Cherry Blossom Candy Leaf

Ben and I have had a very exciting few weeks. We've celebrated Hanukkah for more than 8 nights and Christmas twice. Santa brought me these beautiful porcelain candle holders shaped like a starfish and sea urchin and an Alphonse Mucha print that has some glittery details. As much as I hate having flecks of glitter on my face and hands from a greeting card, I just love the way glitter looks. I think it's a teacher thing because most of my teacher friends also love glitter and if that's an available art supply, we will most definitely use it, even if we think we may destroy our posters or teaching aids in the process. I used to be obsessed with laminating back in the days when I worked at Rosa Parks Elementary, a school with an endless supply closet and miles and miles of lamination plastic. But that, too, has passed, but my love for glitter remains.

Ben got a stick of salami and some moccasins. He loves that salami. He almost left half of it in our hotel room in Sedona and when he discovered it in the fridge just before we checked out he said, "That would have sucked." My mom bought him a large stick of salami and when she went to wrap it, it was gone. At my parents' house, the culprit is always my dad. He can eat a box of popsicles in 5 minutes and drink 2 liters of orange crush in the time it takes most people to do a shot. So my dad ate Ben's salami (not that kind of salami, you perv) and my mom had to buy a second stick.



The day after Christmas, Ben and I drove up to Sedona, Arizona for some adventure. But of course, a vacation just would not be a vacation if one of us wasn't sick so when we finally arrived after about 9 hours of driving, I wasn't feeling well and went right to sleep. When we woke up the following day, Ben had a terrible cold. We bought generic Airborn, generic throat lozenges, and generic Chloraseptic. I must tell you all to spend the extra dollar or avoid Sunmark products. Drinking that "airborn" solution was like sucking on a car tire and Ben had to use that throat spray every 10 minutes, but we ventured on anyway. Throughout the day, we'd yell, "Sunmark sucks!" Ben wanted to drive with tissue up his nose, but he digressed. So after eating breakfast, Ben, Bula, and I headed to Tuzigoot National Monument, Native American ruins. Meaning "crooked water" in Apache, Tuzigoot was built by the Sinagua Indians in between Cottonwood and Clarkdale Arizona along the Verde River between 1125 and 1400 A.D. At first, it is estimated that 50 people settled there, but eventually the population would double, and then double again after farmers fleeing drought in outlying areas came to settle there. There were very few doors in the Sinagua city. Access to any of the 77 rooms was by way of ladders through openings in the roof. The Sinagua, meaning "without water" in Spanish, would later abandon this site for unknown reasons. Because water still remains via the river, drought was not likely to be the cause of their migration. Some possible explanations for their departure from Tuzigoot and this region are overpopulation, depletion of natural resources, disease, conflicts between groups, changes in weather patterns or even spiritual beliefs. No matter the reason, some of the Southern Sinagua may have moved to pueblo villages in the north or Hohokam villages in the south, while others remained returning to their hunter-gatherer ways.

Tuzigoot is an amazing structure and I love and hate the mysteriousness of the Sinagua. Ben and I couldn't stop saying "Tuzigoot" and we were unsure of the word's pronunciation until our last day in Arizona. Pronounced Too-zee-goot as we had thought, we used the word throughout the day and it has also become Bula's Native American name. After our visit, we headed east to Jerome, an old mining town perched dangerously on Cleopatra's Hill with panoramic views of the Verde Valley. Now known as a booming ghost town, Jerome was once thought to have the richest copper deposits in the world. When mining stopped in Jerome in 1953, a few residents stayed on to keep the town alive.
Jerome was one of my favorite stops because of the views, but also the support of local artists in their many shops and galleries. They even have a large artist cooperative, where art inspired by the gorgeous northern Arizona landscape and the spiritual nature often associated with red rock country is beautiful and relatively inexpensive. I even bought two prints called "The Tortoise and the Hare" and "Palm Reader" by a local artist and writer, Ellen Jo Dahlberg Roberts (www.ellenjo.com). You can visit the coop site at http://www.jeromeartistscoop.com/.

After visiting Jerome, we headed back toward Sedona and stopped to take in the red rock vistas. As we drove through the National Park, we kept saying to one another, "Hey, Tuzigoot, how come people can build their mansions into the red rocks within a national park?" I always thought when an area is designated a national park, people can't build their homes there. But they do here, right into the beautiful rock. I kept thinking that the owners of the house had to have thought at one time, "What a jack ass I am to have to have my house built into this beautiful rock!" But I'm sure the thought has never crossed their minds. They probably think they were just doing as the Sinagua did. But these homes are hardly camouflaged into the landscape. They are like kitsch Paul Bunyans blocking views for themselves.

The next morning, we drove to Oak Creek Canyon which is on the way to Flagstaff. Still sick, we tried to take it easy, but we didn't want to waste any time either. We stopped just as the snow began to fall. It was awesome, like Christmas. We drove further north and stopped at Grasshopper Point. Sasha and I went there to jump off the cliffs and swim in the water that summer in 7th grade. Now it was cold and snowing, and ours was the only car in the parking lot. Bula didn't care for the snow, so we left him in the car, and took a short hike down toward the water. Before long, we were frozen (I know what you're thinking Sasha, "Frozen in Arizona? Come to Alaska to experience the cold.") and returned to the car. We drove further and stopped at some stands set up by local Indian women selling jewelry. They didn't have anything particularly beautiful and many of them were rather pushy encouraging us to, "Pick it up, buy it, and take it home." Ironically, a shop called Gardner's, run by white people dotted in turquoise and silver, had the most beautiful jewelry and Native American artifacts. It was a huge store that was more like a museum. Almost everything was behind glass, including the kachinas. I wanted one of those carved and painted wooden dolls, but they were so expensive that I decided against it.

We decided to turn around, afraid to experience a chains fiasco like the one we had in Lake Tahoe last year. Putting chains on a truck that doesn't have four wheel drive is pointless. Because the bed of the truck is so light, the truck glides on the icy pavement in a frightening and uncontrollable way. To stop this from happening, you can put something heavy in the bed like logs or sand bags, but we didn't want to haul two hundred pounds of wood or dirt when gas is almost $3/gallon. So instead we headed back toward Sedona and stopped at an art school and checked out it's gallery and browsed some souvenir shops. But everything starts to look the same after awhile, unless you find some hidden gems like we did. There was a pawn shop off of the main strip of shops that had a collection of many things from jewelry, to Native American baby carriers, to weapons, to animal skulls and furs, to headdresses. They also had those pretty kachina dolls. We also stopped at an outdoor market that had many Mexican items including pottery, tin with little milagros attached that always remind me of Frida Kahlo, mirrors, dolls and much more that made me say, "Maybe we should take a trip to Mexico some time." Looking at these things was quite refreshing since almost every other shop specializes in Native American items. I thought it was genius for these women to open such a specialty shop up here since Mexicans have a significant role in Arizona's history.
We had dinner at a Mexican restaurant called Maria's that had such items on its menu as rattlesnake bites and deep fried ice cream. I even tried a cheesecake burrito which was absolutely delicious. We headed back to the hotel to spend our last night in Arizona. It's always unfortunate to be sick when you are on vacation, but we tried to make the best of it. We did not get to hike as much as we would have liked, but we had a wonderful time in Sedona. There are so many wonderful places to visit there. Up until that last morning, we still did not know which way we would take to get home. Ben also wanted to stop at the Meteor Crater, I wanted to stop at the Grand Canyon, but in the end, we decided to avoid the route that would lead us on Interstate 15 which has been a disaster to travel in the last few years. Not only is it the Vegas traffic, but snow storms, fires, and Cal Trans repairs have slowed us down in recent years (see "Vegas, Baby" blog entry). So we made a decision to stop at Montezuma's Castle, heading back down to California on the same roads we traveled on our way up.

Montezuma Castle is hardly an Aztec ruin like the name suggests. It too was built by the Southern Sinagua and very impressive. This is a five story structure of 20 rooms built in the 12th century. It stands within the cliff about 100 feet above the valley. Despite deterioration, this one time 6 story, 45 room structure is still an amazing sight. Our photos make it look like some sort of model. The limestone is fairly soft and splits unevenly, but because the Sinagua built this "apartment" into the recess of a cliff, it is protected from the elements and has stood for more than 600 years! There are many more ruins and places of interest in Arizona and the Southwest. Some of them we will never get to see. The ones managed by the National Parks are preserved, repaired, and open to the public, while those owned by the Preservation Society are not disturbed in any way which is what they feel "preservation" is. In fact, near Tuzigoot, there is a similar dwelling that is buried beneath dirt and never been uncovered. God, I would love to go in there with an archaeologist's brush to discover ancient pottery and artifacts. The Preservation Society and the National Parks have opposite philosophies and I respect both even though I would personally love to just dig that place up.

We continued on our journey and returned home after a long day of driving. When I checked my e-mail, I was informed by my cousin, Tom, that he was now engaged to Amy.

How exciting! Love is definitely in the air. Last night, Ben and I attended Lia and Mat's wedding. For those of you who don't know, Lia is my oldest friend. I have known her for at least 25 years. I was just thrilled to be invited. Shortly after 8th grade, Lia moved to Michigan and we had fallen out of touch for a couple of years and come back together when I mysteriously discovered her parents' phone number and decided to call and find out where she was. According to Grandma, Lia's wedding was a traditional Jewish one. Mat came down the aisle with his parents as did Lia with her parents, whom I have not seen in 15 years. They exchanged vows beneath a Jewish altar that was wrapped in some sort of fabric that belonged to both of their great grandparents and grandparents. The rabbi sang Jewish prayers and I teared up when Lia said in Hebrew and then in English, "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine." I'm crying as I write it. It was a wonderful wedding and party. On Tuesday, Mat and Lia will be off to Italy for romance and adventure. They really are a lovely couple. They are both genuinely happy and optimistic people who find humor in everything. They are a perfect match and I'm sure they will have a beautiful life together.

Well, Tuzigoots, that is all for now. Ben is still sick so my wish for all of you is a happy and healthy New Year! Be safe out there tonight.

So, it's Friday and I am officially on winter break. On Tuesday, Ben, Bula and I are taking a road trip to Sedona, Arizona. One July when I was in middle school, Sasha, her dad, and I went there. Her grandpa, who has since passed away, had a house there and Sasha's step-grandma had her own art studio, where I painted on canvas for the first time. I still remember that trip, and the summer thunderstorms in red rock heaven.

I am slightly weary about bringing Bula only because he seems to get car sick, but this will be his last hoorah with balls. On the morning of January 2nd, Bula will be deballed. Although he is incredibly annoying in the presence of other dogs, he is so freakin' cute that I almost can't stand it. He knows how to give hugs and on occasion we dance in the living room. He steps on my feet far less than Ben does.

Ben brought him to my classroom at the end of the day on Thursday and the kids just loved him. We took him on the playground. The kids tore off their jackets to play dodgeball and all Bula wanted to do was pee on the puffy piles.

Besides that, nothing new is going on. I am mainly writing this because I have a new video clip of my nephew Chad. This was taken last week at a Channukah party. He seems to enjoy acting. On occasion when I've been at his house, he wants me to pretend to be his mom and he's my baby. And every time he "falls asleep", as his mother, it is my job to "wake him up". Then it's my turn to fall asleep and he has to wake me up.

Today I was blow drying my hair and contemplating how long it has gotten. I can't decide whether to keep it or not. Ben likes it long, which he mentioned about 9 years into our relationship with most of it spent with me and short hair. I like it short because it takes less time to dry so then I can sleep in 15 minutes longer on weekdays when I have to work. My hair also gets really dry and brittle and because I have so much of it, my head is all hair. There isn't a way to thin it out and when Jenn, my hairdresser, tries to, it looks good for about a month and then the shorter layers are made up of split ends. And it is impossible (not an exaggeration) for me to blow dry it and style it the same way she does in even twice as much time. So on Wednesday I am scheduled to have my hair cut and I don't know what I will do. And the only reason I'm thinking about it is because I don't want to feel the need to go back in 2 weeks to do the opposite and spend twice as much money. Despite what it sounds like, I don't really think about it too much, but it's an introduction to the story I am about to tell.

As I was drying my hair getting ready for another night of holiday shopping with Ben, (who always seems to have a headache, sore feet, and a need for food when he has bought everything he has needed to buy and I'm still looking - a story for another day) I thought about one of the worst haircuts I ever had. I will definitely ask my sister to scan one of the photos that my mom has displayed above the staircase so I can post it here.

The worst haircut I ever had happened to me when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade. My sister and I were facing our first and only bout with lice. My mom was so humiliated when she found the creatures. She thought people would think we were dirty. Anybody who works with kids knows that lice spread like wildfire. Once one person has them, the whole class gets them, and then the principal has to send out warning letters because now the entire school is at risk for getting the tiny bastards. Despite this ease of transfer from one person to the next, the "dirty" stigma still exists today. Even for me, I'm afraid. Anyways, back to the haircut.

Our parents decided that my sister and I would have to get short haircuts to avoid lice forever. These were not cute stylish cuts, but the kind you get when using a flow-bee. Every hair on our heads was the same length. As if this wasn't bad enough, I decided that I would add a touch of style to my cut by requesting a tail. For those of you who don't know, a tail is a section of hair on the lower back portion of your head that is longer than the rest. Some people even braid their tails. They were popular for boys in the 80's. And from that day on, my sister and I were referred to as boys. Although we looked the same from the front, I had a party in the back that Gabby did not have. We still talk about it and laugh and laugh. Every once in a while, Gabby will ask me, "Remember when you had a tail?" Yes, I do, with laughter and embarrassment.

On Saturday night, Ben's dad celebrated his 60th birthday. Ben wanted to get him some movie passes. I suggested that since 60 is such a big deal, we should get him something big, something good. So we bought him a new laptop. It did not arrive in time, so we framed a picture of it.

Below is the video of him, uh, well, not exactly opening his gift. Trudy, Michael's wife's mother, decided to help in unwrapping the gifts since he got more robes and slippers than a person could possibly use in a lifetime. As Trudy was unwrapping it, (hopefully you can hear it in the video) Ben kept whispering in my ear, "Why is Trudy opening it?" When she finally got to it, she was thoroughly confused asking, "What is this?"



In the next clip, Michael has forgotten about me as he brags, "Look what my son got me!"

"And daughter-in-law," I would chime in.



It was a fairly entertaining evening and the most fun I've had in a long time since all I've done for the past two months is work, pack, and move.

As you know, we are living with grandma, and things are o.k. There are somethings that even I can't write about. But here's something you might enjoy. Ben's grandma loves our sweet and precious angel puppy/son, Bula. Every time she is on the phone, she tells everyone all about him and how happy she is to have someone waiting for her and happy to see her.

This morning as Ben prepared to take him for his morning walk, he pushed the door open to grandma's room and jumped on top of her as she slept. "That could give a person a heart attack," I thought, "especially a person who is 90!" But she was pleasantly surprised.

Pretty soon, he will be neutered, which is supposedly better for the health of a dog, law where we live, and can calm the crazy puppyisms down. Although I find it quite cute when Bula refuses to allow people to wear socks, for example, by hopping all over a person and gently nipping at their feet, Ben finds him annoying. Every time Bula goes nuts, running around the house as if he forgot to take his Ritalin, sliding all over the wood floors and selecting an object to bark at and attack, Ben always shouts, "Balls Off!" This is definitely a threat in Ben's eyes, but Bula doesn't quite get it yet. But he will... When he is testicle free and wearing a cone around his neck, he'll get it.

The other day I came home from work. Right away, Grandma needed my assistance. She had purchased some make-up and was asking me if it was too dark. I unscrewed the cap to look at the powder inside. "Well, what do you think?" she asked.

"It's fine, if you intend to go in black face," I replied.

This very old white woman, who denies that she is blind, bought make up that would be perfect for any woman with a chocolate brown complexion.

Grandma quickly advised me to grab the talcum powder and honestly, although I've heard of the stuff, I had no idea what she was talking about. She could have been speaking Yiddish, which she does on occasion. When she grabbed the bottle, I quickly realized that talcum = baby powder. She asked me to help her lighten up the powder. She chose the job of stirring it in with the end of her tooth brush as I added the white powder to the black powder.

After she was done stirring an entire bottle of baby powder into her make up, you would have thought the Cover Girl manufacturing plant exploded in the bathroom. I told her that she was getting it all over the place. Her pants were coated, as was one shoe, the bathroom rug, and the countertop and sink. She asked me how it was getting all over the place and I took this time to remind her that she was blind.

She looked at me with complete shock in her baby blues. "I'm NOT blind, I'm visually impaired." As she spoke, she powdered one spot on her face with the still too dark powder. "How does that look?"

"It's still a little dark, but maybe if you blend that spot into your whole face it won't look so bad."

She did so and walked out leaving me in powder hell. I began to frantically clean the bathroom knowing that Ben would be home any minute. He has called me every other day at work informing me that he has to move out due to the constant mess. He came home just as I was finishing up. He asked me to tell him what had happened, so I pulled him into the bathroom to explain. We laughed for a few minutes, which is quite easy when you don't see the mess. I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. In less than three minutes of making make-up with Grandma, I was brought back to the Hiroshima photographs from World War II.