“Princess! Listen to my words! You stay by me. I will betect [protect] you in the Land of Car! I am a warrior,” Asher explained as we wandered down the road early in the morning, heading generally in the direction of preschool.

We fought a dragon on the way. “Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting! Shink!” I’m sure I saw the tree stump cower.

We found some interesting things to look at: some pretty leaves, some goopy, leaf-choked puddles. Some lawns are covered in stars of all colors.

A car almost squished us. “Look out, Princess! It’s very dangerous!”

Having a warrior along while walking through the neighborhood can be a big help. It can also be somewhat … hair-raising. Warriors who are “7 years old” (really 3.75) are erratic at the best of times. Sometimes they dawdle, examining every stick along the way. Sometimes they rush haphazardly—forward, or even sideways. Sideways makes me nervous in the morning school drop-off traffic—the Land of Car.

“Princess! This is a magic puddle! I have to walk in it. How ’bout you be my mama duck Princess and I be your baby duck warrior?”

We walked a little closer to school. We balanced on white painted curbs. We watched the squirrels and the birds.

“Mama, I’m a betective. That means I’m in charge and I betect people. I train good dragons and kill only bad dragons. I ride on a dragon!”

We passed moms and dads hurrying their kids to the local school. Some of them smile at us.

“Mom, I’m gonna teach you how to run fast.” Perhaps we would get there faster if we ran, but honestly I would miss the meandering. I see and hear more when we go slowly.

We used one of our precious Family Days during the Thanksgiving holiday to visit the Aerospace Museum of California, which happens to be in our town on a closed Air Force base. Ian and Lucas like this place a bunch. I was mainly along for the traveling StarTrek exhibit, which had … um … too many rules.

Needless to say, we all had fun punching buttons on the Enterprise bridge and raising the deflector shields. Asher’s big idea was to fire the phasers on the aliens. We declined to pay $20 for a photo of Ian in Kirk’s chair. I found the costumes from the various TV shows to be pretty interesting.

In the main museum, we saw an exhibit about the future “Manned Mission to Mars” (planned for 2034), including this replica of the Phoenix Mars Lander …

… and a movie about what going to Mars will be like someday.

There’s a mini jet plane for the kiddos.

And outside they have a good number of real airplanes from various eras. This is Lucas in the cockpit of the “Warning Star,” an intelligence gathering plane. Asher was the cutest copilot ever.

An older gentleman docent inside that plane talked with me for quite a while about serving as ship’s engineer. He flew 6,000 hours on this type of plane, and his job was to monitor these gauges and manually tweak the fuel mixture for either fuel efficiency or increased power, depending on the situation. He blushed after a few minutes and exclaimed, “I don’t get many ladies asking me about this stuff. Most ladies don’t get it.” Ha! It was fun to make his day.

Ian always knows where to find the danger. Especially when it’s this well marked. (This is the side of a Coast Guard helicopter.)

I’m not the biggest airplane fan, and frankly, I don’t need to return to this museum for a couple of years. But my boys enjoy it plenty.  And some of this stuff is pretty nifty even to me, like these cogs inside an engine on display.

The StarTrek exhibit is there until January, in case you want to check it out.

We have a quiet Thanksgiving Day today. Quiet enough to think a bit about what I’m grateful for.

* My beautiful sons, strong, brilliant, and hale. They are the sunlight of my days. They have transformed me.
* My loving, noble husband who takes care of all of us and brings out the real me. He is my shelter and my heart.
* My parents and Ian’s parents, for all that they are and do, and for all they helped us to become.
* My precious, clever, quirky, shining friends. They know why.
* My safe, comfortable home filled with all that I really need and lots more besides.
* My ever-hungry brain and my many hobbies, which nourish me in so many ways. I am still growing.
* My undeniable, abundant opportunities, a plethora of blessings and experiences that I’ve enjoyed all my days. I am especially grateful that we can now offer amazing opportunities to our children as they grow.
* My family members whose love and courage are so great that they do the tasks that no one else wants to do.

We are so very, very rich. I am sending out my love to all of you on this Thanksgiving Day. Blessed be.

Last weekend we had a marvelous Adventure Day! Featuring … grandparents and SCIENCE! We met up with Ian’s dad, Glen, and his girlfriend, Miriam, and we all drove to San Francisco to visit the Exploratorium and nearby SF sights. If you ever get the chance to go to the Exploratorium, seize it.

“So why don’t all exhibits have scientific explanations?
The Exporatorium is about discovering things for yourself. We want to spark your curiosity not just give you facts. That’s why you won’t find explanations at every exhibit. Facts and explanations are important, and you will find them here. But finding things out by experimenting, by playing around, is what science is all about.

So mess about. Explore your hunches. Follow your curiosity. See what happens.”

The sunlight fast is dwindling,
My little lamp needs kindling,
Its beam shines far in darkest night
Dear Lantern guard me with your light.

Last night’s Martinmas lantern walk with Asher’s preschool friends was so magical. We had a sit-down dinner of homemade soup, salad, bread, and pumpkin pie. It was wonderful to get to better know the other families whose children attend the school.

An angel lighted the children’s lanterns with a spark from heaven.

Then we walked through the neighborhood with our lanterns shining brightly.

The kids were so excited to be walking through the night and their exuberance and jumping about caused many candles to blow out. (Thank goodness Ian brought a lighter along! He’s a veteran of several such preschoolers-with-fire events.)

When we returned we followed a path lit by stars and met Mother Earth in the garden, who gave the children precious gifts to plant in the ground. She told us to guard our light and keep it safe through the darkness of the winter.

Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Today is a very full day. We are attending Lucas’s third-grade Eurythmy performance of The Firebird this afternoon. We are also attending a Martinmas potluck and lantern walk with Asher’s preschool this evening. Both of these events are happy and exciting. Both are dampened by my grief over Nana’s death yesterday.

Part of me would like for everything to feel normal. A part of me thinks it’s crazy to be normal—working on freelance projects, worrying about deadlines, arranging babysitting, and attending school functions—at a time like this. But, of course, life goes on.

And isn’t that a miracle?

In the midst of a busy and rich life, we pause to grieve. In the midst of a sad time, we snatch moments of elation and joy, pride and comfort to buoy us up. There is a symmetry there, a balance.

Both darkness and light.

I don’t know what to think or feel, but lighting a candle seemed right.

Yesterday evening, Lucas led Ian and me in a drawing lesson. “Want to come to Art School, Mom?” How could we say no? He proceeded to demonstrate and lead us in a drawing of a geodesic dome on Mars. He measured with his ruler and asked us to do the same. He dictated what colors we could use, but gave us some small freedoms. Ian had to leave early to cook us all dinner, but I stayed to the end, when we added Martian snails, the Milky Way, and another planet with rings at the top-right corner.

All the while, Asher provided musical entertainment with a one-stringed guitar, plucked like a double bass, and his own rock-inspired vocals. Listening to Lucas sing in Hebrew lately has really freed Asher from the confines of having to use English lyrics in his music. Now, pretty much anything goes.

It’s very artistic around here. I love it.

This story is really not about me, but I’m going to tell my part in it because it gave me great joy.

Lucas’s class is performing the Russian story of the Firebird in Eurhythmy this week. The performance is on Thursday and they’ve worked quite hard on it. I cannot wait to see this performance and I know already it’s going to make me cry. Lucas is excited about it, too.

A whole crew of volunteers was recruited to sew fancy dresses for the girls to wear. I was asked to do this part: paint the Firebird’s fabric wings.

With paints.

I love paints.

I love to paint.

Here’s my inspiration and reference material: The Firebird by Demi.

So this is how I spent part of my Sunday afternoon, outside in my unseasonably warm backyard, with the fabric clipped to my fence, while the wind rushed about blowing leaves into my way.

This is how I left it last night, with the back almost finished (not all the tail feathers were done). Today I painted the front because when the Firebird spreads her wings, you’ll see the underside. I’ve also spent some time adding details, like more gold shimmer.

I don’t have a daylight photo of the wings finished at this point. I’ll try to snap one in the morning before I send this off to school. I fervently hope that this garment will work. The paint has made the fabric pretty stiff, so I’m hoping the Eurhythmy teacher doesn’t expect lots of flowing, draping softness!

Doing this was such fun! I wish I could paint more often!

I wrote a bit about this third-grade building project recently. I got to go to the school yesterday to take photos while the children left their hand prints in the freshly poured cement. What these three photos don’t show are the twenty-seven OTHER shining faces of Lucas’s beautiful classmates. They glow with 8- and 9-year-old vitality.

Here is the Oak Stage construction site. That big, dark tree trunk at the back is a gorgeous old oak tree. The little trunk in the middle of the stage is also an oak. At the front is the river rock moved by the third graders to make a drainage area. No symmetrical shapes, per R.S. architecture.

Here’s Lucas waiting for his turn to make his mark.

Here’s M and Lucas. This dad, Mr. C,  is the lead on this project and he is graciously donating his time and expertise to make it happen. Other class parents and grandparents are volunteering every day to work on the stage, too. Ian’s there right now, enjoying his day off!