Aunt Susan's Narcotics

Some people do drugs. Our Aunt Susan does Sedona.(see previous posts)

These pictures should knock the bronchitis right out of her. FDA approved, I'm sure.

We felt a certain obligation to pay a visit to Fiona at Garland's Indian Jewelry on her behalf. Did my part to stimulate the local economy.

Domestic Bliss

And THEN we followed our handy-dandy map over to Main St. in Mesa to a place I had found through bloggy connections...Domestic Bliss. This place is practically edible. Not just another crafts boutique, though. How often I have visited such places and thought, oh I could make that myself, if only I had the time...and the materials, and the talent. Get this: Domestic Bliss the boutique is adjacent to Blissful Living Studio, which is an adorable workshop where you can register to attend classes for everything from vintage aprons to blog embellishment. Membership is available, or you can choose classes a la carte. Their site has a marvelous blog of its own with links to their instructors' blogs. Check it out!

The Heard Museum

The Heard Museum is amazing. Hall after hall of Native American artwork. Testimonials that are almost too heartbreaking to bear. More tribes than I had ever known of. And where was I when the Indian Schools were mentioned in history class? I think they were mysteriously omitted in our textbooks. Let's move on. I feel a homeschooling rant coming on.

All of this was perfect inspiration for the trip that the kids and I are going on with a church group to a reservation in New Mexico this August. We hope to serve the people there, learn about their lives and beliefs, and earn the privilege of sharing ours. As an aside, we appreciate any prayers for the many resources and finances that need to be gathered for this adventure. We will be shipping a week's worth of teaching materials and crafts to presented to children in various venues and may not have much advance notice of exactly where we will be and how many children might attend. Lots of logistical and training matters need tending to between now and then.

Can't wait to see it all come together!

In the Heard Museum shop I couldn't resist an out-of-print book entitled "Presbyterian Attitudes Toward The Native Americans:18__-1879." A little light reading ...it may or may not be applicable...I'll let you know!

Meanwhile, M. had a blast spending every penny of his remaining birthday money on a talking stick, a mallet, a t-shirt, and some books. He wanted this sheep for his big sis the sheep freak, but acknowledged that it wouldn't squeeze into his suitcase.

The Phoenix Zoo

M.'s favorite place for sure.
Up close with the monkeys!

So blessed to spend a day with this sweet boy. He talked at length and with an air of authority about every animal in sight and at times laughed out loud at himself. I'm not even sure that he needed me there other than to pay for the camel ride, but it was fun to tag along.

Color Fix

The Banker was off to his meetings to do what bankers do, and M and I zipped off to the Phoenix Botanical Gardens. So nice of them to arrange to have an exhibit of my favorite glass artist, Dale Chihuly's work set throughout the gardens. Could not believe it. Too perfect to be coincidence. Where did I just hear the quote that coincidence is simply when God chooses to remain anonymous? Delightful.

On Our Way

We did make it through security after all! It takes a village for us to get away without all of the kids. No less than 10 of our friends looked after the kiddoes at some point during our trip. We have great friends- thanks everybody!
Once we arrived at the airport, we settled in with breakfast and had a little visit with Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell who shared our flight on his way to the NBA championship game. A great flight, in spite of the fact that the battery on M's dvd player failed to charge the night before. The novelty of cloud-watching satisfied him for most of the trip. That, and a soda from the flight attendant's cart.

Before posting our time in Phoenix, I have to introduce another

Susan. She is Aunt Susan to most of us here at the Pink Victorian and she is one of a kind. She and Uncle Paul live in the Northeast but are meant to be somewhere in the Southwest...New Mexico, maybe Sedona. She is regularly decorated with her collection of exquisite Native American jewelry, and the exterior of her townhouse should be coated in adobe to compliment the interior and she is also perfectly comfortable visiting with a nephew's bearded dragon; another desert dweller. She makes routine pilgrimages to the West, but is in need of a good dose of red rock and sunshine after a challenging Yankee winter and a nasty bout of bronchitis. Thus the ABUNDANT vacation photos to follow.

M. used every bit of his b-day check from Uncle Paul and Aunt Susan at the gift shop of the Heard Museum in Phoenix. She must be very pleased. Thanks Aunt Susan! Hope the vicarious vacation does your heart good.

Wild Goose Chase

It was a brilliant idea. Or it would have been. We were wanting to do something creative this Valentines Day for a set of Floridian grandparents who abandon us for sunnier climes each autumn and return in the spring when the weather here is more to their liking. Snowbirds. A few days before the holiday we were on our way home from piano lessons and passed a field covered with at least a thousand large, white snow geese making a migratory pit stop. We hurried home for the camera, quickly cut out red paper hearts for the boys to hold up in front of the massive flock. I would snap the clever pose and post it with the caption "We Love Snowbirds!". Problem. In the brief time that it took us to fetch our props, the entire bunch of birds vanished. Gone. I'm talking about a thousand birds or more. We drove around thinking they must be SOMEWHERE nearby, but not a snow goose was to be found. What we did find was a pitiful scraggly flock of winter starved turkeys. If you squint, you can see that a couple of them were even attempting to mate. No snowbirds, just passionate turkeys. We tried.

We Love Snowbirds!

Eek!! I really have neglected the poor blog! I'm hoping to do a quick catch-up before another little hiatus while I am in Phoenix next week. It's been the busiest January we've had in a few years.

M. has already packed his little suitcase in anticipation of his flight west. I think Homeland Security might object to the plastic rifle butt sticking out of his carry-on. And he packed more clothing for his Build-A-Bear puppy dog than he did for himself. His other must-haves? A bathing suit and his favorite pj's. We're off to the convenience store for the main reason he loves to fly: bubblegum!

NoHo Field Trip Part 3: M&J Trims and Times Square

Off to M&J Trims in the garment district to get some edging for Isabelle's bib. They have EV-ER-Y-THING for trimming and handbag hardware, millinery doo-dads, tassels and ribbons. Overwhelming. Completely overwhelming.

An obligatory stop at the Apple store. One of each please.


Shopping for finger puppets for another cousin from a street vendor. A silly dispute over which was Yoda and which was Shrek. I wanted neither, but some days these kiddoes can argue over ANYTHING! We bought a generic monkey for Cousin and moved on.

S. Coveting some running shoes at the Adidas store.

When we said we were leaving SoHo (derived from SOuth of HOuston) someone asked, "Now where? NoHo??." Logical. There must be something north of Houston.
Love that.

NoHo Field Trip Part 2: NYC Library

Between The Lions.

The Reading Room.
And after that we took a brisk walk to The Times Square Toys'R'Us Store with its ferris wheel and mobs of shoppers for a mini-shopping spree with Christmas money. Followed by a mild panic attack for Mommy...M. doesn't like to hold hands much and well, it is Times Square. Clearly not designed with a family of 7 in mind. Easy for a maternal imagination to migrate from a released hand-hold to a lost child to human trafficking. Perfectly legitimate concerns. A ride on Daddy's shoulders-the best solution.

Time for a relaxing dinner in the back room at The Heartland Brewery. Bellies filled, we joined the line of cars in the Lincoln Tunnel headed to the more sedate life of South Jersey. NYC...a nice place to visit...

NoHo Field Trip Part 1: Bryant Park

Just some sweet shots of a whimsical carousel in Bryant Park, alongside the skate pond.
Those too cool to ride.

Those who ride and look cool anyway.

Not pictured: The Banker who was looking for parking. He would represent those without whom the ride would not be possible. You only go around once in life- enjoy the ride!

SoHo Field Trip Part 2: Russ and Daughters Appetizers

And then there was a stop at Russ and Daughters Appetizers for a little lunch. Our N., the gourmet and seafood lover wanted to try their exceptional delicacies, settling on a sampling of the sturgeon rather than chub.

The most unique sides and salads, fabulous bagels voted the best by those who know such things.

Tight quarters, but great food and legacy.

SoHo Field Trip Part 1: Purl SoHo and Purl Patchwork

A little eye candy here. We took to the crew for a day in Manhattan to do some exploring, and went to SoHo for the first time.

One destination was inspired by one of my more innocuous New Year's resolutions: Knit SOMETHING. I caught the knitting bug from Sarah's blog and need to get going. Purl Soho and Purl Patchwork are sister stores just a few doors apart. Their shops are as enchanting as their websites, which have such great free downloadable tutorials. I would describe them as pastel hobbit holes, full of customers bearing that eccentric and ethereal knitting air about them; colorful and multi-textured and free-spirited. I'm profiling, I know. Please know that I mean all of these things as compliments!

I felt a little self conscious walking into the place with my copy of Knitting for Dummies under my arm. I'm not kidding.
Haven't uploaded pics of purchases yet. Will Do. I may need some accountability here.

Patiently waiting.

Got the sweetest Japanese fabric, Kokka, for a bib for a brand new little cousin in Germany.
I am in love with all of their prints and need to track down some cheaper yardages. Ebay maybe?

Martha Fan Club Member

A shot too good to pass up- M. wrapped in a lilac blanket/berka while watching an episode of Martha Stewart with me. He was enthralled in her cooking demo until he saw the flash from my camera. Clearly he is very secure in his manhood. I only get to watch on occasion and I didn't realize how familiar she was to him until we saw a photo of her in a store and he exclaimed "Look Mom! Martha Stewart!", and when we went to Russ and Daughters deli in NYC he concurred that it looked much bigger on Martha's show. I think it's time to push some kids' shows!

"Chin Hair Friend"

This is a phrase I coined about 10 years ago when I attended a ladies' Christmas lunch with my grandmother's church. I really didn't know many of those spunky senior saints very well, so I was relieved when I found an acquaintance of mine there who was the guest of another congregant. She was not much older than me, nicely dressed, hair neatly done, makeup in place. We were not long into our pleasant conversation when it caught my eye. Sunlight was shining through the window behind her, illuminating her jawline and spotlighting an inch- long wirey chin hair. This was no stray coarse hair, it was a verifiable whisker.

As I tried to maintain eye contact I pondered my options. If it were me, would I want to know that a Brill-o pad transplant had appeared on my chinny-chin-chin overnight? Well, of course I would. The question was not whether she would want to know, but rather would she want ME telling her so. I decided in that moment that while we knew one another and had genuine affection for one another, we were not yet Chin Hair Friends.

A Chin Hair Friend is a rare find, a specimen that takes years, even decades to evolve, and which few of us have the extraordinary opportunity to discover. This is the kind of friend with whom you share so much history that verbal language is no longer necessary to communicate, and at times is merely a formality, because you already know one another's thoughts, intents, and motives. The kind of friend that houses your auxiliary brain, requiring a phone call to access some of your fading memories or the best comebacks in the midst of a marital spat. She tells you what she would do if she was you and then reminds you of what you ought to do. It is helpful if you and your Chin Hair Friend each have enough dirt on the other that in the unlikely event that one of you loses her mind and considers betrayal, said dirt will restrain her until sanity returns. Shared memories and self-deprecation remove all potential of humiliation in the case of say, a chin hair.

If while in the company of a Chin-Hair Friend an actual chin hair should appear, she will not bother to interrupt the conversation at hand, but rather casually grip the offending hair betwixt two fingers and give it a yank and carefully tuck it into a Kleenex so that she can later add it to a scrapbook page to chronicle your very first chin hair.

This week one of my very few, and my oldest Chin-Hair Friend will cross an important chronological milestone. I won't say how old she is, but I will say that when I attended her Sweet Sixteen Party a while back, we all had shoulder pads built into our sweaters. After decades of memories, volumes of notes and hours and hours of phone calls, I know that I can still reach out to her at any hour with a crazy idea or outrageous question. We may not make it to Italy for this birthday as we had once planned, but I pray for many more that we can postpone to. I hope that for many more years she can count on me to watch her back...and her chin. Happy Birthday, Sweet Friend!

Song for a Fourth (or 5th, or 6th...) Child

Song For A Fifth Child

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth!

Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,

hang out the washing and butter the bread,

sew on a button and make up a bed.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue

(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due

(Pat-a-cake darling and peek, peekaboo).

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew,

And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo,

But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?

(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait til tomorrow,

But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.

Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Passing On The Ham and Cabbage

No pictures to add, but in the hope of keeping a resolution to post more regularly I will mention that tonight's dinner was reuben sandwiches. That satisfies Grammy's ham and cabbage requirement for New Year's day, I think. We each had an orange, as well, to honor Grandma's regular reminder that when she was little she was happy to get an orange in her stocking if it was a "good year." Indeed it has been a good year. Oranges all around.