When I reformatted Flitzy Phoebie, it was like going to the store to get a new scrapbook!
Decades ago, that is what we did with all the memorable details of our lives. We bought a scrapbook with tan pages, and filled the book up, with newspaper clippings of the movies we saw, of photos of outings in the country, of trips and family gatherings. We stored our memories there, like this one from the Puyallup Fair a few years ago. 
We bought those little black or white corner stickers, applied them to our photographs, and then wrote out the details of our experience on white paper. As I recall, I edged some of those paper comments with pinking sheers, just to make all the details more exquisite.
As with most scrapbooks or photo albums, they got so over handled that the pages began to slide out, the photos got snatched by children for school projects, and the pages became torn, with the corners all frayed.
Most of my photo albums have been so over-used, they are nearly just fragments. Most of the scrapbooks were lost in the shuffle of relocating from home to home as my life changed.
The value of the Internet, and blogs especially, is that some of these memories and images can be saved. With the press of a button, there is the image of a favorite painting, or a photograph from the county fair, or the whimsical face of a loved one. With just the touch of a button, copy or paste, the beloved image remains, forever honored.
How else could we have a book with this image..... for free! Totoro is a child's favorite monster. These films, by Studio Ghibli, combine the fantasy of the mysterious totoros with the realism of everyday family life, and lets the audience experience the magic through the eyes of children.
Or this, from 'Postcards from Provence', a little gift from an artist in France. Julian paints a picture a day and sends it to his subscribers. He recently formatted his site, too, and now has an auction feature that enables him to directly receive bids on his work.When I go through my scrapbook of subjects on Flitzy Phoebie, I recall all the places I've been that gave me such a sense of wonder and enjoyment. I've been happy there was always someone to share it with over the years. When it comes down to it, life is just one grand celebration!
Ayyam-i-Ha is the gift-giving period for Baha'is. It is a period of festivities and celebration right before the fast. Ayyam-i-Ha started yesterday, and lasts until March 2, the first day of fasting. I've purchased a few tiny tins, and I'm filling them with goodies for Taraz and Megan, so that when they return from Israel, and enter their kitchen, they will find something to nibble. I've been quite lazy about baking this year, as I've been swamped with so many projects, so I've just placed an assortment of Pepperidge Farm 'taste thrills' in these little tins: Tiny miniature Milanos with double chocolate filling; Chocolate Cappuccino Marbellas, Creme-filled Chocolate Fudge Pirouettes.
This year will be the first time that George has not done the fast. He has been diagnosed with diabetes, so must carefully regulate his diet by eating 5 small meals a day. I've maintained that regimen over the past 25 years, in an attempt to regulate my metabolism and energy level. I've found that there is a constant state of well-being with frequent small meals. I have not been able to wean myself, however from an adoration for chocolate, and from a flavor-filled cup of coffee twice a day. I have my fingers crossed.
Pandora looks rather patient here while waiting for me to finish working on the computer. She will scratch the window, give a very urgent look, and wait for me to go to the door. Meanwhile, she likes to sit here, to watch the wrens in the bush.....
I've been feeling sorry for all the crows on our block. My neighbor Beth has been putting her corn muffins out for them, by throwing them out into the street. Now, that should signal breakfast, but all it does is cause a terrible commotion. Not one, but 7 or 8 crows come by, hoping for a morsel. They peck at the muffins and none can get a solid mouthful. You see, the muffins are as hard as rocks!
Oh, the dilemma. I got so tired watching the fracas that I went out in my bathrobe, with my hammer. Naturally I had a few angry crows reluctant to let go of the muffins. But, approach I did, as they all flew up onto the utility wires. I stooped down and gave the muffins several good whacks, and they reluctantly crumbled into bits. Then, I spread the crumbs apart, as far as a few good kicks will go. Problem solved.
Isn't it amazing, this blogging world? Many, many monthes ago I found Leila's blog, one of many of the group of Haifa Baha'i bloggers. I loved the feeling of hospitality, joy and vitality she shared daily, and began reading her blog, "Love From Leila". When Taraz and Megan planned their pilgrimage to Haifa, Israel, I had hoped they could meet her - and they did!
Here, they are enjoying quiche and an evening of conversation with Leila, her husband Shaun, and another Maxwell International School graduate, Anyssa. More photos here..... (I've lightened these photos, using a DIMIN Viewer n5)
George and I attended an Ayyam-i-Ha party in Purdy. It was full to brimming with families, children, and the teachers from the 'Leaves of One Tree' Baha'i School. The school meets twice a month, with an enrollment of about 25 children.
We brought one of the students, Venita, pictured here with her mom and 4 day old baby brother. 
We were greeted by the owner of the home, Tahirih, and her father Jack, pictured here with several of the young students. Tahirih had the home built so that children's classes could occur in her home. She has three levels to the new home, an upper top floor for youth, the main floor for Ruhi adult classes, and the lower level for children. Tahirih is a teacher who now home-schools her own children. All three levels of the home provide nooks and crannies, for books and projects, for music and the arts, for birdwatching and stargazing. 
When George took Venita to the class a few weeks ago, he said, "you've just got to see this environ- ment, Bonita. " He described the rustic wood interior on the main level, with a big fireplace and a wonderful kitchen. I was determined to visit the class as soon as I could. (Baha'i history link for Tahirih here.)
This is Debbie getting lunch ready. I've known her for 19 years. Debbie took me down into the craft room to show me a few of her 11 grandchildren. That is where all the action was, with children experimenting with watercolors, clay, candle decorating, paperdolls, and an enticement of other projects. 
Stephanie is painting faces. She had girls waiting in line for this event. By the end of the party, many faces looked like clowns, with high arched eyebrows, broad smiles and rosy cheeks.
This little guy needed some help getting his hands cleaned. Several teachers supervised the shaping, painting, and glazing of the clay objects. There is a kiln in a corner of the room for firing the clay. A long wall held samples of all the projects.
A pensive young face. I especially like the light defining the contours of her cheek. It looks so incredibly soft. But, I should have sat down by her, to see just what was causing such an expression.
Two of the teachers took me around the room and showed me the children's projects, work-books with their photographs on the front, and inside were their prayers, projects, and artwork. 
An entire wall is movable with sliding doors, so that all supplies are behind the wall on shelves, and out of sight. They slid one of the doors, so I could see how everything was organized. Crayons, paints, paper, tons of materials were carefully lining the shelves. I sat with a cup of coffee after I filmed this event (video), and enjoyed watching the comaraderie, the fun all the kids were having. It brought back many memories of my own children growing up with similar experiences - the virtues program, with all the leaves on a tree having a different virtue written on them: Patience, trustworthiness, cheerfulness, truthfulness, optimism... one of the teachers came by and we discussed the tree. 
She said, "You won't find pessimism, cynicism, skepticism, or the like on this tree." We all know those conditions are part of the fabric of humanity, too, to some degree. I enjoyed my coffee, and the visiting, and thought that this world would be a better place if we could hold onto the sweetness of childhood.
I've spent several days this week helping Taraz and Megan move into their new apartment. I really enjoyed organizing the kitchen and pantry, putting things away, getting the dishes done, and....ordering Greek Pizza for supper.
This pizza is the best in town, with feta cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, olives and spinach.
When I was unwrapping things, such as these little cups, I noticed that someone had wrapped Megan's old chemistry notes around some of the fragile things. I really got a kick out of that! To me, it is like reading a foreign language: Carbamoyephosphate, ornithmetranscarbamolydse, arginosuccinatc sythetase, regulated by N acetylghtamato ... gluconeogenesis. I'm certain that I'm not getting the spelling right. If I've made a mistake, just let me know. Spell-check is underlining all of them, signaling errors.
Taraz and Megan will be leaving tomorrow for a pilgrimage to the Baha'i World Center in Haifa, Israel. They will spend at least nine days visiting the holy shrines on Mt. Carmel, in Akka and Bahji, and visiting with other pilgrims from all over the world. It is a most blessed event. I'm so glad they are settled into their new place, safe and sound, and that they now can spend the remainder of their time focused on their trip.
Our friend Arlene celebrated her 50th birthday on the weekend. It was one of those after- noons where the mix of individuals was so diverse, that every twist or turn in the conversation lead to new stories and laughter. Imagine, hearing someone describe their childhood music lessons thusly: "I learned to play Mozart on a honky tonk piano in my grandparent's bar in New Jersey." She went on to say that she would fall asleep listening to the sounds of glasses clinking, and wake up to the sounds of whip-or-wills.....
By the time one is 50, a rich blend of unique characters will be the price we pay for being 'lovers of humanity', and Arlene is. She is a nurse, has raised a daughter Pearl, and has just moved into a huge home out in the country.
Pearl made this pumpkin pie for her mom, and put the requisite '50' on top, and lighted the candles. Then, she whipped up real cream for the top. Some ate the pie, and some swirled the heavenly cream on a plate, twirling their spoon around in celestial circles until just the right amount slid onto the bowl of the spoon.
I noticed that Pearl had her drawing portfolio out, and I asked to see some of her drawings. All of them were done in high school. Keep in mind that most artists do not like to show their old drawings, as after a year goes by - when you are in your teens - an eternity has elapsed, and one's talent shows greater promise. 
We were pleasantly surprised as Pearl pulled out one drawing after another, and explained what they were. Watercolors, pastels, media art on the computer, and pen and ink - typical introductory materials for drawing. I couldn't help but recall with a degree of wistfulness that most of us learned to draw that way. So many of us get caught up in the rigors of life and put the paints and pencils away. Fortunately, for Pearl, this will remain a strong interest as she pursues her college degree.
When we were driving home, Rahmat called to ask if he could bring a few friends over for a visit. They were on their way to Hell's Kitchen and Jazzbones for some concerts, and needed to kill a little time. The youth, some from Yakima east of the mountains, get together from time to time just to stay in touch.
Pictured here (l-r) are Safa, Gus, Mina, Nicole, and Sam
I got an e-mail from my son Taraz, who came over yesterday. While visiting, he used some sissors to cut a few hairs off his 'fro'. We rushed off on an errand, and he forgot about the mess he left on the bathroom counter. His e-mail, entitled "Oops", says, "hahahaha i cut my hair and left it in the bathroom! sorry! lol i just realised that."I e-mailed him back saying, "Oh, yes! I patted it into a little ball, rolled it up between my palms with a circular motion, and made a little hairball out of it! It sits on the very top of my hairball collection, a distinctive rusty brown.....heh. Never throw away treasures." love, Mom
I've just finished fixing my morning coffee, and thought I'd watch a bit of the morning news. What incredible devastation we are seeing in Iraq. It became intolerable to watch, and I turned the channel to the Department of Highways, to the traffic monitors. It was foggy out, thick as pea soup. And, there on the Pearl Street Exit, the Union Avenue Exit, and on19th Street, were vehicles rushing forward in two different directions bent on getting somewhere on time. All the cars blasted into the fog and were gone in an instant. Just a thick blanket of grey remained.
I thought "that's how many people live". Have any of them protested 'the commute'? 
What happened to the good-ole-days, when a man's dwelling was above his shop? Suddenly, the images in Iraq seemed to signal an outcome, of not asking these types of questions. I wondered what would happen if everyone would stop right there in the fog and say, "No More"!On another note, we did have a busy weekend. I'll post something more peaceful here, our hike through the Swan Creek Watershed by Puyullap. It was a marvelous hike along the creek. Uphill, into dormant forest, along a soft spongy trail.
This is about as dormant as winter can be here, all gray with a bit of green moss.
The windstorms caused some of the trails to be almost impenetrable. It was a relief to find some open places with greater spaciousness. 
Here, a tree crashed over the boardwalk. 
Citizens and youth of the Puyallup Tribe and Tacoma’s Salishan and Eastside communities are caretakers of the Swan Creek Natural Area. According to Puget Sound Action Team: "Swan Creek, a tributary to the Puyallup River, is an urban stream impacted by excessive stormwater runoff, fish passage problems, and garbage dumping. This project recruited and trained low-income, minority students and citizens to work with youth to encourage community ownership and stewardship of Swan Creek. The group removed invasive plants and replaced them with native species, picked up trash, monitored to assess the stream’s health, and educated the community.""Student leaders provided environmental education activities during day camp sessions and provided education to the community. Results: More than 150 students from Chief Leschi School toured the Swan Creek Watershed. Twenty-two teachers from Chief Leschi attended an inservice teachers day to learn about Swan Creek macroinvertebrates and how to conduct simple water quality tests. Citizens and students planted 500 cedar and hemlock trees along the stream."
While on my walk through Wright Park I stopped in the Conservatory, and found this hiding in a corner at the very end of the walkway. What good fortune!
We took a walk last weekend along a nature trail in a city park in Seattle. People jogged by, kayakers paddled by on Lake Washington. The day was gloriously sunny, with the temperature in the 50's. It 'almost' felt like spring. But, next morning, frost was covering the grass and shrubs. The birds were nowhere to be seen. Winter again, and the long slow wait for warmth and sunshine.
I'm reading, again, "The Meadow" by James Galvin. It is one of the best books written about the American west. 
In it, James Galvin writes about the hundred-year history of a meadow in the arid mountains of the Colorado-Wyoming border. He describes the seasons, the weather, the wildlife, and the people who struggle to build a life there. He writes:
"It takes a lot of weather to make a winter bad, whereas a couple of weeks in summer, with the east wind dug in, cold vapor shifting in the meadow, the garden's fenceposts and the timbered ridges hard to make out except for dreamy glimpses, could generate as much gloom as being snowed in for a month. 
A week of wind could make him edgy as a civet cat. A piddle of useless thunder- shower on cut hay could make him almost cynical. But when the sun shone and the air was mild, a cheerfulness that had no source in his circumstance or prognosis emanated from his soul. A January thaw made him transcendently cheerful, though tobacco smoke had opened its black cloak inside him and he knew it. He could be happy snowed in and dying alone, if only the sun kept shining."
This is a platefull of torn Injera, Ethiopian bread I brought home from the Kokeb Restaurant in Seattle. We chose the restaurant because we wanted to try something different.
Injera is made from a high-protein grain called tef. Tef grains are extremely small and grow only in Ethiopia. They've been used for the flat-cake breads for almost 4,000 years, with the recipe and preparations pretty much the same - fried, like a pancake. (Tef seeds were discovered in a pyramid thought to date back to 3359 BC.)
Injera prepar- ation usually takes two to three days. The teff is milled into powder then mixed with water and yeast. (In these photos, brown rice flour is used for one of the breads.) The tef mixture is set aside at room temperature for 2 days so it ferments and raises. During the second day it starts to give tangy aromas as the fermentation releases air bubbles; this is where the Injera's slight tangy taste comes from. After the fermentation process is completed, the mixture is poured on a hot, flat-iron pan in a circular motion to achieve a thin consistency. When the hot pan and the fermented teff make contact, hundreds of tiny air bubbles escape, creating the pockmarked look of Injera. The side touching the hot pan gets a smooth look, while the one facing upwards has the holes. This proves to be quite utilitarian, when it is time to scoop up sauces and gravies.
When we first sat down in the Kokeb Restau- rant, we were served a bowl of lentil soup as an appetizer, and it came with a spoon. But, that was the last utensil we used! When the soup bowls were taken away, the server brought hot washcloths and the injera, rolled up on a little platter. This injera served as our utensil to scoop up the sauces, meat, vegetables, and cheese. A flat injera pancake served as the plate for our food, with the entrees placed on top of it, much as Hawaiians would use a banana leaf for a plate.George ordered a combination of all vegetable dishes, including all the side dishes, called Atkilt Beyayenetu. Red split lentils, cabage, carrots, onions, potatoes, collards, and tomatoes were served with tofu stew and split peas.I ordered Asa Beyayenetu, which is a combination of all dishes including the seafoods - one type of prawn stew seasoned with a hearty sauce, and salmon marinated in a spicy sauce sauteed with peppers, onions and herbs. The cuisine of Ethiopia is based on an exotic blend of spices, both robust and subtle, like red chili, used in hot stews (Berbere); red chili powder mixed with spices (Mitmita); hot paste (Awaze); green jalapeno (Sineg Kareya); and hot mustard (Sena - fitch) ;and garlic, ginger and cardamon.When we were finished with our meal, George said he understood why most Ethiopians were very slender - there was very little fat or salt in any of the dishes, and the extremely nourishing flatbread provided much of the bulk of the meal. It was 'light', perfect for a hot climate, and unlike anything we see in our southern states. I couldn't help but wonder, if our diet included some of these foods, how our health would improve as a result.
When I reformatted Flitzy Phoebie, it was like going to the store to get a new scrapbook! 
Most of my photo albums have been so over-used, they are nearly just fragments. Most of the scrapbooks were lost in the shuffle of relocating from home to home as my life changed.
The value of the Internet, and blogs especially, is that some of these memories and images can be saved. With the press of a button, there is the image of a favorite painting, or a photograph from the county fair, or the whimsical face of a loved one. With just the touch of a button, copy or paste, the beloved image remains, forever honored. 
How else could we have a book with this image..... for free! Totoro is a child's favorite monster. These films, by Studio Ghibli, combine the fantasy of the mysterious totoros with the realism of everyday family life, and lets the audience experience the magic through the eyes of children.
Or this, from 'Postcards from Provence', a little gift from an artist in France. Julian paints a picture a day and sends it to his subscribers. He recently formatted his site, too, and now has an auction feature that enables him to directly receive bids on his work.
