Bake 10 minutes more.

The Big Four-Oh














When I woke up this morning, I realized that being bummed out about turning 40 is pretty lame, considering that I have my health, the love of family and friends, and a beautiful, inspiring place to live. I briefly thought about trying to craft some kind of major, serious poem to mark the occasion, but when I looked back on the notes I had scribbled throughout the day, I just thought, nah--this is exactly how I want to remember it, homemade cards, Viking-themed foods and all.

Birthday cards, silly and sweet, from my boys.
A run on the beach.
Hibiscus blooming in Heisler Park.
Hermes and herring à la mode with my husband
(who thoughtfully left his Blackberry in the car
while we shopped and lunched).
Little-people hugs on my knees from my nieces and nephew.
Valhalla Table: Brats and beer galore.
The feeling of being stuffed and sleepy and well-loved.