Silent Night

Thursday's Child

Mother Earth

Chocolate Caramel Sea Salt Tart

Zero.  Feels like - 19.   My niece walks to school.  She's a trooper.  I'm seriously impressed.
Thank goodness it is only a few blocks away, though.

Fully Present 

    Reporting from Cody at 48 degrees. Fargo is just a very pleasant memory.  The weather was less than inviting, but that turned out to be a non-issue of sorts.  Three stunningly assembled Christmas concerts under our belts, three sold out concert halls filled with hardy North Dakotans defied the importance of weather.  We returned well-rested, well-loved, wowed.  The words to describe our weekend are a generic bunch. Wonderful.  Amazing.  Beautiful. Impressive. Cold. Valued. The same words will describe a thousand Christmas events this season.  Bear with me while I try to find a way to say something that appropriately expresses awesomeness.

My grown up sister, her growing up daughter in close proximity; a rare vantage point for someone inclined to observation.  Challenges are being tackled front and center with occasional support and more than usual self confidence. She's her father's daughter, so she deals decisively with problems.  Understanding and moral support is not considered unessential, however. Impressive was being on the receiving end when spot-on words of council were delivered in a heart-to heart chat with my sister.  Who doesn't get stuck from time to time?

Cozily ensconced in an afghan, the three of us watched a contraband replay of the solo performance while waiting for our order of takeout Papa John's pizza and tried to make friends with a playful kitten.  The rental car (from downtown, not the airport - way to save money!), was parked in the driveway for the evening, on hand to save us from freezing our buns off during the squeaky cold, snowy trips to the concert hall, shopping, Sunday fellowship and errands.  

After shedding our layers in favor of indoor warmth, we had decided to stay for lunch.  Compliments to the chef for her tasty Thai creation.  As I stepped through the door, I noticed how little separated me from extreme elements in my temporarily homeless state. Thin walls, an adequate door, plastic sealed windows, heat someone else was providing, and my sister's child were the only things separating me from a quick, certain death on the North Dakota plains.  It was humbling and awesome to be inside that circle.

Secret Santa excursions for searching out exactly the right gift in a rather limited time slot, errands in freeze-everything, don't-be-silly weather, and especially fridgid concert nights were taken in stride until we saw a man begging.  I certainly don't know if he could have found a colder place to stand. I wanted to roll down the window, tell him to go inside and wondered.  Was there an inside to be had?  The trek from parking lot to car was a matter of a few dozen steps. Long enough to make you wish for another layer of everything.  It was all about soldiering on despite the temperature, attending to the task at hand, being fully supported, and not just on icy parking lots in dress heels when I should have worn boots.  The days are getting shorter, the weather outside may be frightful, but my thankfulness for my little circle of caring people is greater - partially due to one frozen beggar standing in the middle of the street in Moorhead, Minnesota.

     We were three parts of a whole; a goal-oriented team sharing each win.  Most of the win was witnessing a touching, reverent, nonsecular performance planned to the finest details while embracing the talents of hundreds - soaring voices, quick fingers, responding instruments.    The wonder of it all was accompanied by the certainty that these adults and young adults each had expended countless hours perfecting their presentation.   The program was seamless from narrator to conductor while orchestra and harmony showcased the soloists with the assistance of an amazing lighting crew.  Part of the win was to find the common thread throughout the weekend: capable baby of the family thriving on her own, leading the way, and not just as the talented soloist in the concert hall.  

  Part of the win was setting aside the cell phone and returning to it reluctantly. I appreciated moments of clarity, as well.  Certain things caught my eye so I took cell phone pictures and sent them - specifically making a connection with a certain person in mind.  In those moments, I realized I want to do more connecting.  Cell phones make it easy enough to share moments of wonder, humor, and humanity.    

     We insisted on seats next to each other on our flights to and from Denver.  Yes, that was planned, requested and purposely re-arranged after being disarranged.  We had a slumber party for three.  We celebrated concert night.  We celebrated the soft ambiance of a sweet little house of indeterminate age and sometimes chilly spaces; we celebrated roommates, a tiny Christmas tree and that skittish kitten.  We celebrated saving the day by finding exactly the gift we had been looking for after all and using every moment of time well, with one eye on the clock.  Moments.  All important in different ways, and I was present for them.  That was amazing.

   TJ Maxx never fails to deliver me into temptation, and Subway helped me back out of it. Nichole's Fine Pastry had prepared delicious post-concert tea and treats even on a deadly cold North Dakota night. All in all, we left Fargo with full hearts, not to mention sugar overload; and for me, two more pairs of shoes to fit in my luggage.  We survived the realization that de-icing hadn't happened soon enough to connect us with our flights and ignored the turbulent winds of the unfriendly winter skies.  I don't know what I thought that guy next to me was going to do to save me when I grabbed his knee, but that was quite a bump - reflex action and a bit embarrassing. Long delays changed flight times but United had it covered with text messages about alternate plans.  Impressive.  Ready or not, we made it home safe and sound, poised to tackle the next holiday chapter, fully present, flavor-filled and probably not sugar free.

Super Multi-tasker

Manda Panda in the Pastry Shop

Mom was right - we would come to like each other one day - even Janis and I who seemed to have a particular gift for discord back in the day.

The house was filled with the sound of music.

Tolerable.  Then the sun goes down.

Mama-Mia

Sun Up

She shall have music wherever she goes.