pushin up vaiseys

Newsworthy

2011-11-09T07:18:00.000-08:00

I am going to take a shower.

Olly Olly Oxen Free

2011-02-26T08:29:00.000-08:00

You can find me HERE today.

New Year's Resolution

2011-01-15T15:49:00.000-08:00

Blog at least one time this year.

Done.

I truly believe in the power of goal setting.

Old Soul

2010-11-09T14:13:00.000-08:00

Delia just turned 10. "Double digits", she reminded us repeatedly. As I talked about this recent milestone with my mother she remarked that time was going so fast and wasn't it strange to think that before we know it Deedee would be 12 and in the Young Women's program at church. I felt like this was the suitable response to the idea of a child getting older. A mild shock-- like two year old Wendy experienced in the garden when Mrs. Darling declared, "Oh why can't you just stay this way forever!"-- that this was the beginning of the end.

But I couldn't muster that feeling because it seems to me like Delia is finally filling up the years that have always rightfully been her's. She came with a seriousness, a gravity, about her situation on this planet. She combs through her experiences peering anxiously into the detritus of the day to see where she went wrong, where she could have done it better. She listens and sorts and makes meaning of all things all of the time. She plans with intensity and the first two or three pages of her many notebooks and journals are filled with neat lists of ideas and what comes next . She is always aware of decisions and possibility.

I watch her living her life and I am reminded of a description that Wallace Stegnar uses in one of his novels to describe recounting a story from the past while being informed by your knowledge of the future. He calls it the doppler effect. An echo through time. It is almost like Delia knows what her future is and each present moment resonates with the inevitable.

When I see her among her siblings or peers getting along without effort, lauging and giggling, I am so relieved because I get to witness her in childhood. I savor the images of her with an easy smile, a playful shrug or an unrestrained excitement when she is free from the weight of dissappointment or the burden of staying on course. Thinking of her growing up for me is like thinking of watching Atlas grow from a slight little boy to a muscular man all while he bore the burden on his shoulders. In other words, a relief. When I think of her in Young Womens I actually breathe easier because I imagine her stature beginning to match her spirit.

Right now, for her birthday, I want her to know that I am proud of her,

that I am thankful for her tender, tender heart,

but, mostly, that

I love her.

Happy Birthday Delia

More OPB (you still know me)

2010-11-01T17:32:00.000-07:00

Welcome to another edition of OPB.

The primary reason that I love these women (and their blogs) is that they make me look good by mere association. One is my sister by blood and the other my sister by marriage.

And when you see what they are up to you will think that some how, either genetically or by the kind of people my genes attract I am smart, conscientious, inspired, dedicated, focused, organized, thoughtful and suprememly cool. I will just let you think that I am all of those things.

After all these girls are related to me.

And the truth is that both of them have influenced the way I conduct affairs. Julie has even Hapalabbed my house and our crew is often seen in the background at the lab since we are very neighborly neighbors. And Aleli's voice rings and resonates through so many of my decisions about housekeeping, childrearing and consuming.

So get down with hapalab and Pomello Farm. I know I do.

Aleli over at pomellofarm.blogspot.com

Julie at hapalab.blogspot.com

and just to show you what connects Julie and I, I give you my brother, Marc. He isn't actually a gay train engineer regardless of what the outfit implies. Although he has been known to hang out over at the south end of Berkeley Aquatic Park, but it was only accidentally.

Past, Present, Future Pie

2010-10-24T20:18:00.000-07:00

I've been making a concerted effort to be right where I am lately. There have been moments these past few months, even moments that I would normally classify as difficult ones, when I have just been scrubbing, or swabbing, or wrestling or reading and felt completely present and, in retrospect, content. Chatting in the halls at church today one of the young brethren mentioned his attempts at what he called Zen Eating. Just really being in the moment of the food, the eating, the dinner. I liked this idea and thought I might try it but I got to thinking a bit more about this. You see, while living through the days I am often informed by the past and my hopes for the future. It is almost like every bite of apple pie reminds me of all the pies of the past, where I ate them, when I ate them and with whom. The flavor is richer for it. Also each morsel carries with it the possibility of maybe never having a pie this good again and that intensifies my appreciation for the pie I've got in front of me. After all, it could be my last. This is Past Present Future eating at its best.

But the very real risk in the comparison with the past and future pies is that you miss the pie you are actually eating and miss out on the delicious gratitude that can accompany it while you dwell on what was and feel anxiety about what might be. Considering this, Zen Eating, as a practice, seems like, if nothing else, a useful way to avoid disappointment and anxiety.

Then I started wondering why my own faith (I'm a mormon...yes I am) didn't readily offer a way to eat a slice of pie. I think it does and I will call it Eating By The Spirit. One of my favorite, and uniquely mormon scriptures says, "For he that diligently seeketh shall find; and the mysteries of God shall be unfolded unto them, by the power of the Holy Ghost, as well in these times as in times of old, and as well in times of old as in times to come; wherefore, the course of the Lord is one eternal round"(1 Ne. 10: 19).

I think the mysteries of God might actually be found in the flavors of life and in this scripture there is an implication that we can learn to savor the present moment by considering the past and future moments. And what comfort food to allow that if you don't get it in this moment that in God's time we go round eternally and have so many chances to taste of it. I also consider that "His paths are strait" or in other words there is this small and perfect space where those mysteries reside. So how do I eat in this perfect space in time without dwelling too much in the past or in the future? Well, according to this "by the power of the Holy Ghost".

So while I eat, or live, or whatever, I just need to be looking (diligently seeking) for the flavors (mysteries of God) and those can be from any moment in time( one eternal round). And, from my experience when I stay open (soft heart) to this strange and almost ridiculous idea that some unseen spirit (Holy ghost) can reveal the mysteries to me life tastes sweet and I feel a part of every moment...

past

Ric Estrada life snapshot from Seth Estrada on Vimeo.

present

and future.

Now that is good pie.

*I obtained the slideshow shown at my Father's funeral from my brother's website. He put the slide show together and is in post-production on a whole stinking documentary about my dad. Go check out the website and see if there is any way you could help get this film ready and distributed!*

silence.

2010-09-09T15:07:00.000-07:00

No picture can do it justice.

I am alone in my house.

Completely alone.

And it is quiet.

I can hear myself breathing.

What a silver moment.

Get down with OPB

2010-08-16T09:00:00.000-07:00

That's Other People's Blogs if you wanted to know.

I think I mentioned once that I can only do one thing at a time. Just one burner cooking at a time for me. I've learned this the hard way having been burned by bubbling pots in the past. This summer the one thing I have been doing is, well, summering.

So for a peek at some of our activities I redirect you to OPB (ya you know me). Specifically the blogs of those with whom we have been summering here in Western New York, Upstate, The Cradle of the Restoration, the region of the Great Lakes. In other words, our personal paradise.

It is rawther a relief not being the main character of the story (aren't I?) and viewing the summer from these ladies' perspectives. But never fear. I am sure you'll end up with waaaaaaaaaaaay more of my narrative than you ever wished for (once I figure out how to get all the pictures to this little netbook thingy and the kids get back into the school rythm). Meanwhile get down with Kelly and Babajuje.

Oh, I cant help myself. I have to comment. This summer has been like daily applications of protective coating being brushed over my raw nerves. Like bathing in restorative waters (read: Lake Ontario). Like physical therapy for a withered limb. I am feeling strengthened and provisioned for the journey.

I am a lucky girl (ya you know me.)

The Professor and I after our getaway on the lake.

Belated Father's Day Wishes

2010-06-24T11:12:00.000-07:00

Dear Professor,

You're an okay dad, I guess.

Sincerely,

Rebekah

ps. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

Fortune's Fool

2010-06-23T19:37:00.000-07:00

I just cracked opened Verver's fortune cookie. It assures me that his "sensitivity is an asset".

What a relief.

I thought it was just annoying.

Right now he is crying (read screaming) because I broke his cookie in half and he doesn't want a broken one. Maybe this hyper-sensitivity really is an advantage for him. He'll probably get another cookie out of it.

I just opened my own cookie. It said I will gain wisdom with each passing year. It's a good thing I prefer mine broken in half. I wouldn't want to choke on the fortune. I need all I can get.

Playing cetch up or cricket, or what have you.

2010-06-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

(Please read in an affected upper crusty british accent a la' Jeeves and Wooster.)

I hit a bit of a rrrough petch these pest few months, what. Been feeling rawther low if you know whot i mean, eh? Not entahly up to scratch and all that. A bit lacking in the usual sunny disposish. Still, morale not entahly dashed, in fact, I'd say its rawther on the mend. Looks like I am not a permanent resident on Mad Street in Madsville after awl, eh what.

Still and all I do feel rawther like I've some cetching up to do. A bit of a wobbly flashback is in order I think. Perheps a sentimental sort of series of Here's What You Missed might do just the trick, eh? Or some clevah sort of Well I Think I May Have Left This Signigicant Bit Out of The Mix posts might be just the thing. Perheps you will indulge me as I punt down the ol' rivah of memories, then? Shocking, really how many marvelous photogs I have of simply ripping moments in the family. Stir things up a bit, what.

So the upshot of the whole thing is to keep the old peepers on the look out for some simply smashing...stuff...that heppened...that I never got right round to sharing. That last bit really didn't come off how I'd hoped. Point is we'll be bouncing round on the old space-time continuum around these parts or some such rot. Never mind, then. You get the gist, what.

And just to show I am a man of my word here is a supah example of just the sort memories with which we will be lighting the old corners of our mind.

I believe this crusader showed up on April Fool's Day

You see how we just wooshed back in time there. Well that's just the sort of thing I was referring to before about doing later.

I say, proceed with caution. Time travel can be quite dizzying in my experience, what.

But the rewards can be so sweet. Very much like the icecream we had for lunch, tea (or "snacktime" as you americans say) and dinner on this very same day. Well that was a rawther clever segue, eh, what. I'm getting better at this sort of back logging by leaps and bounds.

They never tired of the icecream. Thought I do a bit of reverse psychology and they'd be running back to a good solid plate of broccoli in no time. Experienced a bit of a backfire, I daresay.

A bit of digging through the archives will tell you that we decided April Fool's was a day you could do whatever you dem well pleased. And so we did. No school, icecream meals, Ollers field trip to the professor's lair, bit of dressing up like a super hero and a day at the movies, popcorn and awl. Rawther a day to remember. Which is precisely the whole point of this jogging about in time business. Well. That's all for now. Cheerio.

photographic equation

2010-06-18T11:52:00.000-07:00

this little lady

our first mini photo session

meeting one of the genuinely nicest people

having some serious family fun

high hopes for a real "framer"

(incidentally)

the silencing of the crickets at pushin up vaiseys

the feeling that life is a pretty good thing after all.

While it is true that last night during our session we discovered that Verver has a pathological fear of the ocean (which, if you think about it, is actually a reasonable response to such a vast unknowable body)and that he cried 3/4 of the time because the waves unceasingly ebbed and flowed to and from his little person and put into question his place in the whole scheme of things, and that in most of the pictures the hollow and terrified look in his eyes might drive all of us to our own existential reflection, we still really did have a heck of a good time. He ultimately cheered up when we went to higher ground. Plus, photoshop can fix everything. Maybe even the feeling that it's a great big universe and we're all really puny.

We look forward to our second session at Berkeley campus on Saturday. I just hope we can pry Zuzu's tiny little paws out of Julia's normal size paws long enough to get some pictures taken. Little Z has taken a real liking to Ms. Wade.

Every time Julia offered any encouragement to smile Zuzu ran to her, arms outstretched and eyes beaming, with breathless admiration and an outpouring of reciprocal kindness.

Zuzu is an excelent barometer of other people's goodness.

She is not, however, the easiest child to keep in the frame of the picture.

The whole affair had a celebratory feeling. We ate pizza at 9:30 when we got home. Deedee and Mymy fell into deep sleep in moments after all of the cavorting, twirling and sclathing about on the shore. The beach really does tire you in such a satisfying way. Even in just one hour.

I agree with Yakko.

It is a great big universe and we're all really puny.

We're just tiny little specks about the size of Mickey Roony.

But last night as we all lay tired from the beach and satiated from the pizza and tangled up on the couch I felt like I had my own perfect and small place in space.

What a nice coincidence that we got a picture of it.

Six weeks does not a heart heal.

2010-04-28T14:14:00.000-07:00

In six weeks you can recuperate from major surgery and be back at work. In six weeks you can have your first baby, bond with it, arrange your mind, your house and childcare and be back at work. In six weeks you can say goodbye to old friends, pack the closets, get the moving van, unpack the boxes, hang the curtains, make new friends and be back at work. In six weeks you can mourn the death of a parent and be back at work. Six weeks is the modern expectation of how long it takes to adjust to change. Six weeks is what you get before people start to wonder why things aren't ticking away like usual. Six weeks to normal.

Give me black crepe and widow's weeds. Give me rigid ritual and rules that must be followed. Give me two years before I am allowed to dance again without scandal. Give me full mourning for a year and then I will move on to half mourning and add gray and maybe lavendar to my costume. Give me this so I don't have to smile at the grocery clerk. Give me this so you will remember to handle me with care. Give me this as a signal to the village. Give me this as shelter from the gossips at the well. Give me these limits, please, to move about in freely.

And if I want, let me be like Queen Victoria and wear it for dear Albert for the remainder of my days. Let me not forget. Let me retreat. Let me never be the same. (I will never be the same. I will never be the same.)

Even, for a black armband like the servants wore. That would do. Just a small sign that things are not back to normal. And a message to that impatient receptionist or to that pushy parent (who wants to arrange yet another playdate for the kids) that birth, and life, and death take longer than six weeks.

I will be blogging regularly.

2010-04-01T21:50:00.000-07:00

April Fools!

Dear Julia Wade Photography,

2010-03-17T20:22:00.000-07:00

We're ready for our close-ups!

That is right my most devoted devotees. We won! Which means we are thrilled to have our pictures taken by the wizard behind the curtain. None other than Julia herself of Julia Wade Photography.

Just thrilled.

Particularly Zuzu.

Just look at her enthusiasm.

We're waiting....

2010-03-15T08:31:00.000-07:00

to get a better family picture than this. The Vaisey clan has actually (in its entirety) never been professionally photographed.

Sad, sad news.

I know.

But all of that is about to change... thanks to you and shameless self promotion. All you have to do is leave your name in the comment box of the blog post here: http://www.julia-wade.com/blog/2010/03/14/top-15-finalists/

One comment = one vote. One comment per email address.

Oh and you also have to exhaust all of your social capital on my behalf by petitioning for votes on facebook and your blogs for our family. You could send out mass emails too. Or stand on a street corner spinning a "Vote for Vaiseys!" sign instead of a "Crazy Cellular Deals!" or "Pizza Madness!" sign. Or you could hire someone to be a sign spinner for us. Or you could rent a city bench or a billboard (but the contest ends on Tuesday at midnight so there might not be enough time for that).

What I am getting at here is that there are so many ways you could help. Just pick the one that makes you the most comfortable. Then you can leave a comment here telling me what you did and I can determine who has been the most helpful and hand out my own prize. Like your very own t-shirt with our new family picture printed on it.

Or a Golden Kiss.

It just keeps getting more attractive to lend a hand.

Cold as Ice

2010-03-02T11:01:00.000-08:00

Most mornings you will find me in a cavernous warehouse space doing situps and pushups and throwing weighted balls with all my might. Maybe I am trying to fit into my old jeans or maybe I am fighting off the demons. It's hard to say. Either way I got a nice little shout out for my efforts and I thought you might want to see it and maybe check out the only gym I would ever set foot into. I introduce you to The Ice Chamber. It is hardcore. And it makes me feel hardcore.

Zuzu on Nutrition

2010-03-01T11:05:00.000-08:00

I decided to eat good food instead of buggers from my nose.

What's for Dinner? A Greek Tragedy

2010-02-27T11:04:00.000-08:00

Supper's on and the table is set. Around here that means that an epic tale replete with timeless themes of fate and death will ensue. I stand at center stage, family-size skillet and spatula raised high above my head:

Oh my children, the new blood of ancient Thebes, why are you here? Huddling at my altar, praying for the food. Our city reeks with the smoke of burning olive oil, rings with cries for the delivery guy and wailing from the hungry. I thought it wrong, my children, for you to hear the truth from others, messengers. Here I am myself-you all know me, the world knows my fame: I am your Mother. Dinner is ready.

The Chorus takes its place:

We are not eating that. That is disgusting. We hate vegetables. No wonder we suffer twice over, the pain of our wounds, the lasting grief of pain. That stuff is slimy and we hate cheese.

And it is inevitable. By the end of this drama lifeless bodies will strewn the table or someone is going to end up with their eyes poked out or some poor son or daughter will unwittingly murder a parent. It is already happening, because, frankly,

this is killing me.

~~Dis~~claimer: Sophocles' original work was harmed in the making of this post. But what's he gonna do about it?

Dream Dad

2010-02-03T22:23:00.000-08:00

About a month ago I had a dream. I was sitting around the big ugly round table in our kitchen on Venado Ave. My dad was there standing in what always served as our proscenium arch, the open french doors that led into the kitchen. I have so many memories of that doorway. Vaudevillian antics during dinner underneath its molding, mad dashes through it to see who was at the front door or a chaotic picture of the family at dinner through its frame. It seemed like we always congregated at those doors. In my dream my father looked like he had in his final years when cancer had aged him by decades. But he reached out to me to dance with him. We were always dancing in the kitchen and it was such a natural thing for him to do. Even weeks before he died he and I did a shuffling stroll with his walker to our own rendition of "The Sunny Side of the Street". In my dream I gasped as he swept me into a lively dance. I remember the feeling of complete surprise and the air filling my lungs. I gasped because he was so full of strength and vitality. It was so unexpected after the years of physical frailty. But it was so real. I felt as light as a child in his arms. We danced across the mustard yellow kitchen and it was so fun. I haven't had that kind of fun since he died. I really miss that kind of fun. It is the kind of fun that you have to make little noises like "wah" and "woosh" to as you're having it. And that is the kind of feeling that accompanied this dream dance with Dad.

For months now I have had an undercurrent of missing him while I go about living and doing. When I see older couples or hear about friend's parents going on missions I ache for the time my parents won't have together. When I walk into a rooom and I am all of a sudden so insecure and unsure I wish I could talk to him because I know he understood that feeling so well. I know we would swap anecdotes and bathe in eachother's admiration and end up feeling so much more worthwhile at the end. I'd like to ask him how he went on after his mother died. I feel like I am just getting to the age where I really need his guidance. How could I have known what to ask for before? I would so like to sit with him and talk to him again.

He has been there in many ways. His faith in the gospel was so relentless and persistant that it still assures me during moments of weakness. His love for the people around him, especially the misfits, colors every human interaction I have. The gift he and my mother gave me by simply working it out and being together gives every day in my marriage and as a parent meaning. I work harder and more cheerfully because of him. I want to give my children what he gave me. A testimony, parents who love eachother, good memories, admiration, assurance, and FUN. And in subtler ways too, he influences me every single day.

But I didn't have the immediacy of being with him again until that night I dreamt we danced together. Wah!Woosh!Wow! Thanks Dad, for the dance. I am so glad you're back to your old self again.

(I'd really like to do it again sometime.
Maybe on our birthday.)

Together on my baptism day

Hebrews 11:1 or The Evidence of things Unseen

2010-02-01T21:44:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when all hope seems lost it is best to pretend that all hope is not lost. This is something else I know. Faith is a principle of action, a principle of power. That means that if you act like something is so then it can become so.

Let me show you an example.

Let's say you've been sleeping on an air mattress waiting for the delivery of a bed for three and a half months. (Hypothetically.)

Let's just say that you don't believe you will EVER sleep on a normal mattress again. Let's also say that you really, really, really hope that one day you will. What can you do in this situation? Do you have any control at all? Well, you musn't forget that faith is a principle of action.

So you should do something.

Like deflate the air mattress and put up the bed frame and the headboard you have painstakingly restored.

And just look what happens when you take a little leap of faith.

Forty pounds of handstitched natural cotton take their rightful place.

If you build it the aireloom will come.

And that, dear friends, is the substance of things hoped for.

*Please try using this principle in other scenarios. It really works.*

Patience is a virtue...

2010-01-18T19:31:00.000-08:00

that I hope you all posess. You can find me in the middle of the flurry of toys, books, food stuffs, clothes, art supplies and games that are being swept from one closet to the next shelf to that drawer and this bin. The label maker is like an extension of my body and every movable will have its place decreed. This is where the "PENS" go and this is where the "SPICES" must reside.

And while this frenzy ensues I am desolate to inform you that Pushin Up Vaiseys finds itself on the list of Opportunity Costs. So, to the Dearest Devoted Devotees, I pray for your patience. And when all the margins of this home are square and every surface shines like the top of the Chrysler Building you can expect my return and a generous report. It is an unfortunate reality that I can only do one thing at a time.

In the meantime you can find some of our latest doings here (if you care for a taste of our disney experience) and here (if you have a yen for some Zuzu birthday celebration).

Adieu.

*My exact label maker and an easily side-tracked woman's truest friend.*

Disney Residue

2010-01-11T17:25:00.000-08:00

Disney World must have rubbed off on me because my internal monologue turned into this today.

In the (evil) spirit of the querulous and discontent Ariel of the (evil) Little Mermaid I submit to you this (arguably evil) little song.

Enough of that.

Henceforth, I shall whistle while I work.

But maybe after I finish the laundry I will disobey my father, put my entire community in danger and marry outside of the covenant just because I really, really like that boy I never talked to before. Just follow your adolescent heart and you can't go wrong.

I love a good role model.

*How to Survive Disney World" Tutorial forthcoming.*

Out of Their World from Rebekah Vaisey on Vimeo.

A Representation

2010-01-08T09:47:00.000-08:00

If I were a two year old boy and if my high chair was the couch and if eating lunch was everything I had to do then this is a picture of me right now.

*my air mattress never looked so inviting*

One of them Christmas Miracles

2009-12-23T19:24:00.000-08:00

I bet you didn't know that you already missed Christmas. Why, it's come and gone friends. We celebrated aaaages ago. Actually we celebrated today before we head out to Orlando tomorrow. Somehow we pulled it off and had an honest to goodness Christmas Eve (complete with pajama fairy and Secret Santas) and Christmas Morning. I really wanted a little piece of Christmas at home but I didn't think it would be possible. If you told me we would do this 24 hours ago I would have laughed in your knowing little visage. But a miracle has happened. A miracle, I tell you. And to prove it, here are the pictures.

"Christmas Eve". Panda Express for dinner, yuletide sweets, acting out the Nativity, carols, and the joy of exchanging Secret Santa gifts. It was simple and sweet and totally low key. Everyone was pleased and primed for "Christmas" morning.

Deedee ran down the hall excited yelling "It's Christmas morning!" and part of that statement was very true. Although it wasn't technically Christmas it was, in fact, 3 o'clock in the morning. We sent her back to bed until 6 when everyone dragged us out of air mattress. (It took them a little longer to get me up.)

The traditional line up in the hallway before the big Christmas Morning Reveal. Anticipation and excitement!

We did the stockings first this year and everyone was delighted by all the little trinkets and treats. It was a bit of a study in diminishing returns, really. We didn't rush the morning and let the kids play as long as they wanted between gifts. I was really impressed by how little avarice or envy attended the whole affair. Thanks to all who sent such thoughtful gifts! The children truly loved them. You made our Christmas. (no, seriously, there would have been no california christmas without you.)

After breakfast the Professor defied us to be able to get ready in 5 minutes ( "to the shoes") for an Action Packed Adventure. No problem. Literally 300 seconds later we walked down the street, hopped on the BART and started an afternoon in San Francisco. I got in some last minute shopping for the trip, we had street vendor hot dogs and we all saw the window displays at Macy's. But the highlight really was ice skating at Union Square by the huge Christmas Tree. Zuzu was the surprise whiz on the ice. Verver especially did not want to leave the rink. Deedee made a new friend in line and they skated hand in hand then exchanged pen pal information. One other Christmas Miracle I would like to mention is that Mymy did not break any bones with his high risk, low skill style of skating.

Sigh.

What a really nice day.

May I put in a request for just one more miracle? Really? You don't mind? Okay, then.

Get us packed and out the door tomorrow. Because we've got a date with Santa (and by that I mean Babajuje, Bopbop and the rest of the beloved Vaiseys) on the other coast tomorrow. And I have a feeling that December 25th with them might even top today's Christmas!

Bah Humbug

2009-12-21T20:41:00.000-08:00

This is me last weekend pretending to be a rock star at our ward christmas party. (Live band, back-up singers and everything.)

Strangely enough if you were to take off all the makeup and replace the sparkly attire with a dirty sweatshirt but keep the expression exactly the same you would get a good idea of how I look (and feel) right this instant.

CRAZED.

Verver just threw up on my bed (I mean air mattress). There are open suitcases waiting to be packed for our transcontinental flight in a day. There are piles of laundry waiting to be cleaned to put into the suitcases except in the case of the girls' clothes which don't exist because they have miraculously outgrown or destroyed every single item of clothing they possess. There are no christmas presents to be seen anywhere because they are all still at the store and have not actually been purchased yet. And there is no car to get me to the store because it is snugly parked at the mechanics. There is no Professor to be back-up because he is and has been and ever will be reading, revising and researching into the wee hours to get it all off his plate before our trip. When I think of getting out of here by Christmas I am ready to, in the words of Ebenezer, "decrease the surplus population" and by that I mean kill someone.

But I do have a very practical plan.

I am going to bed(air mattress).

Who knows? I may even be visited by three or four ghosts.

And lets hope I learn to "honour Christmas in my heart" even while vomit soaks my duvet.

God bless us, every one.

To The Professor or Impediments Denied Admittance or Ours is not Shaken.

2009-12-18T08:00:00.000-08:00

A dream realized.

2009-12-17T13:54:00.000-08:00

Here we are ten years ago in our engagement picture.

We didn't touch on purpose.

We wanted to prove something.

I don't know what.

Tomorrow we will be married ten years. I feel very good about the couple we have become and the family we are building.

We will spend the day in a forest of redwood trees and then meandering through San Francisco. We will do what we love doing the most which is being together and talking about how things work. Just being together really.

There is noone elses company I enjoy more. We finally relax when we are together. We will exchange our anniversary letters too, which I love. We will also be spending the night in a nice hotel with a real bed in the room. I don't even think you can request an air mattress at this hotel. It is THAT nice. So I am going to have to make do with an actual mattress. And, I'm afraid, I am going to have to sleep in for as long as I want to. And then I will wake up leisurely to this two centimeters from my face.

Pretty dreamy.

*Golden Kisses to Jenn and Tyrah for making the dream come true*

To sleep, perchance to dream

2009-12-15T16:00:00.000-08:00

I dream of sleeping. I do most of this dreaming while I am awake. And as the weekend draws nearer I, like Tantalus , start really believing that this Saturday, surely this Saturday, I will get to sleep in. So I close my eyes on Friday night with a comfortable hope and then bright and early (early early early) Saturday morning I awake to this two centimeters from my face.

Next Verver enters and starts pulling and tugging. "Wake up maw maw wake up maw maw wake up maw maw wake up maw maw food yunch food yunch wake up maw maw wake up maw maw."

By this time everyone is piled in on top of The Professor and me and the stand off begins. Which one of us can endure the most elbow shots to the groin and knees to the tender bosom? How many chops to the trachea will it take before one of us gives in and gets up to feed the animals?(And by animals I mean kids.) I win. I always win. Up and at 'em Professor and take these feral children with you.

And this is the moment when I am so close to the quiet sinking into sleep I just woke up from dreaming about. This is also the moment when I realize everyone is going to stay in bed with me.

Did I say bed? I meant air mattress. Which leads me to the other reason I dream of sleep so much. In the past 4 months The Professor and I have bought two very nice beds. Nice, big, swimming, king-size beds that could comfortably contain the Saturday morning melee while I slumbered on. We bought one, sold one and bought another one. That one is still not here and we have been sleeping on an air mattress for 7 weeks now. I honestly do not believe that it will ever arrive in all of it's handcrafted glory. It just hangs there above my head in a little dream cloud and when I reach out for it, it disappears.

So no more dreaming. Time to wake up to reality.

I am sleeping on the most expensive air mattress known to man.

Zuzu Two Minutes Ago or The Moments That Warm a Mother's Heart...

2009-12-14T15:24:00.000-08:00

"YOU'RE THE HORRIBLEST MOM I EVER SAW!!!"

Children, I exhort you, tell your parents often how you really feel about them. It can make such a difference in their day.

More from Zuzu

2009-12-14T11:38:00.000-08:00

Zuzu, upon hearing my suggestion that we bring The Professor decorations and a candy cane at work:

"Yeah! Or (weighing the options) a lollipop...ooooorrrrr... how about a HOT DOG! (Index finger up)Yes. A hotdog is a great idea. Let's bring him one."

Nothing says Christmas like a ballpark frank.

Fairy Godgogogirl

2009-12-10T20:07:00.000-08:00

She stole the show. You might say that I am biased but I will just tell you that I am very critical and difficult to please. (If you have ever tried to go to the movies with me or bought me expensive tickets to a show you already know this and are probably cringing just remembering how I ruined the whole thing for you. Sorry Babajuje.) So when I say that I was utterly delighted by the whole charming production but COMPLETELY blown away by Dee you better bibbity bobbity believe me.

She had presence and commanded attention. She was sassy and ironic. Her voice sounded great. She took just the right risks.

And she was so funny.

No video allowed but here are some stills of Dee as Fairy Godmother in Disney's (which is why we can't have video those copyright nazi's) Cinderella.

I wish you could have seen her in action. She was so good and,I reiterate, you must believe me because I am not one of those stage moms. (Sing out Louise!)

You made our night Dee.

We are so proud of you.

Brava! Brava! You were FABULOUS!

Pomello Farm and Another Kiss

2009-12-09T11:49:00.000-08:00

I never expected An Experience when we left the North for the South of California the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I just expected to have some good cousin time for the kids, some good talking time with the family and some good food at the feast. However, when we walked into the french doors of Pomello Farm a cup of hot mulled cider awaited us weary travelers and we got our first taste of the place.

Warm, inviting, complicated, rich, tangy, flavorful.

Pomello Farm is actually a rental property on about an acre of lemon trees surrounded by McMansions on all sides. But my sister Aleli and her husband James have touched the place and it has turned into something much better. Found objects, salvaged furniture and bohemian sensibility come together in this labrynthian house and fit perfectly. The smell of some kind of essential oil greets you at each turn in the strange maze of rooms and eaves that make up the interior.

Around here someone (Aleli) is always picking something out of the earth and saying "Here eat this. It has a very sweet/piney/sassafrassy/earthy flavor. Plus it is very high in iron/vitamin C/ Vitamin B/ antioxidants. And did you know it is actually a weed that the state of California is trying to eradicate?!? Genocide, I tell you. Here, eat it with (pluck) this...it's like nature's chewing gum!"

Liters of organic, savory and (need I say it?) free soup fill the refrigerator. Tomato, black bean, butternut squash. And piles of day old bread, pastries, muffins and MACAROONS lay in heaps on platters all around for the taking.

James makes runs to and from Le Pain Quotidien(the restaurant he manages) for all of these convestibles. He is always finding an extra table, chair, ladder, vacuum cleaner, a meal and a way. He only stops to savor the view of the hills from his front patio. He is a blur of resourceful energy until you see him parked serenely in a salvaged chair with a cup of tea soaking in the beauty. Then off he goes again.

Kids get dirty here. Their feet get stung by stinging nettles. (Did you know you could eat stinging nettle. True. Just fold it up like a little taco and your saliva will nuetralize the sting. Plus it is very high in iron and has such a rich earthy flavor. I learned this at the farm.) Their cheeks get red and hot in the dry California wind but there is fresh pomegranite lemonade on the porch to drink so you can keep on spinning and playing and lemon launching as long as you feel like.

Aleli and James had Deedee, Mymy, and Zuzu sleep over so they could get extra time with Kai, Keoni and Eden before they left to spend Thanksgiving with their dad. They dealt with the intensly weird energy my kids give off when they are tired until two in the morning. And then they had games and activities all over the place to entertain them the next day. They made everyone feel welcome and comfortable. (And this was all BEFORE they hosted the Thanksgiving Feast. A post worthy event in and of itself.) They gave us all An Experience. For that I would like to give them The Golden Kiss.

Some images from the farm.

Cousin Time! We love Kai, Keoni, Eden and Julian!

Some favorite women. Diane with exactly 23 grapes in her mouth. The beautiful Aleli, my seester (we go waaaaay back). My beloved mother (a saint, no question.) And Katie, a joy. Jeremy is not a girl but I like him anyway.

Launching Lemons. Aim for the cow bell target, try not to hit a mansion.(Look at Uncle Ethan's strenf.)

The Compelling Couple, Aleli and James.

Marauding Verver (probably under James's care.)

The Wednesday Crew (waiting on baited breath for the Thursday contingent to arrive.)

Sweet Hannah (in a pose).

And of course we ended the day in spontaneous song around a campfire built by james accompanied by Steve on the guitar while eating s'mores. Cumbaya my lord. Cumbaya.

The truth is, the whole thing just smacked of summer camp...in November.

Thanks again you crazy cats!

For more on James, Aleli, Kai, Keoni, Eden and Julian go here to read about their experiment last August.

My Folly or "With this the gist and sum of it...

2009-12-08T06:00:00.000-08:00

what earthly good can come of it?"

~Dorothy Parker~

Baba Juje, The Professor's mother, recently asked him how our new white couch that we bought a few weeks ago was and he responded, "Gray."

Good and Tired

2009-12-07T09:14:00.000-08:00

I am feeling good.

Good because it was a joy to be on stage again. Good because Behold the Light was more beautiful than I thought it would be. Good because of all the friendly faces, humor and hugs from the weekend. Good because my brother Marc, his wife Julie, and their son Enzo came to the show and genuinely liked it. Good because Marc took pictures. Good because it is cold and feels like Christmas. Good because we had soft voices and kindness at home all week even with all the hectic to and fro. Good because of the spirit that attended the dancers on and off the stage. And good because we pulled it off. I am also feeling very tired from all this goodness.

Steve and the kids waiting for the curtain to go up.

I got to be the first one across the stage in the opening celebration number. (What a rush!)

The wise men

and the Christmas Star.

Tree of Life. I loved dancing this one. In the end we all partake of the fruit and recieve the light.

Beginning of Come Thou Fount. Very lyrical.

The Finale. Oh Come All Ye Faithful.

Lights before curtain call.

Spotting the family in the audience!

Deedee and Mymy climbing the bleachers while kisses and hugs get exchanged below.

So it was very good and I am very tired.

Good and Tired is a fine combination.

Ready for my closeup Mr D'mille

2009-12-05T13:30:00.000-08:00

It's a street walker...

It's a man in drag...

NO! It's Stage Rebekah!

One more reason to love Behold Dance Collective.

You get to do your makeup like a floozie.

Hope to see you at the show today at 4 or 8 at the Oakland Inter-stake center!

It really is a great experience for the Christmas Season. Plus then things won't be awkward with us in the halls.

Been up way past my bedtime...

2009-12-04T08:55:00.000-08:00

getting ready for this.

I hope to see you there tonight or tomorrow!

Because banishment is a really messy business.

I wouldn't want to see you go through that.

Says Zuzu

2009-12-03T15:12:00.000-08:00

"What is that smell my nose is tasting?"

The Goose is Getting Fat

2009-12-01T10:11:00.000-08:00

And by goose I mean me.

We got our tree up before we left for Pomello Farm for Thankgiving (more on that soon) to get a jump on some holiday cheer.

And even though it is very uncharacteristic of me to plan ahead I have actually done some pre-christmas preparation.

I put on ten pounds BEFORE all of the yuletide cheer just to cross it off my list.

It feels so good to be prepared.

*Please note that I wear the same clothes every single day of my life.*
(sometimes I even launder them.)

To Do List

2009-11-30T08:30:00.000-08:00

1. Breathe in

2. Breathe out

3. Breathe in

4. Check out how to spell breathe

5. Breathe out

6. Breathe in

7. Breathe out

8. Breathe in

9. Breathe out

10. Write an actual to do list

I know, it looks like a lot to do but I am totally up for the challenge.

Just call me super woman.

Delicious

2009-11-22T17:55:00.000-08:00

This week we head down to Southern California to join my entire family (minus the incomparable Zilia and her pensive mother Vera) for The Feast. It is the first Thanksgiving in our family that Ric Estrada won't be on the planet earth. He is probably on some other planet breaking bread and inviting practical strangers to his table. I think my sister Aleli and I should play the Jingle Bells duet in his honor. He always cajoled us into playing it on the grand piano for whatever company was over for the pilgrim's celebration. And there was always A LOT of company.

I remember one year our entire living room on Venado Avenue had long tables from the church set up and the house was full of people from the Spanish branch (at church), family friends, and people who had nowhere else to go. I still associate this holiday with the excitement of sheer numbers.

I have another memory (that noone else can verify) that involves my dad poking his head into the dining room with great enthusiasm (think muppets) and asking "Did you try the delicious yams?" Except he didn't say yams. He said jams because he was excited and his accent took over. So it sounded like "Deedjou tdy the deleeshus shjams?" And I remember Aleli and I laughing uncontrollably about that and saying it over and over again for fun. I still say it out of the blue sometimes. But enthusiasm for yams was perfectly in keeping with his outlook on things although expressing it with an accent was certainly not.

I remember the year that my parents funded a Thanksgiving in North Carolina. I had just given birth to Mymy and they flew everyone out from the west to our apartment where we also set up long tables in the living room to seat the entire clan (minus Zilia that time too.) All of a sudden Chapel Hill became my real home because my brothers and sisters and parents and all the little cousins were there and I took ownership of the place. We had a family devotional in my blue living room. Everyone had prepared something to share about gratitude. A poem, a thought, a song. And we all sang together too. It was wonderful. I can't remember what my dad said but he is there in my memory next to my mom sitting to my left, close to the front door, smiling at what everyone had to offer and making breathy "wow" and "wah" noises when he was overcome with emotion. Just so absolutely pleased to be there.

Estrada Family Thanksgiving 2002. At the UNC Old Well.

Jazz Hands.

I wonder if he knows how much he gave to our family. The love of people, conversation, absurdities, music, movies, dancing, and hearing our own voices. I know I can expect a lot of this on Thursday when we all get together. So even though he won't be there with us...he will be there.

payback.

2009-11-20T14:40:00.000-08:00

Yes it is true that I brought halloween candy into our house three weeks before the actual trick or treating. A grand 20 lbs of it if you really want to know. And it was ALL eaten by the time the children (and pushy teenagers) started ringing our doorbell. We even had to go out for more on the actual e'en of All Hallows to get more.

And it is also true that The Professor plead with me to keep it out of the house and (ergo) out of his stomach.

But I didn't. I ignored his sage counsel. I went right ahead and bought in bulk against his express wish.

And so perhaps he felt justified when he brought pie into our house BEFORE Thanksgiving.

PIE.

In the fridge.

Calling my name.

All day long.

He bought it. He baked it.

I ate it.

I get the picture.

No candy before the 31st.

Lesson learned.

Maybe if I get really ascetic over the weekend I will want pie again by Thursday. Who am I kidding? I still want pie right now.

Behold the Light!

2009-11-19T16:04:00.000-08:00

For the past few months I have spent my Saturdays with these dancing fools.

via www.beholddance.org

And by that I don't mean they are fools. Just that they dance. They are (but really I should say WE are) Behold Dance Collective. This experience has been a lifeline for me during this raaawther difficult and overwhelming period of my life. I have loved the challenge and the physicality. I have loved disappearing into something bigger than myself. We rehearse four hours every week and I have felt the same sociality that one might expect raking leaves with some pals in heaven. Ya dig?
(It is a very friendly, productive, comfortable feeling.)

Here we are rehearsing. It looks like I am the star because the paparazzi were only taking pictures of me that day but actually(and you might want to sit down because this came as a shock to me too)I am not the star.

If you live in the East Bay area (and by area I mean the continental U.S.) I expect to see you at the Christmas show with a few friends in tow.

Seriously. I will be looking for you. And if you don't come then you are banished from the kingdom. (And in case you were wondering the kingdom is not my blog. I would never banish you from here. This is a safe place.) Did you hear that? I said BANISHED.
And if you do come I will definitely sign autographs.
(Note to self: Bring glossies.)
You won't be able to miss me in the show. I am the second from the left in the second from the back in the second from the third box on your downstage left.

But then I move.

Don't look at my feet because they don't know the steps.

Do look at my face because I will be selling it.

Behold the Light and then partake. It is delicious.
Spread the good word.

My first tutorial

2009-11-18T06:00:00.000-08:00

My devoted devotees, (if you do not count yourself among this elite population I invite you to visit the sidebar and sign up, follow me....NOW...go to.) I feel as though I have been a part of the blogging world long enough now to share with you something from the vast stores of my knowledge.

Have you always wanted to be able to make a hat like this?

via etsy shop thnkdfrent

Or an adorable headband like this?

via www.kaang.etsy

Or a garden box like this?

via whoopsy vaisey

Or booties like this?

via Design Mom

Or a birthday cake like this?

via pinkcakebox.com

Or a scarf like this?

via www.crimsoncozies.etsy

or a dress like this?

via www.heidimerrick.com

Really? You have???

Me too.

Instead I will show you how to take a very bad case of the blues and turn them into a case of ... a lighter hue of the blues almost back to a normal shade. Ready?

Step 1

Here I am feeling very sorry for myself because I believe I am a total failure because I can't make any of those things pictured above.(or maybe it is because my house is unorganized, or I forgot to pick up a child from rehearsal or I yelled at someone. It doesn't really matter but for this tutorial we will say that it is because I think I can't make these thingies.)

Step 2

And then I start thinking about ALL the places where I fall short and start feeling really hopeless.

Step 3 (and this is the most important part)

I just smack myself in the forehead and say "Rebekah, you are being ridiculous." (Except you might not want to call yourself Rebekah. I like calling myself Rebekah because it reminds me that that is my name.)

Step 4 (no, wait, THIS is the most important part)

I reframe the whole thing. Like this: Just because you haven't made these crafty wonders doesn't mean you don't do lots of things really well. You are a champion movie watcher. You made some very nice humans once from scratch. Remember that time you made crackers for an entire month because you refused to buy anything in a package? Remember when you didn't get in a car for a whole summer and rode your bike everywhere with your kids in the trailer just to prove you could? Remember when you ran a very very slow marathon? Remember that one time that you made dinner? See? You CAN do things, Rebekah. You are a work in progress.

The Finished Product

And look at that. Do you see it? It's called hope. After a few simple steps you feel like you can take on the next challenge.

And it might even be something you knit.

For more tutorials along these lines may I suggest you read the book "Learned Optimism" by Martin E.P. Seligman. Its a goody. And it's just good strategy.

CAUGHT

2009-11-17T10:14:00.000-08:00

BLUE HANDED.

The Verve. Repeat Offender.

I should never have posted bail.

Drop outs

2009-11-16T14:29:00.000-08:00

I am offended that my eldest does not hate school as much as I do. In fact, she loves it. I am always trying to get her to want to stay home(until she actually wants to and then I insist she be ready in five minutes to head out the door.) It is so hard for me to see Mymy hunched over his drawing and have to pull him from it to go to school. It is always this time of year that I want us all to get in the car and go somewhere for a month and learn from that greatest of classrooms, The Real World (as seen from the window of a mini van). The seeds of my first foray into homeschool germinated in November(and then withered on the vine by July).

There are many reasons why I think homeschool is the optimal educational model but I really think the big draw for me is that you don't have to be on time to homeschool. Heck, you don't even really have to do it every day. I enjoy most things that do not require consistently showing up. I also like things that don't make you leave your house. I also like being in control. I also don't like dealing with other people's rules. I also like it when we are all together. I also love watching the kids learn from The Professor. I also love choosing what is important for them to know. I also love feeling involved in their progress.

The trouble is I overwhelm easily.

I am like a Big Gulp. I look like I have a 32oz capacity but what you don't know is how much ice is in the cup. Just try getting even two ounces of liquid in and you will have a big sticky mess of soda pop all over your floor. So this year I decided that rather than gauge my capacity by my best performance of the past I would look at the times when Coca-Cola spilled all over the place. So I put a couple ideals aside and concluded that the bigs would always be in school. I also enrolled the littles in preschool. They went for a month. And then they dropped out. Those little dead beats.

I think I would rather clean up the mess and sometimes have as much pop as I really want out of life.

Here they are on their first(and almost last)day of preschool.

Ready to go!

The institution.

Here they are running from it.

Run away! Run away!

The bigs are still in school. Please do not send any truancy officers to our house if we disappear for the remainder of November.

Deedee on wishing

2009-11-14T11:55:00.000-08:00

My Wishing Poem by Deedee Ruth

I wish I had a house of my own

A big bag of candy

Silver and gold

I wish I had a million notebooks

A lot of pencils

That I had cooks

I wish I had loads of my favorite foods

Icecream, delicious

A dog who never poos

Here are some of my last wishes

I wish there was no such thing as dishes

I wish I had pretty tiling on the floor

I wish my name was painted on the door

Those are some of my fondest wishes

I'll wish them while I do...the dishes.

This just in.

2009-11-13T11:37:00.000-08:00

Experts now agree that fast food, excessive television watching and candy are all very instrumental in a child's proper development. The latest research suggests that the combination of these three activities boosts language development, fine motor skills, long term attachment with primary caregivers and lowers cholesterol. Additionally yelling at young children is, not only effective, but also boosts their sense of belonging and self worth. Children who grew up in homes that were never clean also showed increased immunity and performed better under stress.

Phew.

I am finally doing something right.

So They Think They Can Dance (dance)

2009-11-12T17:05:00.000-08:00

When you tell your children to go outside and stay there good things happen (unless bad things do). In this instance a virtual explosion of choreographic industry occurred. I was privileged to see the production notes for the dances that Deedee and Mymy spent the day creating and very amused by the system they came up with to track costumes and music for each number. Each dance had it's own line and in that line were columns that included what pieces to wear and an annotation of the tune to sing. Like this:

Anarctic/ jacket and baseball shirt for penguin/ doh dee doh doh dee dee

It's really the music code that got me. Just rows and rows of "nee nah nah nees" and "doo ba bo bums" to remember the tunes they had made up.

We were then regaled with this spectacle of dance the next morning at daybreak.

So, get out the opera glasses please and prepare yourself for a sample of thematically cohesive and provacative dance. I didn't put them all in here because they came up with about 37.

Also, I beg pardon for the public transportaion noise and my rasping and, at times, shrill enthusiasm. Hopefully it will not sully your viewing pleasure.

Untitled from Rebekah Vaisey on Vimeo.

So the moral of this story is kick your children out of the house. It's quieter, cleaner and (now) totally justifiable.

CAUGHT...

2009-11-12T07:46:00.000-08:00

ORANGE HANDED.

The Verve. He's criminal.

ps. The Professor got my old timex fixed and I am feeling all situated in time and space. It is lovely. It is also 7:49am.

A poem by Deedee and more

2009-11-11T09:05:00.000-08:00

A poem by the incomparable Deedee Ruth.

Hollywood

Hollywood, I went on Thursday

The day was very cold

It was very much a fun day

The letters in the stars were bold

I went to American Girl

My doll has a curl

I ate so much food

I was about to hurl

I went into a wax museum

with wax people in it

I was so scared to see 'em

I went out in a minute

So if you are feeling blue

Go with you mom to Hollywood

It is a very loving experience

So go ahead and DO IT!

And now, for my fond impressions...

American Girl Place

(we spent hours and hours here and still did not want to leave.)

Early morning taxi rides to the airport. A delectable luncheon on the terrace. Feeding the dolls. Kit footing the bill. Display after display of miniature historical artifacts. Dolls coming to life everywhere. And watching Dee devour book after book in the bookstore.

Hollywood Blvd.

Dee crashed a premiere barricade to get her hands in Shirley Temple's prints and we got bounced big time. Avoiding the paparazzi.

Watching the transformation of Dee in the wax museum from totally spooked to first rate ham. Soaking in Tinsel Town. Our drive up Santa Monica Blvd. Almost dying trying to take a picture of the temple. Punchy laughter.

The professor loves to make dreams come true and in one fell swoop he provided a day Dee and I will never forget for its fun, adventure and the connection we shared.

Thank you kindly. You are(like your father before you) a dream maker.

Hollywood part 1

2009-11-09T20:26:00.000-08:00

Deedee and I spent the day in Hollywood last thursday and spent an eventful day in the valley of the dolls and amidst the stars. We truly had one of the best days together. Do you believe in magic? Well we had ourselves a piece of it.

We weren't actually alone, though. Kit, the scrappy girl reporter of the depression and Kirsten the intrepid pioneer girl accompanied us. I give to you this scene captured on film unbeknownst to the subjects.

At the American Girl Salon

More to come forthwith.

Eine kleine nacht musik...for Tom.

2009-11-07T07:00:00.000-08:00

It has come to my attention that there was a segment of the population that was unable to fully understand the recent PUV P.S.A. Consequently these poor volk were not persuaded to become devotees. This is a travesty which I hope will now be remedied. Bare in mind that some things are lost in translation...

Pushin up Vaiseys German P.S.A. from Rebekah Vaisey on Vimeo.

But that can be a good thing.
Especially when you're me and everything you say, when translated into German, sounds like Goethe. Pure poetry.
(Wait, that was Goethe!)

The message is clear.(It isn't? don't you speak german? Nein? Allright, here. Now no excuses.) Enough words have been exchanged! The time for action is now. And if you do sign up I promise I won't force you into any Faustian bargains. (Unless you want me to and then that would be a lot of fun for me.)

A.P.A. Teaser

2009-11-06T13:27:00.000-08:00

Deedee and I had some pretty exciting moments on our Action Packed Adventure yesterday. We jetsetted down to Hollywood for the day to celebrate her ninth. American Girl Place, Hollywood Blvd, crashing a premiere and then...

this.

Call the paparazzi. The Vaiseys are in town. More to come.

Next installment on Monday.

You're the reason in my life. You're the inspiration.

2009-11-05T04:00:00.000-08:00

You give meaning to my life.

You're the inspiration.

omgonnahaftafeelitomgonnahaftahearyasaaaaaa-aaay

Noone needs you-ooh more than eye-eye need you.

There I said it.

We married brothers and now, by some marvelous twist of fate, we are sealed together for time and all eternity.

From a minty flavored walk on the late night sidewalk when she was a young lass of 18 (I am glad we didn't get into that black suv) to phone conversations over piles of laundry and dishes almost every morning, she's always made me want to be a better mom, wife and person. It is hard to believe that you can fit so much impeccable taste, fashion daring do, idealism, curiosity, off the cuff wit and heart into such a small frame. And who else does jazz hands in the stocks?

Plus I like that she has hard days too and will tell you about them. There are no bones about her. She says what she thinks so you know where you stand. Don't be fooled by her diminutive size. She really is a giant. She has stood next to me silent and assuring during very difficult times when there was nothing anyone could say. She is exactly what I call a friend. I wish you could all get to know her. Wait a minute. You can.

Go right HERE this instant and spend a while in the whoopsy vaisey world. She's a big sil.(That's Kelly for "silly"".)And she's a big stupe. (That's Kelly for "stupid" which is Kelly for "a person I really like" although sometimes its Kelly for "someone who is actually stupid".) And while you are there I am sure you will see what inspired me to start this old blog up again. That's right.

It was Kelly.

I love her more than funnel cake. And that is really saying something.

She even named my blog for me.

So, join me in the chorus:

When you love somebody, till the end of time.

When you love somebody...

(Just keep singing quieter and quieter like in the song.You all are really bringing this tribute to life! Keep fading out while I bestow...)

The Golden Kiss on Twizzy.

The Halloweeniest

2009-11-04T12:26:00.000-08:00

Deedee was a Burglar.

Mymy, a Spooky Ghost.

Zuzu, a (tantrum throwing) witch.

(she really took on the part)

Verver, a lil' punkin.

and these two went as STATA enthusiasts.

There was bootstrapping and SEMing all over the place. It's perfectly decent. I promise.

A favorite moment.

We were a motley crew.

And when the candy sorting was done and the sticky children were in bed the happiest reunion continued.

Molly and Arnie, the tiny house awaits. Come back.

Good times. Good times.

pants on fire

2009-11-04T10:18:00.000-08:00

A couple of posts back I said "I am grateful for challenges". That was a bold-faced lie. What can I say to you? It was the sabbath and I was dosed with all manner of perspective and hope. But I was also totally lying.

There is no gratitude in this heart for the hard things. I actually hate them. When they do not discourage me they make me fighting mad. Which can be good because I've got a few challenges to grapple with right now. And I am telling you one thing.

We're going to the mattresses.

You heard me, consiglieri.

Drastic Changes

2009-11-02T21:18:00.000-08:00

Introducing...the new me!

I know! It looks like a whole different person except she looks a lot like the old me but with a haircut which is very similar to my last haircut but with some variation...however slight. But if you look close you can tell.

This is not turning out as exciting as I had anticipated.

But The professor likes it.

He can't resist it when I channel Robert Smith (You know,The Cure), Audrey Hepburn, a dash of Sheena Easton with a smidge of Barbra Streisand from her first television special My Name is Barbra, and the tiniest bit of his and my mother circa 1985 depending on which angle you look at it and if I've styled it or not.

Who could?!?

It's a very unified look.

(Or maybe he just likes it when I am in the kitchen in my robe.)

(And also forget that part about our mothers. That's just plain Maury Povich material.)

Getting ready for the turkey.

2009-11-01T19:35:00.000-08:00

I am grateful for good friends.

I am grateful for my children's exuberance.

I am grateful for old movies.(The really good ones.)

I am grateful for challenges.

I am grateful for the Chapel Hill days.
I am grateful that my jeans fit this week.

I am grateful for The Professor's humility.

I am grateful for all my childhood memories.

I am grateful for The Professor's clan.

I am grateful for my clan.

I am grateful for the silly, the ridiculous and the absurd.

I am grateful for dancing.

I am grateful for having enough.

I am grateful for the life of love and service that my parents led.

I am grateful that my parents always kept on trying to be better.

I am grateful that The Professor joins me in that same endeavor.

I am grateful for this little home that God provided for us in the midst of turmoil. (It has an ice machine, even.)

I am grateful for the precision of The Professor's thinking.

I am grateful to be a part of the calibration of his thought.

I am grateful for my children's voices and faces and hands.

I am grateful that people laugh.

I am grateful for stay at home dates while the children sleep.
I am grateful for my birth experiences.

I am grateful for the spirit.

I am grateful for traditions.

I am grateful for books.

I am grateful for playing.

I am grateful for memory.

I am grateful for learning.

I am grateful for repentance.
I am grateful for my life.

(This is the front door way of counting your blessings. It is called cognitive behavioral therapy. It is just good strategy.)

Don't mess with the Ghost

2009-10-30T16:08:00.000-07:00

Mymy, featured here in a whimsical ghost costume, was really prepared to make a splash in the elementary school Halloween parade. But it seemed like every polyester clad superhero was bent on taking the wind out of his etheral gowns. "What are you supposed to be?" "You don't really look like a ghost." "What is that white thing on your head for?" And this, (from a flourescent nylon clad witch) "There are no such things as ghosts." Well guess what Walmart Witch? There are no such things as witches either. Except I didn't say that. I just leaned over, the voice of perfect reason, and softly whispered into Mymy's ear, "Some kids are so stupid they don't even know a good costume when they see one." (Yeah, that's what I came up with.) Upon which Dayglo Wig Witch exclaimed for all to hear, "Milo, why did your mom say KIDS ARE STUPID?"

Me(for all to hear)- Oh, I didn't say that.

Dayglo Wig Witch- Yes you did.

Me- No I didn't.

DWW- Yes you did.

Me- No I didn't.

DWW- Yes you did.

And then Cartoon Inspired Perfectly Spooky Indomitable Spirit Ghost said "No. She didn't."

And that shut her right up.

Then he turned around to Robin, The Boy Wonder, and said,"I hope there are no Ghostbusters here today cuz I'd sure be in trouble!"

Give me a B!

2009-10-29T18:25:00.000-07:00

Our yard backs right up to a football field so we hear a lot of cheerleaders and crowds cheering at full volume. And sometimes, on days when I am in the kitchen, standing in front of that absurd sink of dishes, feeling like Sisyphus, I like to pretend they are cheering for me.

It is very encouraging.

I bet if Camus* had lived near a football field we never would have even heard of man's futile search for meaning.

(Too bad the french don't know from football.)

*follow this for a little wiki-fun

Calling all Anglophiles

2009-10-28T09:41:00.000-07:00

There are some people of little talent (Keira Knightly) who go through this life being taken totally seriously for one reason and one reason alone. They speak with a British accent. It's an American fascination. We can't help ourselves. When they speak, we listen.  So I wouldn't be the first (Madonna) to try to harness that power to serve my own interests. 

                                        Pushin Up Vaiseys P.S.A. from Rebekah Vaisey on Vimeo.

I know. You can't resist. And the accent doesn't even have to be good(Madonna).  Tell all your friends before the spell wears off. 

Tiny Spidey

2009-10-27T09:48:00.000-07:00

The newest and most beloved member of our family.

Just one more tiny mouth to feed.

(When he takes off his tiny mask.)

But he is a churchgoer. Which is nice.

Here's a game: SPOT TINY SPIDEY. You see him? You win.

Say cheese you little masked crusader.

Occupied

2009-10-26T13:28:00.000-07:00

We have some family and friends coming to stay this week which is always the best motivation to just go ahead and clean up this joint. I am currently occupied with trying to get our house from "I can't touch anything because I might get a disease" to "These people obviously have kids". It is an uphill climb but I am now resting at the "I can't believe people live like this." summit and with hard work and determination might just make it to "What a lovely home." by sundown. (If you don't open any closets.)

Also, while I clean, I am working out the question of raising children who know how to work and who really enjoy life. Just small stuff, really.

Here's a trick.

2009-10-25T20:11:00.000-07:00

Let's say, hypothetically, you're feeling low and like you hate everyone, including innocent children that you brought into the world. Let's just say you think they are all stupidheads who must have been raised in a barn.

What you can do is say, (out loud, even), "I hate these stupid kids. They are ugly and stupid and loud and annoying and messy and they don't listen and I hate hate hate every bone in their bodies."

And then (here is the trick)

you just say, really super loud, "Guess what? IT'S OPPOSITE DAY!" And then you will feel waaaaaaaay better than you just did because your neural pathways won't even know what to do with that switcharoo.(Plus opposite day is always a funny joke so you will be chuckling too.)
And your body will be feeling all of the "I love these brilliant kids. They are adorable and bright and raucous and fun and gregarious and creative and I love love love every bone in their bodies" feelings because, guess what? You tricked your brain. Tricking your brain is called Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. It is the best possible kind of cheating.

Watch this.

I hate The Professor and I am not at all attracted to him.

OPPOSITE DAY! (You see how that works? Because now I am going to go find him and kiss the forehead that sheaths one of the most brilliant minds of our time.)

It is always a good idea to opposite day your bad feelings. It is a back door way to count your blessings.

That's just good strategy.

Outsourcing

2009-10-24T08:49:00.000-07:00

That, my devoted devotees, is why I pushed out these Vaiseys in the first place. To do the dirty work.

I am training them up to take over completely by 2012.

Zuzu (although reluctant in the laundry department) shows great promise in our kitchen division.

She requested the toque(you know, the hat).

Rolled out the(whole wheat)dough. Schmeared the sauce. Sprinkled the cheese.

Was shocked to learn there would be no salary.

(that's why we outsource. Its cheaper that way.)

But she loves her work. Pay or no pay.

And I love watching her work. (Pay or no pay.)

Early Morning Reflection

2009-10-24T08:30:00.000-07:00

I have all that I could ever need.

Now if I could just find any of it in this house.

If you are lonely...

2009-10-23T18:51:00.000-07:00

all you have to do is go into your garage to get some food for lunch from the shelves. Take along your three year old who has decided only to wear her underwear. Be sure that your two year old child is left behind in the kitchen so that he can slam the door shut behind you. Also be sure that the door from the kitchen to the garage is locked and that you have securely locked all other doors and windows in your house so you can't get back in.

At this point you should discover that you don't have a phone or any other means of communication. Not even a match to start a bonfire and send up some smoke signals. What you should do next is talk to your two year in a chirping cheerful tone through the door and try and coax him to turn that little button thing up on the doorknob, that's right turn it like that sweetie, no don't knock on the door , turn the knob, no not the doorknob the little button thing, the little one, that's right turn it...please...turn it...please.

When he doesn't turn it place your three year old as sentinel outside the door to talk to the two year old so that he doesn't make his way through the house and get into trouble while you ride your bike down the street and borrow your sister in law's cell phone.

About halfway back home you will probably hear your three year old's voice screaming "MOM WHERE ARE YOU? I'M SCARED! I'M LONELY! I'M SCARED! I'M LONELEY! I'M SCAR....oh...there you are."

Make a quick call and then, these guys will show up.

They wear uniforms.

They have tools. They ignore the mess in your garage. They laugh at your jokes. They will break into your house for you.

They will enjoy the sight of your two year old in the pile of brown sugar that he has helped himself to in your absence.

And afterwards they will congenially mill about your yard with your kids.

And you will not be lonely anymore.

And then you will think, "maybe my two year old knew I was a bit lonely after two days with my beloved husband out of town. Maybe he did this on purpose so that these fellows would provide a bit of neighborly company.(I mean these are the people in your neighborhood, in your neighborhood, in your neighborhood. Yes these are the people in your neighborhood. They're the people that you meet each day.) How thoughtful of him to lock me out."

(Or maybe this was the only way he could think of to get into the sugar.)

So I don't want any of your self pity here. I've given you a plan. No need to wallow in loneliness anymore.

Brush up on your Coleridge

2009-10-23T16:17:00.000-07:00

An Excerpt from "The Rime of the Ancient...Motherer"
(One of his lesser known works.)

Messes messes everywhere and not a drop to drink.

Because I am mormon.

And we don't drink

no matter how big the mess.

(Funny, I don't remember shooting any kind of a sea bird. So why all the crazy messes today?)

Tainted Love

2009-10-23T10:50:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel I've got to

(bum bum)

getaway.

ANd thanks to a totally rad group of girls from my ward (and I don't mean the psychiatric ward) I got to last night.

My friend and I met at my (disastrously filthy) house and got ready together. Can I tell you that a can of aquanet in my hand felt way too natural? The old blowdry up the bangs while spraying technique was a joy to revisit.

We headed into the city (if you're going to San Francisco make sure to wear flowers in your hair) and met up with the rest of the ladies at a club to hear the eighties cover band "Tainted Love" who are, incidentally,

also totally rad.

Then we danced (if you call jumping straight up and down with your arms pinned in by the drunk guys on either side of you dancing) the night away.

(insert pictures of girls dancing that are on all the other cameras.)

Don't be afraid of all the poses. They were inevitable.

Let's see that one again facing the other direction.

Radical.

Happy Birthday Kelly and thanks for the excuse to party like it was 1999!

The Ultimate Prize

2009-10-22T12:37:00.000-07:00

When I was around seven or eight I remember driving a long distance in the red station wagon with my family. We were going to a regional conference for church. There would have been six kids in the car climbing back and forth over the red pleather seats. Dad was driving and Mom held one of the little guys in her lap in the front seat and the California sun was low on the horizon on the bleached out freeway. I was writing in my little pink journal and chuckling to myself because I was getting my first taste of thinking I was pretty clever.

I leaned over the bench seat and stuck my head between my parents and read them my entry and do you know what they did? They threw their heads back and laughed and laughed and laughed. They were proud and impressed and entertained. It is one of the best memories that I have. And do you know what it was I had written about? I wrote about The Golden Kiss.

I wrote about all of the things I aspired to do and then I threw in this sarcastic aside about how I would probably get a Golden Kiss for doing them. You see, my dad was always handing out Golden Kisses. If you obeyed, you got a Golden Kiss. If you pleased him, you got a Golden Kiss. He even bribed with Golden Kisses.

"If you get this done you will get a reward"

"I'm finished Dad"(anticipating)"what do I get?"

"You get..."(with great fanfare)"The Golden Kiss!"

" Aw Man, that's it?"

Yep. That was it. A kiss. But over time it began to mean something. It meant that he was "showering you with praise". It meant he was proud. It meant he was impressed. It meant he was entertained. It meant he appreciated you. It meant he loved you.

At his funeral each of his children gave a tribute to him and my brother Marc gave him The Golden Kiss. What a great idea that was! I wish I had thought of it. How completely perfect.

My father had a Golden Kiss for almost everyone he ever met. He just loved people. And he wanted people to love him which, I think, was particularly endearing. Let me just say, he was never stingy with praise and it felt good to be around.

The Golden Kiss is the ultimate prize.(They also make great gifts if you are low on cash.) It means somebody is proud of you. It means somebody is impressed by you. It means somebody is entertained by you. It means somebody appreciates you. It means somebody loves you.

So I have decided that I would like to start handing these babies out. And as soon as I figure out how to make a button out of The Golden Kiss icon you all will have an opportunity to get one for your own webpage or blog or even a framed one for your home. You might have to obey me. You might have to please me. And I just might bribe you with one, but you can get one, and I promise I won't be stingy with 'em. Didn't I tell you there would be prizes?

I bet you had no idea it would be the ultimate prize. You are so lucky. And so was I.

A Golden Kiss to Ric, for all the Golden Kisses.

We miss you.

Now that's just wild.

2009-10-21T13:20:00.000-07:00

Let the

wild

rumpus

start!

To have a wild rumpus just follow these simple instructions:

1) Decorate for a jungle monkey theme party the night before and then the next morning remove the monkey stuffed animal and replace it with a "Where the Wild Things Are" stuffed animal.

2) Invite a couple (it only takes a couple) seven year old boys over (Do you see the wildness happening?)

3)Serve them pizza in the car on the way to the new movie "Where the Wild Things Are"

4)Serve them licorice on the way back from the movie. (More wildness.)

5) Throw in a dash of cool presents

6)Make a green viney cake, kind of like this one.

Let's get a closeup of that cake and the mastermind behind it (figuratively and literally).

7)Blindfold the King of the Wild Things.

8)Disorient him.

9) Add a surprise and stir.

10) Allow the mixture to rise to the occasion for a few hours and...

VOILA!

A Wild Rumpus fit for a Mymy!

Happy Birthday Kiddo.

I have one word for you. GEARS!

Credentials?

2009-10-20T19:50:00.000-07:00

Oh, sure, I've got credentials. Okay. Actually, I don't.

Every so often we have dinner with some of The Professor's colleagues, or I get an update from an old friend or I just start comparing myself in my head to accomplished people with all kinds of initials lining up after their names (believe me, I know quite a few) and I get to feeling low.

For many years I have heard about my great potential (what a rotten word when you aren't 16 anymore) and some days that very potential slaps me in the face with a glove and challenges me to a duel that I call in sick to and I end up batting zero.

(loving the mixed metaphors)

But having watched The Professor and many others get PhDs, and MDs and JDs and masters degrees and movie contracts and book deals, and having watched them closely, I know this: every accomplishment takes time. You just chip away at what's in front of you and every day you know a little more. Building something important happens in increments. Being an expert is just a matter of showing up many, many, many times and doing the task at hand.

By George, that sounds like what I do.

I just hope that when my kids grow up they will let me frame them and hang them on my wall.

Welcome to the jungle...

2009-10-19T21:19:00.000-07:00

A.K.A Deedee's Monkey, banana, pajama themed 9th birthday (slumber) party!

We set the stage,

and prepared the food.

Deedee was all nerves waiting for her friends to arrive for her first slumber party EVEEEEER!

At last the girls started arriving (cue the squealing and steady stream of bunny ears).

The Professor spent much of the night managing the hurt feelings of one little three year old who just figured out her place in the nine year old caste system (its pretty low, actually). "But why can't I sleep over too?!?"

Sad,

sadder,

and we'll skip saddest and move to Zuzu's favorite emotion,

righteous indignation.

(then she alternated between petulance, euphoria and despair for the remainder of the evening. I have submitted The Professor's name to the vatican for sainthood.)

Pizza in the jungle.

(note the euphoric Zuzu)

An Estrada Family Party Favorite...

E.S.P.

Clairvoyance and candy. It doesn't get much better than this folks.

Chocolate covered bananas on a shteek.

Monkey tails.

(that's what the kids are callin' em in the jungle these days)

The combination of copious amounts of sugar and no accountability to parents for 15 hours had just about the effect you would expect.

They were flying high. Literally.

Matching Monkey Pajamas.

Perfect for creating mechanical solidarity.

(not to mention awesome charie's angel photo opps.)

These little bad boys were waiting in the wings to make their debut. I forgot to put water in the cake mix. These were seriously hard headed monkeys.

Grab, grab. Decorate, decorate.

Then there were more...

bunny ears...

on (cupcake) monkeys.

And puffy eyes from crying...on (euphoric)Zuzu.

But best of all there was the Birthday Girl.

Presents, movies and NOT sleeping (well, maybe they caught a few winks) in the slumber house.

while this awaited me in the big house (and I don't mean prison...well...maybe I do).

Tired (very) but pleased (very, very) that we pulled this one off for Deedee.

She said it was the best time she ever had! Now c'mon, that's just the stuff that dreams are made of.

It brought me to my na na na na na na na na na na na na knees, knees. You're not alone Axle Rose.

(P.S. The academy(The Professor & Yours Truly)

would like to present a Golden Kiss to Uncle Marc for

excellence in photography of a swarm of giddy girls...

and eating pizza dipped in chocolate.

You were part of the magic, you magician, you.

P.P.S

Would you believe we do this all over again for Milo one hour after these monkeys went home? Stay tuned for

Where the Wild Things Are. (I'll give you a hint. They are at our house.)

Abra Kadabra

2009-10-16T08:58:00.000-07:00

Today, right before your very eyes, I will be pulling two birthday parties out of thin air.

(as an encore performance I will magically transform one into a slumber party)

Thank you, Thank you, Thankyou.

No applause, please.

Actually, go ahead and clap. I'm gonna need all the help I can get.

Feeling the Devotee love

2009-10-15T14:15:00.000-07:00

Here is a picture for all of you devotees out there courtesy of Deedee 2007.

It's how I feel about all of you.

(See, I told you there would be prizes.)

Raindrops keep fallin on my head.

2009-10-15T12:41:00.000-07:00

A familiar sight these days is Deedee and Mymy walking towards the house, hand in hand (as per my instructions) on the way home from school.

(Let me tell you, the solo walk home has revoluuuutionized operations in this outfit)

We had our first rain of the season on Tuesday and it was pouring all day long. I dropped them off at school (dry) in the car but these two exhilirated and rosy faces are what crashed through the door at 2:30.
Do you even remember how fun it was to get wet in the rain?!? I get choked up just thinkin about it.

And now these two will have that mah-valous sense memory too of walking in the rain. growing and having all these independant experiences. Sunrise, sunset my friends. Sunrise. Sunset.

(It thrills me really)

Oktobah Fest

2009-10-15T11:35:00.000-07:00

Caramel apples and carving pumpkins. They better remember this and not the slave labor.

there will be prizes

2009-10-14T22:03:00.000-07:00

Yours Truly and Carl.

I just got my first devotee. It's true. Go ahead and look in the side bar. It says, "1 follower". I am 33 years old and I finally have a follower. I don't mean to compare myself with diety but can you fail to see the similarity? I should be clear that following me will not have the same rewards as, well,say, following Christ (try it, you'll like it)

but there will be prizes.

I think I am going to start handing out goodies a la "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" except you won't get Carl Kasell's voice on your answering machine, you'll get....MINE! Or I could just call you and we could have a chat. Either way you're talkin' to a very minor celebrity. My first devotee (you know who you are, adrienne) wins my voice. But don't worry, there will be more prizes to come. Much more.

So what are you waiting for?? Sign up. It's as easy as one, two, three. You don't even have to leave behind all your wordly goods or anything.

I wear the sunglasses to flummox the paparazzi.