Snowstorm hit Cape Cod yesterday dumping over a foot of heavy, whipped cream like snow on everything. Throughout the night, our house was pelted with large tree limbs, flying debris, with gusts that had to have been hurricane strength. It sounded like the winds in the Perfect Storm boat audio.
A high pitched whistle-scream that even this morning is still occasionally echoing through the trees and snow-covered houses.
Some homes on our street got snow blasted on the southern side of their houses all the way to the roof. If you come down our road, it has the appearnce of just towers of snow from certain angles. We couldn't see out of any of the windows in the bedrooms. Total white-out.
The temperatures dipped into the stunningly-freezing area and coated the entire mess with a thin sheet of icy top. When you go outside, before you hear the muffled crunch of snow, you hear the tinkling sounds of this top layer of ice cracking with each step. And the snow is deep, up to your knees in most areas. In drifted sections, it's almost belly-button level and higher.
As we shoveled out the driveway yesterday, I kept looking at the trees. There's something about snow covered trees that has always calmed me. The sounds of the kids playing in the snow off and on all day calms me, too. There's even something about wet mittens and gloves, hats and scarves hanging near the fireplace to dry that just makes my heart happy. It was almost as if this most powerful snow storm was meant to bring peace and not destruction. To quiet things down, to calm this small part of the world, to slow things to paces where you have time to stop and look at the trees. During the blizzard of '78, many died. During this storm, I've not seen any news of any deaths associated with the snow.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the globe, a tsunami caused by a mag 9 earthquake killed dozens of thousands of people. An earthquake of 8.1 magnitude hit just a week before in another area of the ocean and caused no human deaths at all, and little destruction.
Mount Saint Helens continues to have small earthquakes and other pre-volcanic activity... the earth itself seems to be going through as many life-altering changes as humans are politically, religiously and socially.
Sometimes I wonder if our human energy effects that of the earth's, or if it is the other way around. We are effected by the moon; and so is the earth. Could it be we are also effected by the earth's inner-shifts and powerful weather systems and phenomenon? And could it be we are all effected at various levels, and for some the changes have a calming effect and for others, complete anxiety? Maybe some people aren't effected much at all, too.
While reading the stories from those who survived the tsunami, I noticed that survival is not always about the fittest. It's about luck and flukes at times. A baby survived on a mattress, a woman under a car was lifted up with the car and flipped over to safety. Locals who were just swept into something to grab a hold of and hold on tight, as if the current itself was guiding luck and fate. I always marvel at the survival stories; some about sheer determination and a will to live, to fight, to be so unwillingly to leave this earth. And others who are almost willing to accept the fate of death, who pretty much believe they are going to die, but are saved by luck alone.
And those who have both luck and determination on their side are those who usually end up saving others, passing the luck and determination around as though it were something tangible. My heart leaps into my throat when I read stories about people who refuse to give up, not only on themselves, but on anyone around them, even in the most unexpected of circumstances.
Here's a few donation links to help those who survived carry on:
doctors without borders
direct relief
world concern
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
What a long, busy, merry week it has been... and it's only Wednesday! We tried to play the CSI board game last night with the boys. Here's what we learned:
1. It's a long game. It's interesting enough to hold the attention of a 10 year old, but hyperactive 8 year olds will take breaks throughout the game to play Sonic, watch cartoons, surf weather.com, and make goofy faces and arm-fart noises at the ten year old.
2. It's a long game. We played for over an hour and a half, and still had level three to go. We put the cards back, without reading the 'who-done-it' part, so we can try again during the day time instead of at night time. By the time everyone hit bed, it was 10 p.m.
3. It's a long game. A lot of reading involved, but a lot of interesting information to make it worth the amount of reading.
4. It's a long game. Very complex, but as we play more we figure it will get a better game-flow, as the first time playing is going over the rule book quite a lot.
5. It's, well, you know.
I spent most of yesterday getting the Christmas cards done and off to the mail. I've never been this far behind before, but the past few weeks were spent working on a legal piece that has certainly made for some interesting phone calls this week. Also learned some interesting changes are going to be taking place; it's pretty funny to watch from the standpoint we're at now, knowing our personal convictions are based on fact, logic and a determination to stand strong for those we love. And knowing that our strength strengthens the determination of those we love.
We know what we are about to embark upon will involve a lot of time, energy and brain-work. We also know that we've felt it getting easier to look at from the viewpoint they have given us; if ever there was any doubt in our minds about the incompetence, it is now gone... we're not only positive it's imcompetent, we found links to support our own personal anguish, meetings held by the very people who kept telling us the opposite of what we know to be definitively true:
There's a lack of services available locally, so most will go through the same circles of same-old-procedures, even when it is apparent more is needed than what is available. If you try to go outside the area, you are viewed as 'demanding'. It's as if the 'professional' egos in this area are bigger than Cape Cod itself. I can respect ego when it's founded in actual success... but this type of ego, at the expense of many and in regards to nothing but self-preservation and in spite of evidence proving incompetency, that is the kind of ego I have zero tolerance for. There are perhaps ten people I respect in all of the various fields... we've met over a hundred of them. Those aren't good statistics; we've basically been trying to build a foundation on a base of sand. Even the best and brightest get lost in the weaknesses of the sandy-bits surrounding them.
It's been a long game.
1. It's a long game. It's interesting enough to hold the attention of a 10 year old, but hyperactive 8 year olds will take breaks throughout the game to play Sonic, watch cartoons, surf weather.com, and make goofy faces and arm-fart noises at the ten year old.
2. It's a long game. We played for over an hour and a half, and still had level three to go. We put the cards back, without reading the 'who-done-it' part, so we can try again during the day time instead of at night time. By the time everyone hit bed, it was 10 p.m.
3. It's a long game. A lot of reading involved, but a lot of interesting information to make it worth the amount of reading.
4. It's a long game. Very complex, but as we play more we figure it will get a better game-flow, as the first time playing is going over the rule book quite a lot.
5. It's, well, you know.
I spent most of yesterday getting the Christmas cards done and off to the mail. I've never been this far behind before, but the past few weeks were spent working on a legal piece that has certainly made for some interesting phone calls this week. Also learned some interesting changes are going to be taking place; it's pretty funny to watch from the standpoint we're at now, knowing our personal convictions are based on fact, logic and a determination to stand strong for those we love. And knowing that our strength strengthens the determination of those we love.
We know what we are about to embark upon will involve a lot of time, energy and brain-work. We also know that we've felt it getting easier to look at from the viewpoint they have given us; if ever there was any doubt in our minds about the incompetence, it is now gone... we're not only positive it's imcompetent, we found links to support our own personal anguish, meetings held by the very people who kept telling us the opposite of what we know to be definitively true:
There's a lack of services available locally, so most will go through the same circles of same-old-procedures, even when it is apparent more is needed than what is available. If you try to go outside the area, you are viewed as 'demanding'. It's as if the 'professional' egos in this area are bigger than Cape Cod itself. I can respect ego when it's founded in actual success... but this type of ego, at the expense of many and in regards to nothing but self-preservation and in spite of evidence proving incompetency, that is the kind of ego I have zero tolerance for. There are perhaps ten people I respect in all of the various fields... we've met over a hundred of them. Those aren't good statistics; we've basically been trying to build a foundation on a base of sand. Even the best and brightest get lost in the weaknesses of the sandy-bits surrounding them.
It's been a long game.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
...as my boys sat discussing the viability of a popcorn house they planned to build, requesting information from me about the height of our home, I secured a large, gold bow to my head. It's mid December, I can't seem to leave the house without an elf hat on, or a Santa Claus getup, and because I'm going to work today to help put away an order, I felt it best to give my coworker and customers a good laugh at my obnoxiously large bow and ribbon head.
A popcorn house will now be discussed at recess... the boys ask for a blank notebook to jot down their plans. They are serious about this, I realize, as they go into the snack drawer to see how many bags of microwave-popcorn we have. They are doing the math by seeing how many square feet each bag produces. I smell and hear a test bag heating up, and although part of me wants to tell them to slow down and not waste popcorn, I realize it's not being wasted at all. This is a dream, a goal, something they are, in their young boy minds, quite inspired by. And, because I see numbers being jotted down and a sense of teamwork between them both, I think of how small a price to pay, less than a dollar for a bag of popcorn, for this kind of excitement.
They expect to make it over thirteen feet tall. They might even, with careful planning, get a teacher involved to help them make this a reality, who knows. They are that industrious.
And while I straighten out the bow on my head, I think of my own whimsical ideas, goals and dreams, and how happy I am that my mind takes gentle pauses not to stop the goals and dreams of my sons, no matter how goofy they sound at first. I let them ride their dreams out, take steps towards a goal, and am here as much more than just their mom... it's my responsibility to let them know it's ok to run with their creative thoughts, as much can be learned, much laughter to be had, many math formulas utilized...
and much joy created.
Happy holidays, folks.
A popcorn house will now be discussed at recess... the boys ask for a blank notebook to jot down their plans. They are serious about this, I realize, as they go into the snack drawer to see how many bags of microwave-popcorn we have. They are doing the math by seeing how many square feet each bag produces. I smell and hear a test bag heating up, and although part of me wants to tell them to slow down and not waste popcorn, I realize it's not being wasted at all. This is a dream, a goal, something they are, in their young boy minds, quite inspired by. And, because I see numbers being jotted down and a sense of teamwork between them both, I think of how small a price to pay, less than a dollar for a bag of popcorn, for this kind of excitement.
They expect to make it over thirteen feet tall. They might even, with careful planning, get a teacher involved to help them make this a reality, who knows. They are that industrious.
And while I straighten out the bow on my head, I think of my own whimsical ideas, goals and dreams, and how happy I am that my mind takes gentle pauses not to stop the goals and dreams of my sons, no matter how goofy they sound at first. I let them ride their dreams out, take steps towards a goal, and am here as much more than just their mom... it's my responsibility to let them know it's ok to run with their creative thoughts, as much can be learned, much laughter to be had, many math formulas utilized...
and much joy created.
Happy holidays, folks.
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