The Halloween That Wasn't

After a post about Halloween costumes quite some time ago the matter quickly resolved itself and I never brought it up again. We made some adjustments to the custody schedule, which put Monkey & Peanut with their mom for the holiday. She volunteered to take on costumes and from that point on, Stan and I were done. A few of the other kids in the apartment complex were going as characters from Wizard of Oz so Monkey & Peanut joined. The idea was their mom's but they seemed happy to go along. I was proud of them for embracing costumes that were not pretty by nature. We reminded them of how proud they had been of their costumes the year before (when they designed and created them with very little help) and gently encouraged them to do as much work themselves as they could. Turns out that their mom did almost all of it. It also turns out that it wasn't a big deal to them. Hopefully this will be one of those lessons learned - as much as I value creativity and independent action at my house, it doesn't hurt any of us to let someone else do the work every once in a while.

Puddin' was also easy. I found a $2 bear costume at a consignment sale. It's a zip-up vest with a hood so paired with neutral clothing it was an easy and toddler-appropriate costume. She adores the thing and will sometimes ask for her "bear cos" so she can walk around snuggling it. On Halloween night we took her to a grand total of one house and didn't accept any candy. She's certainly not going to eat the candy, her sisters don't need any more than they've got, and it was raining most of the evening. Puddin' took matters into her own hands, however, and went trick-or-treating in our own candy bin. I made her put it all back, which was met with some very appropriate growls.

Kind of Blue

For the last few weeks I've been near the breaking point. Many times I've considered blogging but then reconsidered since it didn't seem prudent to put my real thoughts out there for the world to read. I couldn't come up with anything nice to say so I chose to say nothing. It feels somewhat dishonest to share only the easy stuff but then again, a public forum is so easily misunderstood and misused.

This past weekend Stan and I were able to get away - without any of the kids. [insert big sigh here.] We didn't go far, just over an hour away from home, but there was a pool and a hot tub so it felt like a million miles away from all my cares. We ate fabulous dinners, drank good wine, listened to live jazz. I swam in the pool and soaked in the hot tub. I read a fabulous book - The Man Who Was Thursday - in one day. I even did some of that reading while in the hot tub. It was a GOOD weekend.

In addition to the relaxation, I also found some clarity while away. With time to think and pressure lifted, I was able to get some perspective on all the drama and angst I've been experiencing. Armed with new insight I made an appointment to see a counselor. This man has been a huge help to both Stan and I over the years and his wisdom is precious to me. After sitting with him for an hour I feel more calm, and centered. The nasty voices in my head have been put into perspective. I also got a homework assignment - I've been commissioned to write a blues song. My guitar teacher recently taught me the 12 bar blues so I've got some wailing to do.

I'm grateful for vacation, for wise council, for artistic expression, and for a husband who doesn't think I'm a wacko. There are a lot of things going right right now - how on earth am I supposed to sing the blues?

Good Boy

Puddin' has recently learned to say "good boy" to our dog, Zero. If Stan or I call Zero, Puddin' will call out too and then say "good boy" a few times. Sometimes she'll say it spontaneously, as if that were his name.

Zero is an old dog. He's about 15 years old, arthritic, nearly blind and deaf - but still happy and a joy to be around. Just about a week ago Zero took a significant turn for the worse. Suddenly he was vomiting and shaking. He grew more lethargic every day. He stopped eating and drinking. After a handful of tests the vets were able to tell us that Zero's liver was not functioning and that his gall bladder was seriously diseased. Very expensive surgery could fix it but would only be able to buy him a few more years regardless. Stan and I decided the most humane choice would be to put Zero to sleep.

We told Monkey & Peanut on Tuesday morning that we were taking Zero to the vet, and that the vet would help him die a painless & dignified death. At first they seemed to search for ways to prolong time with him or fix the problem but through their questions they were able to understand what was happening and why. They showed such grace and maturity. All five of us posed for one last picture with our beloved dog. Through their tears they each went off to deal with it in their own way. Monkey drew a picture for Zero and Peanut wrote him a letter. They asked that we take their offerings with us to the vet so that Zero would have something to remember them by.

"I love Zero and he is gowing to hevin. I'll miss him and he is the best dog ever. I have lots of amoshins today. I'm not redy for Zero to diy yet."

Monkey & Peanut were with their mom last night so they haven't experience the house without Zero yet. For the rest of us, there have been plenty of sad reminders. I keep listening for his nails clicking on the hardwood floor, or looking for him to clean up some food Puddin' dropped. When I'm out I think about rushing home to let him out of the basement. Stan, who has known Zero longer than any of us, doesn't have that wagging tail to greet him when he comes home, and doesn't have quiet company first thing in the morning before the rest of us get us. Puddin' is still looking for Zero. She'll look in the places where he often slept and say his name, or sometimes "good boy." Even Tsunami, our cranky cat, is showing signs of missing her friend. She'll occasionally let out a plaintive meow and she's taken to sleeping in some of Zero's old spots.

I'm sure Monkey & Peanut will find their own reminders of our sweet puppy and little memories that sting. I wish there was something I could do to shield them from it; I hate for their lives to be sullied by the pain of losing a good pet. On the other hand, I'm astounded by their capacity to take something like this in and cope with it. It's good to see them dealing with rough emotions in a healthy way. At least there is that silver lining.

We're going to miss you, Zero. You were such a faithful companion for each of us. It was a privilege to have you in our home and we're all grateful to God for giving us that sweet little embodiment of grace and love.

Vroom

It's been a crazy few weeks. Monkey has started ballet, Peanut has started guitar & piano, and Puddin' has started getting bored. Stan is wonderfully brilliant so he's much in demand for committees and meetings on top of his work-a-day job. He's also in a singing group that has started up again for the fall. I'm in the center of this mess, trying to hold it all together.

With Monkey & Peanut I'm trying to motivate them to work quickly but thoroughly so they continue to do well in school, practice instruments/dance so they can enjoy their activities, not to mention clean up after themselves so I don't hide their stuff. Where Stan is concerned I try to pick up the slack so he can focus his attention on the plethora of very good gigs he's gotten himself into. Poor Puddin' gets the short end - she just wants to play, read, snuggle, explore & other wonderful toddler things but her family is not cooperating.

In the midst of all this, we had car trouble. I took the dying car in for some work early on Friday and Stan took the more lovable vehicle to work. Our mechanic always has the car back to us the next day (at the latest) so it was under control. By Monday afternoon we still only had one vehicle and suddenly things got complicated. Stan had a meeting, I had guitar lessons, and we even had a sitter lined up. The "super-mom" in me felt the need to give up on my lesson time for the greater good of the family. The rest of me was screaming something along the lines of "over my dead body." [In all fairness, I must report that Stan offered to stay home from his meeting. I was the one putting pressure on myself, not the wonderful hubby.] After a mini-meltdown and a quick chat with the mechanic we were able to borrow his car and the whirlwind of activity resumed.

Over the next few days, driving around in someone else's car, I was acutely aware of when & why I was driving. I noticed that most of the day-to-day errands for the family I do walking, with Puddin' in the stroller. When I get in the car, though, I'm often doing something that I find personally rewarding. I walk to the grocery store but if I want good bread (which is a treat I adore) I have to drive to one further away. The kids and I walk to school every day but once a week I drive to meet with friends and chat about the goings-on at church. And then there's my guitar lesson - that blessed half-hour a week when it's all about me - which is hard to get to without a car.

I've never been a car person before. I resisted learning to drive for far longer than is normal, and was quite proud during my decade as an urbanite that I was above such things. Now I'm startled to discover that I find freedom in my car. As much as I bad-mouth it, I'm grateful that the peculiar little car is back. Long may it live.

Bewitched & Bewildered

Last year for Halloween we had some great costumes in our family. Two out of the three even won awards at the Fall Festival costume contest. Peanut went as a rockstar - including a child sized studded collar and pink streaks in the hair. Monkey went as a woodland sprite (tree fairy) and made her costume by hand. Puddin', who was quite unaware, was dressed in her white fleecy jacket and went as a sheep.

It's time to start the costume conversation again but this time I may not get much input. If the custody rotation for weekends stays as it currently is then Monkey and Peanut will be with their mom for the festive day. If she's the one taking them trick-or-treating then she'll likely want control over the costumes. I'm not super picky about their costumes, but I do love helping the girls with creative process. I like watching ideas grow and develop in their brains until they have enough ownership over an idea to do the work to make it happen. It's a glorious process to watch. When I get taken out of the loop I worry that the process might be something closer to "which Disney princess would you like to be this year?" I certainly hope not - these girls are far too creative and thoughtful for an easy out like that. I think they're beginning to see some of that so hopefully they'll stand up for their own ideas and come up with something worth showing off to their friends and neighbors.

Now, as for Puddin', I'm still in charge - and it matters more this year. She's old enough to go to a few neighbors houses. She's also old enough to take all her clothes off if she doesn't like the costume I put together. I'm not too keen on the idea of picking something for her but the concept is so new that I'm pretty sure she can't choose for herself. I'm looking forward to the day when I can engage in the same creative process with her and help her express who she wants to be. In the meantime, I welcome easy, toddler-friendly costume ideas. Help please!

Coppola Claret

Coppola Diamond Collection
Claret 2006
California

This wine goes down easy. Rich, smooth, full of tobacco & dark berry flavors. The tannins mellowed almost straight out of the bottle, with little attention from us. The "nose" leaves a lot to be desired but the flavor more than makes up for it. For dinner we paired this with steak (rubbed with pepper) and the Claret stood up to the strong flavors admirably. Sitting around after dinner, the wine is still enjoyable - quite relaxing, actually. A good dinner wine doesn't always sip well or vice versa. It's nice when the wine flows so smoothly through the evening.

Today's wine nerd note: Unlike many U.S. wines, this one is named for the blend rather than the grape. But Claret is already a big clue - it's simply a name for a Cabernet Sauvignon based blend. Often there's some Merlot in there but not necessarily. The term originated with the British and they use it to refer to wines from Bordeaux.

One final note: A big thanks to Glenn & Nancy for giving the bottle to Stan for his birthday!

Pierre Amadieu Côtes du Rhône

"Among the world's great reds, Rhônes are the most untamed. Flavors dart around in them like shooting stars. There are whooshes of sweet earthiness and surges of smoky black fruit. The wines' howling spiciness has no parallel. Rhônes are the wine equivalent of a primal scream."
The Wine Bible, Karen MacNeil

Pierre Amadieu
Côtes du Rhône
Roulpierre
2006

When I first gave a glass to Stan for tasting his response was a surprised look and "that's funky." I'm not sure, but I don't think he meant funky as a compliment. This wine is tart, tangy, spicy, and peppery. It's buzzing with dark cherries and has a dry, minerally finish. Certainly not everyone's cup of tea but I enjoyed it. This wine asks a little more of the drinker - it demands attention - so settling into the couch with a book isn't going to work this time. But if you have the patience to dart through the various zings, you'll be rewarded.

I've never been a huge fan of French wines, mostly because they take so much more knowledge and attention. The wine world over there is so marvelously layered that I have a hard time finding my way around. The "new world" method tells me what grape I'm drinking but when dealing with the old world I have to remember things like French geography. I never studied French geography so this is quite a leap. Lately I've tasted a few wines that make me want to leap. You're welcome to come along, if you like.

The above quote about Rhône wines made me like this wine even more. I like a wine (or region) that won't be pinned down. In my readings I found that there's Northern Rhône and Southern Rhône, which are dramatically different, and never the twain shall meet. Côtes du Rhône, the wine in question, is the only exception. Côtes du Rhône (and it's fancier sibling Côtes du Rhône Villages) is the only wine that can be made in both districts of the region. Côtes du Rhônes is also the only wine that can be made of any grapes in the region, while other appellations must choose from a much smaller subset. Why must the French be so cryptic? I went to Pierre Amadieu's website and found slightly more helpful information. This wine was made in Gigondas, which is in fact Southern Rhône, and was made primarily of grenache and syrah. This wine is of their lowest level, which they call Découvertes - or Discovery (thanks to Google for translation help.)

There's lots more information I could bring up but just one more detail that I found interesting: Côtes du Rhône is often used as a café wine in France. According to French taste, this is a humble wine for everyday drinking. For once, I'm in agreement with the French.