The taxidermy deer put on her seasonal best this week.
And Jackson tried to chew his leg off, so he had to don a spacesuit. He is now known as Sputnik. I hate to admit that I think he looks pitifully cute in his new attire.
And we got a real snowstorm! After hours of waiting at the airport, I snuck out between bouts of snow, but Ross was supposed to fly in later, and his flight was cancelled. He's stuck there now, watching the good people of Seattle ski the sidewalks. This was more snow than I'd seen since we moved to Seattle, but there's been much, much more since. Hopefully Ross will be able to fly in on his new flight, on Christmas night.
Lucy would like to catch some of those big flakes.
She tried to fool me into bringing her along in my suitcase by pretending to be a sweater.
Two days after I flew out, Seatac ran out of deicer.
My Mom and Dad got dolled up for a Christmas party.
And I went to watch tango dancers with Brigid and Bryce.
The live band didn't even get set up until after 11.
Brigid and Bryce kept apologizing for the coldness of their house, but I found it quite cozy.
Brig sewed some nifty curtains.
Brigid and Bryce have about 5000 nicknames for each other. I should have kept track of them in a little notebook: Tall Man, Love Bug, Marcus Flannel Pants...I really can't remember them right now. But once in a while I call Brig "Yarny," which seems appropriate now that she has baskets full of yarn.
Brigid spent her summer in Rosario, Argentina, and came back with a mate habit and a cute gaucho gourd.
They took me to their favorite brunch spot: Gaia. I had a poblano pepper stuffed with brie and scrambled eggs.
Then we went to the art museum.
They've acquired Fox Games by Sandy Skoglund.
I remember looking at slides of this piece when I was in college, and I wasn't very impressed. It's definitely a piece that works best when you're standing there, surrounded by blue-gray foxes and all that red.
Every fox has its own pose.
I've always liked this piece. It reminds me of my old favorite Flannery O'Connor story: "Parker's Back," although it is a brilliant-eyed Christ, instead of a Madonna, on Parker's back.
Mom and Dad posed in the Oldenburg dustpan.
The new museum building looks different at every turn and every changing angle of the sun.
Last winter Brigid and her band went on tour in New Mexico. They stopped into a fancy-schmancy yarn shop in Taos, and browsed the pricey yarns. Brig couldn't decide which to buy (imagine! She couldn't decide!). When she took her options to the counter, the owner was very helpful. "Abundance is your birthright," she said. "You must change your mindset. Buy them all." Brig bought, um...more than she should have. Good thing my mom is such a great crocheter and made Brigid this lovely hat and scarf set: The Abundance Hat. The Abundance Scarf.
I think every visit home involves at least one walk to "Anni's Field." I've gone twice this time. Yesterday, as Anni nosed around for groundhogs in the snow, and I slipped around in my cowboy boots, which are so poorly suited to snow, I thought about walks and landscape. Walks here, in Colorado, almost always take me to open spaces, and cottonwoods, and a bit of frozen water. This seems a quintessential part of the Colorado Front Range life to me: a bit of preserved, scrubby, and beautiful land surrounded by rooftops and golf courses and fenced in yards. In Seattle my walks are full of hipsters on bikes and coffee shops and posters plastered to walls and telephone poles. Then there are walks to Interlaken, where the trees arch high overhead and moss grows on everything. I love all these walks. I wonder how the differences affect the psyche.
When I was 12, we moved from Wisconsin to Colorado. It was January, and the land was so brown and so alarmingly open. There were few trees to hide the strip malls, the garbage nestled in scrub grass along the sides of the roads. I thought it was quite ugly here. I remember there were geese, and goose poop, everywhere that bright January. On this trip, I've heard those geese flying overhead, and I'm so pleased to hear their honks! I love the way they fly, invisibly attached to each other, like magnetic shavings. I have missed the geese without knowing it.
The taxidermy deer put on her seasonal best this week.
And Jackson tried to chew his leg off, so he had to don a spacesuit. He is now known as Sputnik. I hate to admit that I think he looks pitifully cute in his new attire.
And we got a real snowstorm! After hours of waiting at the airport, I snuck out between bouts of snow, but Ross was supposed to fly in later, and his flight was cancelled. He's stuck there now, watching the good people of Seattle ski the sidewalks. This was more snow than I'd seen since we moved to Seattle, but there's been much, much more since. Hopefully Ross will be able to fly in on his new flight, on Christmas night.
Lucy would like to catch some of those big flakes.
She tried to fool me into bringing her along in my suitcase by pretending to be a sweater.
Two days after I flew out, Seatac ran out of deicer.
My Mom and Dad got dolled up for a Christmas party.
And I went to watch tango dancers with Brigid and Bryce.
The live band didn't even get set up until after 11.
Brigid and Bryce kept apologizing for the coldness of their house, but I found it quite cozy.
Brig sewed some nifty curtains.
Brigid and Bryce have about 5000 nicknames for each other. I should have kept track of them in a little notebook: Tall Man, Love Bug, Marcus Flannel Pants...I really can't remember them right now. But once in a while I call Brig "Yarny," which seems appropriate now that she has baskets full of yarn.
Brigid spent her summer in Rosario, Argentina, and came back with a mate habit and a cute gaucho gourd.
They took me to their favorite brunch spot: Gaia. I had a poblano pepper stuffed with brie and scrambled eggs.
Then we went to the art museum.
They've acquired Fox Games by Sandy Skoglund.
I remember looking at slides of this piece when I was in college, and I wasn't very impressed. It's definitely a piece that works best when you're standing there, surrounded by blue-gray foxes and all that red.
Every fox has its own pose.
I've always liked this piece. It reminds me of my old favorite Flannery O'Connor story: "Parker's Back," although it is a brilliant-eyed Christ, instead of a Madonna, on Parker's back.
Mom and Dad posed in the Oldenburg dustpan.
The new museum building looks different at every turn and every changing angle of the sun.
Last winter Brigid and her band went on tour in New Mexico. They stopped into a fancy-schmancy yarn shop in Taos, and browsed the pricey yarns. Brig couldn't decide which to buy (imagine! She couldn't decide!). When she took her options to the counter, the owner was very helpful. "Abundance is your birthright," she said. "You must change your mindset. Buy them all." Brig bought, um...more than she should have. Good thing my mom is such a great crocheter and made Brigid this lovely hat and scarf set: The Abundance Hat. The Abundance Scarf.
I think every visit home involves at least one walk to "Anni's Field." I've gone twice this time. Yesterday, as Anni nosed around for groundhogs in the snow, and I slipped around in my cowboy boots, which are so poorly suited to snow, I thought about walks and landscape. Walks here, in Colorado, almost always take me to open spaces, and cottonwoods, and a bit of frozen water. This seems a quintessential part of the Colorado Front Range life to me: a bit of preserved, scrubby, and beautiful land surrounded by rooftops and golf courses and fenced in yards. In Seattle my walks are full of hipsters on bikes and coffee shops and posters plastered to walls and telephone poles. Then there are walks to Interlaken, where the trees arch high overhead and moss grows on everything. I love all these walks. I wonder how the differences affect the psyche.
When I was 12, we moved from Wisconsin to Colorado. It was January, and the land was so brown and so alarmingly open. There were few trees to hide the strip malls, the garbage nestled in scrub grass along the sides of the roads. I thought it was quite ugly here. I remember there were geese, and goose poop, everywhere that bright January. On this trip, I've heard those geese flying overhead, and I'm so pleased to hear their honks! I love the way they fly, invisibly attached to each other, like magnetic shavings. I have missed the geese without knowing it.
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