Where have you been Bella?

What
cream cheese?

Sure, it's pretty coming down

So here's the thing. Minnesota = snow. Snow = my least favorite thing.
Me = Minnesota.

What is that all about?

There are a couple of things I will admit to enjoying about snow. One being the thrill of playing in it for roughly 11 minutes after it falls or until I get the first clump down my boot. The second thing I can admit to liking about it is that it's the only thing that offers the opportunity to crank up the snow blower. Which I actually do love. Twice. After that even running something big and motorized that kicks streams of snow hundreds of feet away just starts to become work.

I did have a new winter revelation today. I noticed that our yard seems quite a bit...well...higher now. It's pretty much even with the second step of the porch. This could come in handy in the summer in the weeding of the flowerbeds but I don't know how to work it all out yet.

Something else that I thought was funny was the car pictured above driving down 371 ahead of us this afternoon. I was with Kyle and his friend, Reno, and neither of them found it as funny as I did. Really? Harrumph. Video games have jaded kids.

It also slightly tickeled me that most of the street signs were covered with heavy clumps of snow over the names. If you didn't have a GPS and were new to the neighborhood it would be a hopeless cause to follow directions the old fashioned way. You know, "Take Norway Street to Walton Drive." Today you would have had to say, "Take Nrwa Stee to Wlto Dive." Hahahahaha.

Okay, maybe it's not that funny.

Also, something you should know in case it comes up in your own life.... Two college daughters and one 15-year-old son = anatomically correct snowmen.

In the front yard.

Nice.

The snow is here - it's officially winter. Everyone rev the snowmobiles twice in salute!

Merry Christmas! Tis the time – to send Season’s Greetings to yours from mine…
To wish a little holiday cheer - with a bonus recap of the whole darned year.
No major changes that much I’ll say – We had a year to mostly play.
No grad parties or formal things … just the chores that every season brings.
Good news, too, we’ve all been good (compared, at least, to Tiger Woods).

This year the girls both traveled far … by train and plane and too by car.
Kirstin felt the urge to go - on a girl’s road trip to New Mexico.
She rode a balloon up in the air and then later did Vegas without even a care.
Too young to gamble she kept all her dough - That’s the perfect time for someone to go.
“New Orleans by train” is what Kayla declared - then she hopped on an Amtrak and it took her there.
Over water through woods one state then the next. “It’s a great way to go” she said in a text.
Youth from the nation all joined one another, to help people there that still need to recover.
Then in October she decided to go - with a friend from high school to Colorado.
They drove out together she came back alone – but it went much faster because she flew home.
Kayla and Kirstin are roomies again – in an apartment this time with one other friend.
In between travels they study some too – to get future diplomas from SCSU.
Since hockey is something our family all shares – we drive to St. Cloud to see Husky games there. We share season passes with others from town - we split up the games and take turns driving down.

Kyle headed to high school this year – He’s growing up too. It’s just as I feared.
He plays some baseball and hockey still too – So these days that’s what Kirk and I mostly do.
To Fargo! To Buffalo! Anoka, St. Cloud! We watch from the stands and cheer ever so loud
For the goalie with 35 on his shirt and I silently pray that he doesn’t get hurt.
This last year he grew about six inches too. Finally!! (It’s what he’s been hoping to do.)
About November we both said, “Oh Sh*t,” when the state gave him a learner’s permit.
“Can I drive? Can I drive?” He asks every day. “I’m good, C’mon let me - I know the way.”
Slowly he maneuvers the neighborhood roads – if you’re driving near here just stay on your toes.
“No cell phone! No rock tunes!” You’ll hear bellowed from me – but so far he’s got us from point A to B.
He hunted and fished some this year with dad, And from the tales that I hear a good time’s always had.

The aging process has begun to progress. Kirk and I already need more and more rest.
“Was I napping?” One of us asks once a day. Or, “What was I going to get anyway?”
Small print’s a frustration we could both do without. “I can’t read that!” Kirk frequently shouts.
But all things considered we know when we curse, we’re healthy, we’re thankful and things could be worse. We went to Tulsa this year in May so we could Preston, Jen, Wiley and Gage. We had a good time they were great tour guides. Kirk drove the whole way (I was glad I can’t lie).
So no excuses, Hey! Let’s stay in touch – for communication we’ve been given so much.
Twitter us, E-mail us, drop us a line. Maybe text, call, or Facebook us sometime.
Follow my blog or log on to my site… Choose your method. They all work all right.
We’re hip, we’re modern, some news I should tell - is our home phone is gone so please call our cells.
A land line? Peeshaw! Who calls them today? It’s just one less bill now that we have to pay,
Glad Tidings, God’s blessings, may your season be bright.
May peace be yours when you lay down at night.
Do the right thing when it presents itself - and put family first above everything else.
May the season’s good wishes bring nothing but smiles
Sheila and Kirk, Kayla Kirstin and Kyle.

Swine Flu or just The Crud?

It started out with a headache.

The headache led to a cough.

The cough led to some sinus issues which led to my feeling hot then cold then hot then cold.

And all of that led to aches and pains. Pain in my legs. Pain in my hips. Pain in my arms.

Murphy's Law or the long standing Helmberger Hex, I'm not sure which, but when I finally crawled up the stairs two at a time to locate the 19-year-old thermometer we own the only reading I could get was "AA" which meant the thermometer needed a new battery. It flickered on 101.1 at one point but I didn't really consider the reading reliable. But I'll tell you this: It knocked me down.

I think I picked up the bug at a neighborhood elementary school.

When the writing I do offers gaps between interviews and deadlines I fill in for teaching aides that have bugs of their own in our school district. The past few weeks the phone has been ringing frequently. It's not the school's fault. Hand sanitizer and kleenex boxes are visible in every classroom and students have been instructed on the proper way to cough - into the crook of their elbows. Still, germs are crafty and they lurk on doorknobs and magic marker tops and on art projects and folders.

And they got me.

In the week leading up to Halloween I barely left my sofa. I slipped in and out of lucidity and moaned when moving my aching body required it.

I also watched daytime TV which I never do.

I learned the following things from soap operas that air on ABC.

1. For the most part the casts have barely changed since I watched the serials back in college. Erica Kane, Adam Chandler, Dorian Lord and Luke Spencer all continue to linger in soap opera land. Although, for the most part, they manage to look a lot younger now.

2. The dramatic lingering stare into space as the director cuts to commercial continues to be effective, yet hilarious.

3. Every home in soap opera land has a fully stocked bar so the homeowner can offer visitors a drink no matter what time of day it is.

4. Soap opera children are ever-s0-wordly. Even if they're pre-teens.

5. Dress clothes are mandatory - even if the character is cooking, taking care of a newborn, gardening, or chasing a criminal.

The good news is... the bug is gone, I'm no longer confined to the sofa in front of daytime television and I'm working on a deadline.

I'm Baaaaaack. Oink, oink.

The Girls

The oldest one has her father's hands. We noticed it roughly four minutes after her delivery. Wide palms, short fingers. I suspect she's cursed them over the years, maybe when her sister was taking piano lessons or while she was a catcher on the softball team. But they were the first sign that she truly belonged to us. Those hands and her blue eyes. Later, she would develop a keen sense of humor that we would delight in.

The younger one has always had a love of fashion and everything "pretty". While her sister delighted in sweat shorts and t-shirts this one was Suri Cruise long before Suri Cruise hit the headlines of Us Magazine with her rompers and Mary Janes. This one donned a different dress everyday, no matter what the plans. Whether she was riding bike, driving tractors in the dirt or off to preschool she wore dresses, tights, skirts and jumpers. Sometimes she would lay them carefully out the night before, from the hair ribbon down to her shoes. She was a dress and hair do girl -from the moment she could point in her closet, make her own decisions, and retaliate with a tantrum if you didn't comply.

They were so very different. Yet they delighted in no company more than one one anothers. They often held hands for no reason at all. Just because they liked to. Sometimes they would watch television side-by-side on their belly's on the floor with one chubby little arm tightly around the other's neck. They shared bedrooms as toddlers and, as a result, years of stern warnings about going to sleep, cooling the giggling, and keeping the lights out.

Seventeen months separated their entry into our lives and cemented a friendship I hope and pray will always last. Having no sisters of my own I have been a faithful voyeur into the shared secrets and inside laughs of their sisterhood.

They were 'the girls' from the second the oldest held the youngest. "What are the girls doing?" "Where are the girls?" "Are the girls excited for Christmas?"

And now...because they have gone off to college for the second and third years, people ask, "Are the girls back at school?" "Do the girls like the university?" "Are the girls coming home for Christmas?"

The girls have also decided, no surprise toanyone, to be roommates for the second year. It works for the most part but I'd be lying if I said they didn't scrap a bit too. Just like roommates.

Just like sisters.

And now that summer has ended and I've hauled home boxes from the grocery store for them to repack their belongings and they've returned to their own galaxy far-far away (Fine. It's an hour by car.) It seems farther if you're their mother and you used to spend afternoons singing Schoolhouse Rock along with a cassette and were familiar with every episode of Full House. If you were used to at least one faithful companion you could bribe with a cereal of their choice that would tag along to the grocery store and tell you if the waist band of your jeans was too close to your belly button. If you longed for someone to sit in the dark and watch Steel Magnolias one more time with you. If you were their mom then you would think the gap in the house was pretty noticeable too.

They were sure pretty handy to have around.

I really miss the girls.

Batter Up!!!

What is it about baseball and why do I love it? I shun ESPN. I detest Sundays that result in 6 hours of football games on television. I don't get the thrill of televised golf. I'm not even particularly a sports fan unless one of my kids is on the roster.

But baseball...that I love. Maybe because it starts in the spring and it's a sign summer is surely coming.

The weather has turned bearable (generally) which means lawn chairs are unzipped and set up along the baseline for the best seats in the house.

The action on the field is methodical and calculated as opposed to the pell mell drop and chase of a hockey puck is what I'm far more used to with three kids and a spouse that set up shop at the local hockey rink six months of the year.

But baseball? That means hot dogs and pretzels and cool drinks of your choice and sunflower seeds.

Which may be the reason I love it most of all. The world of the sunflower seed lover has become even more magical the last handful of years with flavored seeds making their appearance in gas station and grocery aisles. There are dill flavored and salt and pepper. There are spicy garlic (crowned the new favorite in the '09 season) and barbecue. There are jumbo sized and regular size. It's a big, wonderful world of cracking and de-seeding today for the sunflower seed connoisseur. During baseball season there is a perpetual remnant of a sunflower seed somewhere on my shirt.

Ah, baseball.

But already this year baseball is ending and the keen eye is starting to notice leaves are no longer as vibrantly green as they once were and for the handful of baseball games that remain fleece will be carried up into the stands with fans for the portion of the game played after the sun goes down. Already stores are offering pens and pencils at unheard of prices and bottles of glue for a quarter.

Alas! The summer is waning and already we have moved on to county fair season.

Thankfully professional teams play long after I've packed away my own son's cleats and uniforms for the seasons.

And with any luck if the team is good this year they just might play right up until the puck drops.

Kamikaze Robin

Don't let the birds fool you.

They might sing those pretty little melodies and hop around on those cute little legs looking for lunch on the front lawn, but they can be mean too.

We met the Kamikaze Robin a few weeks ago while she was scouting around for a place to have her babies.

We were honored when she chose, not only our yard, but our front porch to do so. Right in the middle of my fuschia plant.

After she was faithfully present day after day after day we put the pieces together. We knew there must be a nest somewhere and my husband found it one afternoon. It held four little eggs - dry temporary housing - until they'd make their debut.

It was fun at first to watch her sit in the nest. She was a faithful presence on the step. But the closer her babies came to making their debut the more serious the mother Robin got about her job.

Once the babies hatched the gloves came off and we were no longer able to even use the front porch. I watched the rest of my plants on the porch become more and more dry and the one that held the nest start to die. But mother-to-mother, I understood her responsibility.

When I dared to tread on her territory it became a little unnerving. She flew at mach speed, full throttle and would swoop within a foot of my head.

Any attempt to exit through our front door was met with a 100 mile an hour attack by our mother Robin.

Finally one day I readied for battle - wearing my raincoat with the hood up as added protection I reclaimed ownership to what was mine. I couldn't take it any longer and spent an afternoon administering mouth to mouth resuscitation to the rest of my plants in the way of a good dousing.

She dove at me repeatedly but I got the job done.

And this week she is gone. The babies grew fast as all babies do. We witnessed it through the dining room window. Soon they were ready to experience the world beyond my planter and porch on Norway Drive.

Now I sit on the porch as long as I want and wander in and out of the front door without any fear of an aerial attack.

It's just not the same.