Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Hiking, ham, and hiding eggs

 Good Friday was a good day for our family to test out some new hiking boots and an upgraded child carrier at Devil's Backbone.

 On Saturday, Dan and Christie came to visit from Boulder. Together, we set out on another hike--this time at Horsetooth Mountain.

 




 When we got home, we put some ham in the oven (an hour or two past schedule), while the girls basked in attention from their aunt and uncle. Mika hardly ever left the arms of Uncle Dan . . .
 . . . and Aunt Christie accommodated Ramona's many "dress up" demands.
After a late dinner, she even read Ramona a bedtime story. We love having Dan and Christie close by!
Easter Sunday mostly involved various church responsibilities. For our sacrament meeting I was in charge of organizing and leading a group of 9-11 year-old girls in a short musical number. When it was time for the girls to line up in front to sing, Ramona grabbed a folder and went right up with them, then held her music in front of her just like the older girls. I didn't make any attempt to stop her, assuming it would have been even more of a disruption to try--but wondered if I had made the right decision when the front lights went out during the performance and I realized Ramona's little hands had found the light switch by the podium. Thankfully, the rest of the girls continued with their "Easter Hosanna" despite the flickering lights, and sounded lovely.

At home, Ramona hid several Cadbury eggs from Daddy, only to "find" them for him a few minutes later.

Then she found some chalk eggs for herself, and spent much of the remaining afternoon playing with empty plastic Easter eggs. My original intention was to carry out the customary tradition of filling them with candy and hiding them in the backyard, but I hadn't gotten around to it. Ramona was so eager to hide them herself (and she had already eaten a substantial portion of candy at church), I gave up and let her play her own way. Of course, this involved her tripping, spilling an entire bowl of eggs, and bursting into tears--but hopefully she had a happy Easter, overall.
My favorite part may have been hearing Ramona's little voice singing: "Hosanna! Blessed be the name of the most high God!" periodically throughout the day. Just like "big" girls.

Monday, March 26, 2012

More celebrations for March

In addition to celebrating Forest's birthday, it feels like this month has offered more than the usual number or celebrations for our family. 

Celebration #1: March Madness
Okay, so this celebration was anticipated. The NCAA basketball tournament feels like an annual holiday in our house. Every year when it rolls around, we uphold the tradition of having Ramona make picks for her very own bracket. This year, Mika got to join in the tradition for the first time.
 

Ramona talked Mika through some of the more difficult picks
 In the end, our baby chose West Virginia as the National Champion . . .
 . . . and Ramona chose Georgetown.
Ramona's bracket
 Neither of the sisters did particularly well with their picks overall, but they did correctly predict a couple of upsets in the first round.


Celebration #2: Skiing on the Greens
You might say Forest and I celebrated St. Patrick's Day this year--by dropping off the kids with some friends and spending a half-day skiing at Eldora.
 The snow was less than ideal--but the weather was nice, and I was excited to graduate to the green slopes after a couple of runs on the bunny slope. I still have a lot to learn, but at least being on skis feels more like recreation now, and less like I'm just wearing clown shoes.

 Celebration #3: No more Mortgage
A picture text from our old neighbor in Iowa
 At the beginning of the month, we decided to accept an offer on our house in Iowa. This was the first and only offer we got since the property went on the market last September, and although it wasn't the price of our dreams, we felt ready to take it and move on. By some miracle, our buyer closed even earlier than originally planned (which is almost impossible these days) and since then we've felt considerable relief and freedom from the bonds of long-distance home ownership.

Celebrate!

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

32 going on 17

 The head of the house turned 32 this past week. Not long before that, at a church basketball game, someone asked what grade he was in--as in--what grade in high school. May you always stay young, Mr. Dixon.

And here, to help you extend your health as long as possible, here is some bacon-wrapped chicken, stuffed with cream cheese . . .
. . . ok, now we'll dump some creamy garlic sauce on top before we bake it. . .
 . . . I guess we can throw some vegetables on the plate . . .
 . . . and for dessert, how about a rich lemon cream tart? We can add berries if you like.

Happy Birthday! Thanks for taking us on so many adventures and watching out for us girls.

Love,
The princesses and their manager

Saturday, February 25, 2012

New head, new feet, and a birthday sweet

 Some days I feel like I've been alive forever. Days when the last hour before the kids are asleep seems like an eternity. Days when society looks vastly different from the way I perceived it as a youth. Days when my two-year-old asks me questions about how the world works, and I get the urge to respond: "That's just the way it is." 

On other days the preceding years of my life appear short and fleeting. On those days I find myself staring in awe at my children, disbelieving how quickly they've grown. Disbelieving,even, that they are mine. I am more self-conscious of my shortcomings and inexperience and wonder if I'm doing enough with my time and energy. The world looms in front of me with all of its beautiful opportunities, and I am reminded of how much of that I have left untouched.
Ramona mixing birthday cake mix from Aunt B

Pouring cake batter into the pans

Mmmm...chocolate frosting
 Perhaps, in reality, most days fall somewhere in between. But on my 27th birthday, the two types of days seemed to be happening simultaneously. Somehow, I felt both ancient and juvenile at the same time. Maybe it's the email from my dad I find in my inbox every birthday in which he unfailingly reminisces about the day I was born, saying he remembers it as clearly as yesterday. Maybe it's the phone conversation I always have with my grandmother around birthday time, in which she tells me she only feels her actual age physically--she explains how, mentally, she barely feels a quarter of the years she has lived. I wonder if I will be able to say the same thing when I am 90.
Finished product--thank you Brittany!
 At any rate, regardless of this mix of "old" and "young" emotions, I am going into my 28th year with some sense of renewal--maybe not from head to foot inclusively, but head and feet, exclusively.
 HEAD: Postpartum hair loss has hit its peak this month, and having hair trailing most of the way down my back no longer seemed worthwhile. I had enough to donate (I guess for the 5th time now) so I said goodbye and chopped it to a little past my ears on Monday. Ahhh...much better.

 FEET: After having significant ankle/shin pain following my first ski excursion (and recurring pain for several years previously), I finally went to see a podiatrist at the end of last month. I have arch collapse issues in both feet, as suspected, but was told the left foot was borderline surgery, which was worse than I thought. Doctor recommended custom orthotics right away to prevent further damage and strain on the rest of my body, so they took molds of my feet at that appointment, and I picked up my new little insoles last week. These orthotics are supposed to be working for me full-time, supporting my feet at least 8 hours a day.
Hopefully these small changes will prevent me from feeling older than I actually am--both physically and mentally. Bring on the birthdays!

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Little Miss Two-Teeth

In case you were wondering, our baby is growing up. Last week Mika cut her first two teeth, and yesterday we gave her an introductory taste of solid food. Starting out, she seemed a little more into eating her new bib . . .
 But she got some of the rice cereal down after a few tries.
 There was one sad moment . . .
 . . . however, by the end she was loving her new spoon . . .
 . . . and lighting up some messy smiles.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

The Party Princess

This past week, Ramona has been busy attending various parties, thanks to invitations from her friend Natalie. First was a princess-themed birthday party, complete with crowns, necklace-making, and a piƱata filled with bracelets and ring pops.
Ramona with the birthday girl
First bite of cupcake
Last bite of cupcake
Post-piƱata bust
All the princesses on the couch--Ramona beaming over her bag of loot
 Next was Ramona's first Valentine party, where she got to decorate her own "mail" bag, deliver valentines, and burn off some of the extra sugar she consumed by running around a church basement.


By this time, the party was about over. Both Ramona and Natalie look ready to go home.
Natalie's mommy was one busy party planner this week--thanks for including our little princess in all the festivities!

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Fake it until you shake your fear, then make some music for all to hear

On Friday Forest came home from work with a bouquet of flowers. "What is this for?" I asked. "For making it into your orchestra," he replied with a smile.

The day before I had auditioned for a community group called the Loveland Orchestra, and they had let me stay for their rehearsal that evening. It was their first rehearsal in preparation for an all-Mozart concert on the composer's birthday (the way UISO used to do as well). I was sitting in the first stand, filling the seat of a cellist who was out of the country for this concert. A few years ago I would have been terrified to play right under the conductor's nose and next to the section principal--but that night it felt more like a privilege and a thrill.

Warning: Partial life story to follow. Read at your own discretion.

In 2003 I arrived at the University of Illinois with my cello as a severely unprepared freshman music major--but I was prepared in one thing: my orchestra audition excerpts. I had taken lessons from Greg Hamilton at ISU that summer, (after deciding to major in music almost on a whim) and rather than spending time catching me up on my technique or delving into repertoire, he decided to focus on preparing me for my ensemble audition, required of all instrumental music majors. This seems a little absurd, even looking back on the experience now. I didn't know my scales well enough, my left hand technique was a mess, I could only read alternate clefs with careful thought, I barely knew thumb position, and my sight reading skills were awful. With all these outstanding shortcomings, his main concern seemed to be making sure I had a successful orchestra audition, which I didn't understand, but went along with his instruction anyway. I listened to a recording specifically coaching cellists on common orchestral excerpts. I spent hours practicing those short excerpts that summer, and very little else. I did mock auditions for Professor Hamilton as he drew my attention to every detail of those little excerpts.

So, when I walked into Donald Schleicher's office, cello in hand, for my blind audition, I was more prepared than I realized. I played the requested excerpts as best as I could, hoping to have achieved at least a mediocre score. When I went to check the audition results on the music building's bulletin board, a few days later, my jaw must have dropped--I had been placed in the top orchestra on campus, UI Symphony Orchestra. I think even Professor Hamilton was surprised, when I told him, but he said "Well, it'll be good for you." When I went to the first orchestra rehearsal, the expected musicianship level was clearly beyond anything I'd previously experienced. The conductor, Professor Schleicher, was not the laid-back, forgiving orchestra teacher figure I had looked to in the past, but a stern, demanding maetro whose glance conveyed some type of musical omniscience that instilled fear in every musician under his direction. I wondered if there must have been some mistake in the audition process--there were, after all, plenty of music majors in the Philharmonia Orchestra--even performance majors. What was a little freshman music ed major, with my limited ability, doing in this group? Sure, I could learn some snippets of tricky music if you gave me a teacher and an entire summer, but the whole Shostakovich 12 symphony and more, on my own, in a month? I wanted to jump into my cello case and hide. And that was the way I felt during orchestra rehearsals the rest of my freshman year.
January 2005, sophomore year
But gradually, something must have happened during my undergraduate years that changed my attitude toward orchestra. My senior year, UISO had the opportunity to play Shotakovich 12 again, but this time at Symphony Hall in Chicago. As we rehearsed the music for this venue, I was flooded with memories of my freshman year. And I recognized that I wasn't exactly the same cellist anymore. Rather than feeling overwhelmed by feelings of inadequacy, being gripped by the fear of playing a wrong note, and just wanting the piece to be over, I felt a genuine sense of enjoyment from playing. I wasn't faking it anymore--I was actually making a small contribution to the orchestra's performance, and loving it.

Two years later, after completing my student teaching and starting my master's program in music education, I actually opted to take orchestra although it was no longer a requirement. I remember sitting in UISO rehearsals that semester, feeling a little nauseous from the new baby in my belly, but savoring the whole experience of being in orchestra again. I remember wondering if motherhood would ever allow me to play in an orchestra again someday.

Two babies and two moves later, I've found my way into an orchestra again--one I can hopefully belong to for a while. More than anything, I feel grateful--grateful to my parents for buying me a cello at age 14. Grateful for the patience my teachers and mentors have had with me as I've gone from fearing music to embracing it. Grateful to my husband and children for giving me the time to hold on to my cello, even for just a few minutes a day. Grateful to to have music in my life--because it is more than just a hobby for me--it is an element that adds an entire dimension of richness to my existence. Thank you, God, for the gift of music. And thank you for ten fingers to play the cello.