News Trend Electrifyingly Impactful|Actual

Ninety-nine percent of the time, I hate when people put Christmas lights up before Thanksgiving.

Up until a few days ago, I would have griped about any and all folks who dared to rush past my favorite holiday. We will get to Christmas soon enough, people. No need to take things out of order.

But I have graciously granted an exception to my good neighbors at Electroimpact, who proudly plugged in their nativity display well before Thanksgiving weekend.

^ A hulking, cavernous industrial building is lurking in the shadows, its white rectangular sign barely visible at the base of the shimmering star. The nativity characters - more or less life-size - line up along a sidewalk that runs downhill, which is why they look all tilted.

It's all part of the Electroimpact-y charm, and this is just one scene on a street full of their decorations.

                                                                       * * * * *

Wait a minute, you're thinking. Electro-whatty-did-you-say?

Two miles from my house, on a street of light industrial businesses, stands the main campus of Electroimpact. Jam packed with delightfully geeky design engineers, this is a business that makes tools for building things. Big things. Like, say, airplanes. And considering that Boeing's final assembly plant, where wide-body 747s, 767s, 777s and 787s come together, is also in my back yard, this all makes plenty of sense.

Now why, you might ask, is a class of tech nerds so pumped up about getting their Christmas on?

I don't honestly know but therein lies my fascination. Finding myself drawn to their perplexingly eager holiday spirit - not to mention that impressively towering star - I can't help but love what the guys have done to the place.

[Side note: I'm sure Electroimpact is a equal-opportunity employer, offering jobs to both genders and all races. But my empirical observation (I drive through the campus at least two times a day) is the company employs a never-ending stream of tall, skinny white guys with bad beards and fleece jackets.]

So carry on, my brothers; I applaud your sincere if a tad early efforts to ring in the Christmas spirit.

Your impact on my holiday mood is, umm, electrifying.

News Trend Tree Hunting|Actual

A Vegan Murder

2012

Weather can be a wild card. Several of our annual outings have been blessed with falling flakes of snow, others with rare warm days of golden sunshine; the vast majority have involved raindrops and mud puddles.

Pets play a role too. On and off, our two dogs - Ranger and his predecessor, Casey - have often tagged along on our tree hunts. As their lifespans have run the gamut from puppy to oldster, their companionship has stirred in an element of surprise, from tangling their long leashes like a cat's cradle among the trees, to attempting to drag me off into the tempting forest, to greeting other dogs and small children with a feisty friendliness that requires a human filter.

Safe to say, our Christmas tree adventures are full of ups and downs and, like a kaleidoscope, an ever-changing mash-up of surprises.

This year, however, was a notable exception to that rule.

Today's outing to Bowen Tree Farm was nothing short of chill.

We quickly and smoothly came to consensus on the tree we wanted.

No one cried.

No one pouted.

No one swore.

Well. I wasn't standing close to the tree while my husband sawed it off, so you never know what might have been muttered at ground level. But I heard nary a peep.

Our morning weather started out brisk and sunny; clouds slowly rolled in while we were bundling out tree up top of the car, but the raindrops waited to fall until we were halfway home.

And Ranger? Well, Ranger was an absolute gentleman.

He wagged politely at the dozen or so toddlers who pointed at him and squealed, "Doggie!"

He waited until I invited him to walk to the edges of the clearing, and then he happily went to work, head down in the underbrush, breathing in the scents of the forest.

And while we were deep in tree-choosing negotiations, he simply lay down in the grass and waited patiently for us to finish.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't for one minute assume that our hectic years are behind us.

Heaven knows next year could bring in tornadoes and temper tantrums as never seen before.

But for once, it was a pleasant surprise - maybe even a shock - to hunt for our Christmas tree in heavenly peace, and a very good boding for the season ahead.

* * * * *

More Christmas tree farm adventures:

2018 | Christmas Absurdities

2017 | Red-Headed Soul Mates

2016 | Christmas Tree-Hunting Blues

2015 - Tree Hunting

2014 | Hunting the Perfect Christmas Tree

2013 | A Vegan Murder

2012 | The Christmas Tree Farm Revisited

News Trend Our Children|Actual

Jumping over puddles and running between the raindrops, I dashed into Whole Foods on my usual brunch break during a busy morning of teaching. But unlike most days, I did not have trinomials on my mind.

Instead my thoughts were circling round a pair of binary ideas.

First, a Christmas card from a dear work colleague from back in the day had arrived in my mailbox the day before, and Barb's annual update brought me fascinating news.

I have been working a lot at Pregnancy Life Line - it is a wonderful ministry that helps women and men facing unplanned pregnancies. Our area is very poor and many of our clients have not had good role models - we work with them on an ongoing basis to help them become good parents

I found myself deeply touched and incredibly impressed by my friend's willingness to put herself out there and make a difference in her neighbors' lives. In a nation consumed with rhetoric on both sides of the abortion debate, it's a rare breed who goes beyond posturing to actually help unintentional parents make the best of a situation that they're not equipped to handle.

Second, I was on my way to meet with a pair of students whose family is fostering two young boys, ages nine and seven. Like many kids in the foster system, the boys have a troubled family history and a turbulent family tree, and over the past weekend, these foster parents - Jenn and Tom - were put in the uncomfortable position of delivering some sad and complicated truths to the boys about their lineage. I was anxious to get an update on that delicate situation

As I finished my shopping and stepped back outside into the wet, windy weather, smoked turkey wrap in hand, my eyes fell on a curbside display of flowers.

Tulips.

Delicate spring blossoms in sweet pastels, these flowers were no match for the storm that raged around them. How fragile they seemed, how impossibly incapable of surviving the cruel world into which they had been thrown. Certainly no one had considered the tulips' well-being when plopping them down out-of-doors on a Pacific Northwest December day, but here they were, just the same, vulnerable and alone.

And I wondered who was taking care of these tulips, who would make sure they were safe.

* * * * *

I was halfway across the parking lot when something inside of me insisted on going back for photos.

The metaphor hit me as I sat in my car, flipping through the just-captured images on my camera roll.

These are our children.

The ones whose parents did not plan for them.

The ones whose birth families don't know how to care for them.

The once who have been taken from dangerous homes.

The ones, vulnerable and alone, who are still hoping to survive in this wild, storm-tossed world.

I'm so thankful for people like Barb and Jenn and Tom who step boldly into that void and care for those fragile, beautiful, deserving children. And I pray that I might be wise and strong enough to join them.

News Trend Writing About It|Actual

I've been waiting to tell this story for the past eight months. This afternoon, I realized I was not only ready, but urgently in need of sharing. So I sat down at my keyboard and began to write about it.

* * * * *

Sometimes in life, we have relationships that challenge us.

Ha.

Let's be honest. All relationships are challenging on some level. Human beings are never perfect and life is all about rubbing off each others' bumpy edges.

But there are some relationships that are, at their core, confusing and unsettled and never quite what you want them to be.

Still, despite the setbacks and frustrations, you just keep trying

to bring your best to those people

to keep a positive attitude

to assume the best of their actions

to hope that things will eventually get better

to trust that underneath the chaos lies a healthy bond of mutual trust and love.

And the years go by and still things stay the same but you keep up that optimistic, sunny hopefulness because that is just who you are.

Before dawn on the South China Sea, cool mists drift over the waters.

Then, someone new enters the picture. This person is in a position to observe all these relationships first-hand and has the opportunity and insight to see them as they truly are. A neutral outsider with no vested interest in one person over the others, this newcomer really just wants everyone to succeed.

And one day, this person sits you down and says, "I don't know if you are ready to hear this, but I need to tell you what I see."

And as you listen, this person speaks truth about these relationships as you have never heard it before. They understand, with blinding clarity, what you have done and what you have received and what you have felt.

And you realize that the truth has been before you all this time, but you just weren't ready

to hear it,

to see it,

to accept it

to deal with it

But now you are.

Emerald jungle wraps around our vantage point, and the screech of hidden insects builds with the morning light.

And in this moment, you come to realize that these relationships are broken, unhealthy and beyond your power to repair.

All the wishful thinking in the world will not make them whole.

And by holding on to that naive hopefulness for all these years, you have been making yourself vulnerable to pain and dysfunction that you don't deserve.

It's time, this person tells you.

It's time to draw firmer, clearer boundaries around yourself.

It's time not to hate or blame or demonize, but to create enough distance to protect yourself from more distress.

It's time to stop sacrificing your own well-being for more misguided attempts at reconciliation with people who are simply at a different place than you are.

So you draw a deep breath.

And you gather up your courage and strength.

And you start learning how to let go and move on.

Slowly, imperceptibly at first, the light over the sea shifts from grey-blue to silvery gold.

As the weeks and months tumble past, you realize each day anew just how true and right your fresh perspective feels. An ugly weight has been lifted off your shoulders, off your spirit, off your soul.

But then a sad suspicion begins to creep nto your heart and mind.

What if, you start asking yourself,

What if I am repeating this same mistake in my other relationships?

What if I am holding on to other damaged relationships and convincing myself that they are healthy when in fact they are just as shattered and broken?

What if I am not capable of knowing the difference between a healthy relationship and a messed-up pseudo-connection?

And in that case, who are the people in my life that I can truly trust?

This is a scary and lonely place for you to be.

Though clouds obscure the horizon, the sun slowly edges up through the remaining darkness.

So you withdraw.

You pull back from as many relationships as possible

to calm yourself down

to feel safe again

to think things through

to protect yourself from any more pain as you try to sort this out.

And as more time goes by, you realize there are no easy answers.

You will never know for sure who to trust.

You will never have perfect relationships.

You will, undoubtedly, feel hurt by how other people treat you.

You will undoubtedly hurt them too.

But somehow, out of these dark thoughts, a beam of light will appear.

Keep going, it says.

You can't just give up on everyone.

You have to keep trying.

You have to learn the difference between giving your heart away to those who don't deserve it, and locking your heart away from those who do.

You have to dare to love people, even if you can't be sure they will love you back in the way you want to be loved back.

And that all makes a lot of sense but you still aren't sure exactly what to do.

Eventually, the full circle of the sun clears the mist and drenches the day in dazzling light.

So you try to draw a deep breath.

And you begin to gather up your courage and strength.

And you hope to start learning how to let go and move on.

But, you decide, the first step should probably be to write about it.

News Trend Shopping|Actual

Oh, I love to say it and I sound so smug when I do.

I'm not really much of a shopper, I insist.

Shopping is just not my thing.

I'd rather be making something, or spending time outside.

You know, planting daisies or hiking in the wild. Nothing so pedestrian and consumeristic as shopping for this pure soul. And you know, I say these things often enough that I sometimes start to believe them myself.

But every now and then, reality comes along and slaps me in the face.

I'll be the first to admit that I deserve it.

^ My latest comeuppance occurred this week, when I decided on an impromptu trip to University Village. A super high-end outdoor shopping mall in Seattle, the parking lots here are full of Beemers and sidewalks jammed with blue-blooded boomer ladies stepping around the ever-present puddles in their always-exquisite shoes.

To complete that picture, imagine me with my '99 Toyota Sienna and four-year-old Target combat boots.

Mhmm.

I'm not so much the U Village type.

But here's the thing. U Village is the home of the Amazon's new brick-and-mortar bookstore, and I've been meaning to going to check it out ever since it opened last month. And with a secondary mission of picking up a wedding gift at the nearby Crate & Barrel, my fourth-born and I decided to rub shoulders with the Real Housewives of Seattle and venture into the fray.

Okay. The bookstore was amazing. I confess that I love all bookstores, but the Amazon experience was delicious and I highly recommend. We drooled over several hundred books, deliberating and agonizing and wanting to take them all. In the end, we chose a handful for gifts, disciplining ourselves to keep the total purchase price within reason, and savored every satisfying moment of the experience.

^ Next stop was Crate & Barrel, a swanky housewares store that I used to frequent back in the double-income days before kids, when discretionary spending was part of my life. Though I have occasionally picked up a few things online, I haven't set foot in one of their stores in decades, and as soon as I stepped inside, I remembered why.

Everything they sell is amazing. That's why.

We grabbed our gift, and then wandered a bit. And wouldn't you know that we managed to find an easy half-dozen items that would be great for gifts. Fairly inexpensive, of course; practical things like a stainless steel ladle and cotton dish cloths. Keeping a modicum of composure, we forced ourselves to put back a $54 hand-turned can opener.

I know.

In someone's world, fifty four dollars is not too much to pay in order to open a can of refried beans in style, but my pocketbook would not allow me to make that leap.

Still, our purchases were magical and when we walked out of the store with our oversize iconic Crate & Barrel shopping bag, we were glowing with pleasure.

^ Our third and final stop brought us here.

The magical land of Apple.

I have fallen madly in love with every Apple store into which I have ever walked - which is actually quite a few - but this.

This

THIS store is the Nirvana of Apple stores.

The floor space is huge, easily double most of the other Apple stores I've visited.

Flooded with natural light, the front half of the store is a wide open expanse of flat tables, easily twice as roomy as most other Apple stores, and lushly decorated with the usual dizzying array of desktops, tablets and handheld products.

Though the store was jammed with dozens of people, at least half of them were staff, jauntily dressed in holiday red t-shirts, all happily chattering away with customers. People were buying left and right, and the mood in the store was downright joyful.

We made our way back to the accessory racks where my daughter began to pick out a new charging cord. Effortlessly, we found the type she needed, available in multiple lengths. As she debated her options, a red-shirted woman holding an iPad offered a friendly hello and asked if we were finding what we needed.

Well. I need everything in your entire store. So I guess that's a yes.

Within thirty seconds, my daughter decided on the one-meter cord - because really, an extra ten dollars for the two-meter cord is an extravagance in her budget - and completed the paperless transaction. Sad to wrap up our business so quickly, we meandered slowly back up through the tables toward the door, soaking up the festive energy and intoxicating scent of expensive gadgets. By the time we stepped outside, I was dying to buy something - anything! - and dangerously close to spending the months's grocery budget just to indulge myself.

* * * * *

As we quietly walked back through the rain to my trusty mini-van, windows fogged up by Ranger's warm  breath as he napped inside, I realized the truth about me and shopping.

It's not that I don't like to shop.

The reality is that I LOVE shopping, especially for elegant, expensive, and well-made things.

What I don't like to do is pay for them.

News Trend Life Of A Math Teacher: Christmas Edition|Actual

Thank you to Jacob and Julie who gave me this adorable goodie bag, and all the other lovely families who make my job so rewarding and fun.

Here are my two best things about the last few days of school before Christmas break:

1. This is the week when I traditionally give my students a lovely end-of-semester algebra midterm and I love to support them as they buckle down and study hard for the challenge.

Dua. At the same time, my students - well, probably my students' mothers - present me with sweet little tokens of the Christmas season - cookies, candy, and kind-hearted gifts.

I know.

That's not a particularly fair exchange.

My poor students slave away on all my extra review assignments and deal with the stress of a big test yet I'm the one who ends up with a glowing sense of pride in my students' accomplishments, as well as heaps of chocolates.

But in the life of a math teacher, these holiday milestones are rare glimpses of glamour and glory, and I personally am loving every minute.

* * * * *

Read more stories about my life as a math teacher:

Social Distancing

Playing With A Full Deck

The (Math) Joke's On Me

Sharing Life

Little Brothers

Sweet Inspiration

My Hero

What I Do

Number 15

Christmas Edition

3.1415926

Buy It And Burn It

In Honor Of James K. Polk

House Tours

My Deep Gladness

Isolating The Radical

By The Numbers

Teaching My Own: High School Art And Algebra

News Trend Life Of A Math Teacher: Number 15|Actual

This dish is more commonly known as Swimming Rama but in my heart, it will always be Number 15.

When a college calculus professor takes a firm stand on Thai food, you know he's going to command my full attention,.

It's not often that such a serious scholar would take time away from his lecture notes to discuss such trivialities as food. But this man clearly felt so strongly about Asian flavors that he brought up the topic not once or twice, but at least a half dozen times during the quarter.

Wasn't even my professor. My third-born brought reports home to me of this math teacher who regularly interrupted his heady explanations of integrals and derivatives with a recurring side note about one Asian dish in particular.

"You have not lived," he pronounced, "till you've tried the Number 15 at Thai Tom's on the Ave."

(Isn't that just like a mathematician to remember the dish by its number.)

Well. As a math teacher who loves to deliver a few passionate side stories of her own, I took this recommendation very much to heart.

I decided that I must taste this magical elixir for myself.

And even though

the restaurant is tiny

the service is sketchy

your bill must be paid in cash

and the waitresses will criticize the amount of your tip...And if you happen to look Asian, they will literally chase you down the street and try to make you tip them more.

I was most definitely not disappointed.

Now, every six months or so, whenever I am holding midterms or final exams for my own math students, I find myself craving a Number 15. And more often than not, I head down to Thai Tom's for a dish so delicious that math professionals cannot get enough.

And if that isn't praise of the highest power, I don't know what is.

* * * * *

Read more stories about my life as a math teacher:

Social Distancing

Playing With A Full Deck

The (Math) Joke's On Me

Sharing Life

Little Brothers

Sweet Inspiration

My Hero

What I Do

Number 15

Christmas Edition

tiga.1415926

Buy It And Burn It

In Honor Of James K. Polk

House Tours

My Deep Gladness

Isolating The Radical

By The Numbers

Teaching My Own: High School Art And Algebra

* * * * *

Thai Tom's is a hole-in-the-wall restaurant on the Ave in Seattle, and if you ever have the chance, go there. In the meantime, I highly recommend you read all about it.

Life Of A Math Teacher: Number 15

My Homemade Pad Thai

Seattle > The U District > the Ave > Thai Tom"s > Nirvana

Rice Bowl Sauce: Spicy Sriracha Peanut