Gray November Blues

I was in my twenties when I first realized that I hated the month of November.

It makes sense, really. I live in Minnesota. By November, days are short, skies are cement gray, and temps are cold. I came to picture a typical November day as bleak and blustery, a sharp wind slapping my face and driving ice crystals right into my skin.

It always felt personal, as though some weather god took pleasure in inflicting pain. "Slap! Feel that sting? Now I'm going to make your eyes water, pinch your fingers, blow away your scarf, toss your hair, and penetrate through all seven layers you put on this morning!" Understanding cold fronts and high-pressure systems provided no comfort whatsoever.

Throughout my work life, transportation complicated the picture. The evil weather gods could make the buses run late, stall my car, create glare ice and ridiculous pileups, or encase a parked car in ice and snow that had to be chipped away while your fingers and toes froze. Again, hearing the familiar sound of ice scrapers all through the neighborhood was no solace.

I have come to realize that while November can still be difficult, most of its days don't live up (down?) to my worst expectations. Besides, I now have ways to cope that I didn't always have.

* I am retired. If I want to stay home during an especially nasty weather event, I usually can. 

* By now I have assembled an excellent collection of warm boots, coats, mittens, fleece layers, ear muffs, scarves, etc. When I do go out, I go prepared.

* I no longer have to look professional or even presentable after battling the elements. Nobody at preschool or the grocery store cares whether my mascara is frozen into mud puddles at the corners of my eyes, or whether I'm wearing fashionable shoes.

* I've been taking Zoloft for years to help offset Seasonal Affect Disorder, a result of sunlight deprivation. Around mid-October I still begin to notice that my mood is dragging, but it's manageable. And I can take naps if necessary because have I mentioned? I'm retired.

* Remember when I said that not every November day is dreary and awful? It's true. And the best way to combat the November blues is to get out into those decent days, to see a little sunlight, breathe a bit of fresh air.

* Even when I can't be outside, I can remember to notice the sun shining, take a deep breath, and appreciate the cheery sight of it.

November brings nasty days, and it's the opening shot of a long winter to come. I'm trying to remember that I don't have to cope with all of that today.

Oh, and P.S.: The grandkids bring sunshine into even the darkest day.


Double P.S.: I just noticed that this is my 300th post!

Blarz, said the aliens....

ViMae came to me with four large sheets of craft paper, each folded not-quite-in-half at an angle. She asked me to fasten them together (we decided on staples) to make a book. Next she brought the felt markers and told me she was ready to write a story. She needed me to do the hand-writing. This is what she dictated:

Vi's Best Jewelry Book...and...

The Princess Locked in the Tower

by ViolaMae

Once upon a time, there was a princess. Her name was Golden Rose. She was afraid of stormtroopers. They tried to attack and catch her.

Because she was afraid, Golden Rose locked herself in the tower.

She didn't like being in the tower, so she went to see Princess Leia. She thought Leia had a bow and arrow, but she didn't. Princess Golden Rose put on some jewelry to disguise herself as Smaug. The stormtroopers didn't know she was Rose. She went into the woods and ate some zazzberries.

“Blarz.” said some aliens from up above. They put handcuffs on her. But when she had gone to see Leia, Leia had given her a blaster. So she blasted the handcuffs apart.

She called in the warriors, including Princess Leia, to help her fight off the aliens.

Vi's illustration: Rose and Sabrine

Princess Golden Rose saw an alien getting ready to shoot a bomb. "Duck!" she yelled. "Where?" asked her favorite giraffe, Sabrine, looking around. Golden Rose ducked out of the way, but Sabrine got shot right in the neck. He ran a little and then just fell over, and died. ["Isn't that sad, Mom?" Vi asked her mother when they read it together. "That's the sad part."]

She ran over and put a leash on him and pulled him, but he stayed on the ground. Golden Rose and Leia chased the aliens away. "Blarz!" said the aliens as they ran.

The end.

As her parents have noted, ViMae's story has it all: a plot with a climax in the middle, character development, humor, and sadness. It incorporates elements of Star Wars (Leia and the stormtroopers), the Hobbit (Smaug the gold-encrusted dragon), our Dragonvale game (zazzberries are dragon food), and other bits.

Its humor and sadness both come from an old birthday-card visual joke Peter and I have shared with the kids. (Animals are riding in a car, heading toward a tunnel with a low overhead…. The elephant warns, “Duck!” but the giraffe, misunderstanding, stretches his neck upward and asks, “Where?”) The four of us share this running gag often, and the kids seem pleased that it's a kind of "inside humor."    

ViMae took all those elements and made up her own princess story…and happily, this princess is proactive. Golden Rose locked herself in the tower for protection, disguised herself to hide from the stormtroopers, went to Leia for a weapon, and together with Leia dispatched the aliens. That’s a princess story I can support! 

On being a real ballerina

Pre-class instructions from Miss Ann

ViMae has been wearing tutus and wanting to be a ballerina for at least half of her four-and-a-half years.

Today she started a weekly dance class that will include 30 minutes of ballet and 10 minutes of tap. And how lucky am I? The best time for her to take the class is Tuesday mornings, so I get to take her there. Happy Grandma!

Ballet warmup

I took pictures so Mom and Dad could share in the big day. The photos aren't great, because adults have to stay out of the studio so kids will focus on the teacher.

ViMae did great at paying attention and following instructions (a couple of younger girls had trouble with that). Most important, she had fun and she felt comfortable with the group.

Tap lessons..."heel, heel, step..."

I took ballet and tap lessons for two or three years, starting when I was five. I liked it, but I never had any vision of what it was all about.

ViMae, on the other hand, knows exactly what it's about. When we got home, she kicked her legs in the air and exulted: "Now I'm a real ballerina!"

Happy Halloween, and may the Force be with you

Grandma has been busy sewing costumes, which made their debut at the preschool party last Friday.  ViMae chose to wear her dragon costume from last year with a few new twists, and Augie decided to be a Jedi knight.

There is no longer a pattern for a Jedi robe, but I found some great tutorials online...it seems lots of people still make these for both kids and grownups. Augie knew that Jedi knights wore a hooded robe in any shade of brown, with an obi and a utility belt (for the light saber, of course). I learned that robes were not uniform, and that they were deliberately roomy in order to conceal the knight's face or belongings.

Meanwhile we "upgraded" ViMae's costume. Smaug, a character in The Hobbit, develops a gold-crusted chest from sleeping on his piles of stolen treasure. This year we added to the effect with gold-coin buttons she and I found in my 50-year-old coffee can button collection. We also added gloves on which I created bright claws. A spray of red and orange "flames" tacked to the palm of her left glove enables her to breathe fire, which she does ferociously.

Three things strike me about these costumes. One, the kids chose them for the characters they represent, from stories they've come to love. Two, their Daddy happens to love The Hobbit and Star Wars more than they know, and that will be much more important to them some day than it is now. And three, I know that they will play with these costumes well beyond Halloween. (They both wore wolf suits based on Max and Where The Wild Things Are, made by their Grandma Anita, for years until they couldn't squeeze into them any more.) I hope that some day they'll tell their kids, and later their grandkids, about Halloween back in the old days when they were young and wore costumes made by grandmothers.