A change of color

This is my daughter. She simply knocks me out. Her beauty radiates, from the blue of her eyes to the kindness of her heart. She is a bundle of explosive energy, a dynamic dancer, a good friend.

I never thought I was a good photographer. I'm not. But she is a terrific subject. Did I mention she is kind to animals?

She adores her older brother. He tolerates her, most of the time.

She has been wanting to dye her hair. I have always said my kids can do whatever they want with their hair, as long as they could turn it presentable enough for a funeral (don't ask why that's my aim). No mohawks, because there is no way you can make that look good, IMHO...but color? Go for it. Cut? Whatever.

Never been a problem until now. My baby wanted to go red. She wanted to jump in and go full blast cherry red. Her hair is so beautiful - grownups pay hundreds of dollars to get half the blonde streaks she has naturally. I told her fine, but nothing permanent. I am such an ogre.

We found a 28-day auburn. I am sure it will last longer than that, and I am confident it won't be pretty while it's fading.

But she loves it. And she is beautiful.

Tweet

Jump

Sometimes June 1 seems more like the beginning of a new year to me than January 1. The kids are out of school today, and ready to move on to new activities. What changes after January 1? Not much.

We are so blessed to live within a few minutes of two lakes and a beautiful river. I think I will pack up the kiddos tomorrow and go jump in the lake. The warmer of the two. I know they are looking forward to the water park, but there is plenty of time for that on Sunday. I think we need a little more nature, and a little less concrete.

  Tweet

Things that break a mother's heart - # 783

I went to pick up one of Emme's friend's yesterday. This is a girl my daughter has had issues with off and on since kindergarten, and their friendship seems to be going well lately. I want to get to know her better. No one at the school has come out and said anything directly, but I have gotten the impression her home life isn't the best and that maybe she gets some extra guidance from the adults at school.

I had told her mom I would be there at 4pm on the phone. I have never met her. I guess she doesn't go on the field trips or go to Family Art Night or Science Night.

I got there to pick her up and the girl was waiting outside. Me, "Don't you need to tell your mom you are leaving?" "No, she is at the jail, visiting her boyfriend."

I think I heard a crack in my heart at that very moment.

I started calling the mom about 7pm to ask if little girl could stay the night. No answer for an hour and a half. No return calls, either. We drove over to their home, and the mom and several others were partying loudly in the front yard. Another crack.

I can assure you if my child was off with a virtual stranger, my cell phone would be on and attached to my hand the entire time. I would stare at it, waiting for it to ring, even if I was in the bathroom. Not that I would take it into the bathroom, because that's just gross (everyone knows what kind of vaporized horror spews into the bathroom when someone flushes a toilet, right?), but I would stretch my arm out through the door to hold on to it. Like Stretch what's-his-name. Oops, did that just date me?

Anyway, the little girl spent the night at my house and is going to church with us today, and every Sunday as long as she wants.

Tweet

Wordless Wednesday

Tweet

Sunday sillies

Sheesh. Yesterday was too dark. Even this morning. Change up.

Baked brownies, rented movies, and took my girl to the park. Have you ever seen such dirty feet? Not me - I can't see past her smile.

Wordless Wednesday

What's in a name?

And yes, they are 2 1/2 years apart in age and nearly the same height.

I am now sufficiently recovered from my vacation to blog again. I don't know what was wrong with me the last several weeks before I left, but I didn't do much blogging. Thankful, you say? Just watch out, I've got my eye on you.

In a gift shop at Disneyland, I was drawn to the same things I was when I was a child...some background here:

I went to Disneyland for the very first time when I was 7. Even though we'd lived not too terribly far away until I was almost 4, and then visited regularly (my step-father's evil sister lived in Fullerton - by the way, SHE was named after a scruffy little animal that represents a holiday), my mother refused to take me to the promised land until I was old enough to enjoy it. And I do remember that very first visit, for one very memorable reason - it rained the entire day. This was in the ancient days - the days of the ticket books. Remember them? Of course not, you're too young. You got a bunch of tickets, A through E...the A tickets were for cool rides like the Matterhorn bobsleds, or Mission to Mars. The E tickets were for things like King Arthur's Carousel. You'd finish the day crying because you didn't have any more A tickets, but always had Es left over. I have no idea which ticket It's a Small World took, but really? They should pay people to ride on that one.

After that, I went a lot. I remember one gloomy day, right after my mother died. I was 10. My older step-cousin (she was 10 years older than me, and impossibly worldly and glamorous in my eyes) took me for a drive one day. Anaheim is not a far drive from Fullerton, but I didn't know the roads in those days (who am I kidding, I still don't). All of a sudden, I remember seeing the Matterhorn, and looking at Chris expectantly...she'd planned a day to cheer me up. Mostly, I remember her sitting side-saddle on one of the horses of King Arthur's Carousel, and wondering when I'd be old enough to do the same.

This visit was free! I have a friend who knows someone. Really. Cool, huh? I know you're jealous. I would be.

I really, really, really love Disneyland. Well, except for that one trip, my senior year of high school. I wore a maxi-skirt (we truly called them that in those days), tripped and fell on my face. I don't remember much after that, except my teenage cynicism.

We had a tradition when I was a child - our last stops would be on Main Street...we'd stock up on candy from the wonderful candy shop, and then buy souvenirs. I always loved the stands with the little license plate holders for your bike. You could find your name, then everyone in the world would know it as you rode through town on your pretty pink bike with the banana seat and big handlebars (what are those called?).

And Disneyland always had Annie. Oh, you could find the key chains and license plate holders other places, too. But those places never had Annie. They would have Anne. Or Ann (which is truly my first name, but is impossibly short and boring - but does balance out my 13-letter last name quite nicely).

It was always exciting to find Annie. I wished my parents had named me something more regular, like Sandra, or Cathy, or Debbie...then I could have found my name anywhere! Or something exotic, like Astrid or Celeste or Suzette. But my parents were big on naming their kids after people they actually knew and liked - and since every one's first name was Mrs. in those days, I guess I should count myself lucky.

When my kids came to me, they had pretty good names. Which is a miracle. It seems like most of the kids who come into foster care have names like Prima or Sativa. Where do they get these names? Oh, yeah...right.

In fact, these days, it seems like unique is the new normal. Want to name your kid Jordan? Then don't spell it like that - spell it Jordyn, or Jor-din. Food names seem to be gaining in popularity. And unisex names are more popular then ever. Just ask my kids, who have to specify which Riley they're talking about - girl Riley or boy Riley. Since I'm a lot older than a lot of the other parents, even the parents' names sometimes confuse me. When my daughter started first grade and I got the roster, I thought one of her classmates had two dads - but really the mom just has a name I associate with really old stinky hillbilly men. Don't ask.

My kids have pretty regular names. My son came to me with a name that was really, really popular at the time, because a hot soap opera star was graced with it. In fact, he was actually named after the guy, as his birth mom's social worker was trying to help her find a name and gave her a list of the top-ten hunky soap opera stars of the year. Alphabetically, his was first. Our social worker advised us to change his name, as said birth-mother had a really nasty temper and we didn't want her to find us.

We picked a first name right out of the Bible, and a middle name that went really well with it, and just happens to be one of my favorite characters in E.T. Ohhhh, maybe I've finally come up with his pseudonym for this blog. E.T....do you like it? His first name has a pretty cool nickname available. And it's never really gone out of style. Of course, he gets really mad if one of us calls him by his full first name because he thinks it's dumb.

My daughter came with a really beautiful name, and an even cuter nickname. We shortened her first name to something beautifully classic, and changed the spelling of her nickname. After a model my ex thought was really hot...but now there's a new little celebre-baby with the same name. And we gave her a new middle name (her middle name was the same as my mom's and my ex didn't like it - he actually said it sounded too Catholic).

So I though my daughter would be so excited to find her name on a key chain or license plate holder. But she wasn't. She wanted....a diary. With a lock. Oh, my. She's 6...what kind of secrets could she have?

And my son wanted a truck.

Darn it, they've got minds of their own.

Here's a cool link to how some modern stuff was named.

And if I ever adopt another child, I'm naming them Maddosynn or Hektyr.

It's not too much

After writing last night, and remembering each child I fostered who went home to birth families, different adoptive families, other family members, I kept thinking about a comment I've heard so many times over the years.

"I could never be a foster parent. I'd fall in love with the child, and would love them to much to give them up."

Fair enough. I know that's what people think. I thought it myself. Until I lived it.

This is what I learned.....

You can never love a child too much. And sometimes, you learn to love them enough to let them go.

It's not easy. Nothing worthwhile in life ever is. A child leaves, and you rejoice for their new life, or you worry they'll never be safe. You think of them, you pray for them, you cry and grieve your loss.

You pray that somehow you've made an impact.

That they'll remember, either consciously or unconsciously, and that your love will have made some small difference.
That the cookies you baked,
the boo-boo you bandaged,
the games you played,
the fears you calmed,
the love you gave,
will stay with them, and become part of this small child, in a home they didn't choose, through no fault of their own.

I'm not a perfect mother, or a perfect person, or a perfect saint. I feel, I mess up, I cry, I admit mistakes - but never defeat.

If I could be a foster parent, then maybe, just maybe, you could be one. It's not for everyone. If you can't do it, there are other ways to help. But if you're interested, take a look here.

Who's on first?

My brain is toast today. Emme was home sick today...combination of a bad cough and a bad stomach (from her new medication). I watched 3 episodes of Hannah Montana, played 7 games of war, 3 readings of A Charlie Brown Christmas...you get the idea.

So, now I'm helping Jake with homework. He's procrastinated, and his hockey night just got switched, so now he has a week's worth of homework to finish today & tomorrow. Bummer....

I'm reading Jake's spelling words to him, right off the list.

core
paper
near
sentence
better
what
were
and so on.

I get to better..have to help him spell it (spelling is Jake's Achilles' heel).

"Okay, mom, what's next?"
"What."
"After better."
"What's after better."
"Please, mom, what's after better?"
"Yes, you're right, what's after better."
"Mo-om...what's next?"
"Absolutely."
"Absolutely is NOT one of my words."
"You're right. What is."
"MOM!"

At this point, I finally gave in to laughter, and explained that "what" was the word.

He wasn't amused.

Can I just feel sorry for myself for a minute?

So, we got a referral to a pediatric neurologist for Emme today. Even though we've been going through tests and evaluations here, I just wasn't expecting they'd actually find anything THAT wrong. He (or maybe she - I can't really tell by the name) is in Sacramento, so at least I'll get a few road trips. But the fact that we need to take her down there is a kick in the gut. As I twittered earlier today, I wish I was a swearing person. I. am. so. scared.

And today is the anniversary of the day my mother died.

But just when I started feeling sorry for myself, someone sent me a clip about a guy with no arms or legs. Then I found out the son of some friends had a seizure last night. Then I remembered Randy's going through chemo. And, of course, my friend Heide just died, leaving her two young daughters.

And now I feel so blessed.

Dagnab it.

And yes, in fact, that's the best I can do.

My cluttered car (life)

There are times in our lives when we are thankful, not just for our friends, not just for our families. We find ways to be thankful for....our shortcomings.

Last night as the kids and I were heading home from a really kicken' party (kick ass because of the fabulous people there, kicked in the stomach because of the grief most of us there were feeling for the loss of one of our friends the night before Thanksgiving)I was actually thankful that I find it impossible to keep a clean car.

Right before we left our friend's home, Emme said that she didn't feel well. No surprise, it was late for her..and one of her little friends had tossed her cookies in the kitchen right in front of her. Nothing like the smell of vomit in the evening to turn a stomach. In the car, she apologized for not feeling well. ??? Why weren't the bells going off in my head? After brother dearest got violently ill Tuesday night while we were IN A RESTAURANT.

Turning onto Eureka Way, I heard it...okay, you know the sound. There's a reason it's called retching, folks.

I immediately pulled over...flew out of my side of the car and opened her door. There she was.

Holding a casserole dish I'd left in the car after our recent (okay, okay, it was a week ago) potluck at work.

"Look, mama...I got it all inside the dish!"

Families

I really should go mop my bathroom right now....but, it's NaBloPoMo, and I'm not giving up now...even though truthfully I've missed a few days.

Busy, busy weekend....aren't they all these days? Friday night was a meeting to discuss the affairs of my friend Heide. Did you grow up in Redding? Were you in 5th grade anytime in the last 20 years or so? Then you may know her. She's been the principal/director at Whiskeytown Environmental School for over 20 years. She's amazing woman, an amazing mother. She's the adoptive mom of two beautiful and charming young ladies...HannaMae and Badaboo.

And she has metastatic breast cancer. It's been a devastating journey to travel with her. She hasn't any family locally, except for those of us that have chosen to be family. During the early days of her cancer, we rotated sleeping at her house, caring for the girls, making meals, running errands, while she underwent chemo and radiation.

These days, she's been in a convalescent hospital...so loving families have welcomed the girls, while others have been tempting her with food made at home.

Today she was admitted to a local hospital. She's a fighter.

What amazes me is the unwavering support of this group of people, all of whom have been touched by her.

Saturday started with Jake's championship hockey game. His team came in second in the 8 & unders. He is one rockin' goalie...the toughest position of all. He's a great goalie - the other team made 18 attempts - 18! and they only scored 5 goals...he blocked 13 goals. I'm so very proud of him.

Then I brought soup & brownies to MSM, helped with cups of apple cider, and had the fun of circulating through the dozens who were there to eat and get clothes. They have so many stories, and they were so appreciative. It's something I don't think I'd get tired of doing.

Last night we took dinner over to Randy Miller. I wrote a bit last night, and I've blogged about him before, but if you haven't learned who he is - you really should. He's amazingly talented, and he's a great dad, and awesome husband to Kristyn Miller. He's recently been diagnosed with a rare cancer and has no medical insurance. It's pretty scary for everyone who knows them.

They have incredible friends.....there are musicians doing benefit concerts and taking offerings during other concerts. But they can use your help, too.

Please, please, please, visit their website and read about this. Donate if you can. Come on, even if it's just $5. This is a great family, and they could really use your help. And they are incredible appreciative.

Redding's best kept secret

I hesitate to tell you this. Promise you won't tell anyone else?

Last night I had a date. Ok, ok....stop laughing now. It was a mommy/son date. Emme was spending the night at her friend's house. We had taken dinner over to Randy Miller's house. What an awesome family he has. Then I let Jake choose the restaurant.

It was hard, folks. Three way tie between Burger King (they have chicken nuggets and indoor playground), Pizza Hut (they have uh...pizza, and a pool table), or Round Table Pizza (figure out the menu, folks, but we'd never been there before and didn't know about the extras).

Ever one to try new things, Jake chose Round Table. We went to the one over on Hartnell. Ok, yeah, they sell pizza and stuff....you can get that anywhere. Best of all, though? They have.....

Board games.

Lots of them.

And what did we find? People - sitting there, playing them! Families. Teenagers (who should be out drinking and petting, after all) were playing games and they actually looked like they were enjoying themselves!

We played Battleship, and Toss Your Cookies (we had to make up our own rules for that one - the guide was missing), and Snakes & Ladders.

So don't go there, okay? Because we want to find a table next time.

Sunday evenings

Sunday evenings always come crashing down on me. We have so much fun on Sundays....after church we'll go to the Sundial Bridge, or Caldwell Park, or Enterprise Park, drive to the mountains, go to Burney, have friends over...the list goes on and on. But then there's cooking to do when I get home. Because of the kids' sports, we don't get home until 7:30 or so on Monday and Tuesday, and with Emme's bedtime at 8:00 - well, we're pushed, to say the least. So, I try to "cook big" on Sunday evenings so that we can just warm up leftovers...

Then it's bathtime. Reading. Bedtime for Emme. Homework with Jake - he gets his homework packet on Friday, but doesn't like to do any then. It's his last night at his dad's each week, and special to them. Saturday...is Saturday, and somehow homework never gets done. So, Jake does his homework Sunday night, and we're still pretty much one on one for that.

Then off to bed for Jake. I wish there was a bit more time on Sundays. When I was in high school, Sundays were always the longest day of the week. We weren't allowed to do anything, except read and hang out together in between church services. The day seemed to run on forever. And, while I complained about being bored, I miss it now.

While Sunday is the first day of the week on our calendars, it always feels like the end to me....like the period at the end of the sentence. It closes off one week, so that we can move on to the next.

May your Sunday evening be filled with peace and joy.

My girl

I could write about my kids every day. They are simply amazing. The challenges they've each been through can be shocking. I have a medical file on each of them, from their times in NICU, and it makes me cry to think of the pain they went through. Emme had physical therapy until she was a year old. Of course it was painful - have you ever been through physical therapy? Emme's therapist told me that the pain was probably equal to that I felt when I underwent therapy to release a frozen shoulder. I prayed, I cried, I swore....but I understood why the therapist was causing me pain. My poor child had no idea....she could only cry. It broke my heart and I was terrified that she would blame me always.

Emme was born with congenital muscular torticollis, and because she was in foster care, and the pediatrician didn't pay much attention to her, it went untreated. By the time she moved in with us, her head was badly misshapen (plagiocephaly). I don't take no for an answer when it comes to my children - I'm like a momma bear. I didn't give up. Every week I called the pediatrician, until he could get approval for a physical therapy evaluation. Finally, we were able to start therapy...a wonderful woman from the Moose Lodge (of all things) came out to the house every week.

I have so much respect for fraternal organizations that provide social service help....Emme was caught in the gray area between Medi-Cal and private insurance...we were unable to cover her under my ex-husband's insurance until the adoption was final (yes, I know that's illegal - but what..he's supposed to argue and lose his job?). But the Moose covered it free and clear.

Our therapist worked with Emme an hour a week, but more importantly, she trained me to do the therapy - 6 times a day, 7 days a week. Pulling and stretching and causing pain. The two of us would cry together.

And every 45 minutes while she slept I'd awaken to move her, to change her position, to massage her sweet little head and try to get it to regain it's normal shape.

Mothers would tell me they couldn't do what I did - they couldn't cause pain to their child. It was one of the hardest things I've done, but I had to remember that what I was doing was for her good. That it would allow her to hold her head upright, to prevent neck pain and problems later in life, that it would allow her to have a normal appearance.

And it worked. On her first birthday I had a photo taken of the back of her head, and gave it to her physical therapist, to show how lovely and straight she held her head. It was a success.

Emme is going through so many changes right now - and I have to remember that we'll get through each challenge as we did that one...crying together, praying, and doing it together.

At least until she's a teenager, right?

Boo - I love you.

My kids' school has a tradition. It's the selling of "BooGrams" for Halloween. Great fundraiser for the 8th graders. They can make money to go on field trips where they sneak away from the chaperones and smoke weed. Just kidding.

Jake's 3rd grade teacher forgot to give out the BooGrams on Friday, so they got them Monday. He was really excited that he'd gotten three. One from me, one from his friend Drew, and one from.....a secret admirer.

"Mom, you know my best friend, Hunter? He's got two girlfriends. I think he should break up with one of them. Two takes too much time."

Of course, I questioned him about the secret admirer...he thought it was either M or K. Both sweet girls, I'm sure. As long as they stay away from any idea of corrupting my sweet, sweet son....

"So, Jake, what did this BooGram say?"

Dear Jake,

You are so hot. I am in love with you.

Love,

Your secret admirer

"Mom, what does that mean?" "It means she thinks you're cute." "Oh, that's weird. Why would you say hot for that?"

Yesterday at his parent-teacher conference, Jake's dad brought up the note. Mystery solved.

All the little kids go into the 8th grade room to buy their BooGrams in the weeks before Halloween. They ask the 8th graders for help in deciding what to say....

I know there's an 8th grader out there laughing about this now, in between downing shots and making out with his girlfriend.

Christmas is coming

My son Jake is very materialistic. He loves his toys. He loves other people's toys. He loves the toys he sees in stores and on TV commercials. He can't bear to part with old toys. He's great at sharing them, but he's always lusting for more.

This morning on the way to school, Jake was wondering aloud if his dad was going to get him some Legos he'd promised. I told him that I knew he really wanted those Legos, and he's really, really good at creating some imaginative stuff with them.

All of a sudden, he said, "But mom, I don't really need them. It's okay if I don't get anything for Christmas." Thinking he was joking, I said, "Ah, but what about that DS you've been wanting?"

"Mom, all that's really important is you and daddy and God. The toys are nice, but I don't need them."

This kid blows me away.

They amaze me every day

I wish I would have talked about this election more with my children. Mistakenly, I just didn't, at least as much as I should have. I know when I was 6 or 8, I really had no concept of government. I guess I just thought that my kids were more interested in reading, writing & 'rithmatic. Boy, was I wrong.

Discussion in the car tonight, on the way from school to hockey:

Emme: "Momma, almost my whole class voted for Mr. Senator John McCain (she said it just like that - so impossibly cute)."

"Emme, do you know why so many people wanted to vote for Sen. McCain?"
"Because he's very responsible, and he wants to take care of people, and he wants to make sure that sick people get taken care of."

I'm really glad that she has clarity on this. I wish that I could have gone over the candidates' voting records with her myself. This was a powerful lesson for me.

"So, Jake, did your class hold a vote?" "No, but I would have voted for the other guy." "Obama?" "Yeah, him." "And why is that?"

"Because I think war is awful, and I think that the other guy just wants us to have a war all the time."

Wow. I'm blown away. These kids have very definite ideas - awesome!

We had a talk after hockey, Jake & I. Emme was already sleeping. We talked about some things I thought were important. That the President has a grave responsiblity. That whoever is elected deserves our respect and support. That an African-American is our President-Elect, and a generation ago, African-Americans in the South had to use separate bathrooms and drinking fountains. That President-Elect Obama has a family that loves him, and two young daughters, and that he will make all his decisions knowing their effect on his family as well as ours. That he has an awesome responsiblity, and the fate of all Americans weighs on his shoulders.

We talked about the fact that he won't see another Presidential election until he's 12 years old...an eternity to him.

And then we celebrated with that most delectable of impromptu desserts - rice cakes & Nutella. Oh. My. Land. You really should try it.

Sometimes it's just too much

An old pic, but a goodie
My kids had a good week. A really good week. Not a single note, or phone call from school. Don't get me wrong, they're not bad kids. But they have their issues. Don't get me started if you believe wholeheartedly that all ADHD can be "cured" with diet....sometimes the brain is just wired differently. We've tried every dietary restriction out there, and they are very healthy because of that, but who they are doesn't change - and my kids ARE the ones who will be discovering something new, or inventing something we've never seen before, or taking off to climb the world's highest mountain - because their brains are working 50 times faster than anyone else's. There's a reason, and those of you who know me well already know what it is. Look back through my archives, and you'll see I've alluded to this, but I'm just not going to do it right now. Who knows exactly why special needs kids are the way they are, anyway? And does it really matter?

My kids had a really good week. They had a great time at church today - Emme found a friend she hadn't seen since changing schools in kindergarten. Jake finally saved up enough "bucks" to buy a marshmallow shooter....

My kids had a really good week. They both asked to go to Burger King for lunch after church. They actually agreed, and worked together to convince me. I think it's the last fast food restaurant in town with an indoor play area.

As I waited for our food, I sent them in to play. I noticed three women come in to order right after us. One well-dressed, and a bit older than the other two. The younger two had beautiful smiles. They were very short, and one obviously had Down's Syndrome, while the other seemed to have another genetic difference I was unfamiliar with. I gave a quick prayer of thanksgiving for families and love, and resiliency, and my children's good health. The shorter one paused at the soda machine, choosing her drink carefully. I told her I liked her t-shirt, and she gave me a smile.

A few minutes later, I turned to bring our food into the play area room. I saw this young woman on the floor, cradled by her older friend and a man who'd been having lunch with his kids. She was having a seizure. I asked what I could do to help - they had already called 911, so I went out and told the staff of Burger King that an ambulance was on its way, and grabbed some napkins....the young women had been ill, and I wiped her face clean while we tried to determine if there was still food in her mouth. We were afraid she would choke.

I comforted the girl with Down's Syndrome, then my own kids. I got everyone settled down and returned to the sick girl's side. As I was saying a short prayer, I heard my son call out, "They're here!" He held the door open for the firemen.

A gurney was brought in, an IV started, and she was on her way to the emergency room in no time. It turned out her friend was her Special Olympics coach. She followed the ambulance to the hospital.

During this time - probably only 10 minutes, though it seemed longer, not one other person tried to help. Not one employee of the restaurant came to see if the young woman needed anything, nor did they come out to clean up the mess. We were there another half-hour after the ambulance left, and the mess remained on the floor and tables. I went out to remind them, and a young man told me that he had been too busy.

At first I was angry. Then I realized they were all young teens, probably scared, probably overwhelmed...probably not wanting to clean up the mess because they were afraid. An older couple had stood and stared the entire time - I had to ask them to move so I could get some napkins. Honestly, I'd never seen anyone suffering a grand mal seizure before, either, but I just saw a young girl who needed help. How can anyone not help?

My kids had a really good week. Thanks be to God.

The Glory Hole

We always stop here - my kids are endlessly fascinated, as am I. We've never actually seen the water spill over...it's very low now. No chance of that. It's right next to the Kennedy Memorial. President Kennedy dedicated Whiskeytown Dam during his last visit to California, only seven weeks before he died. We love to look over the lake, and I imagine what it must have been like the day JFK stood there.

My mother was a Kennedy lover....I remember the day he was shot (yes, I'm that old). I was home sick from school that day with German Measles....I guess if anyone gets them anymore, they don't call them that. Not PC. Now it's Rubella, and preventable. We had quite an oubreak in town - the first grade teacher caught them, and was pregnant. Nine months later she gave birth to a deaf child. I'm a believer in vaccinations.

My mother cried when saw saw the news about JFK. It seemed to me, a kindergartner, that the whole town was crying for days. I know we've never seen a president since that's engendered that kind of emotion. I'm saddened and afraid that people would gloat if some of our recent presidents had been killed.

Last night we were leaving a benefit for a dear friend with cancer. Just at sunset, we rounded the corner from the NEED camp by the dam and saw this. We weren't the only car to pull in, but I was the only one without a camera - except the one on my cellphone. I never thought this photo would turn out.

Smoke from a prescribed burn hung over the water. The sky was just beginning to turn color, and was reflected in the lake.