Last week I found some incredible documents at the recycling center. I was gathering newspaper for a mulching project in the garden. The metal bin was quite filled, and as luck would have it, this pile of old papers was laying right on top. My eyes were first drawn to the old maps. Some were simple road maps from the 1950's, while others were more elaborate, detailing state highway department districts. One map detailed a driving route along the Civil War battlefields, while another documented the various Native American tribes. I brought them home, and I plan on hanging some of them up around the house.

I never really wanted a dog. I am not a 'dog person'. I perceive dogs as outdoor creatures who are best suited to very specific, important tasks. I have very little room in my domestic life for a dog whose main purposes are entertainment and companionship. Much to my eventual dismay, I acceded to welcome a dog into our family. My present opinion is this: This is the one and only dog our family will ever take care of, so I may as well accept it and try to enjoy it.

You see, when other people tell me stories about the funny things their dogs do, I don't really care. Usually I am polite and listen well. I try to understand what is so interesting about the dog's antics. But really, so what if the dog does something funny? I don't understand what all the fuss is about. If someone proclaims how cute a dog is, I have a difficult time agreeing. Dogs just look different, and they smell weird, and they're just so, doggish.

Friends assured me that once I saw how happy my kids would be with the dog, it would make it all worthwhile. Hmm, nope. The kids were happy before the dog. In fact, our youngest is now in competition with the dog, but over what I don't know. You see, I don't understand dogs, I don't speak their language and I certainly don't know what the heck they want, besides constant attention. I don't need another creature to take care of. Like I said, I never really wanted a dog.

People have told me that our dog is a really good dog. He has a command for coming back to us, and he doesn't bark at all. He 'bays' when he has important needs to express. He sleeps a lot, which is nice, and he doesn't have fleas, which is essential. He enjoys spending a lot of time outside. But there are still a couple of things I don't understand: Why is he always following us around? Why does he always want to sit right next to us when we're on the couch?

After complaining about it a lot this week, I began to get tired of the sound of my own voice. I suppose a change of attitude is in order. I can choose to be humbled by our newest family member, and I can choose to adjust to this new lifestyle. Sigh. I can choose to be a 'dog person'. Chuckle. I can choose to be amused by the dog. Grin. For the sake of new possibilities, I can choose to enjoy the challenge of loving and accepting our newest family member.

The weather has been warm this week, and the ground has finally dried out. I'm in outdoor mode, working in the garden, playing in the yard, neglecting the indoor world of housework, laundry and food prep. I want to make a small fire pit in the garden, for cooking and for twilight warmth. I think once a week we'll eat outside around the fire. This is the time of the year when I need to make adjustments in the usual routine. When the weather is nice out, playing in the sunshine becomes the top priority.

The Factory

Last week the boys and I went to the old Chrysler factory. The contents were on display for public viewing in preparation for an auction. I was inspired to treat the opportunity as one would a field trip to a special museum. I packed a backpack with drinks and some light snacks, put fresh batteries in my camera and arrived early enough so that we didn't feel rushed. Along the way I said a few things in advance about our visit:

"Now, this is an old factory where they used to make cars. It may smell a bit like chemicals, and it will probably be dark and cold. We're going to see a lot of neat machines and tools. When I stop to take a picture, you need to stay near me. No wandering off. Just let me know if there are any neat things you see that you would like for me to photograph."

The entrance was welcoming, and as we stepped inside, I tried to imagine what it must have felt like to work there. The air was cold and the lighting was dim. There were acres of concrete floor, vents and electrical wiring overhead, rows upon rows of small metal pieces, and rooms upon rooms of all types of machinery.

The boys were enamored by the vastness of it all:

"Mom, what's that? An indoor street sweeper truck?"

"Oh, take a picture of that thing, over there, the one with all the buttons!"

"Hey, that looks like gold. Maybe they forgot this. It looks important."

We had a lot of fun exploring, and we're looking forward to watching the cranes disassemble it in the coming months.

Mitsumasa Anno's Math Games II

I discovered this great series of books about math in the 'Games' section of my favorite bookstore.

Merry Christmas

The morning of Christmas Eve presented a unique challenge. Our seven year old woke up earlier than usual, and his first words to me were this: "Mom, what about breakfast with Santa?"

I gently reminded him that the snow kept us home from a local event in which families enjoy breakfast and a visit with Santa. My answer was no consolation. "But how will he know what I want?"

His concern was valid. In his world, this was a very important matter. I felt a renewed focus to help him on his quest. I bravely replied: "I think Santa will be at the mall today. Let's get ready now to go and see him."

We arrived early enough to wait in line for a short twenty-five minutes. The entire production was professional, with a clear focus on the photographed memory. Santa himself seemed a bit tired, a little grumpy and ready to be done with the whole thing. I wish I had quietly told the team--the usher, photographer and Santa himself: "We don't care about the picture. My son just wants to talk to you."

Hindsight being twenty/twenty, the kids and I got swept up in the production. Twenty dollars later, we left for home, just as families were being given pagers to be notified for their space in line.

* * *

This Christmas has been quite enjoyable. The kids all got toys that take batteries: a simple digital camera, a voice recorder which also plays MP3s (all the bells and whistles without the screen), a pretend chainsaw with four different sounds. I did most of the shopping last minute, choosing wisely not to get stressed out. I know, Mom's are often in charge of such things. Jugs of maple syrup, good olive oil, freshly roasted coffee...who doesn't enjoy such delights?

The gifts I received were really nice: a case of seltzer water, a lightweight jacket, a small set of ceramic houses my sister and I used to play with , and a copy of The J Peterman Company Owner's Manual No. 72. It's the most clever print advertising I've read in years.

Happy Thanksgiving