Today's Treasures

I love the beach. Winter. Summer. Whenever. Each season holds its own unique charms. I spend most of my time on the beach hunched over combing the sand for shells. There is just something about the vastness of the ocean and of the shore that makes finding a tiny thing of beauty so immensely exciting and satisfying. Over the years I have become more and more finicky, instructing the children that no broken shells, no matter how pretty, are to be put in the shell bucket. (I have a big drawer full of these things at home.)

What I am always on the lookout for is a perfect sand dollar. Not an easy find. My son discovered one a couple of years ago. Who knows how long it remained unbroken under the care of the sea. It lasted about 4 minutes under ours. At least I got a good photo before it was violently dropped into the shell bucket.

Today I found one of my very own. It is perfect. It measures a minute 1/2-inch in diameter. It's tiny. Sure, it has a hole in it. I don't care. It is a perfectly formed hole on my perfect teensy sand dollar.

This little gem was not plopped into the shell bucket, but placed gingerly into my shirt pocket.




Here are some of the other treasures we happened upon today.

Titus found this one for me. We call it a fan. (It may have another name. I can't find it on the internet.) It is flat and delicate and hard to find in one piece. I love them. And they make great embellishments on homemade cards. (Maybe I'll show you my handiwork in another post.)




If you break open a sand dollar, you will find 5 little 'doves' inside. I didn't find the sand dollar that this little dove came out of - most likely it was in pieces nearby (or not nearby).









These are also pretty rare to find intact, for us anyway. The shell is rather thin and delicate. It is a moon snail called a shark's eye.










A scotch bonnet - a thick and sturdy shell, and one we don't find too often.






A perfect whelk, possibly a Lightning Whelk. Hard to find in one piece. Titus usually finds these, and found this one.






I love the colors in this little Coquina!








This one is super cool. I think it is an Imperial Venus Clam.











Admittedly, this one isn't very pretty. And it's fairly common. But I like it. It's a Kitten's Paw.

And that's not even HALF of all the shells we collected today. But I'm hungry and mom's cooking!

Broken

Such things exist once broken cannot be mended.
A fragile bubble,
First floating, iridescent,
Fading, bursting,
Droplets falling,
Irreparable.
A delicate orb of glass,
Shattered,
In pieces, scattered,
Fine slivers, bits of dust,
Irreparably separated.
Though fashioned again into one,
Its nature ever altered.
A frail heart,
Once buoyant,
Fractured, bursting,
Countless slivers, prosperity of dust, mournful droplets,
Irreparably broken.

Tale as old as time

Today I saw a play. Not just a play -- a musical. Is there such a thing as Off-Off-Off-Off-Off Broadway? My son's music class had a field trip to one of the local high schools to watch a production of Beauty and the Beast. I volunteered to be a bus minivan driver. You know, to spend time with my kid ... AND get to see a play. For free. (No, I don't get out much. Culture? What's that?)

Is it weird that I teared up at times during the performance? I venture to admit that I don't think it was the brilliant acting that moved me. (Not to discount the fact that Belle was played by an absolutely enchanting young lady with a beautiful, beautiful voice.) I chalk it up to stress. And something about being a mom. Watching these young people perform was such a pleasure - just knowing the amount of work and effort and dedication and teamwork it must take to put on a show like that just makes you want to beam with pride for them. As if I really were their mom.

Additionally, I, myself, never was much the performing type. (Shocking, I know.) My only foray into the world of theater being in 3rd grade, as the lead in Little Red Riding Hood, thank you very much. Having been such a self-conscious person by nature, I have great admiration for young people who have the audacity to get up on a stage and sing and dance their hearts out. It tugs at my heart.

Or maybe it's the stress.

The entire audience at today's performance was made up of elementary school students (very well-behaved elementary school students, I might proudly add). We must have been their dry run before they lift the curtain on the real performances for a paying audience. It was so much fun! I encourage you to seek out and attend some sort of high school production such as this. You'll laugh, you'll cry, your kid will be impressed with the skills of the high schooler on the snare drum - it's better than CATS.

My favorite part of the outing? I'm glad you asked.

It came at the end of the show, once the spell had been broken and the Beast returned to his previous state of being young, dashing, and uber-princely. Having professed their love, he and Belle gaze at one another ... and then they kiss.

Immediately after which, my son turns to me and whispers, aghast, "Did they really kiss?" "Yes," I replied (because from my vantage point, it certainly appeared so.) Upon receiving confirmation, he uttered some unintelligible syllable of shock and disgust.

When the actors lined up to take their final bow, we got a better look at the cast. My son took notice of the young man who played the dashing prince, a slender, delicate featured teenager with longish blonde hair, and said to me, "Is that a girl?" To which I replied, "No, it's a boy. He just has long hair." (And is SO pretty, I thought quietly to myself.)

"Oh," he says, still disturbed at having witnessed THE KISS. "It should have been a girl. Because if two girls kissed, it wouldn't be so frightening."

Now, call me old-fashioned or whatever, but a girl-on-girl kiss in a high school play performed for elementary kids would have been infinitely more frightening than the innocuous stage kiss we did see. But then, I'm not a 10-year-old boy.

Instant car trip fun - Just add cat

If you read my last post, you're may be wondering how I learned that my cat only behaves like an idiot at home. Well, I'll tell you.

As if this family doesn't have enough trouble getting ourselves out the door for a road trip, what with the packing of the stuff (so much stuff), and then the loading of the stuff (so very much stuff), AND THEN the dead battery - we, the family that finds ever new shades of meaning to the word 'debacle,' decided that we should bring along the old man cat. We had permission from my family, of course. And we tried to warn them; we didn't sugarcoat it. He whines. He wails. He runs into things. With his head. He sheds his white hair on all of your black stuff. There is the hairball issue. And what is that smell? -- It's exactly what you think it is.

And if those aren't good enough reasons to kennel this creature, there is the infamous CAT INCIDENT of 2002. We ourselves can't recall it without reliving the horror. I won't go into the details, but you can do the math: one 14 pound cat + one 6-inch deep shelf approximately 4 feet high + one terrazzo floor + one valuable family antique. Oh, yes he did.

I'm sure you understand why kitty hasn't been invited on a road trip in 7 years and can sense our trepidation at bringing this four-legged furry oaf into another person's home, a home with light colored carpeting and pretty, breakable things.

But, as I learned, it turns out my cat only behaves like an idiot at home. Oh, he was such an angel! So pretty. So white and fluffy. So amiable. So cuddly with his big blue eyes. Waiting patiently to be fed. Quietly mewing in a cute, kittenish way. Not heaving his hulking mass onto tiny antique-holding shelves.

Not that we're unhappy about this uncharacteristic display of good behavior. We just wish he had brought it home with him.

Things I learned over Thanksgiving

• You can never make too much stuffing. I'm serious. Your recipe - double it.

• Mom doesn't like it when you say 'pecan', in a twangy Texas accent, as in, "I'm a fixin' to make me a PE-can pie!"
• Watching a football game indoors, in a toasty house under a warm blanket, is every bit as exciting and fun (if not more so) than actually being there.
• Grandparents just can't help buying stuff for their grandkids wherever they go (say, for example, a football game.) BTW, the back of the girl's new, very pink, A&M shirt says, "The difference between boys and girls soccer? Girls make it look good!"
• My cat only behaves like an idiot at home.
• Guitar Hero (though some most of the graphics & music make me cringe) is a fun game to play.
• It's not Thanksgiving without Mr. Turkey.
• Kids are cute when they are sleeping (Yes, I already know this. I just wanted a reason to post this picture.)

Hap-PIE Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 2009 - the Thanksgiving of the Pie

Not to be confused with Thanksgiving 1997 - the Thanksgiving of the Pies. It's an important distinction. That was the year we were with my husband's family in New Mexico and for some reason, that particular year, everybody made a pie. The pies that year may have outnumbered the people, but who really knows? It has become such legend now, it is hard to separate fact from fiction. Oh, how fondly we recollect the Thanksgiving of the Pies! Who knew such little people could eat so much pie.

By comparison, this year's festivities only featured 2 pies. But still, the holiday merits its own title: The Thanksgiving of the Pie. With emphasis on quality over quantity. And, boy howdy, did we have quality!

My mom made the pecan pie. Her mother's recipe. You can't go wrong when you take your grandmother's tried-and-true recipe, sprinkle in your mother's perfect execution, with a dash of assistance from your own 7-year-old daughter. We're talking four generations that went into the making of this pie. It was lovely - pecans expertly arranged in concentric circles, toasted to a nutty perfection, and a crust that absolutely did not crack.

I made the cherry pie. And you can, too! Now, don't be intimidated by the lattice top crust. It's not that hard. Here's my secret: The first time you make this pie, have your little daughter help you with it and show her how to weave the lattice. Then, each subsequent time you decide to make the pie, when your brain goes DUH! How do I weave those lattice strips again? Why, your darling daughter, whose brain is not decaying at the speed of light, will be there to assist you and say, "This is how we did it, Mommy, you dolt." (No, of course she didn't say that.) Easy, right? Yeah, I know, I should have my own cooking show.